At a small party: divng for sweets from the Pinata
With great help from the Roots and Shoots club at the Lighthouse Charter School and from friends of all stripes we had a truly enjoyable fundraising evening last November, with homemade tortillas and taco fixings, and games for children, a viewing of the movie from Cavu, Nuestras Aguas, Nuestra Vida, which features some of the folks here in San Josecito that I write about regularly. Attendance was a little low, and we made more tacos and fun than we made money, but I’m happy with the results. The children played so well together, and there was so little arguing and whining, that I was reminded of the Tico family gatherings!
I’d meant to write long before now—it’s well over a month since I arrived on 10 December. The weather has changed from comfortably cool, sometimes rainy, sometimes sunny to hot dry summer; then with the earthquake two weeks ago it changed again to hot, overcast, and sometimes rainy. Everyone awaits the “puro verano” (or pure summer) with its clean blue skies and hot beach weather, some with anticipation for the picnics and swimming, others because their beans are ready to harvest and they need clear weather to lay them out in the sun to dry. Well, the cicadas seem to think it’s summer, shrilling so powerfully and insistently that it’s hard to make oneself heard above them; and Luis Nunez said the army of ants that arrived yesterday morning to march for hours through and around my house herald true summer. But this morning the guaco (collared forest falcon) announced loudly and insistently that rain is coming. It’s hard to know who to believe here in Costa Rica.
With room for family variations, Christmas was celebrated by all with days of feasting, visiting, fireworks, karaoke, gift exchanges, and dancing. Presents are exchanged on Christmas Eve, after an afternoon of hanging around talking, playing games, and cooking. The meal having been eaten, everyone gathers in one place, and one of the family elders addresses the crowd (yes, families here are crowds!) with welcome, with gratitude for another year together, with special welcome for visitors (such as dona Eliza), and finally with a formal prayer, sometimes quite lengthy. Then family members take turns distributing presents, and the recipient is subjected to chants of, “Abrelo, abrelo, abrelo,” (open it) while he or she does just that. The gift then has to be held high for everyone to see amidst whistles and cheers, or in the case of underwear or negligees, whistles and catcalls. It makes for a long night, especially when the fireworks, karaoke and dancing get going and the guaro (distilled sugar cane juice) starts flowing. I usually make my excuses sometime around 9 pm, get in Matilda Warthog, my old landcruiser, and head for the upper reaches of the village where my little house stands quiet and all alone above the river. But the celebrations don’t end there: they just keep going until January 1st is history and whatever weekend comes next has passed. Then, finally, it’s back to business as usual.
This year I was asked to attend a number of birthday celebrations, as well as the first communion Fabiola Duarte and Demaris Nunez. What seemed to me like a very long church ritual in the morning was followed by a birthday party for Fabiola’s little sister Samanta (turned 5) in the afternoon. Birthdays parties last forever here, with hours of games for the children, small snacks of chips & beans, Jello, sausage slices, “frescos,” etc. brought out and passed around at intervals. When finally the pinata is introduced, you know that presents, ice cream and cake will follow within the next couple of hours! The kids take turns with the stick, and a fair amount of whacking usually has to take place before the tough paper mache donkey (or Dora, or Spongebob Squarepants,or…) breaks open to drop the candies and peanuts that everyone (including grandmas) makes a dive for, children piling on one another to get to the sweets, confetti sparkling in their hair. The photo above is of a very small group--it gets wilder the more people there are!
Since the arrival of the 2009 I’ve been mostly trying to keep my head above water with personal business. My dear Matilda Warthog has once again spent two weeks in the shop and had her transmission replaced for the second time since I bought her 4 years ago. Much as I love her, she now sports a “Se Vende” sign in her rear window, and I recently went up to San Jose to buy a newer car—this time a ’96 Geo Tracker 4-wheel-drive. It’s a lot easier to drive and I love the air conditioning, power steering, and softer ride (Matilda drives like a tank). But it feels a little as though an era ia coming to an end.
I’m sitting out on my side porch enjoying the first day I’ve had at home in weeks. The forest falcon has begun calling loudly again, a soprano “Gua-co, Gua-co, Gua-co,” and a nearby toucan competes with equal racket, “Tweetle-EET-de-DEET-de-DEET.” Cicadas shrill, the river noise below is constant. The cat sleeps on the green table Milena painted with butterflies and heliconias. A blue morphos butterfly lands nearby, its huge, slowly moving iridescent wings flashing now violet, now lapis lazuli in the bright sun. A tanager flashes red, a flycatcher yellow. I am endlessly amazed and entertained by nature at such close quarters. The people wh
o live here take it for granted, don’t even look up when the roaring howler monkeys compete for attention in a nearby tree. Some seem to think the river with its rich supply of shrimp and fish is impervious to abuse, and we have already had two instances of river-poisoning this year. I was bathing in the river January 2 when I found a single dead shrimp. That night Alvin showed up practically in tears with a whole bucketful of dead shrimp, and my skin began to itch. It itched for two weeks. Someone had a good meal of shrimp, and kilometers of river now start all over again with just a few tiny brave survivors that have come down from the streams to repopulate.
I’d meant to write long before now—it’s well over a month since I arrived on 10 December. The weather has changed from comfortably cool, sometimes rainy, sometimes sunny to hot dry summer; then with the earthquake two weeks ago it changed again to hot, overcast, and sometimes rainy. Everyone awaits the “puro verano” (or pure summer) with its clean blue skies and hot beach weather, some with anticipation for the picnics and swimming, others because their beans are ready to harvest and they need clear weather to lay them out in the sun to dry. Well, the cicadas seem to think it’s summer, shrilling so powerfully and insistently that it’s hard to make oneself heard above them; and Luis Nunez said the army of ants that arrived yesterday morning to march for hours through and around my house herald true summer. But this morning the guaco (collared forest falcon) announced loudly and insistently that rain is coming. It’s hard to know who to believe here in Costa Rica.
With room for family variations, Christmas was celebrated by all with days of feasting, visiting, fireworks, karaoke, gift exchanges, and dancing. Presents are exchanged on Christmas Eve, after an afternoon of hanging around talking, playing games, and cooking. The meal having been eaten, everyone gathers in one place, and one of the family elders addresses the crowd (yes, families here are crowds!) with welcome, with gratitude for another year together, with special welcome for visitors (such as dona Eliza), and finally with a formal prayer, sometimes quite lengthy. Then family members take turns distributing presents, and the recipient is subjected to chants of, “Abrelo, abrelo, abrelo,” (open it) while he or she does just that. The gift then has to be held high for everyone to see amidst whistles and cheers, or in the case of underwear or negligees, whistles and catcalls. It makes for a long night, especially when the fireworks, karaoke and dancing get going and the guaro (distilled sugar cane juice) starts flowing. I usually make my excuses sometime around 9 pm, get in Matilda Warthog, my old landcruiser, and head for the upper reaches of the village where my little house stands quiet and all alone above the river. But the celebrations don’t end there: they just keep going until January 1st is history and whatever weekend comes next has passed. Then, finally, it’s back to business as usual.
This year I was asked to attend a number of birthday celebrations, as well as the first communion Fabiola Duarte and Demaris Nunez. What seemed to me like a very long church ritual in the morning was followed by a birthday party for Fabiola’s little sister Samanta (turned 5) in the afternoon. Birthdays parties last forever here, with hours of games for the children, small snacks of chips & beans, Jello, sausage slices, “frescos,” etc. brought out and passed around at intervals. When finally the pinata is introduced, you know that presents, ice cream and cake will follow within the next couple of hours! The kids take turns with the stick, and a fair amount of whacking usually has to take place before the tough paper mache donkey (or Dora, or Spongebob Squarepants,or…) breaks open to drop the candies and peanuts that everyone (including grandmas) makes a dive for, children piling on one another to get to the sweets, confetti sparkling in their hair. The photo above is of a very small group--it gets wilder the more people there are!
Since the arrival of the 2009 I’ve been mostly trying to keep my head above water with personal business. My dear Matilda Warthog has once again spent two weeks in the shop and had her transmission replaced for the second time since I bought her 4 years ago. Much as I love her, she now sports a “Se Vende” sign in her rear window, and I recently went up to San Jose to buy a newer car—this time a ’96 Geo Tracker 4-wheel-drive. It’s a lot easier to drive and I love the air conditioning, power steering, and softer ride (Matilda drives like a tank). But it feels a little as though an era ia coming to an end.
I’m sitting out on my side porch enjoying the first day I’ve had at home in weeks. The forest falcon has begun calling loudly again, a soprano “Gua-co, Gua-co, Gua-co,” and a nearby toucan competes with equal racket, “Tweetle-EET-de-DEET-de-DEET.” Cicadas shrill, the river noise below is constant. The cat sleeps on the green table Milena painted with butterflies and heliconias. A blue morphos butterfly lands nearby, its huge, slowly moving iridescent wings flashing now violet, now lapis lazuli in the bright sun. A tanager flashes red, a flycatcher yellow. I am endlessly amazed and entertained by nature at such close quarters. The people wh
o live here take it for granted, don’t even look up when the roaring howler monkeys compete for attention in a nearby tree. Some seem to think the river with its rich supply of shrimp and fish is impervious to abuse, and we have already had two instances of river-poisoning this year. I was bathing in the river January 2 when I found a single dead shrimp. That night Alvin showed up practically in tears with a whole bucketful of dead shrimp, and my skin began to itch. It itched for two weeks. Someone had a good meal of shrimp, and kilometers of river now start all over again with just a few tiny brave survivors that have come down from the streams to repopulate.On a happier note, I was able to get a loan to offer to don Isidro Nunez to build the bridge his family needs to be able to remain in San Josecito. When I initially told him I had the money to lend him and he could begin the procedures to start the bridge, he went silent and looked very serious. When he finally spoke it was to say, “I’m frightened!” He could not seem to believe that something this good could happen after so many years of struggle and disappointment. But the next time I saw him the fear had given way to smiles, and the sight of the usually surly don Isidro smiling is something to behold! Bridges & More is donating $7000 to the bridge, and the remainder will be built with the loan, which will be paid back when don Isidro is able to sell a lot on his property.
Crossing the River to the Isidro Nunez farm in
is not too hard in the dry season
Stunts on the Current Nunez bridge
Additionally, it appears that the other bridge—the one on the public road where it meets the river—is going to go forward, paid for and built by the municipality. I’m a little like don Isidro here, afraid to believe it until I actually see the heavy equipment and cables being hauled in! But it looks promising. And new neighbors from the north continue to build houses here in San Josecito. Everything is changing, the road gets busier, we have more visitors to the river, and down below Uvita (a one-corner two-cow town when I arrived four years ago) is mushrooming into the commercial center of the south Pacific. I hate going down there now—it’s loud and the traffic is scary because the big Costanera highway continues to roar through it as though this section were not filled with turning cars, stray dogs, children, pedestrians, and campesinos on horseback.
I’m looking at the possibility of setting up a system of walkie-talkie communication from along the road to help with the river vigilance. Folks here are angry about the poisoning and eager to catch the perpetrators in the act—it will require two witnesses to the act itself to make a case against anyone.
January is vacation month for the school children. When they start back I’m hoping I’ll have time to help get a read-aloud program started, along with a small library of children’s literature and a workshop for parents on the benefits of reading to their children. Meanwhile a two-day festival is being planned to raise money to finish the church, and to pay off debts from the phenomenal work that was done on the road to eliminate the creeks we were daily driving through before last winter. A whole lot of structural work was done, with materials largely supplied by the municipality and labor supplied and paid for by the village. The road surface is already in need of more work after the winter rains, but we can’t really start that until we pay off the debts we owe. If everyone would give it wouldn’t be too expensive for anyone, but as always there are those who want to own a piece of paradise without having to give anything in return!
Of the loans we’ve given, there have been mixed results: Guiselle’s chickens are producing eggs that I buy every week, but she has lost a lot of hens to the tayra, or talamunco, a large black creature from the weasel family. I’d thought the hens were going to be enclosed—that was the plan—but Alvin said something about their being too fat to all fit in the enclosure. I should get up there to take a look at it, but like I said, I’ve been pretty busy. Beatriz has not gotten back to her huerta since the hurricane damage the winter before last because she and Ronny have been too busy trying to raise money for the church, and because her pregnancy with their third child is complicated and requires no strenuous activity. Alvin’s investment in a calf to raise was followed by a huge drop in the cost of cows, so he’s waiting for the price of beef to go up again.
Well, this is getting long and you must be getting bored. I’ll put a few more pictures on the site ( http://bridgesnmore.blogspot.com/ ). There are lots of things I’d like to add, so maybe I should plan to do more blog postings so there’s not so much to say all at one time! For now though, I’m off to wash Matilda Warthog and adjust her idle down a bit. Following that, I’ve promised myself a dip in the river—it’s a great day to sun on the rocks.
Pura Vida!
Elizabeth
I’m looking at the possibility of setting up a system of walkie-talkie communication from along the road to help with the river vigilance. Folks here are angry about the poisoning and eager to catch the perpetrators in the act—it will require two witnesses to the act itself to make a case against anyone.
January is vacation month for the school children. When they start back I’m hoping I’ll have time to help get a read-aloud program started, along with a small library of children’s literature and a workshop for parents on the benefits of reading to their children. Meanwhile a two-day festival is being planned to raise money to finish the church, and to pay off debts from the phenomenal work that was done on the road to eliminate the creeks we were daily driving through before last winter. A whole lot of structural work was done, with materials largely supplied by the municipality and labor supplied and paid for by the village. The road surface is already in need of more work after the winter rains, but we can’t really start that until we pay off the debts we owe. If everyone would give it wouldn’t be too expensive for anyone, but as always there are those who want to own a piece of paradise without having to give anything in return!
Of the loans we’ve given, there have been mixed results: Guiselle’s chickens are producing eggs that I buy every week, but she has lost a lot of hens to the tayra, or talamunco, a large black creature from the weasel family. I’d thought the hens were going to be enclosed—that was the plan—but Alvin said something about their being too fat to all fit in the enclosure. I should get up there to take a look at it, but like I said, I’ve been pretty busy. Beatriz has not gotten back to her huerta since the hurricane damage the winter before last because she and Ronny have been too busy trying to raise money for the church, and because her pregnancy with their third child is complicated and requires no strenuous activity. Alvin’s investment in a calf to raise was followed by a huge drop in the cost of cows, so he’s waiting for the price of beef to go up again.
Well, this is getting long and you must be getting bored. I’ll put a few more pictures on the site ( http://bridgesnmore.blogspot.com/ ). There are lots of things I’d like to add, so maybe I should plan to do more blog postings so there’s not so much to say all at one time! For now though, I’m off to wash Matilda Warthog and adjust her idle down a bit. Following that, I’ve promised myself a dip in the river—it’s a great day to sun on the rocks.
Pura Vida!
Elizabeth
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