La Tarea

       My new friend, the other student in the class, is named Pamela.  Ticos, for some reason, have a really hard time saying Pam, so her name while in spanish class, is PamEla. That's pronounced P-ah-MAY-la. This makes me laugh and I plan to call her this even if we are back in the United States.  She had been to Manuel Antonio eight times before on vacation, so she became my mentor and set out to show me the ropes of navigating this foreign land.  After my surprise party at the school, our first stop on the tour was a restaurant called Agua Azul. Blue Water.  It was perched on the crest of a hill and had an expansive view of the ocean. She ordered two Imperials for us and as we waited, we began to hear a chopping sound coming from the distance.  We finally narrowed down the area where the noise was coming from, and one more chop brought down a tree limb to reveal an amazing site.  There was a barefoot Tico, 30 feet up in the air, in the top of the tree, with a machete!  No ropes or repelling gear, no OSHA requirements, no lawyers waiting at the bottom...  Just him. For the next hour he methodically took down limb after limb just holding himself in the tree. He expertly made every chop count and when the final part of the tree top fell, it opened up our view exposing an island in the ocean beyond.  PamEla clinked my beer and said, "You see, Lucetta, all of Costa Rica celebrates you today."
        Our next stop was a place that most tourists want to visit when they come here.  It is a place called El Avion. The Airplane.  Evidently, back in the 80's this C-123 Cargo plane was a part of the Iran Contra scandal.  The owners disassembled it, brought it up to the top of Manuel Antonio and put it back together again.  It is now the home to a restaurant and bar with sunset views. Why? How? And who thought to put an airplane on the top of a hill? I have no idea, but it is fascinating none the less, and they make a mean Margarita. (it is still my birthday)  The last place on our party trip was a restaurant named Gato Negro. Black Cat. After a delicious steak dinner that did not include beans and rice, PamEla hailed me a cab and sent me back to Quepos.
        Needless to say, I did not do my tarea. Homework.  The next morning at the bus station I whipped out my workbook and spanish/english dictionary; racing the clock.  The bus arrived and as I searched for a seat I saw a woman with blond hair and unbelievably vibrant blue eyes. Aha, an American.  I sat beside her and asked if she wouldn't mind helping a fellow citizen with her homework.  She laughed and said, "Of course." I put the finishing touches on my conjugations as Colleen hopped off at her stop to go to a different spanish school.
        At the beginning of class each day, we have spanish conversation to practice creating sentences and learn to communicate effectively. We talk about what we did the day before, our host families, or things about our life in general.  Charlie, my teacher, said that he had been living in Costa Rica, for the most part, for the last twenty years.  He lived in a small village 30 minutes south of Quepos called Matapalo.  There, he owned 5 buildings on the beach which comprised a small resort called The Jungle House. Tourism was good and this provided him an ample income.  He poured his heart, soul, and resources into the community.  In his resort he employed young Ticos and taught them about work ethic.  He began a life guard training program to create jobs for the young men in the town, and made designs for a community center that would teach valid trade skills as well. He adopted two Tico boys that came from troubled homes to give them a better chance, and wrote a monthly column called, "Making A Difference." A year or so ago, the government changed the Maritime laws on the beach and said that three of his five buildings were in violation. They would have to be torn down! I know that Costa Rica is good about protecting the environment and the sea turtles, but have they never heard about "Grandfathering" in a building until it falls on it's own? It seemed so unfair. Charlie's buildings came down about the same time the economy fell and tourism died.  It was a crushing blow. Having to generate a new income is how Charlie came to be my spanish teacher.
       When he talked about the "Jungle House" his eyes lit up.  "Oh, I just wish you could see it.  It's so beautiful there." PamEla and I were totally engrossed in this real time history lesson on living in Costa Rica and we agreed we wished we could see it too. "Well, why don't we go there this weekend?  I have my truck and I can take you."  PamEla and I looked at each other and you could see our American brains kick into action as to why we couldn't possibly just pick up at the last minute and go away for the weekend.  This would have to be planned out and things rearranged. But the truth was we were in Costa Rica and there was not one other thing we had to do except enjoy the beauty of this experience.  Charlie helped me write a note in spanish to leave with my host family, telling them I would be away for the weekend.  I went home and packed my bag because I was headed to Matapalo.

PamEla at Agua Azul

the beer of Costa Rica

El Avion

Inside El Avion
You can even climb up into the cock pit

Charlie and graduates of the life guard program