stilleto

        I was awakened by the barking of a large pack of dogs after a deep sleep, during the first night in my new home.  I don’t know what set them off into such a frenzy, but there were obviously many of them.  The dawn was just beginning to break and I rolled over to look at the time on my cell phone. Only 5:00am and already the sun was coming up! I pulled my pillow over my head and tried to doze back off.  Dogs are allowed to roam free here, and in fact I have not even seen a leash anywhere, so their little canine party continued for quite a while.  I decided to rise and get ready to see what the day would hold for me. 

       Bileida called me down at 6:15 for the typical Costa Rican breakfast.  Pinto Gallo, which is a mixture of rice and black beans, scrambled eggs, a flour tortilla, and some of that delicious Costa Rican coffee.  I sat up at the bar in the kitchen with she and Anibal, and we attempted to communicate as we ate.  She asked me if I knew how to dance the Salsa and Merengue. I shook my head, no.  She jumped up and motioned me into the kitchen.  She grabbed my arms and began to dance with me!  Anibal clapped his hands with delight and began to hum so we would have music.  We laughed as we swirled around the floor, and when she was satisfied that I had grasped the basic steps, we returned to our breakfast.   Afterwards she picked up her keys and led me to the front door.  She was telling me that they would be leaving early and she wanted to show me how to lock the door properly because Milena would be sleeping upstairs.  We went out the front door and she locked it, pushing it back and forth to make sure it was secure. I nodded and said I would do it the same way.  She turned the key to push the door back opened, but nothing happened.  She tried again and pushed on the door, but nothing.  She was perplexed and mumbling something in Spanish. Were we locked out? We looked at each other and she tried once more, this time hurling her body against the door.  I heard a thud on the other side, and the door swung opened wide to reveal Anibal being flung onto his back on the couch in a fit of laughter.  He had been standing inside holding the door closed the entire time!  He seemed very proud of himself and a giggling Bileida just waved him off as though his antics were nothing new.  I locked the house when I left.  Whew, what a day.  I’d eaten breakfast, learned to dance, had a prank pulled, and it was only 7:15.

       I walked towards the center of town to find the bus station.  I scanned the buses and found one that said, “Quepos/Manuel Antonio”.  It was empty, so I sat down to wait among the others on one of the many benches.  I got out my wallet and counted out 240 colones.  This is their form of money and my coins equaled about 48 cents.  I stood out of the crowd, just a little bit, with my paleness and blond hair as I sat among the beautifully brown Ticos with their flawless skin.  A Tico is someone who was born in Costa Rica.  All other people, no matter where you come from, are Gringos.  This is not disparaging in any way, it is merely a distinction, which I might add comes in handy at times.  The town of Quepos is where most of the Ticos live, and where I live with my host family.  I will take the bus up the hill about 6 kilometers to Manuel Antonio, where hotels, restaurants, night clubs, and my school are located. On the other side of Manuel, down another hill, lay the beach and the National Park. Sitting at the station I silently observe these amazing people.  They greet one another with a kiss, talk, play and laugh as though they haven’t seen each other in years.  They stand to let elderly women sit down, they play with the children, they fan one another in the heat, and share bits of food they have brought for their breakfast.   I watched as several men and women began appearing with large bags full of something wrapped in newspaper.  I detected something round like bowls. Bowls, that’s what they were. These were the people who would sell their wooden bowls at the beach, which were made from the mango tree. Other’s had on shirts with logos from the resorts and would serve the gringos all day up in Manuel Antonio.

         The driver showed up and we all filed onto the bus.  It was crowded.  Rush hour.  I managed to get a seat, but the isles were completely full of people standing.  As we headed up mountain I realized I didn’t know exactly at which stop I should get off the bus. I began to look for something familiar near the school.  I rode and rode but did not see anything on my side of the street. When you are ready to leave the bus, you push a button on the handrail and this lets the driver know he needs to stop at the next bus stop.  After a while I began to get anxious.  Where was my school?  Finally, someone pushed the button and at the next stop all of the people filed out of the isle and off the bus.  I looked over to the other side only to see the beach! The beach?  How did I get down here?  Oh no, what do I do? I guessed that meant I should get off at the next stop, hike back up that hill, and look for the academia.  Right as I was weighing my options and beginning to panic, the bus turned around at the bottom near the Park.  A loop!  The bus was on a loop!  I breathed a sigh of relief, and we headed back up the hill. As I was the only person left on the bus, I moved to the front and asked the driver to show me where to get off for school. I walked through the front door 30 minutes late. The receptionist smiled and wagged her finger at me. “Usted llega tarde. Estuvimos preocupado” You are late. We were worried. I apologized and quickly replayed my bus mishap.  She jumped up, ran into the other room and told her co-worker, in perfect English, “Lucetta tried to skip class and go to the beach. Hahahaha.”  They came into the room, reverted back to Spanish, told me that my tardiness was excused for today, and I should run off to class.

       That evening, after dinner back at my house, more relatives stopped by.  One was my mother’s niece, Lyneth, who announced we were going out to a fiesta that evening.  I thought I understood the words, “iglesia and baile”. Church and dancing. Anibal lay on the couch watching tv, (his favorite spot), with an Imperial Beer, (he drinks two every night) in his shorts, a t shirt with the sleeves cut out, and flip flops (never seen him in anything else).  He watched as the women prepared to go out for the event.  Bileida came into the room and Anibal let out a long slow whistle. Her hair was up in a twist, she had on makeup, jewelry and a smokin-hot little black dress. I ran upstairs and put on something I thought might be appropriate; a black tank and a skirt. As we headed out the door, Bileida topped off her look as she slipped on a pair of shiny black, patent leather, pointed stilletos! We went out to the carport and Lineth jumped in the back seat, so I sat up front with Bileida.  As we pulled out, Anibal came out to close the big gate behind us.  All of a sudden the back door opened and Anibal jumped in.  He was going with us.

           My spanish interpretation was mistaken, and my eyes went wide as we did not pull into a church, but instead, a local club called Bambu Jam.  A live band played Salsa and Merengue in the corner as people gathered around the dance floor.  We all sat at the bar and Lineth ordered us Guaro Cecique and tonic to drink.  Guaro is a Costan Rican liquor that evidently kicks hard when it kicks in.  Lineth claimed that when you drink it with tonic you won't have a hangover the next day. I didn't want to test that theory and I limited myself to only one because I was out with my "parents." After a few sips from his Imperial, Anibal took a deep bow in front of Bileida asking her onto the dance floor. I began to giggle at the thought of my couch dad out there with his dolled up wife.  How would this work?
       I should have known, and should not have been surprised when he suddenly emerged with all the grace and smoothness of Fred Astaire.  He held her tightly as they swirled around the dance floor in perfect unison. Then he pushed her away and expertly twirled her around and around and back again. I was suddenly watching a final episode of Dancing With the Stars. It was mesmerizing. I have come to learn that Tico's are born knowing how to dance.  Really. They possess an innate ability to move.  Soon, more people began to join them on the dance floor and as the crowd thickened, it caused people to bump into one another.  About three dances in, I heard a yelp and looked over to find Anibal almost down on his knees on the floor.  His flip flop was across the room and he was holding his foot grimacing in pain.  Bileida had speared him with her stilleto!  I retrieved his shoe as he hobbled off the dance floor and onto a bar stool. He rocked back and forth writhing in pain, so Lineth did the only thing she could do to help; she immediately ordered him a double Guaro.  Bileida stroked his arm and apologized profusely. Although his dancing career was over for the night, he began to feel better and they both seemed to enjoy watching the ticos teach the clumsy gringos how to dance.
       We arrived back at the house around 11:30, just in time for Milena and her fiance, to come home from her nursing classes.  I excused myself and went up to bed.  Again, the aroma of food came up the stairs and as I lay in my bed I found it impossible to sleep.  This time it was not from hunger, but because downstairs, for a solid 45 minutes, they laughed hysterically as they reenacted  the stilleto debacle over and over.   A deep sense of joy washed over me.  I am right where where I am supposed to be.

My Tico Parents
Bileida and Anibal

My sister Milena and her fiance the doctor

My brother, Michael and his wife

Michael's daughters

The bus station in Quepos

the magic cure