living outside

       I love, love, love everything about living in the jungle.  The weather is warm. Well ok, it's hot.  Really hot and humid, but I like it that way.  I love the foilage everywhere with huge thick leaves and beautiful, exotic flowers. I love the animals and birds of the jungle. I love the beautiful sun that is out every single day and I even love the rain which comes every night at this time of year.  What I have come to realize is that in Costa Rica, we live outside.  Houses and buildings are all open air.  It's not like our homes are all closed up and when a creature comes in they've invaded our world.  We, in fact, live in their world.  We are the intruders.  We live outside so we adapt to the environment, and Ticos are very resourceful. If you are at a restaurant and an iguana strolls in you don't shoo him out, you just take pictures and finish your meal.  At home when the highly vocal geckos crawl over the walls at night and make their funny noises you don't try to catch them and take them outside.  You just live in harmony.  You're in their world.
       My tico house, and others I have gone into, are always spotless.  You could almost eat off the shiny tiled floor.  As soon as any food was served at a meal it was immediately put away, the counters were wiped down, and dishes were washed.  I just thought they were a little obsessed with cleanliness, and maybe they are, but I learned it was because of the outside creatures that they kept such a tidy home. For instance, these little miniature ants come, in only a few seconds, like a call has gone out and they were just waiting in the wings.  They are almost microscopic and can only be discerned when they march in a line like tiny soldiers. They also like to hang out in the bathrooms near the toothpaste, so that is kept up as well.
       When it rains here it is not a mist like in Seattle. It is a down pour, and everything just stays wet all the time. When you wake up in the morning and get dressed you are immediately soaked in sweat from the heat and you just stay wet all day.  But I still love it. Then the rains come. I brought a nice rain coat with me so I would be ready, but I learned the first time I put it on that it is way too hot to wear a jacket.   Everyone here just carries an umbrella, which they put up and go right along with their day.  Umbrellas are everywhere.  People buy the cheap ones because you leave them, lose them and give them away in a downpour.  If you see one that's abandoned you just pick it up and take it with you, because someone has found yours in the back of a taxi.  There is a steady flow of umbrella trading depending on where you are when the rain hits.   And because it rains so much and humidity is high, things never dry, and the fight against mold is always an issue.  Most people keep important items in the refrigerator, so raiding the fridge here can be a treasure hunt.  It might produce things like 2x2 photos with a bunch of numbers. Passports.  Seriously. If you don't keep your passport in the cold environment of the refrigerator it could be covered in mold and useless.  There is a saying here that says you can put a broomstick in the ground and it will grow, and I believe it's true.  Something will grow all over it. Workers can be seen every day scrubbing the walls and sidewalks of hotels to keep the moss from taking over.
       With all the heat and rain, us gringos go back and forth between being stinky and muddy.  The Ticos are neither!  Somehow they always smell good and their clothes are clean, even their white clothes are unbelievably white.  I wondered with awe how they accomplished this and learned that they use a lot of bleach to combat the mold, and they do their laundry very often.  Many people have washers, but not dryers because they use a lot of electricity which gets expensive. Every day there are clothes outside drying in the sun before the evening rains.
      One day some friends and I went to lunch and I took my leftovers with me in a styrofoam "to go" container.  We went back to the Academia because Mauricio, the school's groundskeeper, was going to show us the way to a new beach for the afternoon as a field trip.  I asked him if I could just leave my container there until we got back.  He said, "Si, ven conmigo." Yes, come with me.  I followed him in silence all the way past two classrooms, down the stairs, around the building and into what functions as an eating area in the school. I wondered why we were here for a simple "to go" box.  Maybe he didn't understand my spanish.  Mauricio dug through the cabinets until he found what he was looking for.  A great big disposable casserole pan.  He went to the sink and filled the pan with one inch of water.  What was going on? He took the "to go" box from my hands and set it in the middle of the water, in the pan. "Por que?" Why? I asked.  He grinned as he pumped his arms in big circles and said the only words he ever said to me in english. "Ants can't swim."

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A "monkey bridge" is created with rope, where tree removal for roads have prevented their safe passage

the iguana's favorite cafe

a dryer

Gato Negro

       It was a national holiday in Costa Rica and all the schoolchildren held festivities with traditional dances, songs, and celebrations at school.  After our Spanish classes were done for the day we were invited up to Manuel Antonio Bi-lingual Elementary School for the festivities.  The children were so excited to share their dances with us.  I’d heard from a friend of mine who teaches English there that she hadn’t had an English class in weeks because they were preparing for this day during every spare minute of class time.  When we walked in it looked just like every school I’ve been to before a big event. Children ran excitedly to and fro getting into costumes.  Mother’s painted make-up on the little girls and one boy got a mustache for his role.  A microphone was being set up in the corner, and the mothers and fathers laid out traditional foods on a table. As “tico time” goes, these preparations took an extra hour after we arrived, but we waited patiently in the sun being good gringo guests invited to the party.  Eventually there was a call to order and the celebration began.  They danced and sang, recited poetry from memory, and added funny quotes from their country.  It was an adorable event. The parents were so proud, and I realized that as humanity, we are all the same no matter where we live or what our age.  We all want to love and be loved, we all want someone on the planet to be proud of us, and recognize our value, and we are all just trying to be the best we can be under the circumstances of being human. 

       PamEla graciously invited me to come to her pool at the hotel to cool off for the afternoon.  We stayed in the water for two hours and enjoyed a break from the intense heat, until PamEla decided it was time for happy hour.  We strolled next door to a place called Gato Negro, Black Cat.  The bartender was a friend of hers and he spoke fairly good English.  “He will help us with our Spanish homework while we have Cervesas.”  Beers. Who was I to argue with a plan like that?  With his help we got our work done and laughed and played as we practiced our terrible Spanish with him as well.  As the sun set, I decided it was time for me to head back to Quepos to have dinner with my family.  It began to pour down rain and quickly became dark so I decided to take a taxi instead of the bus.  We sailed down the hill about 2K towards Quepos and all of sudden everything went dark.  Completely dark.  Then ahead of us, traffic stopped cold.  We sat behind a bus in line and waited for a while.  Finally the taxi driver inquired with  the bus driver as to what was happening.  As it turned out, during the storm, a huge tree had fallen across the one road to Manuel Antonio, taking with it the one power line to there as well.  The word on the street was that it would take several hours to clear the tree.  I looked at the driver and decided I would just have to make the best of a bad situation. “Pueda me toma apoyo a Gato Negro?” Could you take me back to the Black Cat? Why would I sit in the street for hours when there was a party to be had, instead.  I went up the stairs of Gato Negro in the dark and yelled, “Hola!. I’m back.” PamEla was delighted and was helping the restaurant put candles all around for light.  They brought us another round and we talked about how we take electricity for granted.  By this time, it was way past dinner and I knew my family would be concerned.  There was no way I could call Bileida on the phone and understand her rapid Spanish, so I asked the bartender if he would call my house and explain that I was there.  He agreed and I gave him her name and phone number.  The bartender came back laughing so hard as he recounted the conversation.   He said that at each point during the conversation, she would stop him and relay the information to the 20 usual relatives gathered at my house for dinner.  It went like this:  “Shhh, It’s about Lucetta!”  “She’s in Manuel Antonio. “  “The power is out.” “ A tree is down across the road."  “She’s ok.”  “She’s at the bar at Gato Negro.”  He said there was a silence and then an uproar of laughter in the background.  “I guess she IS ok!”  To Anibal, I was no longer Lucetta.  My new name was Gato Negro, which he called me from that day forward.

these boys spiked their hair for the occasion

jungle animals

       One weekend a friend of mine came to visit from the states. There was no extra space in my tico house for visitors so I took a room at La Mariposa, the butterfly, which is up the mountain from Quepos in Manuel Antonio.  Ahhh… air conditioning, hot water, and an amazing view, it was luxurious.  My friend was arriving the next day so I had some quiet and calm all to myself for the first time in a month. I went out onto the terrace to enjoy the stunning view of Manuel Antonio National Park and the beach.  As the sun was going down I noticed there was another side to my terrace.  I walked over to see what the view might be in that direction. There was a large potted plant around the corner, and stretched from there to the wall was one of the most amazing spider webs I had ever seen.  I wanted to take down the web and see around the corner, but I just didn’t have the heart.  It’s getting late, I thought, and some spider spent a lot of time weaving this web for tonight.  I’ll just pass on the view.  I snuggled in the bed early excited to know I would not be awakened at the crack of dawn by dogs and roosters, and I quickly fell asleep in the quiet. 

       I may not be in Quepos, but I’m still in Costa Rica.  At the first sign of daylight, I was awakened by a repetitive banging on my roof!  Really? What in the world is going on up there, and why is the universe against me getting some shut-eye?  I climbed out of bed when I realized it wasn’t going to stop.  Was the hotel working on my roof at that this time in the morning? The sun comes up at five and by 5:30 or 6:00 in the morning everyone here is up and going about their day.  I would have to call the front desk and ask them to please stop.  I squinted against the sun as I moved out on to the terrace and looked up to find a group of White Faced monkey’s jumping up and down on my roof like a trampoline!  They were having the time of their lives as they jumped and rolled and played.  I suddenly forgot I was grumpy as I watched them from only a few feet away.  I was mesmerized. They moved off the roof and down onto my terrace to play with an iguana.  He did not seem at all amused by their antics, and fought back, but took a few hits that stunned him.  He rallied and took off when they became distracted by the ledge and began playing there.  One monkey worked his way around the around the corner where the spider web was located.  He stopped in his tracks.  The largest spider I’d ever seen was there right in the center of the web.  He worked his way closer until his face was one inch from the web.  He balanced on the rail as he looked and studied, cocking his head curiously from side to side. Suddenly, CHOMP!  He ate my spider right out of the web. I jumped back a foot at the shock of it, and shouted, “Hey, what was that!”  I was actually angry at the monkey for a few minutes as I felt the loss of my friend I had protected the night before.  Slowly I realized this is the cycle of life, this is the world of survival in nature, and I was merely an observer. So I picked up a stick, took down the web and went around the corner to enjoy the morning from a different point of view.

the spider eating monkey

       

white faced monkey

Howler Monkey - their howl is loud and deep and can be heard for a long distance

3 toed sloth - my personal favorite to watch