Cuentos de Costa Rica- Now about that rich coast...

los surfeos

On Sunday, I went with the oldest cousin Tito, his mom, and his girlfriend Mariana to the beach. Jacó is a very small town that nevertheless sees a lot of action due to its proximity to San Jose. This day there were not too many people stationed on the dark sand and therefore it was perfect! Mariana taught me how to use a boogie board in the ocean waves. Catching the waves (or rather, the waves catching me) was extremely thrilling. I even screamed in surprise at one point when I found my board pointed downward instead of parallel as a wave pushed me all the way back to the water’s edge. Later, Mariana told everyone how I was “having as much fun as a little kid!”

las puntadas de Mary

After eating a picnic lunch, we decided to have a surf lesson with Tito. Mariana and I followed him into the water. Mariana, who has done surfing a bit before, went first. She practiced standing up, something that I could picture taking a long time to learn. After one such effort she came out from under the surf and started making her way back to us in deeper water. Suddenly, the board that was attached to her ankle bucked up into the air on top of a wave and came crashing down on her face! She stood still for a moment, looking a bit dazed, but seemed to be no worse for the wear. Suddenly, blood started gushing out from a cut on the bridge of her nose. We ran for her, and Tito helped her back to the beach. We doctored her as best we could, cleaning the wound with water, using napkins and ice to stop the bleeding. When it had stopped and we were able to see the wound more clearly, it was apparent she would need stitches. Tito took her to a nearby hospital and we all waited for them to come back. So I didn’t get to surf, nor would I have wanted to anymore that day, but I was content to play in the waves.

I had been trying to stay out of the sun all day but I would be leaving with my usual souvenir from every visit to a beach: a painful red sunburn. Before we left, we took a drive up a hill to a lookout point. The hill itself was heavily forested and as night was approaching we could hear many birds and insects singing serenades. Native animals frolicked in beautiful stone reliefs that lined the dirt road. We then walked along another smaller path through the jungle until it opened into a long and elliptical balcony painted and set with white tiles. Stairs wove in and out and up and down, the railings adorning them like lace trim. An electrical cord with a few lit bulbs was strung across the length of the structure; where it would provide light in the space of half an hour, it now only served to contribute to the charming atmosphere. The view was incredible, the balcony and tree branches providing a frame for what could not be enclosed. My sight stumbled and rolled down the hill to the beach, laid out in front of me like an infinite-course meal; my eyes could not eat and drink enough of the spread.

I declared I would like to live there forever, even if I must bring a tent. Actually, it is already a house, or the skeleton of one, and skeleton is the correct word to use, for there is a rumor that the Italian who left the house unfinished just up and vanished, possibly taken away by the police. But enough of the macabre. From here we watched the sunset, a red glowing orb sinking down into chalky blue water. Then we got into the car to drive “home,” as I’m all too easily starting to think of San Jose. On the way, I related some of the tales of my travels. My companions listened patiently to my stories that probably took more than twice as long as it would take a native speaker to relate them, and then they were still gracious enough to praise me by saying how well I spoke Spanish!

Mami y yo

Buena gente- good people. Good people are why I keep doing this, packing up and getting out into the world larger than my home state and country, putting myself in unfamiliar places, experiencing levels of discomfort varying from slight to great. Good people are why I only spent one night in a hotel the entire month I was in India. Good people are why I kept going, staying away three more months than planned and visiting four more countries than I originally intended. Good people are who first inspired me to leave (twice!) and who encouraged me to continue despite difficulties faced. Good people are why I travel. I mean sure there’s also a lot of cool stuff to see, but I never would go see them or enjoy them half as much if it weren’t for the people who sent me or found me there. I’m so pleased to say I’m staying with some of the best right now =)

Cuentos de Costa Rica (stories from Costa Rica)

I have been in Costa Rica only a short while, and although I have just seen the Coast for the first time yesterday, I had already been experiencing the Rich-ness daily since my arrival ;) My friend Claudia’s cousins picked me up at the airport. Pri, who I had been communicating with by email, gave me a hug and as we drove provided helpful orientation to the city. The family received me into the house with the warmest of welcomes and showed me to my own room! (which had actually been appropriated from the youngest brother, Luis). The next day poor Luis also drove me around to do errands. When I changed money in the bank the teller only spoke to me in Spanish; I was pleasantly surprised that I could complete the transaction with not even a day’s warm-up!

The next few days were spent planning and carrying out job interviews. Again Luis drove me to both of them and even waited for me for 45 minutes at each one! I really do not deserve this much kindness. The interviews went well- I was offered both jobs! Now I just need to complete a third interview today and then it seems I will have my pick =) The cousins have spent significant time with me taking me around. I was able to get my fix of the English language in healthy doses as they all spoke English very well (I never realized I’d be so grateful for this, but when adjusting to a new country that one has just moved to, it is very helpful to be able to speak one’s native language, not only for logistics but also for emotional support). Luis drove me around downtown pointing out landmarks. Pri took me with her on the bus so that I could get to know the mind-boggling process of transferring =/ They both explained Costa Rican directions over and over to no avail; I still don’t get it. *Example: this section of that neighborhood, 50 meters south and 75 east of the field, the yellow house on the right with orange trim. Yes that’s the “address” of the house here!

Tomorrow for my interview I will need to get on the bus to go downtown, then I need to walk to the park past a church and stay on the side of the bank to find the green buses that say they’re going to Hospital Mexico. I will tell the driver to drop me off at the Toyota dealer and then head east, away from another park, until I see a Subway (the American sandwich chain, not an underground train), then I turn right and walk 200 meters south and the building is there across from yet another park. What a headache! I have to pysch myself up more for arriving at the interview than for the interview itself! While this all might seem ridiculously confusing right now, I know that in a few months I will probably be a pro at using the buses and determining directions and I won’t know what I ever thought was so difficult about it.

On the weekend the cousins invited me out with their friends. One unforgettable meal was an extremely greasy (and extremely delicious!) empanada filled with chicharrón (fried pork rinds). This alone could be the deciding factor in whether I can ever become a full-time vegetarian. I tried out different combinations of sauces and condiments on the divine morsels: lemon juice from lemons that are green with a light orange interior, only slightly sweeter than yellow lemons; a sweet tomato salsa that I liked best; a mix of carrots and cabbage that had an almost clear sauce dripped over them, disguising the reality of its spiciness; and a Costa Rican favorite, salsa Lizano- a brown sauce in a bottle that is both spicy and sweet and smells delicious due to its quantity of cumin, which Pri assured me would not be good with chicharrón but which I was determined to try regardless (result: not bad!).

Indeed it’s hard to go wrong with the food here. Claudia’s aunt Vilma (originally from El Salvador) is a very good cook and we often eat meat flavored by various succulent seasonings. But there are two staples that I eat everyday that would be sufficient for me even though they are not considered main dishes. The first is gallo pinto; the second, maduros. Gallo pinto is a mix of red beans that have been cooked in, you guessed it, salsa Lizano, along with plain white rice (¡Qúe rico!) And then there are maduros. I think anybody who has ever had these just loves them. Sweet, firm plantains fried in oil. Simple, but soo good! And sadly, a habit I will have to kick soon (all that oil is really not good for you).