Life with Monkeys

Hot Jungle, Cold Fanta

Of the things I miss about living in the jungle, this is among them. As one drives through the jungle, there is an occasional 'pulperia' where one can find refreshments and foodstuffs and such; not entirely unlike the 7-11's we have here.  I love these little shops. I love that anyone with a little dough and determination can open one, I love that they always seem to stock the taste treat, Fanta Naranja and those of you who know me well, know how much I must love the added bonus of always finding shirtless men there!

 

My Coconuts

From the kitchen window of my house in the jungle, I can see this lovely coconut tree.  When we moved down there, it seemed the tree went into overdrive producing coconuts; pity that my mister is the only one in the family who enjoys eating them.  One day as I was hanging out with my 'little friends' they pointed to the tree FULL of ripe coconuts and suggested that if I didn't remove the ripe fruit, the tree would dry out.  As they said this, I thought I could detect an note of disbelief in their little voices that not everyone would know that.  I went and asked my mister if he would cut down the ripe 'cocos" to which he replied that it was on his to do list and he was off to collect a machete!  In my wildest dreams, I never imagined I would have my very own coconut tree or be married to a man who owns a machete.  But I do, and he does.  As he cut the coconuts off, he would toss them gently to the ground.  By the end of his harvesting, there was quite an impressive crop of cocos.  We split the cocos into equal piles and then Ivan, the family's ambassador, made the rounds, delivering them to our neighbors.  Three months ago, Ivan did not speak a word of Espanol and only understood a little bit.  Now, he knows enough to convey that we have more coconuts than we know what to do with!  I had never been more proud!

Cows in my River

Yesterday Brian walks into the house and says, "You may want to walk down to the river.  There's a whole bunch of cows just hanging out down there."  I grabbed my son formerly known as the man-child, husband, and camera and we walked down the road to the river.  Before we even reached the river, I heard them.  Lowing, it's called, for those of you who think the term may be mooing.  And yes, I looked it up.  Going from city girl to jungle woman does require a bit of research.  And a machete, of course.  In any event, as soon as we reached the river we saw them, a virtual sea of bovine beauty.  Now, I don't know who they belonged to or where they'd escaped from but they had the nerve to look at us as though we were the intruders!  I believe that's known as bovine arrogance in the animal kingdom. 

The locals walk past us completely unimpressed that there are suddenly cows grazing by our little rio.  While we stood there staring at the cows and they stood there staring right back, Adrian began to make sounds that he thought mimicked theirs.  MOOOO!  As he did this, the cows did the most remarkable thing; without taking their gaze from Adian, they encircled their calves.  Makes sense, Adrian gave them the impression he was a mental patient and could be dangerous, so they protected their young.  I felt overwhelming tenderness for them.  And wonder.  As in, I wonder why some human being aren't equally as protective of their own young.  But that's just me; over-protective, micro-managing mother I am.  And in light of this new discovery, should anyone ever call me a cow, I will smile demurely and say, "Gracias."

When In Rome...

This afternoon, Ivan finished up his schoolwork and announced that he was going to look for our little friends, Chrysler and Alex, to see if they wanted to walk down to the river and do a little fishing.  He returned moments later and said that Chrysler's dad, Jhonny, (yes, that's his real name and no, I didn't misspell it)  would drive them to a good fishing spot nearby and clean his truck while the boys fished.  Ivan packed up some snacks, salchichas (weiners, for bait) and his handmade, homemade fishing pole.  Jhonny drove up seconds later and we chatted, I thanked him and the boys got in the truck and they left.  Let me tell you  a little about Jhonny; he is an intelligent, hard-working, dedicated husband and father who has been working since he was a little boy and didn't have the opportunity to get an education.  He is also one of the nicest people I have ever met.  He has a quick smile, a tender heart and  a relentlessly good disposition.   I enjoy our visits immensely and I have enormous respect for him.  After a while, they returned.  This time the boys were standing in the back of the truck, laughing as the rain was beginning to fall.  Jhonny was driving slowly but still, seeing Ivan standing in the back of an old truck as it drove past, struck me as a bit dangerous.  You see that sort of thing all day long around here but it is different when it's your own child you love and are supposed to protect, no?  I could see that Ivan was having the time of his life, as were Chrysler and Alex.  As they drove a bit further I noticed that Jhonny's truck has nothing at the end of the bed to keep anything or anyone in save for an old rope.   My heart sank but by then Jhonny was parking the truck and the boys were climbing out like the monkeys they are.  The boys ran over to us (Brian, Adrian, and I) to tell us about how tiny the fish were and the wild guava they had picked and eaten and how much fun they'd had.  They were wet and excited and happy.  Why wouldn't they be happy?  It sounds like the perfect way to spend an afternoon.          

A Sign in the Jungle

I have written in the past about how our house has no address.  Same goes for all of the houses in the area.  There are no street names either in our little neck of the jungle, just the main dirt road.  And smaller dirt roads once you drive farther in to the area.  You'd better know where you're going.  Some weeks ago, we were waiting for the satellite TV guys when my husband decided to ensure our house would be found.  You see, my husband had explained to the installers where the house is in relationship to the church, the schoolhouse, the soccer field (impressive, as he did it all on a cell phone and in Espanol!) but he thought he could go one better and leave the installers a sign when it came time to take a left into our 'private' road.  Literally, a sign.  Brian took a few minutes, really, a few minutes and cobbled together, then painted this sign.  Every time we return to our little area, it gives me great joy to see this little sign.  Perhaps because the sign is so cute and has my name on it and perhaps it's because it feels so liberating to live where you can make a sign to your house and stick it in the ground and there it stays.  Silly?  Maybe it is or maybe it is!

The Object Of My Desire

Okay, so there I am at the ferreteria (hardware store) buying masking tape, minding my own business when I look up and there it is; an ad for the machete of my dreams.  It inspired in me the intense desire that those old DeBeers ads used to.  The ones that advertised the most beautiful diamond jewelry in the world; sparkling diamonds draped across the neck or wrist or dangling from the ears of some breathtaking model.  Seeing that ad, I felt the stirrings of desire.  I want that!  I must have it!  My life will be perfect if I could just have that necklace bracelet earrings machete!  How is it possible that in only three short months I have gone from lusting after shiny metal objects of the jewelry persuasion to shiny metal objects of the machete persuasion?

Infestation

This morning Ivan yells to me downstairs, "Hey mom, there are thousands of ants crawling up the wall of my bedroom.  What should I do?"  I grabbed the camera and went to get my mister, who was working on something outside.  By the time we came back into the house, Adrian had followed the trail from Ivan's room, down the stairway and into the laundry room.  It seems that they were getting in through a crack in the door that leads outside.  When we got upstairs to Ivan's room, my husband declared that they were not ants at all, but termites.  Quite brazen ones, at that.  And they have excellent taste; we have the most beautiful ceilings made of wood.   In my opinion, the bedroom ceilings are the prettiest feature in the house.  For the most part, the rest of the house is concrete but I imagine the wood ceilings must be very attractive to the local termite population.  Brian began spraying bug spray on the stream of termites. Just then Adrian said, "Now I understand why my desk was covered in what looked like sawdust this morning."  Was that termite poo?  I couldn't believe it!  First bats, then snakes, and now termites?  What's next, locusts?  Below you can see some of the dead termites piled on the floor.  Nice.  I feel as though nature has declared war on my peace of mind.  But, I will prevail; I have to.  After all, I would like to be named Queen of the Jungle 2008! 

Stinkin' Bridges

Those of you who have been here know the joys of our roads and bridges.  Ah, the bridges.  For the first few months, I would not drive over them.  I would drive the main road and then pull over so that one of the men could drive the bridge.  The bridges are rickety and rusty and old and decrepit and falling apart.  And on days they need to make a repair, like today, they do it in the middle of the day.  Not in the middle of the night like in the states.  And since they are a one lane wonder, when a repair is in order, cars on both sides of the bridge aren't going anywhere.  For a while.  A long while.  There is no choice but to pull over over and wait.  And wait.  And wait.  And wait.  Get the picture?   Well, today we waited TWO AND ONE HALF HOURS!  That's right, two and one half hours!  The serendipitous part was that we had just been in town to buy groceries and had a car full of tasty treats.  As we had plenty to eat in the car and we had nowhere we had to get to, we relaxed and talked and goofed off and it was actually pretty fun.

At one point, Ivan got out of the car and made up a game where he jumped from tire to tire.  The building behind him is the town's medical center.  No joke.  Adrian took photos as I was in the drivers seat.  Yeah, that's right, I was driving and continued to drive when it was finally our turn to go over the bridge two and a half hours later!  Just as we were getting close to going over the bridge, Adrian noticed his friend, Carlos, standing on the sidewalk with a friend. Adrian got out to go and talk to him.  Apparently Carlos and his friend were waiting for a bus to take them to a wedding in San Jose.  The bus was nearly three hours late!  It probably had been waiting on the other side of the bridge.  If you look to the left side of the photo, you can see the line of trucks queued up behind us.   By the time we arrived home, I was completely worn out and I barely had enough energy to put our groceries away.  Next time I need to go into town, I think I'll bring a book.  Or some knitting.   And maybe a sleeping bag, too. 

The Long and Winding Road

For my entire adult life I have claimed, I'm indoors 23 hours a day and I like it that way.  I am not the least bit outdoorsy and I'm fine with that.  I consider it a good day when I can spend most of the day inside wearing pajamas, preferably playing Scrabble or knitting.  But that was in my pre-jungle life.  Now, although I would still prefer to be indoors, I realize I would be a fool not to take advantage of the jungle and this great gift of time with my sons.  So, we go for walks.  Hikes, really.  The road is steep and in some places, extremely steep.  The long and winding road begins at the end of our driveway and ends far, far away when you reach the house at the top of the hill.   We have never made the hike all the way up.  I would guess that the entire hike would take me about an hour each way, maybe longer.  We usually hike about 25 minutes up the road and it takes us about 15 minutes to come down.  The first 10 minutes are the worst and each time, I want to quit.  During those first 10 minutes, I realize how steep the road is and I have yet to acclimate to the one thousand degree temperature outside and the 100% humidity!   

My #1 monkey says the same thing every time, "Just a little farther, Mom.  Go slow, I'll wait."  It's his gentleness that makes me want to continue.  As we make our way, we talk.  Or we don't.  The higher we climb, the more spectacular the views become.  I stop occasionally to catch my breath and the boys slow down and pretend to look around so it won't be so obvious that I am slowing the whole operation down.
As you can
see, the road itself is well defined and as long as we stay on it, we can steer clear of my friends, 'las culebras' (the snakes).  On either side of the road, there is nothing but dense and spectacular jungle.  All we can hear out there is wildlife; monkeys, birds, crickets and lots of other things I don't know and probably don't want to know about.  Sometimes during our hikes, I become acutely aware of my heart.  I feel it pounding in my chest from the exertion and it feels overwhelmed by emotion.  I am filled with gratitude and love and I anticipate the great loss I will feel when we all scatter to the different corners of the world.  Because we will.  But at least I will have the memories of these days and I will take comfort in the knowledge that I took every opportunity to spend time with my boys while they were still mine. 
And so, when we have traveled high enough to get a bit of a workout and I have just enough energy to get back, we begin the descent.  The climb is exhilarating but it's during the descent that I can relax and enjoy the view.           

Trash Day

For most of my life, trash day has meant that we have the enormous task of making sure our trash cans have made their way from the inside of the garage to the outside of the garage and moved about three feet away.  Moving to the jungle has meant that now we have to load our trash into the pick-up truck and drive it to the dump.  I have never in my life been to a dump before.  I had been warned that it is rather fragrant and none too pleasant, so I braced myself.
Adrian loaded up our trash and drove.  All I had to do was enjoy the scenery.  I don't know exactly what I was expecting but it was not as interesting as I had hoped it would be.  What it was was sad.  When we arrived, all I saw was piles and piles of garbage in the middle of beautiful jungle.  It bummed me out.  Adrian was good enough to take all of the garbage out of the truck and place it where it needed to be placed.  When we arrived home, my husband asked how it went.  I explained, "You can't believe it, everywhere you look there's garbage and some of it is on fire and there are these birds who are digging in it and flying around and it's so gross and sad to see all of this garbage out in the middle of the jungle!"  He just looked at me and said,  "That's what all garbage dumps look like."
       

I must admit, I have been rather oblivious to what happens to the trash after it leaves my premises.  And while it has gotten me thinking about what an enormous problem garbage is, I don't think I have the brain power or the will to come up with an answer.  I will just have to make sure I generate as little garbage as I can.  And I should be more careful to recycle what I can.  And maybe I should burn the paper and cardboard stuff.   I had no idea a trip to the dump would give me a new project.

I Am A Killer

I kill every day.  Bugs.  Big ones, little ones, bugs that fly, bugs that crawl.  If it's an insect and I find it in my house, it's going down.  This may not seem like a big deal to those of you who don't know me, but my beloved friends will certainly understand.  I have come a long way.  I am now a stud of the exterminating persuasion.  I am no longer even bothered by the killing.  In the past, I often thought that I had been blessed with three manly-men precisely so that I would be protected and spared the more unpleasant experiences in life; such as killing bugs and lifting heavy objects and retrieving 'lost' documents from a computer.  That was before I moved to the jungle where I have uninvited guests daily, of varying shapes and sizes and danger levels.  There are lots of crickets, flies, moths, spiders, and other bugs that find their way into in my little house every day.  I usually have a flyswatter at the ready and I only yell for one of my men in the event of a giant bat in my house or the sighting of a particularly large or ugly insect.  The other day I was in my bedroom when I noticed a big bug flying around.  Not wanting to lose sight of it while I looked for a weapon, I yelled to Ivan downstairs,  "Ivan, bring me a fly swatter."  Then I kept my eye on the hideous flying bug while I waited.  And waited.  After what seemed like a ridiculously long time, I yelled again,  "IVAN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"  He yelled back,  "I'm getting your ice water!"  When I yelled for a fly swatter, he had heard ice water!  When he walked in with the water, I laughed so hard that I lost sight of the flying monster.  I just hope it doesn't show up in my bed.

Of Snakes and Stupidity

The other night as we arrived home and were walking up our front steps, our friend Griff, noticed something slithering along the gravel path making its way into the plants next to our porch steps. Something skinny.   Have you guessed it yet?  That's right, it was a snake.  I did what anyone would do; I whipped out my camera and started shooting.  As soon as the flash hit the snake, it coiled its ugly head back and froze.  So did I.  After we'd oohed and ahhed and I made sure the photos I shot were in focus, we went in the house.  Phew!  That was exciting!


The following day when Omar, our friend and man Friday came over, I showed him the photos and he looked very concerned.  "Esta es MUY MALA.  MUY VENENOSA!"   It's VERY BAD.  VERY POISONOUS!.  Then he looks up at us and asks,  "?Adonde esta ahora?"  Where is it now?  We all just look at each other, slowly realizing what utter city-slicker idiots we are!  WE WERE SUPPOSED TO HAVE KILLED IT!  DUH!  We guiltily tell him that we don't know where it went off to.  Omar says nothing.  He must have been in complete disbelief.  I know he must be sitting there looking at the photos thinking, You had time to shoot the photos but you didn't kill it?  Who ARE you people?  Who indeed!   Okay, so our new and improved plan is that we keep one of the LARGER machetes by the door and make sure we all understand that sighting a snake will no longer mean, go get your flea-bitten camera, but GO AND GET A MACHETE!!!  In the meantime, I will be wearing the knee high rubber boots all of the locals here wear and nagging my men to do the same.  It is amazing how 'sophisticated' we become living in cities.  It seems that what would be considered basic self-preservation instincts have been refined right out of us!

Life With Monkeys, Indeed!

Some weeks ago as Adrian and I were making our way through the 'feria', which is the Farmer's Market, we saw a crowd had gathered.  As we approached the crowd, we realize that they are watching a group of monkeys in a nearby tree and it appears that the monkeys are engaged in a heated discussion.  You see at the base of the tree, there was a man offering up some tasty looking bananas.  The monkeys stare longingly at the bananas but only one dares approach.  Well, as he does, the other monkeys go completely insane, screaming and jumping up and down;  "Are you crazy?  That man could hurt you!  Get back up here THIS MINUTE!!!"  Seriously!  Now that I think about it, one of them must have been his mother or his wife!  It was pretty interesting to watch this little drama play out and in the end, the bold monkey ended up with enough banana pieces for all of them and just try telling me they weren't happy the bold monkey was so, well, bold!  Isn't is always the way?  Those of us who are fraidy-cats sure do enjoy it when the risk-takers share their pay-off!   

Like A Chinese Fire Drill

The other night as I was walking out of my kitchen, something flew into my head.  I did what anyone would do, I screamed.  The kids who were hypnotized by the television, did nothing.  Husband was in the shower.  I roused the kids from their stupor and told them there was a bird trapped in the house.  By then, the bird had flown upstairs and was doing a figure eight along the high ceiling.  Adrian grabbed a towel and a broom, I grabbed my camera and Ivan came along for support and comedy relief.  We get upstairs and guess what?  It's not a bird, it's a BAT.  That's right, as in vampire bat and Batman, bat.

By this time, my husband was out of the shower but Adrian was already doing a pretty good job with the broom.  Doing what with the broom, I'm not sure but between Ivan making me
laugh, me shooting photos and Adrian swinging a broom at the thing, we were having fun!  We did not want to hurt the bat, merely guide it downstairs and out of the house.  In the midst of the excitement, we started a discussion on how it even got in the house.  At one point Adrian hit the bat with the broom and the bat fell downstairs.  The bat was momentarily stunned but regained his composure and flew into the living room.  Here is my crack team of bat men herding the thing toward the front door.
I am grateful for many things and at the moment I took this photo, I was most grateful that my men are such good sports that they allow this sort of invasion of privacy.  They have become accustomed to having a camera pointed at them every time something interesting happens.  After a few minutes of this activity, the bat flew at Adrian's towel.  Adrian closed the towel around the bat and then gently held it long enough for me to get the shot.  After I got my picture, Adrian took the towel outside and shook the bat out.  I assume the bat flew home or wherever it is that bats go at the end of the day.  While it was an exciting half hour, I don't think I need to repeat the experience.  I'm guessing the bat wouldn't want to either.  

Take Me To The River

Our rain is abating and so is our river.  We went for a walk to check it out and discovered that just a few yards from our house there is a suspension bridge that will take you across the river.  It was exactly the sort of thing I have become accustomed to; charming, rickety, rotting wood, and surprisingly sturdy construction.  Naturally, we wanted to go across and explore what was on the other side.  Along the way, we came across a tree that was on its side, just like that.  Completely in tact, as if a giant had come by and and just tipped it over.

I wonder what sort of force there must have been for a tree to get uprooted in this way. 

The boys were dying to cross so I was happy to let them go first.  You could say they were my canaries in a coal mine!

Then it was my turn and the second I stepped on, the whole bridge began to sway.  And not in a good way!  Add to that, the boys thought it would be fun to further shake the bridge by bouncing on it!  Not a nice thing to do to an old woman.  And not a smart thing to do to the woman who may decide not to make dessert!  When we made it to the other side, we didn't find much of anything that wasn't already on our side of the river but it was a fun diversion nonetheless.  I do think the boys found a good launch site for their next big idea.  We are getting inner tubes and will be floating down the river in them.  That actually sounds like a lot of fun to me.  The only thing they have yet to figure out is how and where we will stop! 

Running on Empty

We start the day and No. 1 monkey goes to light a burner on the stove,  nothing.  "Hey mom, what's wrong with the stove?"   Just then, the mister comes in and says, "Maybe we're out of gas."  Out of gas?  What do you mean by that?  Well, as it happens, since there is no easy way to get a gas line out here in jungle land, our gas comes from a giant tank of propane.  Looks a lot like the kind one uses for a barbecue back home.  Just much bigger.
Hmm, no gas, let me think what this means for me since after all, it IS all about me!  No clothes dryer, which is why you see here the clothes are on the deck.  Very Tico.  Most people in this area don't have dryers so there are clothing lines everywhere.  The interesting challenge is to time it correctly so the clothes are dry and in the house before the downpour.  No hot water for a shower.  I can live with that as the nature of my indoor, lack of physical exertion lifestyle means I am rarely sweaty or stinky.  No stove top cooking, I won't miss it much.  Have I forgotten anything?  Adrian and Brian disconnect the big tank and set out to find a gas station to fill it up.   Sounds  pretty simple but then, this is Costa Rica!  The men drive to several gas stations where the guys there WANT to be helpful but as it happens, the valve on our tank can't connect with the valve on their propane tank at the service stations.  Lots of discussions later, it is determined that a special valve needs to be made.  The men end up having to take our tank to a taller (workshop) to have a special valve fabricated.  The men at the taller, say it will be done at six o'clock.  I didn't count on it!
At about five o'clock, Brian left for the taller to pick up the tank.  Adrian and I were in the kitchen foraging for treats.  Adrian asked me what I was thinking.  I told him I was thinking that I hoped dad wouldn't be too disappointed when he got there and the work had not been done.  Two hours later, Brian returned; WITH a full tank, and custom made valve attached.  I guess in Costa Rica anything really is possible.

My Son, The English Teacher

One day our dear friend Omar, who is a local mover and shaker, came over to ask Adrian if he would consider volunteering his services to the community by teaching English once a week, in the evening for two hours.  Adrian lit up and we all thought it was just about the best idea ever!

In preparation, Adrian wrote a little speech introducing himself and he came up with a lesson plan for the first week.  A few days ago, he set off for the local schoolhouse for the first class.  He was a bit nervous, not knowing what to expect.  When he arrived, Omar was there and the place began filling up.  Omar had told us that there would be about 20 students, all adults.  Well, there were at least that many and they had one more student than desks, so Omar sat on the floor!  Adrian said that the students were a bit shy at first but most had at least a little experience with English and they were very enthusiastic.  Most of the students, Adrian said, were about his age.  Perfect!  Adrian had asked that if any of them had suggestions or questions, to approach him after class.  Owing to Adrian's fairly good grasp of Spanish, he was able to understand what they all were saying and he even had a few good conversations with a couple of the guys in the class.  The cutest thing was when a couple of the girls came up to ask what some phrases they have heard in English meant.   One of the girls asked what "I want to learn" meant. Then the other girl asked what "I love you" meant.   When she asked this however, Adrian had been speaking to someone else and when he turned to this young lady, he only heard her declare, "I love you!"   Perdon?!?
He came home exhilarated and exhausted.  He said they completely exhausted everything he had planned to teach them and would have to have more material for next week.  As far as I'm concerned, this alone made the whole move down here worth it.  At the very end of the evening, a lovely young girl approached him and indicated where she lives and suggested that he could come over so she could practice her English and he could practice his Spanish.  Yeah, and I was born yesterday!

300 Meters North of the Old Church, Across from the Soccer Field

That's a typical address in Costa Rica.  Seriously.  In most of these towns, there are simply no addresses.  None.  In the first place, it's a  logistical impossibility to have postal workers walking these roads into the jungle and back.  Not to mention how many thousands of homes are little more than tin shacks.  Even in the country's capital this is often how an address is given.  I believe even our architect's address, in the nation's capital, has something in it referring to the Multi-Plaza nearby!  This little house of mine, has no address.  None.  When we all went to the immigration office to apply for residency with our 'representative', we were fingerprinted and then asked a series of questions.  My favorite was when they asked me if I had any tattoos anywhere!  Then, they asked where we live.  I was stumped!  Thank heaven that Brian was there and has been answering this question for so long.  He explained the area, then narrowed it down to the proximity to the river (Rio Seco) and the proximity to, are you ready for this, the tiny schoolhouse!  All the while, the officials earnestly taking all of this down, as if it's the most natural thing in the world not to have an address!  I guess in this country that is exactly what it is, normal.  I can't tell you how many times we have stopped to ask directions somewhere and I would just give ANYTHING to be given an address instead of a series of landmarks to look for.  It's no wonder so little gets done here in a timely fashion.  You can spend half of your day just trying to locate your destination.  We were supposed to get cable TV.  I don't know if those guys will EVER find us!  It's been a few weeks since they set out for our house.  We did rent a little box at the post office in Quepos.  I sent myself a letter there about six months ago to see how long it would take to arrive.  I'm still waiting.  So, for those of you who have so generously asked my address so you can send me and the boys treats, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your thoughtfulness but I HAVE NO ADDRESS!

Private Beach

For the past year, I have been planning on learning to surf in Costa Rica.  Adrian, who is an avid surfer as well as professional surf teacher, agreed to teach me.   I had my first lesson today. We drove to a nearby beach and when we arrived we were THE ONLY ONES THERE!  On a Saturday!  Gotta love this country.  We drove right up on to the beach.  That's right, we drove right off the road and up on to the beach and parked where we felt like it!  And we were the only ones there, on the whole beach!  The day was gray and overcast, which served to keep us comfortably cool.  Adrian is a fine teacher but I must admit, I am not a good student.  And it seems I have no real innate talent for surfing.  As I lay on the board, Adrian would give me directions that seemed counterintuitive.  For example, as I was falling off the board he would shout for me to keep my legs together!  What for?  I am falling off the board!  Or he'd tell me to do something to the rails.  I KNOW he told me earlier about them but I don't remember what that even means!  By the time Adrian had pulled me out to the surf and then gently pushed me into the wave, I was exhausted.  Exhilarated, as well.  Surfing is fun but it's really, really hard!  And I didn't even get to the standing up part!

After about 15 minutes in the water, I was ready to get out.  It was fun, don't get me wrong, but I thought it would be easier and I thought I would be better at it!  I think I will need a few weeks to recover my strength before my next lesson.  After we all had had enough swimming, surfing, and boogie boarding, we had a picnic.  Adrian and I had been to the Farmer's Market earlier and had loaded up on fresh fruit, as well as granola, (Kristy recommended!) and sweets baked and sold by the Mennonite's.  Who knew?  Mennonite's, here.  At the Farmer's Market they look so out of place; you see Tico women in their skin tight clothes, ex-pats in their shorts and flip-flops, contrasted by the old fashioned dress of the Mennonite's.  The woman in her long blue frock and white cap, the husband in his dark trousers and suspenders, their daughters with their white caps on their heads in blue frocks just like their mother's.  Looking at them you would swear you'd stepped back in time. 
Here are the men having their picnic.  Brian was nice enough to cut up the pineapple for us.  As I look at this picture it strikes me that the background almost looks fake!  Since I am used to beaches that  generally have no green in sight, seeing the jungle on the edge of this beach was surreal.  Somehow, it just doesn't seem natural!

I'm Cuckoo for Cocoa Krees

This, my friends, is a cocoa fruit.  A few weeks ago I was outside having a chat with my favorite neighbor Kris, (pronounced Krees, aged 10 years old) he pointed to a nearby tree and asked me if I knew what kind of fruit was hanging from it.  I said no and he casually said, "Coco."  WHAT?  A COCOA FRUIT, ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?!?  He told me that when the fruit turns yellow, it is ready to be picked and eaten.  I told him that when the time came, I would like his guidance and he seemed pleased to oblige.  Well, last night was the night.  Krees came over, although he is not allowed inside my home so the entire operation had to be carried out on the deck.  You see, in Latin America, parents do not allow their children in other people's homes unless they know them well.  This makes perfect sense to me as I was raised by Latin American parents.  In fact, I was always shocked by how many children spent copious hours in my house with my flea-bitten family when their parents had never even laid eyes on me.  Shocking, I tell you.  In any event, there we were on the deck and I was sawing away at this fruit.  It was quite challenging as the exterior is really hard and I was cutting it on a board on the ground, as Krees is not allowed inside my house.  Did I mention that you can see into my house from his or that his mother and I have chatted outside and even shared sugarcane during a visit?  Hmm, no matter.  After I cut the thing in half, Krees plucked out a slimy seed and popped it into his mouth.  Big smile.  Ivan very excitedly did the same although he promptly spit his out.  No big smile from Ivan, he was pretty disappointed.  Apparently, he had expected it to taste more like chocolate.  So had I.  Frankly, it doesn't taste ANYTHING like chocolate.  We yelled for the other men to come and taste it.  They tried it and then quickly beat it.  I guess it's an acquired taste.   In any event, my friend, Krees liked it very much. And while it is a bit disappointing that I don't have my very own tree that grows chocolates, sharing the experience with my new friend Krees was good enough for me.

Ants Marching

As I opened my front door yesterday, I was greeted by a great long procession of huge, long, red ants.  I kind of panicked and began screaming for Brian or Adrian or Ivan or SOMEONE to come and face this assault with me.  One of the aforementioned men shows up and says, in an annoyingly relaxed tone, "Calm down, it's no big deal."  Yeah, we'll see how relaxed you are when they show up in your bed!  We followed the trail of these aggressive and frankly, mean looking ants and found they were crawling up the side of my house and it looked to me like they were making plans to go into my bedroom.  There goes sleeping!   We sprayed ant poison that my friend Teri, had been nice enough to recommend all around the house and  after some time the ants had gone.  I guess they found someone else to terrorize. I did spend the rest of the day swatting at myself, thinking I had an ant on me and the kids would just roll their eyes and say, "That's just your hair, mom."  Dork!

Raindrops on Rooftops

Pictured here is a handmade bamboo ladder. My men carried it up the hill a bit and leaned it on the house, to see if they could get a handle on a couple of rather small but annoying leaks.  It was clear and sunny, so it seemed a good time for it.  My mister thinks he pretty well solved the problem so we will see next time the rain comes which should be just about any minute!  Below is a photo of my mister on the roof.  You will have to look carefully to see him.  I'm sure he just loved it when I yelled, hey, so that I could shoot a picture of him on the roof!  People love it when you interrupt their work, especially when they are on a slippery roof and just want to get the project done.  Just goes to show, he can fix things AND be charming!

Silence is Golden

I wish you could hear what I am listening to right now.  It is 10:00 in the evening and I hear absolutely nothing but a chorus of the most charming crickets I have ever heard.  Really, their music is so lovely that if Ed Sullivan were still around, he'd invite them on his shew.  Today there was sunshine and peace.  We are reported to be getting one and one half inches of rain tonight but I don't believe it.  Or rather, I don't care.  Because I had a fabulous day.  I spent the day with my manly men going in to town, enjoying a tasty lunch and finding much needed items for our home without getting drenched.  Now, the men are asleep and I feel soothed and spoiled by the quiet.  The peacefulness feels like an indulgence, luxurious.  These past days and days of relentless rain was like having a headache, one of those behind your eyes, throbbing headaches when suddenly, it begins to dissipate.  It got quiet and the sun came out.  I felt myself gradually relax and all was well with the world once again.  Whenever I have a headache like that, I thank God when it stops and then promise I will never take feeling good for granted.  No way, I will be aware of and appreciate every moment I do not feel wretched.  I am sorry to report that I forget that promise in precious little time.  But for now, I feel grateful for the peace and realize that all the ugly dishes and cups in my kitchen are insignificant compared to having all of my men under the same roof as me, healthy and whole.  Tonight, there are no leaks nor power outages.  Just my men, the monkeys in the trees, and those charming crickets.

Pain is Temporary, Quitting Lasts Forever

That quote is attributed to Lance Armstrong, a man who knows a great deal about pain and at least as much about not quitting.   On this day, the 1,999th day of pouring down, thunderous, bone-drenching, flash flooding, I-can't-even-think-cause-it's-so-loud rain, I was actually thinking about packing up my monkeys, beauty products, and chocolate kisses and heading back to the states.  Then, after being internet-less most of the day due to the rain, it connected and I read this quote, quite by chance.  So, here I am and here I'll stay.  And since I am staying, I'll need more fruits and veggies.  I waited for the rain to let up just the teeniest bit and when it did, I asked my lovely man-child to drive me to the fruit stand. If it hadn't been raining so hard, we would have gone to the Farmer's Market but as it happened the fruit stand was quite well stocked, today!
Here is said man-child paying the charming fruit stand owner 7,000 colones which comes out to approximately $14 US.  For that low, low price, we walked out with a bounty of healthy goodness;  4 large tomatoes, 6 avocados, one mango, a big watermelon, 4 red peppers, 5 yellow onions, 12 bananas and two granadillas aka Passion fruit.

Here again is my lovely man-child, sweet-tempered and patient son, who never lets on how annoying it must be to be an 18 year old man and have his mommy pointing a camera at him daily.  At times like these, I am grateful he is a man of few words. 

El Aguacero Continua (The Downpour Continues)

This picture is proof that this is no ordinary rain.  My men are all carrying umbrellas.  They usually do not EVER use them.  Today they decided to go down to the river in front of our house to check it out.  Our river is usually quite small and slow,  but since it has been raining so many days in a row, 1,033 to be exact, it is huge and rushing.  Here they were at said river plotting their strategy.  It involved a wakeboard, a rope attached to a bar and another rope to tie to something else.  When they came in the house to prepare for their risky adventure, I gave them a stern warning, "There's no 911 I can call if you guys get hurt, you know."  They all kept going about their preparations and costume changes as though nothing had been said.  Then I remembered what my fabulous new friend Teri said when I told her the boys were going to the river.  "Tell the boys to be careful.  Rain like this floods the snakes out of their holes."  OH, IS THAT ALL?  And here I thought moving to Costa Rica would actually reduce my stress!

Rain, Rain, Go Away

It's raining.  Or rather, still raining.  For days, now.  I know, I know, that's why it's called the Rain Forest but this is the first time I have been here that is has rained quite this much.  I have even read somewhere that this is the rainiest rain season Costa Rica has had for a while.  And it's not the kind of rain we have in California, either;  where you could walk half a block to your car and your clothes will barely be wet when you get there.  Here, you park your car and step out to the curb and you're soaked.  It feels as though buckets of rain are falling, not drops.  Seriously.  And at night, you can't even sleep, the rain is so loud.  Aggressive, even.
Today we needed to go into town for a few things.  I usually like going into town. I mean, who wouldn't, it's downtown Parrita!  But today, it was a bit depressing, actually.  Everyone was friendly enough but coming out of the store, I had the nagging sensation that we should have stayed home and started building an ark.

When The World Ends,

   
collect your things, you're coming with me, when the world ends, you and me...

That's how one of my favorite songs by one of my favorite bands, (Dave Matthews Band) begins and every time I come up here to Finca Norita it goes through my head because this really does feel like the place to be, if the world were coming to an end.  That may sound morbid, but up here, it just feels as though nothing could possibly hurt you, nothing could touch you, and no one but God would even know you're there.   You are surrounded by jungle and clouds, and see the ocean in the distance and you hear nothing but the sounds of the jungle.

This is a
shot of Ivan and Brian in the living room.  The hole in the ground just outside will be an infinity pool.  I don't think the pool will be large enough for a serious game of Marco Polo but it should be lovely to look at and a good way to cool off.

Next, there I am in my new kitchen.  The windows are tremendous and will be a big help airing out the place when I burn stuff. 

Here are my men on the second floor in one of the bedrooms. 
I will post more photos as we progress.  Our builder says the house should be finished in just a few months but I don't know.  I've heard that song before, too.

Exploring the Hood

This afternoon with nothing on the agenda, besides sweating and doing a little laundry, Adrian and I set out to explore our new 'hood' in the car we affectionately refer to as "The Tank."  Adrian is a really good driver and more importantly, he has an unusually calm disposition which always serves to keep me calm.  Well, as calm as is possible, for me.  We saw lots of cows, some bulls, chickens, horses, birds, trees, flowers and a few people, as well.  We saw more green and more natural beauty than I have seen in months.  It was so much fun driving around with my man-child as we enjoyed the scenery and pointed out views to one another.
 
As we drove
around, it occurred to me that things we normally see in the course of our day were missing.  I didn't see any strip malls or teenagers with their pants sagging or billboards or fast food places.  Hey, I think I may be starting to relax into this place.

We Arrive, Barely

We have arrived and believe me, it was no easy feat!  For instance, upon our arrival at LAX (at midnight) with seven GIANT, HEAVY pieces of luggage, we head to the check in where the lovely young agent tells me that she can't let us on the flight without tickets out of Costa Rica showing our departure from said country within 90 days.  She said that without said proof of departure, we would be immediately deported from C.R. upon landing.  You see, THEY are quite strict about folks overstaying their Visas.  I thought, what makes you think I am staying longer than 90 days?  Is it the seven pieces of giant luggage or the terrified look on my face?  Or perhaps, and the most likely answer indeed is, you've been reading my blog!  Okay, so it probably wasn't the blog but it could have been.  We bought three one-way tickets back to the states on the spot and then began dealing with the fact that their size limit on luggage is 62 inches and my bags are 68 inches.  Yahoo!  Now I get to pay extra for the bags!  As you might imagine, once 2:20 a.m. rolled around we were more than ready for take off.  We had an uneventful flight and Brian met us in San Jose with our friend, Omar who would drive our luggage the 3 hours home since the small plane we were taking to Quepos would not accommodate so much luggage.

Here are the boys and I standing in Quepos after our flight in.  Happy to be here!  Or was I?  Not sure, yet.  I do know that I was happy to have the family reunited and I was happy to be heading to a place where I could lie down on a clean bed and be given cool refreshments.  After all, does anybody really need much more than that?

The drive 'home' was going smoothly (except for the potholes the size of the Grand Canyon) until my neighbors happened to  cross the road just as we were coming off of a bridge.  I love this sort of thing, really.  As we pass, we honk, smile and wave.  No rude looks of 'we don't have all day!'  Because we really do have all day, don't we?

Under Construction

  This is Finca Norita.  As you can see, it really is in the middle of a cloud forest.  On the edge of a cloud forest, actually.  From one side of the house, you see the Pacific Ocean in the distance, and from the other side of the house you see  the neighboring mountains and cloud forest.  In Costa Rica, unlike here, the closer you are to the beach, the hotter it gets.  So, up on the hill, the breezes are lovely and it stays quite comfortable,  I think.  I hope. 

  These photos were taken during our visit in the spring.  Brian tells me the house is very changed; great progress has been made.  I really can't wait to see it. 

The challenge for me will be transportation.  You see, I don't drive there.  I could, but for reasons I won't go into now, I don't drive there.  I am a ninny, a scaredy-cat, a dork.

Finca Norita

What, you are thinking, is a Finca Norita?  Finca Norita is our little folly we are building at the very top of a hill in the middle the jungle.  Or cloud forest, to be precise.  In Costa Rica, farms are named fincas.  Sure, we don't have a farm and most of the homes I have visited that are named fincas are not farms but as near as I can tell, that's what it means!

  I am seen here are the very foot of the road that takes one to (drumroll, please) FINCA NORITA!  Norita is simply the diminutive that my mother would call me when she was being tender.  Both times! 

Brian has already made a template for a new and improved sign.  It is lovely actually. 

He may not know how to dance, but he sure can make me sing!

 

Five Weeks

Five weeks from today, I will be moving.  Here, to this house, in the middle of the jungle.  This house behind the giant mango tree. 

I just booked our ONE-WAY tickets.  I guess that means we are really going.

In just five weeks, the jungle will be home to me and of course, my monkeys. Not to mention, home to the scorpions, snakes, geckos, and mono titi monkeys who were there first.