Un Momento: Para Ayudar en la Finca

For the first month of my time with my homestay family I didn’t really know what to do on the weekends.  In this new setting - complete with strangers, another culture, and a language barrier – I was very shy.  Timida.  Because there are no kids in the house, just my two parents who are pretty busy, I didn’t get a ton of interaction.  Most days I would read, do homework, draw, go for a walk on my own, or chat with my parents during their descansos.  I found myself spending at least one day of every weekend up at the institute just because I had nothing else to do. 

One day, I got tired of this routine.  I approached Marcos, my homestay dad, and told him that if he ever needed help with a project in the finca or in the community, I’d love to help sometime.  He replied by saying, “I never asked you to help because I thought you were too busy.”

Moral of the story is: if you want to do something, get up off your butt and take the first step.  Don’t wait around for someone to approach you. Go approach them. 

I’ve since reminded him of my ability to help and told him specific times in which I was free.  Two weekends ago I offered to help and he gave me the task of washing a couple dozen big, dirty rocks with some rolled up wire.  I had no idea why I was doing this, but I did it anyway.  After they dried in the sun, Marcos showed me how he wanted to put them in a circle around some small trees in the yard so he doesn’t run them over with the lawn mower by accident.  He even took the time afterward to paint all the rocks white so that they stand out against the background.  A seemingly menial task suddenly turned into a beautiful addition to the yard. 

Once again, this morning I offered up my services as jack-of-all-trades.  I left the house fully equipped with my sun hat and water bottle, ready to brave the hot sunny day and whatever assignment I was to be handed.  This time, Marcos showed me how he wanted to clean up all the trails on his property and make them look nice for a tour of students coming in a few weeks.  Using the combination of a shovel, rake, machete, and pulling by hand we managed to turn the trails from an overgrown mess into a walk through paradise.  Seriously, this yard is paradise. 

Before shot of the overgrown trail...

After shot of the cleaned-up trail

I had forgotten how much I love hard, manual labor.  To take a piece of land, work on it for a while, and at the end stop and know that I did that.  That’s a pretty cool feeling.  Another pretty cool feeling is the soreness in my body that follows doing such work.  After walking up La Trocha every day my legs are super strong, but on an average day my arms do basically nothing.  Right now, the ache in my arm and shoulder muscles from shoveling and raking feels so good.  Not enough to have injured myself, but just enough to feel that I’ve done something productive.  

Again, Moral of the story is: if you want to do something, get up off your butt and take the first step.  You tend to regret the things you didn’t do more than the things that you did. 

Un Momento: the Three-Wattled Bellbird

BONK... EEK!

That's the sound that the three-wattled bellbird makes, a call that can be heard for up to a kilometer away.  While I did not actually take the picture above, I did in fact see an individual of this highly valued bird species in the wild twice now.  The bellbird is second only to the quetzal in terms of the tourist attraction for advent bird-watchers in the Monteverde area.  Males of the species carry these three long "wattles" which they use to court their mates.  The males will find a perch high up in a tree and sit there and call for hours, hoping to attract females to mate with.  Interestingly, bellbird calls are thought to be learned rather than genetically determined, because their recorded calls have changed over the years, and two distinct calls exist within the species.  There are even a small number of individuals that make both calls and are considered “bilingual”.  Unfortunately, bellbird populations have been rapidly declining.  Because they're such a unique and noticeable (through their call, they’re actually very secretive and hard to see) species, they're one of the poster children of the conservation movement in Costa Rica. There’s a movement to create a bellbird corridor, which will hopefully help to restore bellbird numbers to what they have been previously. 

The first time I saw the bellbird was a Sunday morning in San Luis.  After having breakfast I sat on the porch reading in a rocking chair, and I could hear the call getting louder and louder.  My host mom came outside and said, "Get your binoculars," and we proceeded to go on an adventure searching for the bird. We walked down the road a bit and encountered two other women looking for source of the sound and they pointed us in the right direction.  Lorena and I climbed through a coffee and banana patch and we finally found it.  I let Lorena use the binoculars first, and luckily I managed to catch a glimpse of it just as it flew off to another perch in the area.  I walked back to the house feeling as if I’d experienced something wonderful and rare in this unique ecological setting.  

Un Momento: Las Arepas

As a gift for my homestay family when I first arrived here I gave my homestay mom, Lorena, a bag of pancake mix and a small bottle of maple syrup, both made locally in CT (bought at Bishops Orchards).  I suggested that one day on the weekend I could make them the pancakes for breakfast, as a treat.  This past Saturday night I mentioned it to them again, so when I woke up on yesterday Lorena had the kitchen all set up for me.  I have to say, being awkward and clumsy in English is one thing, but when there's a language barrier my awkward-and-clumsiness is multiplied at least 3-fold.  While cracking the egg I managed to squirt yolk all over myself and the floor, plus it always feels a bit out of place to cook in someone else's kitchen, especially if they're standing right there watching you.

Anyway, all went well and we sat down to eat.  It's funny, Lorena does the same thing as my mom: gives the biggest pancake to Marcos (my homestay dad), the second biggest to me, and takes the smallest for herself.  Maybe that's just a mom thing to do.

While we were eating Marcos asked me how they get maple syrup from maple trees (seeing as how they don't have maple trees in Costa Rica).  The only way I could think to describe it in Spanish was that they put a whole in the tree and the syrup is like the blood of the tree, which they collect in a bucket.  Pleasant breakfast conversation, huh?

Lastly, as we were cleaning up the dishes Lorena says, "You know how to cook, that means you're ready to get married!"

Un Momento: Hammock En Fox-Maple

If our homestay families in San Luis are our "home-away-from-home", then Fox-Maple is our "home-away-from-home-away-from-home".  When us students want to go out dancing on the weekends but don't want to have to walk back down La Trocha at midnight, Fox-Maple is our crash-pad.  While the presence of such a space is wonderful, I must admit that sleeping on the floor is one of the least satisfying experiences ever.  Luckily, I've managed to snag the only hammock up here the last two times I've slept over.  It's quite a clumsy ordeal to climb into a hammock while wrapped in a mummy sleeping bag, but it's totally worth it.  I feel like I'm in a fluffy, swinging cocoon.  But most importantly... after sleeping in the hammock I wake up without the sensation of having thrown out my back in the middle of the night.  Hopefully for me, I manage to snag this excellent sleeping arrangement again tonight!  (As long as no one realizes my total monopolization of it as of yet...)

**Photo is of me in my fluffy, swinging cocoon.

Un Momento: La Trocha

Every morning I wake up with a mountain of a journey looming in front of me.  La Trocha is the name of the road that connects the rural community of San Luis with the hustle and bustle of tourist-driven life in Monteverde and Santa Elena.  La Trocha used to be a dirt road – as all other roads in San Luis still are – but because of the steep incline the way was essentially impassible except for four-wheelers and horses, especially during the rainy season.  Instead of waiting for the government to pave the road, the community asked for the cement and did it themselves. 

            The steepness may be killer, but the view is breathtaking.  Nine times out of ten it works out that I make the trek everyday at sunrise and sunset, which serves to amplify the impressiveness of the scenery.  While it may seem a shame to have to wake up so early, it’s really the best time to do the hike – this past Sunday I walked up after lunch and the heat made it so much worse.  However, an added difficulty for the morning trek is the fierce wind.  Depending on which part you're on, the wind will either try to push you back down the hill, or if you're lucky you may experience a few glorious moments in which you literally feel yourself accelerate forward as the wind hits your back. 

            After about 35 minutes on La Trocha, you’ve got roughly another twenty minutes walking on relatively flat dirt roads.  After the abrupt switch from steep incline to flat ground you’ll usually experience the strange sensation of “Spaghetti Legs.”  You may have experienced this before after having run on a treadmill or done some other intense physical activity and suddenly stopped. 

            Occasionally if you’re lucky you can avoid the whole process by getting a ride up La Trocha from a kind member of the community who stops to pick you up, but I find this a pretty rare occurrence.  I don’t mind though, I swear I’ll have the buns and thighs of steel by the end of three months. 

            La Trocha is a great analogy for a lot of the experiences I’ve been having here.  The trek has its difficult spots and it’s mild points, but along the way I’ve always got something beautiful to experience.  

Un Momento: La Cascada

Our second day in San Luis all the students in our program met up at the local pulperia (convenience store), hopped in the back of "El Blanco"(the institute's big white van), and drove to my homestay abuela's house.  Mi abuela (grandmother) charges for entrance to the waterfall, but locals get in for free - we had to pay the first time but after that we can go whenever we want.  Walking to the waterfall took twenty minutes or so, and even though it was drizzling and cold, it was a beautiful walk through the woods along the river.  The entire time all of us students swapped stories about our first two nights with our homestay families - everyone had such different experiences.  When we got to the waterfall it was freezing but I decided to swim anyway since I had worn my bathing suite under my clothes.  I think it was seriously the coldest water I’ve ever swam in… but it was refreshing and certainly felt nice to get out of the water again.  Above is a picture of some of the girls and I swimming near the waterfall.  

Un Momento: En Los Nubes

The day after we arrived in Monteverde, our tropical ecology professor Adam took us on a “light” hike… and by “light” I mean I’ve never hiked anything worse before in my life.  We actually hiked up the continental divide, and the trail was narrow, twisting, and straight uphill.  For the first 45 minutes or so I just wanted to turn back, and then after that I think my muscles were so overworked that they became numb, so it got easier.  I’m glad I stuck it out though, because the top of the mountain was amazing.  There wasn’t much of a view because we were literally standing inside of a cloud that engulfed the entire summit.  We were given some meditative time to ourselves, and I found an old wooden structure near the edge of the cliff to stand on.  I spread my arms wide and felt the wind whip around me, and the cool mist from the cloud on my face.  In that moment it dawned on me that I’m actually standing in Costa Rica right now.  Sometimes that simple fact still catches me by surprise.