MERRY CHRISTMAS
FROM COSTA RICA!!
Every day here seems is a gift for me - I hope you are all feeling the same way at home.
Love you and miss you.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Las Ventanas
South of Dominical is a small beach called Las Ventanas. It is, in short, like a dream. A horseshoe beach with wild caves on one side through which the tide rolls in and out. I was able to go before I left Dominical with Gretchen and Octavius, two wonderful people I´ve met here. This place is best described in photos and not words, so here we go:
The first cave. I went all the way in, swam through out into the ocean, and swam back in the other side into a different cave. (!!)
Gretchen and Octavius
Looking out at the beach from inside the second cave.
Loving this scene in the middle of December....
How could you ask for more?
:)
Tejido
A few days ago, some new guests arrived at the Hostel and set up their tent in the middle of the dorm room. I was tired and grumpy that day and didn´t meet or greet them. Thankfully, they didn´t hold it against me, because they´ve become central to my days here. Carlos and Roger are from Ajahuela, a city near San Jose that is known for being the home of La Liga, one of the two major soccer teams, and for being the city which doles out nicknames like rice and beans. Neither use their real names in any but official circumstances - and Roger has a nickname for his nickname: Roger becomes Maguiver, which then becomes Magui. As for Carlos, he says even his mother calls him Negro. (If your PC alarm is going off full force, remember that in Spanish, the translation for the color black has nothing to do with US history.) So, they´ve set to giving nicknames to everyone in the hostel. I´ll be sure to let you know when I get mine.
They are also artesanos - that is, they make and sell crafts for a living. They create some really spectacular stuff with just nylon string and patience. I managed to convince them to let me hang around and learn a thing or two - and this is what I´ve made so far:
Impressive, right? To further the cool factor, the guys recently struck a deal with a local souvenir shop, and one of my bracelets is now in the store! Obviously, I went and took a dorky picture. My bracelet (the one on the bottom in the picture above) is on the top tube, second bracelet down.
They are also artesanos - that is, they make and sell crafts for a living. They create some really spectacular stuff with just nylon string and patience. I managed to convince them to let me hang around and learn a thing or two - and this is what I´ve made so far:
Kindly ignore the stray toothpaste on my wrist.... :)
Impressive, right? To further the cool factor, the guys recently struck a deal with a local souvenir shop, and one of my bracelets is now in the store! Obviously, I went and took a dorky picture. My bracelet (the one on the bottom in the picture above) is on the top tube, second bracelet down.
Who knows, maybe I´ll be on the beach 5 years from now with my own wares...
Hostel Pyramis
My home sweet home here in Dominical until Christmas, Hostel Pyramis:
Where I stay, in the dorm-style room, is the open room you can see on the second floor. It is a huge, open air room with rows of bunk beds lining the walls. From the front, people lounge, decide whether the surf is worth heading out into and revel in the beauty of the sunsets. It´s also in these seats that the dense burger fog from the restaurant below wafts over us like magic. I swear that one of these days I´m going to flutter downstairs on a river of burger smell like they do in the cartoons, nose first.
Behind this first big building are the private rooms where guests can pay a little extra for their own bathroom and personal space. And a maid: me! All the rooms are painted by Angel, one of the owners. He has a very...unique style. I sort of imagine that if you locked someone in a room with some choice brain-altering chemicals and a lot of paint, you´d end up with the artwork we now have. Whether that is how Angel achieved his art, I´ll never know. Here he is, working on making a face out of a rock he found on the beach (we´re at a crafts show.)
Where I stay, in the dorm-style room, is the open room you can see on the second floor. It is a huge, open air room with rows of bunk beds lining the walls. From the front, people lounge, decide whether the surf is worth heading out into and revel in the beauty of the sunsets. It´s also in these seats that the dense burger fog from the restaurant below wafts over us like magic. I swear that one of these days I´m going to flutter downstairs on a river of burger smell like they do in the cartoons, nose first.
Behind this first big building are the private rooms where guests can pay a little extra for their own bathroom and personal space. And a maid: me! All the rooms are painted by Angel, one of the owners. He has a very...unique style. I sort of imagine that if you locked someone in a room with some choice brain-altering chemicals and a lot of paint, you´d end up with the artwork we now have. Whether that is how Angel achieved his art, I´ll never know. Here he is, working on making a face out of a rock he found on the beach (we´re at a crafts show.)
Sunday, December 13, 2009
WHO DAT?
Just wanted to drop in and say
Let´s go Saints!
I am really missing the Big Easy these days, but the Saints are making me so happy! It´s bittersweet to watch the games in Costa Rican bars rather than in some dive in Nola, smelling all the cookouts and tailgates around. But hey, they keep making me proud. :)
Monday, December 7, 2009
Iguanas on a Hot Tin Roof
Sometimes, a girl has dreams about eggs. Mountains and mountains of eggs. Or other times, she forgets to look up at the surrounding hills and feel a shiver of appreciation for her surroundings. Or she wakes up and dreads weeding. Or doesn´t enjoy her pinto for breakfast.
When any or all of that happens, it´s time for a change. And sometimes, that change comes along and knocks. TJ, of Thanksgiving and Finca Chinchilla fame, worked for a few weeks at a hostel at a nearby beach, and the owners happened to need more help. I just didn´t think that was the kind of thing a girl should turn down. So, last Thursday, I pack up and moved out. To Dominical, a sleepy little gringo-swarmed surf town on the southern coast.
The getting there was a little interesting, since TJ´s plans changed and he didn´t show at the market. I wavered at the market for a little while, helping Luz sell eggs and wondering what to do. The longer I spend here, however, the more willing I am to walk into little known territory, and the more confident I am that there are helpful people out there. I decided to gamble and go. My faith in friendliness paid off, and I met someone who helped me to my hostel with little more than "I think it starts with a ´p´ and is owned by Spaniards...."
The hostel itself is an open, laid back building with people coming and going at all times. I work in the mornings cleaning rooms or completing odd jobs, and then wander on my own schedule in the afternoon. It´s bizarre to have to much free time, but feels good after an exremely scheduled month and a half. I haven´t conquered any surfing yet, but I will be sure to let you guys know when I do!
When any or all of that happens, it´s time for a change. And sometimes, that change comes along and knocks. TJ, of Thanksgiving and Finca Chinchilla fame, worked for a few weeks at a hostel at a nearby beach, and the owners happened to need more help. I just didn´t think that was the kind of thing a girl should turn down. So, last Thursday, I pack up and moved out. To Dominical, a sleepy little gringo-swarmed surf town on the southern coast.
The getting there was a little interesting, since TJ´s plans changed and he didn´t show at the market. I wavered at the market for a little while, helping Luz sell eggs and wondering what to do. The longer I spend here, however, the more willing I am to walk into little known territory, and the more confident I am that there are helpful people out there. I decided to gamble and go. My faith in friendliness paid off, and I met someone who helped me to my hostel with little more than "I think it starts with a ´p´ and is owned by Spaniards...."
The hostel itself is an open, laid back building with people coming and going at all times. I work in the mornings cleaning rooms or completing odd jobs, and then wander on my own schedule in the afternoon. It´s bizarre to have to much free time, but feels good after an exremely scheduled month and a half. I haven´t conquered any surfing yet, but I will be sure to let you guys know when I do!
My front yard.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Yeehaw!
A week ago today, I was lucky enough to participate in one of the biggest events of the year in Angosturra (our sister town) - a Cabelgata. This is basically a horse show, field party, and cross country riding event mashed into one big celebration. There are many, many more people around than horses here, so I was pretty priveleged to get to ride that day. Before I could go, though, I needed a serious makeover. I couldn´t very well be riding around on a Chinchilla horse looking like a dirty gringa farmhand - I needed to be done up right! Luz, my host mom, took me gently under her snazzy cowgirl wing, lent me clothing from top to bottom, and sent me on my way.
In full get up. My "little sister" looks on in excitement in the corner.
I arrived at the Cabelgata and registered, pinning my number to my back. I was almost as nervous this time as the last time I wore a number at the Ten Miler in C-ville! My host brother and I led the horses out of the coffee grove where we´d hidden them and mounted up. We were off!
The course set up for the riders was a gorgeous cross section of the surround land. We rode through sugar cane, coffee, and yuca fields, each full and healthy. I surprised myself by knowing what each was without a thought. We plodded through moist forests, out again onto hard clay roads. In the middle of one of these forest pathways, we stopped for a snack and a beer. As Costa Ricans all around me laughed, drank, ate and danced, I marveled at the forest of horses that surrounded us.
It was like they were sprouting everywhere I looked!
After quenching and munching, it was past the coffee processing plant, and onto the main drag through town. There, we overtook the cars with ease and trotted back toward the party. My horse, bless him, was perky but calm the whole ride. I was disappointed to be done with the ride when we arrived, but ready to begin the second half of the day - fiesta time! The whole town and more stuck around to dance, eat, and drink the night away. It was a great time away from the farm, and I was proud and happy to know so many of the people that surrounded me. The community here is very close knit, and I feel priveleged to have spent time with them.
Costa Tican Thanksgiving!
Last Saturday, TJ and I hosted a Thanksgiving meal for all the gringos and many of the Ticos we know in La Rivera. We set it up as a potluck with each gringo bringing a dish and sharing all around. TJ and I cooked from the time we woke up on Saturday until after the last guest arrived, subbing in Costa Rican ingredients and measurements with lots of nervous shrugs but surprising success.
The Menu:
Everything was going exactly to plan, food bopping out of the oven every time I turned around. Guests began to arrive. And arrive. And arrive.
We ended up with 9 more people than we planned for! Chairs were pulled from all sides, tabled pushed together, amounts fretted over, and nameplaces shoved in a drawer. I was nervous about how this new party would turn out, but as I wandered out the front door to take my place at the table, I left a countertop still full of food and faced 21 guests - mostly silent, mostly grinning, mouths too full to talk. Strangers, friends, and family mixed freely as the first Thanksgiving came to La Rivera. How blessed am I?
The Menu:
- 2 roasted chickens (both mine and TJ´s first time - they were beyond delicious.)
- Gravy (made from said chicken drippings...yum!)
- Stuffing
- Sweet potato casserole
- Angel biscuits
- Potatoes au gratin
- Squash soufflé
- Green bean casserole
- Apple pie
- Blackberry pie
- Ice cream
Everything was going exactly to plan, food bopping out of the oven every time I turned around. Guests began to arrive. And arrive. And arrive.
The spread, along with a few guests.
We ended up with 9 more people than we planned for! Chairs were pulled from all sides, tabled pushed together, amounts fretted over, and nameplaces shoved in a drawer. I was nervous about how this new party would turn out, but as I wandered out the front door to take my place at the table, I left a countertop still full of food and faced 21 guests - mostly silent, mostly grinning, mouths too full to talk. Strangers, friends, and family mixed freely as the first Thanksgiving came to La Rivera. How blessed am I?
Thursday, November 26, 2009
¡Feliz Dia de Accion de Gracias / Dia de Pavo!
It´s been a while since I´ve updated, (I have a lot to put up here but have been really busy on my in-town days!) but I wanted to drop in quickly to say:
Happy Thanksgiving!
Today I´m very thankful that I am living this adventure with the support of all of you.
Here´s hoping every belly is full and each of you is surrounded by people you love.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Some Books I´ve Been Reading
I have quite a bit of free time here. The Chinchillas often spend their nights watching telenovelas, but I find them nearly impossible to follow. The most popular one in the Chinchilla house comes on every day, and I swear that someone dies or gets married or puts a voodoo spell on someone or changes their mind about being in love with someone every five minutes. That´s a lot to keep up with at half-speed Spanish!
So, I´ve been reading.
Here´s what I´ve read so far - have any of you read any of these?
Say You´re One of Them - Uwem Akpan
Short fiction stories set in Africa. Some are very, very hard to read, but it is a book I found myself thinking about days later, which says something good about how powerful it is.
The Geography of Bliss - Eric Weiner
This is a non-fiction book about a guy visiting the five "happiest countries on earth." I found it vaguely interesting and liked some of the common threads between the happy countries, but didn´t at all enjoy the author´s writing.
A Gate At the Stairs - Lorrie Moore
A novel by someone I had never heard of, this follows a young college girl through her first (?) year at school in the post 9/11 midwest. It is a strange story, and I think it could have been told well while cutting a third of the length, but I looked forward each day to the next time I´d get to read on in it.
Possible Side Effects - Augusten Burroughs
This was a nice break from the more serious reading I´d been doing - by the author of Running with Scissors and Dry, both of which I enjoyed. I liked having something light to sit down to, but missed the narrative that the other two books had. This one is more a collection of essays than the other two - but still very funny.
A Long Way Down - Nick Hornby
I really liked this story. Nick Hornby also wrote About a Boy and High Fidelity, and his love of music is in this book too. It´s a story about four strangers who all arrive at the top of a building one night as jumpers, and the friendship they begin from there. It´s lighter reading than it sounds like, and I devoured it in one hammocky afternoon.
The Reluctant Fundamentalist - Mohsin Hamid
This story is told entirely by one man talking to another (who never speaks) in a restaurant in Lahore, Pakistan. It´s interestingly done, and definitely an unusual way to tell the story. I found it a quick read, one that I didn´t want to leave to do my daily chores (which doesn´t sound like much, but I like my daily chores!)
So - let me know if you have read these, and if you have, what you think!
So, I´ve been reading.
Here´s what I´ve read so far - have any of you read any of these?
Say You´re One of Them - Uwem Akpan
Short fiction stories set in Africa. Some are very, very hard to read, but it is a book I found myself thinking about days later, which says something good about how powerful it is.
The Geography of Bliss - Eric Weiner
This is a non-fiction book about a guy visiting the five "happiest countries on earth." I found it vaguely interesting and liked some of the common threads between the happy countries, but didn´t at all enjoy the author´s writing.
A Gate At the Stairs - Lorrie Moore
A novel by someone I had never heard of, this follows a young college girl through her first (?) year at school in the post 9/11 midwest. It is a strange story, and I think it could have been told well while cutting a third of the length, but I looked forward each day to the next time I´d get to read on in it.
Possible Side Effects - Augusten Burroughs
This was a nice break from the more serious reading I´d been doing - by the author of Running with Scissors and Dry, both of which I enjoyed. I liked having something light to sit down to, but missed the narrative that the other two books had. This one is more a collection of essays than the other two - but still very funny.
A Long Way Down - Nick Hornby
I really liked this story. Nick Hornby also wrote About a Boy and High Fidelity, and his love of music is in this book too. It´s a story about four strangers who all arrive at the top of a building one night as jumpers, and the friendship they begin from there. It´s lighter reading than it sounds like, and I devoured it in one hammocky afternoon.
The Reluctant Fundamentalist - Mohsin Hamid
This story is told entirely by one man talking to another (who never speaks) in a restaurant in Lahore, Pakistan. It´s interestingly done, and definitely an unusual way to tell the story. I found it a quick read, one that I didn´t want to leave to do my daily chores (which doesn´t sound like much, but I like my daily chores!)
So - let me know if you have read these, and if you have, what you think!
A Note About Comments
I love getting and reading comments from all of you on here!
It makes my day.
I do not, however, know how to respond to them. I´ve seen blogs where blog owners can respond to individual comments, and if anyone reading out there knows how to do it, please teach me. :)
I also am sometimes not quite sure who it was that wrote a comment, since your name might not come up like you expect it to. Could you leave your name within the text of your comment? ¡Muchisimas gracias!
Sending all of you warm thoughts and balmy breezes.
It makes my day.
I do not, however, know how to respond to them. I´ve seen blogs where blog owners can respond to individual comments, and if anyone reading out there knows how to do it, please teach me. :)
I also am sometimes not quite sure who it was that wrote a comment, since your name might not come up like you expect it to. Could you leave your name within the text of your comment? ¡Muchisimas gracias!
Sending all of you warm thoughts and balmy breezes.
Earth Rose Farm
When I was first planning my trip down to Costa Rica, I began by emailing nearly all of the farms on the WWOOF Costa Rica list. One of the farms that really interested me was Earth Rose Farm, but at the time that I emailed, they were not accepting new volunteers. Rosi, one of the owners, was actually the one who pointed me toward her neighbors, the Chinchillas! So really, I have her to thank for my time here at Finca Chinchilla.
Having been at the farm a few weeks though, I was in the mood for something a little different. Everyone at Earth Rose Farm has to pass through our front yard here to get to town, so I was often in contact with the caretaker, Steven, and the owner, Mario (Rosi´s husband.) When I asked if I could come spend some time up the hill, they welcomed me. I waited until Mario headed back to the States (long story), and then huffed and puffed up the substantial hills that lead to Earth Rose.
Earth Rose is a very different farm than the Chinchilla´s - it is based around a traditional wooden Tico house and is (theoretically) 100% organic, vegetarian, and cruelty-free. In short, it´s sort of the farm I formed in my head when I started dreaming about coming to Costa Rica. The land is truly beautiful, and there are inumberable resources that could be harnessed to produce a peaceful, productive space. Unfortunately, the reality isn´t quite the same. Due to lack of care, lack of man-hours, well-intentioned but uncompleted projects, and questionable leadership, the farm is a shadow of what it could be.
I arrived at the farm at a time when only myself and the caretaker were there, accompanied by a local day-worker. The caretaker is an older guy who has been at the farm for four and a half months now. He is the polar opposite of the owners (think traditional-practical-conservative vs. hippie-visionary-free spirits), and is very, very ready to move on. He will be heading out next week and was in "do the minimum necessary and get ready to go" mode while I was staying there.
But! There was good to be found there. Having spent the last few weeks in the constant company of at least one and usually three or more members of the Chinchilla family and their TV, the intense quiet that prevailed at Earth Rose Farm was like a warm bath.
I had a blast learning to care for the free range chickens and meeting my first rooster (huge!) I fell in love with the rickety old house with its wood-burning stove and outside sink, and I loved the exposed tin roof during the rain.
Would I stay again at Earth Rose Farm? Perhaps with a different cast of characters, but I don´t have much faith in the farm to become the functioning place it should be under current conditions. It gave me a lot of what I needed at the moment, though, and for that I´m very thankful.
And finally, the biggest roach(?) I´ve ever seen, ever. Next to it is a big kitchen serving spoon for reference.
The front of the house as the sun rises.
Having been at the farm a few weeks though, I was in the mood for something a little different. Everyone at Earth Rose Farm has to pass through our front yard here to get to town, so I was often in contact with the caretaker, Steven, and the owner, Mario (Rosi´s husband.) When I asked if I could come spend some time up the hill, they welcomed me. I waited until Mario headed back to the States (long story), and then huffed and puffed up the substantial hills that lead to Earth Rose.
Earth Rose is a very different farm than the Chinchilla´s - it is based around a traditional wooden Tico house and is (theoretically) 100% organic, vegetarian, and cruelty-free. In short, it´s sort of the farm I formed in my head when I started dreaming about coming to Costa Rica. The land is truly beautiful, and there are inumberable resources that could be harnessed to produce a peaceful, productive space. Unfortunately, the reality isn´t quite the same. Due to lack of care, lack of man-hours, well-intentioned but uncompleted projects, and questionable leadership, the farm is a shadow of what it could be.
The living and dining room.
But! There was good to be found there. Having spent the last few weeks in the constant company of at least one and usually three or more members of the Chinchilla family and their TV, the intense quiet that prevailed at Earth Rose Farm was like a warm bath.
My bedroom while I stayed at the farm.
I had a blast learning to care for the free range chickens and meeting my first rooster (huge!) I fell in love with the rickety old house with its wood-burning stove and outside sink, and I loved the exposed tin roof during the rain.
The rooster. He scares me a little.
We picked all of this in a 20 minute walk around the farm!
You can see starfruit, guava, oranges, and limes.
Makin´ guava jelly!
And finally, the biggest roach(?) I´ve ever seen, ever. Next to it is a big kitchen serving spoon for reference.
How to Pick Coffee
You will need:
2. Approach coffee tree.
3. Pick any berry that has blushed red. If in doubt, give the berry a hard squeeze. Could the seed pop out? Good, pick that one too.
4. Do not slip on the banana leaves that cover the ground of the cafetál! This is all shade grown cofee, so there will be plants of all kinds scattered among the coffee trees. Take a moment to look upward. What a peaceful day.
7. Bag up the coffee and take it to the co-op´s sorting machine. Mixed with all the surrounding farm´s coffee and processed to remove the meat of the berry, this coffee will soon head off (still green) to all corners of the world.
- a coffee grove
- a laundry basket with a sack attached as a belt
- hands
2. Approach coffee tree.
3. Pick any berry that has blushed red. If in doubt, give the berry a hard squeeze. Could the seed pop out? Good, pick that one too.
4. Do not slip on the banana leaves that cover the ground of the cafetál! This is all shade grown cofee, so there will be plants of all kinds scattered among the coffee trees. Take a moment to look upward. What a peaceful day.
5. Picnic lunch with Memo - beef from our farm, a fried platano, rice, beans, and cabbage salad. YUM.
6. If you come across a coffee flower, for goodness sake, smell it! It will smell wonderful.
7. Bag up the coffee and take it to the co-op´s sorting machine. Mixed with all the surrounding farm´s coffee and processed to remove the meat of the berry, this coffee will soon head off (still green) to all corners of the world.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Paisaje
Costa Rica is beautiful. Shockingly, wonderously, invigoratingly so. I wish I was able to describe how alive and gorgeous everything is, but I´m going to try and show you instead.
The very first picture I took in Costa Rica.
This is taken along the road leading to the Chinchilla´s house.
The view from a hammock filled hut at a neighboring farm.
Here, Memo and I are one our way to fix the water pipe.
Till next week! (Miss you Mom!)
P.S. THANK YOU Bek and Ben for the mail!!!! :)
Meet your Meat
One of the reasons I came to Costa Rica, and specifically one of the reasons I wanted to spend time on a farm, was to better aquaint myself with my food. Most everyone in America is removed - very removed from the food they eat, including myself. What would it be like to eat food that I knew intimately? I had a pretty good idea that eating food from a garden not thirty feet away would be pretty great, but what about meat?
Having been a vegetarian/occcasional pescatarian in New Orleans last year, I began eating meat again when I arrived in Costa Rica. I wanted to test my theory that I was only okay with eating meat if I knew where it came from and could be honestly aware of what I was eating. Most of the meat that we eat at Finca Chinchilla comes from the farm itself, from animals that I have contact with every day. It´s been an interesting project so far - one that I´ll be writing about more in the next bit. For today though, a few pictures of my friends and food. Sad but true: food is cute!
Having been a vegetarian/occcasional pescatarian in New Orleans last year, I began eating meat again when I arrived in Costa Rica. I wanted to test my theory that I was only okay with eating meat if I knew where it came from and could be honestly aware of what I was eating. Most of the meat that we eat at Finca Chinchilla comes from the farm itself, from animals that I have contact with every day. It´s been an interesting project so far - one that I´ll be writing about more in the next bit. For today though, a few pictures of my friends and food. Sad but true: food is cute!
Some tiny chicks that the Chinchillas bought to eat.
They´ll be ready in about a month and a half.
Close up!
Fun fact: in Costa Rica (and elsewhere), chicks say "pio pio" instead of "cheep cheep!"
This little guy belongs to Memo´s brother.
He is a huge scaredy-cat, but ridiculously adorable.
On Eggs
Over the past few weeks, I’ve learned a lot about eggs. More than I ever in my life thought I would know. Some of this might seem obvious to some of you, but it was new to me, and I wanted to share.
We collect well over 300 eggs a day on the Chinchilla farm, though that number is growing rapidly as the younger hens come fully into laying age. When I arrived, the “pollitos,” as they are called, were laying about 60 eggs a day. Now, they are laying about 230, and Luz expects the number to climb to about 400 soon. The older hens have been laying for some time, and their egg-producing rate is fairly stable. However, not every hen lays every day. Though we might produce up to 500 eggs in one day, we keep about 700 hens.
Thing I learned about eggs #1:
Eggs should be stored point down as soon after collection as possible. They will keep fresh around three times longer this way. This is because of an air bubble that is found in the fat end of the egg – keeping it in its place helps keep the whole thing stable and fresh.
Thing I learned about eggs #2:
Eggs should never be washed with water. Water can pass through the membrane of the shell, bringing bacteria with it. Instead, we scrub the eggs with dry dish scrubbers – the metal kind that is made from hundreds of tiny loops. This buffs off all the bedding and other debris that can get attached without compromising the egg. For those that are truly dirty, we use the white of a cracked egg to clean them. This forms a sort of seal on the outside as it cleans and has the added benefit of making the eggs shiny! Ever baked a pie or tart and then brushed the outside of the pastry with egg white? Same idea.
Thing I learned about eggs #3:
The eggs you and I buy in the grocery store are very, very different from the eggs collected from yard or house hens.
Some of the differences I´ve seen:
Shell: surprisingly tough. The first time I went to crack an egg, it simply thunked against the counter as if to say “-and?”
White: firm and very clear
Yolk: This is the biggest difference for me. The yolks here are a deep, robust orange that makes eggs from the States look like basement-dwelling nerds in comparison.
Thing I learned about eggs #4:
Eggs are not refrigerated here. Ever. Not at the Chinchillas, not at the store, not ever. This was a hard pill to swallow for me at first – have you ever left eggs on the counter for a week and then felt comfortable making an omelet? But here I am, three weeks later, having eaten more eggs in those weeks than probably ever before – and I’m fine!
Frankly, the eggs here are tastier than any egg I’ve bought in the States. I’d fallen out of the habit of buying eggs before I moved down here. I never felt inspired by them – what to make? Unless I was making eggs in a basket, I just didn’t get excited about them. But here, I can revel in an over-easy egg on its own. It’s hard to describe why. Certainly, it has something to do with the fact that I’ve worked over that egg. It didn’t come to me in Styrofoam – rather, I hunted it down early in the morning and scrubbed it and brought it to the kitchen. Any thing we work for has more worth. But that is another post. This one is about the taste, and I’ve gotta say, it’s A+
A few eggs wait to be cleaned.
We collect well over 300 eggs a day on the Chinchilla farm, though that number is growing rapidly as the younger hens come fully into laying age. When I arrived, the “pollitos,” as they are called, were laying about 60 eggs a day. Now, they are laying about 230, and Luz expects the number to climb to about 400 soon. The older hens have been laying for some time, and their egg-producing rate is fairly stable. However, not every hen lays every day. Though we might produce up to 500 eggs in one day, we keep about 700 hens.
Thing I learned about eggs #1:
Eggs should be stored point down as soon after collection as possible. They will keep fresh around three times longer this way. This is because of an air bubble that is found in the fat end of the egg – keeping it in its place helps keep the whole thing stable and fresh.
Slowly filling crate after crate one rainy afternoon.
Thing I learned about eggs #2:
Eggs should never be washed with water. Water can pass through the membrane of the shell, bringing bacteria with it. Instead, we scrub the eggs with dry dish scrubbers – the metal kind that is made from hundreds of tiny loops. This buffs off all the bedding and other debris that can get attached without compromising the egg. For those that are truly dirty, we use the white of a cracked egg to clean them. This forms a sort of seal on the outside as it cleans and has the added benefit of making the eggs shiny! Ever baked a pie or tart and then brushed the outside of the pastry with egg white? Same idea.
Thing I learned about eggs #3:
The eggs you and I buy in the grocery store are very, very different from the eggs collected from yard or house hens.
Some of the differences I´ve seen:
Shell: surprisingly tough. The first time I went to crack an egg, it simply thunked against the counter as if to say “-and?”
White: firm and very clear
Yolk: This is the biggest difference for me. The yolks here are a deep, robust orange that makes eggs from the States look like basement-dwelling nerds in comparison.
Thing I learned about eggs #4:
Eggs are not refrigerated here. Ever. Not at the Chinchillas, not at the store, not ever. This was a hard pill to swallow for me at first – have you ever left eggs on the counter for a week and then felt comfortable making an omelet? But here I am, three weeks later, having eaten more eggs in those weeks than probably ever before – and I’m fine!
Frankly, the eggs here are tastier than any egg I’ve bought in the States. I’d fallen out of the habit of buying eggs before I moved down here. I never felt inspired by them – what to make? Unless I was making eggs in a basket, I just didn’t get excited about them. But here, I can revel in an over-easy egg on its own. It’s hard to describe why. Certainly, it has something to do with the fact that I’ve worked over that egg. It didn’t come to me in Styrofoam – rather, I hunted it down early in the morning and scrubbed it and brought it to the kitchen. Any thing we work for has more worth. But that is another post. This one is about the taste, and I’ve gotta say, it’s A+
Tigre and I work on the day´s eggs.
A Tica Pedicure
Last Sunday I went with the Chinchilla family to visit Luz’s grandparents. Luz is the only daughter of the family not to live in the same town as the parents, so her arrival at the family home always carries a little more fanfare than the other sisters’ regular visits. I was introduced as Luz’s new “daughter” (“Look how quickly she’s grown up!” “I know, I didn’t even have to pay for her schooling!”) to her gaggle of sisters and her mom and dad, Amable and Guillermo. After a few moments of “Mucho gusto,” everyone quickly slipped into their different cliques – sisters and mom out back, grinding, patting out, and toasting tortillas alongside several other dishes, husbands out front discussing farm matters, and children running through all ends of the house as a noisy herd. Daniel, the oldest daughter’s boyfriend, had also come along for the first time, and he and I both sort of drifted back out toward the front of the house, unsure of where to settle. I ended up out front with the men, mostly because I stuck with Daniel and Nicol. Whether this was a gaff on my part or whether I was excused by virtue of being a confused foreigner, I’m not sure.
Most of the day passed with the expected stress on my part. For the majority of the time, I simply sat somewhere and tried to look satisfied and interested in the conversation going on around me. I tried a drink made from corn – it tasted exactly like someone had soaked tortilla chips in water for an hour and then drained the water into my cup – and ate a huge helping of rice, spaghetti, beans, and cabbage salad. I watched an episode of survivor with Memo, Daniel, and Nicol and tried to convince Memo that not everyone in the United States thinks that Costa Ricans run around in loincloths.
But the highlight of the day came when Luz poked her head around the corner and asked me “You don’t want to get your nails painted?” Luz’s sister Ana is a self-taught beautician who does nails and hair. She often brings her kit along to these Sunday gatherings and does a few freebies for her family. This week I won the drawing! I scattered the thirty or so acrylic nails that Ana provides as samples across my legs and got to choosing. Every option was incredibly detailed and flashy. This was going to be fun. I finally choose and settled in to the chair, draping my ankle over Ana’s knee. She was a total pro with her teeny tiny brushes and in no time I was sporting a seriously noteworthy design! My toes now have a pink and silver French manicure topped on each big toe with a sunflower design. Something about the process and my willingness and excitement over it bought me a ticket into the girls group. For the rest of the day I had something to display and talk about with all the ladies. It was a strange ticket in, but I’ll take it as I get it these days.
P.S. I´m going to save you the weirdness of posting a big picture of my toes. Just use your imagination!
Most of the day passed with the expected stress on my part. For the majority of the time, I simply sat somewhere and tried to look satisfied and interested in the conversation going on around me. I tried a drink made from corn – it tasted exactly like someone had soaked tortilla chips in water for an hour and then drained the water into my cup – and ate a huge helping of rice, spaghetti, beans, and cabbage salad. I watched an episode of survivor with Memo, Daniel, and Nicol and tried to convince Memo that not everyone in the United States thinks that Costa Ricans run around in loincloths.
But the highlight of the day came when Luz poked her head around the corner and asked me “You don’t want to get your nails painted?” Luz’s sister Ana is a self-taught beautician who does nails and hair. She often brings her kit along to these Sunday gatherings and does a few freebies for her family. This week I won the drawing! I scattered the thirty or so acrylic nails that Ana provides as samples across my legs and got to choosing. Every option was incredibly detailed and flashy. This was going to be fun. I finally choose and settled in to the chair, draping my ankle over Ana’s knee. She was a total pro with her teeny tiny brushes and in no time I was sporting a seriously noteworthy design! My toes now have a pink and silver French manicure topped on each big toe with a sunflower design. Something about the process and my willingness and excitement over it bought me a ticket into the girls group. For the rest of the day I had something to display and talk about with all the ladies. It was a strange ticket in, but I’ll take it as I get it these days.
P.S. I´m going to save you the weirdness of posting a big picture of my toes. Just use your imagination!
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
¿Que? ¿Como? ¿Otra vez?
Let me just put this out there: when I studied abroad in Perú, I wimped out big time on the Spanish. I kept mostly to my fellow American students, and went just about everywhere with my roommate Hannah, who was my saving grace in a lot of ways. It´s much easier to wait for a bus in a crowd of foreign strangers or attempt a trip to a new city or even go to lunch in a restaurant when you have a partner in crime to be confused and ridiculous with.
Though I loved spending time with the students in my program, I know that I missed out on a lot of language by doing so. That idea has been seriously enforced here in Costa Rica. The family I am living with speaks very little English. With me, they speak none. I live every day here in Spanish from the moment I wake up until the last time Daniela tells me goodnight.
The Ugly:
I often feel like an idiot here. It´s not just that I don´t understand, which happens frequently (Thankfully, the Chinchillas are a patient bunch, minus Daniela, who starts talking to me in exaggerated, slowwwww Spanish if I don´t understand after the first two times!) It´s also that my range of conversation is much smaller in Spanish than in English. Having gotten myself mired in jumbles of conversation that have no out but "Ah, olvidalo." (Ah, forget it.) when I attempted more sophisticated topics or opinions, I often find myself stuck with routine, boring responses. How´s the food? It´s great. Hows the fruit juice? Oh, it´s great. Do you like mangos? Yes, they´re.... great.
The Bad
As I mentioned, the Chinchilla family is extremely patient with me as I try to learn new words. There are thousands to learn, and I am anxious to do so. But. There´s a certain point where I start feeling like Helen Keller in the days after the Water Incident. "What´s this?" "What do you call this?" "That thing there, what is it?" And on, and on, and on. This isn´t exactly thrilling conversation either, though it does help me out tremendously.
The Good
Even after a long stressful day of two word answers and monotonous questions, there are always still conversations that keep my hopes up. Like being able to ask Memo about the rights that gay couples have in Costa Rica, or simply walking into the shoe store and having an easy conversation with the salesman about the size and height of rubber boots I need. Though I tend to focus on the more frustrating conversations I have, I´m speaking Spanish every time I open my mouth! The truth is that that is a success. I´m sure it will get easier as time goes on. (Fingers crossed!)
Though I loved spending time with the students in my program, I know that I missed out on a lot of language by doing so. That idea has been seriously enforced here in Costa Rica. The family I am living with speaks very little English. With me, they speak none. I live every day here in Spanish from the moment I wake up until the last time Daniela tells me goodnight.
The Ugly:
I often feel like an idiot here. It´s not just that I don´t understand, which happens frequently (Thankfully, the Chinchillas are a patient bunch, minus Daniela, who starts talking to me in exaggerated, slowwwww Spanish if I don´t understand after the first two times!) It´s also that my range of conversation is much smaller in Spanish than in English. Having gotten myself mired in jumbles of conversation that have no out but "Ah, olvidalo." (Ah, forget it.) when I attempted more sophisticated topics or opinions, I often find myself stuck with routine, boring responses. How´s the food? It´s great. Hows the fruit juice? Oh, it´s great. Do you like mangos? Yes, they´re.... great.
The Bad
As I mentioned, the Chinchilla family is extremely patient with me as I try to learn new words. There are thousands to learn, and I am anxious to do so. But. There´s a certain point where I start feeling like Helen Keller in the days after the Water Incident. "What´s this?" "What do you call this?" "That thing there, what is it?" And on, and on, and on. This isn´t exactly thrilling conversation either, though it does help me out tremendously.
The Good
Even after a long stressful day of two word answers and monotonous questions, there are always still conversations that keep my hopes up. Like being able to ask Memo about the rights that gay couples have in Costa Rica, or simply walking into the shoe store and having an easy conversation with the salesman about the size and height of rubber boots I need. Though I tend to focus on the more frustrating conversations I have, I´m speaking Spanish every time I open my mouth! The truth is that that is a success. I´m sure it will get easier as time goes on. (Fingers crossed!)
Thursday, October 29, 2009
At the Huerta
In the mornings I usually work the garden with Luz, my host mom. She has two covered gardens from which she feeds the family and cuts herbs and vegetables to sell at the market. There is lots of weeding to do - Costa Rica reminds me a little bit of New Orleans in that way. It´s very fertile land, so everything wants to grow!
The first half
and the second half.
I planted the tiny cilantro in the bottom left corner.
The other garden
Bok choy and lettuce in this box
and two different kinds of cilantro in this one. Yuck!
and two different kinds of cilantro in this one. Yuck!
Everything is organic and delicious beyond belief. We go out and grab some lettuce and a cucumber for the salad for dinner, dice it up, and eat it!
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