Thursday, December 24, 2009
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?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
