Last Thursday, I left Sierpe and travelled northward by myself to begin what I planned would be a month at Finca Amanecer, a farm in the little town of Londres, about 30 kilometers in from the central western coast. I got off of my third bus of the day in the late afternoon, and walked into the farm. I was greeted by this blond woman about forty years old asking me who I was and what I was doing there. Before offering me to take my bag off or a glass of water or even telling me her name, she told me that the WWOOF program at the farm had been shut down and I wouldnt be able to stay there, not to mention Jimmy and Jeremy who would be meeting me on Monday. Thankfully, a girl about my age, who was traveling from Ecuador to Mexico with her friend, walked out on to the porch and rescued me from the raving womans wrath. She introduced me to Kyle, a Canadian guy a few years older than me who had been trying to get the food growing operation up and running at Amanecer for the past couple of weeks. He got me a glass of water, and we spent the rest of the evening walking around the farm, which was in pretty pathetic shape, and coming up with a plan of what needed to be done for the farm, what was already growing (some pina, banana, vanilla, a bit of chocolate, yucca, and some spices), and how we were going to justify my stay, and my friends stay, to the powers that be.
Kyle left for good the next morning, but not before he managed to convince Kelly, the woman who greeted me, and Elena, the owner of the farm who was in the States, that the farm would need the three of us to stick around and work for a month. The next few days I spent composting and digging a big old hole for an outhouse, among other tasks around the farm. During the first few minutes of digging, I was stung by a wasp and quickly realized that there was a nest about six inches from my face, on the back of a leaf hanging right above the hole. I took great pleasure in gathering a bunch of dry leaves, making a huge pile in the hole, which was about five feet deep by then, and setting it ablaze to smoke out the bees. This was highly successful, and I was able to continue digging. I also constructed a masterpiece of a compost heap, made from chicken wire, bamboo, and string, which I was very proud of. I spent a lot of the time that I was working in the fields laughing at myself for getting such a kick out of making a well layered, airated, and hydrated compost pile.
The weekend after I got to Amanecer I slept in a tent because 15 Costa Rican cowboys came to town for an annual cowboy convention. They road 10 hours from the capital city of San Jose for a big old party in Londres, so our farm was turned into a bed and breakfast for Saturday night. Since we were hosting the cowboys, we got to eat and drink for free all night, which lead to some dancing and howling to the Tico band that was playing. It was a great night, and I was glad to have met and danced with Maile and Sophie, two super cool Oregonian girls on a super cool trip through south and central america.
This reminds me of the sheer amount of people I have met and lived with on this trip. When I think back to the friends we were with at the beginning of the trip, it feels like Ive been here forever. It turned out that things werent meant to last at the Amanecer, though. Jimmy and Jeremy showed up on Monday night, with Dan, our good friend from school who had to meet us down here a bit into our trip. It was great to see him and hang with them at the farm for a few days, but we soon became too much for Kelly, and after waking up to her yelling made up accusations about us in the kitchen, we decided it was probably time for us to move on. We spent a great last day at this magnificent cliff overlooking a big old river which we swam and fished in, and then we were off to Cascada Verde, where I am now writing from.
Im pretty hungry by now, so Im going to head down to the kitchen to start some beans Ive been soaking, and I think were going to a big festival on the beach tonight and tomorrow, which should be a hoot. Ill write all about this new place, which is located on the side of a mountain overlooking the Pacific ocean, real soon.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
It feels like a lot has been going on lately, and I haven't had much time to write on this ridiculous blogospherewebnet thing. I'm in Londres now, on a farm called Finca Amanecer, but I still have some stories from Sierpe to share, so I'll track back in my journal and work my way to where I am now.
3/6/09
By the sweet grace of god, I've somehow managed to find the Celtics down here in Sierpe. I was bumming about missing the Celtics' bout with the Cavs, albeit without Papa Bear Kevin Garnett, so I thought I'd walk down to a nearby hotel to see if the Celtics could possibly be on ESPN International, and sure enough, they were! After spending a month in the mountains on a farm, I am really enjoying some aspects of being in a town, like the Celtics tonight, and champions league on tuesday and wednesday. Ok, I guess all I really missed in the mountains was sports.
3/7/09
Yesterday I was walking from Don Jorge's house, where after being blown off three consecutive times I had plans to give english lessons to his son, Santiago, I finally got to sit down with this pudgy little kid to practice some english. Approximately ten minutes into our lesson, I was told that his little highness had to go somewhere, so I was back on the street walking to Las Vegas, the local bar/restaurant/ecotourism outfit of Don Jorge. I was fascinated to see a man talking to another in the middle of the road, one of whom was holding a hose, just watering the road. I had glimpsed him from a distance when I had entered Don Jorge's house, but I figured he was just watering some plants I couldn't see. As I walked past, I watched in fascination as the man continued to carry on his conversation, while very purposefully watering the dirt road.
Today I found the man who the road waterer was talking to an asked him why that guy was watering the road. He laughed and said matter of factly, "el polvo." All of a sudden I realized that whenever I walk by a car on the road, I cover my face so it doesn't get filled with dust, which must devastate the houses on the side of the road. Here I was reading a new yorker article that Mr. Cho gave me about how theres not enough water in India for people to drink and bathe, and how our planet is literally running out of clean water, and I'm realizing that most everyone in town waters their roads for a while each day. Bummer.
3/9/09
Almost two months into my trip, and I am seeing rain for the very first time. I can almost hear the earth breathing a sigh of relief, as the water soothes its thirsty and cracked soils. This is some of the best rain I've ever seen, right in the middle of the hottest part of the day. I've been shvitzing my cohones off for the past two hours inside, and I just walked outside to be greeted by the freshest air. Yesterday I went to the Isla del Cano by boat, down the winding rivers through the mangroves, out of the delta, and into the Pacific Ocean. It was a beautiful trip, I snorkled and saw a meter and a half shark swimming creepily by, two beautiful rays who looked like magnificent silver birds underwater, a ton of colorful fish and the coral reef they were feeding on, and a big old turtle from the boat. While I was snorkling, something caught my eye at the floor of the ocean, my eyes were instantly drawn to this perfectly round, black and yellow... wheel. I did a double take, theres no way there could be a golf cart wheel at the base of the ocean off the coast of an island off the coast of a peninsula off the coast of Costa Rica. I stared at the wheel for a while thinking about Jeffrey Sach's glowing reverence he pays to the Industrial Revolution in his book, The End of Poverty. I'm sure you could imagine... haha. On the way back, we saw a bundle of monkeys that loked like mini gorillas in the tree tops, some mini bats on a tree, and a host of caymans on the banks of a little inlet we explored.
Sierpe felt a lot different today after the rain. I felt like birds were coming out to sing for the first time, and that everything looked greener than ever. Juan Luis (the father at La Iguana) told me that it used to rain every so often during the summer, but for a few years now, nothing at all. At least I can content myself knowing that no one will have to water the street today.
Looking around Sierpe it's good to recognize some of the good parts of town. Bicycles everywhere, a single daily bus that carries tons of passengers to Palmar. Some cars, some motorcycles, some boat traffic, and even a guy on horseback every now and then. Now that I think about it, Sierpe was probably one of the most diversely transported to places I've ever been.
3/6/09
By the sweet grace of god, I've somehow managed to find the Celtics down here in Sierpe. I was bumming about missing the Celtics' bout with the Cavs, albeit without Papa Bear Kevin Garnett, so I thought I'd walk down to a nearby hotel to see if the Celtics could possibly be on ESPN International, and sure enough, they were! After spending a month in the mountains on a farm, I am really enjoying some aspects of being in a town, like the Celtics tonight, and champions league on tuesday and wednesday. Ok, I guess all I really missed in the mountains was sports.
3/7/09
Yesterday I was walking from Don Jorge's house, where after being blown off three consecutive times I had plans to give english lessons to his son, Santiago, I finally got to sit down with this pudgy little kid to practice some english. Approximately ten minutes into our lesson, I was told that his little highness had to go somewhere, so I was back on the street walking to Las Vegas, the local bar/restaurant/ecotourism outfit of Don Jorge. I was fascinated to see a man talking to another in the middle of the road, one of whom was holding a hose, just watering the road. I had glimpsed him from a distance when I had entered Don Jorge's house, but I figured he was just watering some plants I couldn't see. As I walked past, I watched in fascination as the man continued to carry on his conversation, while very purposefully watering the dirt road.
Today I found the man who the road waterer was talking to an asked him why that guy was watering the road. He laughed and said matter of factly, "el polvo." All of a sudden I realized that whenever I walk by a car on the road, I cover my face so it doesn't get filled with dust, which must devastate the houses on the side of the road. Here I was reading a new yorker article that Mr. Cho gave me about how theres not enough water in India for people to drink and bathe, and how our planet is literally running out of clean water, and I'm realizing that most everyone in town waters their roads for a while each day. Bummer.
3/9/09
Almost two months into my trip, and I am seeing rain for the very first time. I can almost hear the earth breathing a sigh of relief, as the water soothes its thirsty and cracked soils. This is some of the best rain I've ever seen, right in the middle of the hottest part of the day. I've been shvitzing my cohones off for the past two hours inside, and I just walked outside to be greeted by the freshest air. Yesterday I went to the Isla del Cano by boat, down the winding rivers through the mangroves, out of the delta, and into the Pacific Ocean. It was a beautiful trip, I snorkled and saw a meter and a half shark swimming creepily by, two beautiful rays who looked like magnificent silver birds underwater, a ton of colorful fish and the coral reef they were feeding on, and a big old turtle from the boat. While I was snorkling, something caught my eye at the floor of the ocean, my eyes were instantly drawn to this perfectly round, black and yellow... wheel. I did a double take, theres no way there could be a golf cart wheel at the base of the ocean off the coast of an island off the coast of a peninsula off the coast of Costa Rica. I stared at the wheel for a while thinking about Jeffrey Sach's glowing reverence he pays to the Industrial Revolution in his book, The End of Poverty. I'm sure you could imagine... haha. On the way back, we saw a bundle of monkeys that loked like mini gorillas in the tree tops, some mini bats on a tree, and a host of caymans on the banks of a little inlet we explored.
Sierpe felt a lot different today after the rain. I felt like birds were coming out to sing for the first time, and that everything looked greener than ever. Juan Luis (the father at La Iguana) told me that it used to rain every so often during the summer, but for a few years now, nothing at all. At least I can content myself knowing that no one will have to water the street today.
Looking around Sierpe it's good to recognize some of the good parts of town. Bicycles everywhere, a single daily bus that carries tons of passengers to Palmar. Some cars, some motorcycles, some boat traffic, and even a guy on horseback every now and then. Now that I think about it, Sierpe was probably one of the most diversely transported to places I've ever been.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Well said, Ben. I definately feel very distinctly a white person down here, which is quite appropriate considering what a gringo I am. I wasn´t trying to draw any lines between myself and anyone else in the last post, just observing the effects of my culture on a foreign country. I suppose the reason it interests me so is the culpability that I feel, even though I´m not trying to do anything wrong. I´ve been with plenty of great whities down here, which brings me to a story...Sunday night and I´m walking back to my house to read for a while when I hear a voice calling out from behind me. I turn around to see a tall, older, white guy with a long white and blond beard, and long hair of the same color. He asks me how I´m doing and we start chatting about what we´re both doing in this little town of Sierpe. I had seen him a few times in town, and I soon learn that he is the owner and builder of a magnificent catamaran that I had seen anchored in the river when I had traveled out to an Island off the coast earlier in the day. He walks down to the side of the stream and lets out this birdcall down the river, which is sooned returned by something that sounds like an owl from off in the darkness. As he waits for his friend to come pick him up in a little dingy, he helps some Ticos get a boat out of the water, while I stand there uselessly. When his friend pulls up in the dingy the guy turns to me and invites me out to the boat for a beer. I had nothing to do, so after asking him not to abduct me, I hop in on the dingy and am paddled off into the darkness.
The boat turns out to be quite a production, which these two friends, about my parents age, have built from scratch by themselves. I learn that they both have families of their own, have been living in Costa Rica for twenty years, and have been traveling the coast living in this boat for the past two months, shuttling from surf spot to surf spot. They were two of the funniest middle aged hippies I´ve ever met, and I was glad to have met them and checked out their boat. Definately an inspiration to make some stuff with my hands, hopefully under the supervision of Dave this summer.
Anyway, the extent to which I am judged down here for the color of my skin makes me all the more conscious of not judging other whities for being white, although I still am interested in looking into our affects on this country. Also, just as Ben´s post said so well, what is it with the tourist´s aversion to tourists? That still cracks me up, but I think the first step to being ok with it is the acceptance of how much of a tourist one is. With that in mind, I can enjoy the company of many different people while I am here, which has been one of the best parts of my travels here.
The boat turns out to be quite a production, which these two friends, about my parents age, have built from scratch by themselves. I learn that they both have families of their own, have been living in Costa Rica for twenty years, and have been traveling the coast living in this boat for the past two months, shuttling from surf spot to surf spot. They were two of the funniest middle aged hippies I´ve ever met, and I was glad to have met them and checked out their boat. Definately an inspiration to make some stuff with my hands, hopefully under the supervision of Dave this summer.
Anyway, the extent to which I am judged down here for the color of my skin makes me all the more conscious of not judging other whities for being white, although I still am interested in looking into our affects on this country. Also, just as Ben´s post said so well, what is it with the tourist´s aversion to tourists? That still cracks me up, but I think the first step to being ok with it is the acceptance of how much of a tourist one is. With that in mind, I can enjoy the company of many different people while I am here, which has been one of the best parts of my travels here.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Hard to believe it´s already March. It seems like the last month has flown by, and it was definately a great one, spent on La Iguana chocolate farm in the mountains of western Costa Rica. My last few days there were pretty darn eventful, and I found myself appreciating more than ever the magnificient rolling mountains that we would walk through to get to the river for a swim, or to town for a drink or the internet. The simplicity of life there was beautiful, and I´ve never in my life enjoyed reading more. On my last day I went in to town were they were in the final preperations for the big dance party that would be happening the following night. There I got to witness the process of making Tamales, and did my part in washing off the banana leaves they would use to wrap the Tamales in. I took careful notes on the process, and the women were more than happy to help out a gringo who was strangely curious in learning how to cook. After returning home for lunch, I quickly hurried back to town, because I heard that there would be a slaughtering of a pig around 2 o´clock.
I had never seen an animal be slaughtered before, and when the pick up truck pulled up to the Salon Comunal (where the Tamale process was still going on) I approached it with great curiousity. This curiousity turned to horror as I heard the bloodcurdling screams of the big as it was yanked off the back of the truck. This thing was humongous, they said 200 kilos but I would have argued more, and put up a hell of a fight as the big dude in town, Mauricio, yanked it by a long rope attached to a kind of harness, down the hill to the side of the Salon, where a fire had been going for a while. I can´t possibly express the awfulness of this pigs screams as it put up his last fight; I am completely certain that he knew exactly what awaited him at the bottom of the hill. Once they got him to the spot where they wanted him, they took off the harness and he laid down on his belly, as if accepting his fate. Two other guys came out, one holding an axe about as tall as I am, and another with a foot long knife (and a breathtaking curly haired mullet). After a moment of discussion, the man with the axe raised it high into the sky, and brought the blunt end down on the pig´s head with a loud thud. The next moment, mullet man plunged his knife into the stunned pig´s chest, which started spouting blood instantly. The pig bled and gargled for a minute or two, before his whole body went into violent shaking, bleeding the whole time, and then that was it. The whole time all I wanted to do was turn away, but because I eat animals who are killed much more brutally than that, who live their lives in much worse conditions than this pig did, I felt like I owed it to all those animals I´ve eaten to watch this bloodbath.
After the pig was dead, they put him on some wooden slats and poured boiling water on him as they took the hair off his body with the same long knife. This was particularly strange to watch because a pig´s skin looks so much like that of a rather pale human. It was like watching Tom Hennessey be shaved with a long knife. Bleh.
Anyway, I am now sitting on a bus leaving Dominical, where I have spent the last few days hanging and body surfing with Jimmy and his friend from Peabody who is visiting for the week. As I look out the windows of the bus I am struck by the fact that most all of the signs written on the side of the road are in english. Everything seems to be ¨For Sale¨ or ¨For Rent¨, but never ¨Se Vende¨ or ¨Se Alquila¨. There are no secrets about where all of this land is going, about in whose hands, or in what color hands, it is being concentrated. This makes me suddenly aware of the other thing I have found at the edge of most every road I have walked or traveled in Costa Rica, no matter how remote: fences. Sometimes there will be a steep hillside instead or the fence will be overgrown with plants or vines to make it look nicer, but every piece of land has a barrier blocking it off from the outside. Even if it is just a wasteland, with nothing at all there but trash, it will still be sectioned off so no one would encroach on it. When all of this buying and selling of Costa Rican land started (or ¨land development¨), fueled primarily by foreign capital, there must have been an explosion in staking claim to land by building fences. I wonder what kind of shifts in attitude this brought on. Attitudes towards neighbors in fighting over land, towards the land itself, as being seen as a commodity instead of a vulnerable pìece of the earth to protect and nurture, or towards foreigners, as either an opportunity for capital or a target of resentment for taking native land.
In this face of overwhelming gringo inflow, it seems interesting to note that all the gringos want is to avoid each other. It seems that all of the tourists complain about how much they hate ¨tourists¨, as if they´re just the ugliest thing in the world. The most coveted locations are the most ¨untouched¨, or ¨natural¨- which seems to be suggest simply being uncontaminated by gringo touch. After all, Costa Ricans, seem to be just about the moth coveted commodity around besides their land. Everyone wants to experience the ¨culture¨, or have a connection with a ¨local¨. It kind of cracks me up to see these desires so strongly held by largely the same people by who are in many ways destroying the very culture they so fetishize, to covet a connection with the same locals whose land they are in facting buying up and poisoning.
Dominical was definately a shock to the system after living in the mountains for the past month. I was there for three days, and that was enough. It was such a cluster of people, a completely American village, where english was easier to be found than spanish. In this aspect I was also pretty turned off, guilty of the same aversion to mass quantities of other whites that I find so interesting to observe. Although I think I disliked Dominical more because there were just so many people on top of each other, there were plenty of whities in the mountains who I really enjoyed, the difference was more that of there being plenty of space, and solitude, as well. Anyway, I wonder where this gringo aversion among gringos stems from. It makes me think that it may stem from some subconscious rejection of our own gringo culture, which in turn fuels this intense fetishism of ¨local culture¨. In the attempt to escape all things gringo in our travels (which seem to be the most desireable times, the times everyone works so hard for) are we somehow acknowledging the harmfulness of the lifestyles that American culture has come to foster? Even in spite of the proud to be an American songs, and of all of the other forms of patriotist propoganda we are constantly indoctrinated with, is there some sort of subconscious rejection, among some Americans, of American culture, that I am seeing portrayed here in Costa Rica?
I had never seen an animal be slaughtered before, and when the pick up truck pulled up to the Salon Comunal (where the Tamale process was still going on) I approached it with great curiousity. This curiousity turned to horror as I heard the bloodcurdling screams of the big as it was yanked off the back of the truck. This thing was humongous, they said 200 kilos but I would have argued more, and put up a hell of a fight as the big dude in town, Mauricio, yanked it by a long rope attached to a kind of harness, down the hill to the side of the Salon, where a fire had been going for a while. I can´t possibly express the awfulness of this pigs screams as it put up his last fight; I am completely certain that he knew exactly what awaited him at the bottom of the hill. Once they got him to the spot where they wanted him, they took off the harness and he laid down on his belly, as if accepting his fate. Two other guys came out, one holding an axe about as tall as I am, and another with a foot long knife (and a breathtaking curly haired mullet). After a moment of discussion, the man with the axe raised it high into the sky, and brought the blunt end down on the pig´s head with a loud thud. The next moment, mullet man plunged his knife into the stunned pig´s chest, which started spouting blood instantly. The pig bled and gargled for a minute or two, before his whole body went into violent shaking, bleeding the whole time, and then that was it. The whole time all I wanted to do was turn away, but because I eat animals who are killed much more brutally than that, who live their lives in much worse conditions than this pig did, I felt like I owed it to all those animals I´ve eaten to watch this bloodbath.
After the pig was dead, they put him on some wooden slats and poured boiling water on him as they took the hair off his body with the same long knife. This was particularly strange to watch because a pig´s skin looks so much like that of a rather pale human. It was like watching Tom Hennessey be shaved with a long knife. Bleh.
Anyway, I am now sitting on a bus leaving Dominical, where I have spent the last few days hanging and body surfing with Jimmy and his friend from Peabody who is visiting for the week. As I look out the windows of the bus I am struck by the fact that most all of the signs written on the side of the road are in english. Everything seems to be ¨For Sale¨ or ¨For Rent¨, but never ¨Se Vende¨ or ¨Se Alquila¨. There are no secrets about where all of this land is going, about in whose hands, or in what color hands, it is being concentrated. This makes me suddenly aware of the other thing I have found at the edge of most every road I have walked or traveled in Costa Rica, no matter how remote: fences. Sometimes there will be a steep hillside instead or the fence will be overgrown with plants or vines to make it look nicer, but every piece of land has a barrier blocking it off from the outside. Even if it is just a wasteland, with nothing at all there but trash, it will still be sectioned off so no one would encroach on it. When all of this buying and selling of Costa Rican land started (or ¨land development¨), fueled primarily by foreign capital, there must have been an explosion in staking claim to land by building fences. I wonder what kind of shifts in attitude this brought on. Attitudes towards neighbors in fighting over land, towards the land itself, as being seen as a commodity instead of a vulnerable pìece of the earth to protect and nurture, or towards foreigners, as either an opportunity for capital or a target of resentment for taking native land.
In this face of overwhelming gringo inflow, it seems interesting to note that all the gringos want is to avoid each other. It seems that all of the tourists complain about how much they hate ¨tourists¨, as if they´re just the ugliest thing in the world. The most coveted locations are the most ¨untouched¨, or ¨natural¨- which seems to be suggest simply being uncontaminated by gringo touch. After all, Costa Ricans, seem to be just about the moth coveted commodity around besides their land. Everyone wants to experience the ¨culture¨, or have a connection with a ¨local¨. It kind of cracks me up to see these desires so strongly held by largely the same people by who are in many ways destroying the very culture they so fetishize, to covet a connection with the same locals whose land they are in facting buying up and poisoning.
Dominical was definately a shock to the system after living in the mountains for the past month. I was there for three days, and that was enough. It was such a cluster of people, a completely American village, where english was easier to be found than spanish. In this aspect I was also pretty turned off, guilty of the same aversion to mass quantities of other whites that I find so interesting to observe. Although I think I disliked Dominical more because there were just so many people on top of each other, there were plenty of whities in the mountains who I really enjoyed, the difference was more that of there being plenty of space, and solitude, as well. Anyway, I wonder where this gringo aversion among gringos stems from. It makes me think that it may stem from some subconscious rejection of our own gringo culture, which in turn fuels this intense fetishism of ¨local culture¨. In the attempt to escape all things gringo in our travels (which seem to be the most desireable times, the times everyone works so hard for) are we somehow acknowledging the harmfulness of the lifestyles that American culture has come to foster? Even in spite of the proud to be an American songs, and of all of the other forms of patriotist propoganda we are constantly indoctrinated with, is there some sort of subconscious rejection, among some Americans, of American culture, that I am seeing portrayed here in Costa Rica?
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
La Iguana
It boggles my mind to think that I am down to my last two days at the Iguana, the wonderful chocolate farm in the mountains of western Costa Rica. On Saturday, I will travel to Dominical to meet Jimmy and his friend from Peabody who will be getting in on Friday night, surf for a few days in Dominical, and then head down to Sierpe where I was for a week at the beginning of my trip for a week of giving english lessons. I will leave Sierpe around the tenth of March to cross the southern part of Costa Rica to meet with Jimmy and other UVM friends who are coming down to spend a week with us on the Carribean coast. This week will be sure to bring more surfing and it will be great to see friends from school, and then we will cross the border into Panama in order to renew our visas. By then Jeremy, who has left us temporarily to get an early start on the farm will we go to after Panama, will be with us again, and las Tres Hotas (3 Js) will spend a few days on some Panamanian islands. Will will leave Panama around the twentieth of March for the final farm of my trip, Finca Amanecer, about 40 minutes from Quepos on the central Pacific coast.
I am happy to say that despite the incredibly enjoyable time we have had at la iguana, I am getting ready to move on in my travels. The work has grown rather repetitive, and although we are living and working on a farm, there are many monotonous tasks such as frijoleandoing and general upkeep of the houses that have us yearning for a farm where we can work closer with the soil. We did manage to break out of some of this monotony by volunteering to cook lunch a couple of times last week, managing to produce patacones, black bean burgers, some salads and juices, and Dan and Mai´s incredible chocolate raw food shake. It is good to get some experience in the kitchen, especially considering that at the next farm we will be cooking all of our own food.
We do have some days of interesting work - Jimmy, Jeremy, and I spent a day making a gate for the upper end of the living space (just under the tree house I sleep in and attached to a beam supporting our water tank, which we prayed we wouldn´t collapse). We also had a morning of hauling huge palm frans up a small mountain - I haven´t poured sweat like that since the summers before NNHS soccer. It was also great to help with the reconstruction of the porch, and the compostable toilet´s roof and walls, all of which were destroyed by the winds.
The winds struck about a week into my stay here, and were the closest thing I have ever felt to a hurricane. La Iguana is located in the mountains, on the top of a ridge with valleys on either side, so it truly bore the brunt of father wind´s wrath. On the first night of the winds, I insisted on sleeping in my tree house when Lidiette, the mother of the family, advised me to sleep in the lower house with the rest of the voluntarios. This turned out to be a terrible idea as the wind brought all kinds of bugs, leaves, and general earth into my bed - my mosquito net was also quickly blown off and I was harassed by the bugs that managed to withstand the wind. It sucked. The second night Lidiette mandated that I sleep in the lower house, although the only bed open was the lone top bunk. This became a problem because the wind that night was so strong that it began to tear the roof off of that house. Fortunately the roof, or at least the parts that remained attached, held fast and I was still alive on the top bunk when morning finally came. It was amazing to see and feel the incredible power of the wind, and we spend about a week repairing the damage it inflicted.
The schedule here is breakfast around 7:30, and then work until Lidiette hollers the blessed word ¨ALMUERZO!!!¨, around 12:30. After an always sensational lunch we are free to do as we please, which ususally includes lots of hammocking and reading, usually a walk to the glorious river that reminds me of Switzerland, and maybe a walk into town for internet or la cantina. It is great to have the main activity of my free time be reading, of which I am really discovering my love for. So far I have read the Unbearable Lightness of Being, Deep Economy, Ishmael (thank you ms dannenberg), the Shock Doctrine, The Garden of Eden, Episodes of the Revolutionary War by Che, and the Jungle Book. I am currently in the midst of The Israel Lobby, In Defense of Food, and The End of Poverty. There is so much good stuff to read, and here there is plenty of time to read it.
One of the best parts of living here has to be the food, as I look forward to every single meal. We eat rice and beans with breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and I don´t think I could ever get sick of them. We have salad with lunch and dinner, eggs of some form for breakfast and often another meal, meat every couple days, and a bounty of other treats that Lidiette throws in. I can never stop myself at one plateful, and I have found myself walking around with a paunch for a few hours after each meal. I even got to make brownies yesterday while they were making peanut butter chocolates, which were easily the best baked good i´ve encountered in my life.
Otherwise, I am really enjoying the companionship of both Jimmy and Jeremy, and we have also grown close with Jorge, the 20 year old son of the family, who is a great guy. The family has a fooseball table, so we have been playing plenty of that, and every now and then we get to catch a local soccer game down on the little black and white tv they have at the bar. At nights, there are more stars than I have ever been able to see in the sky, so we do a fair bit of star gazing on the hill behind the farm - although even in the mountains of Costa Rica there is still a visible street light.
It´s truly a wonderful life, yet I still find myself missing home, both at UVM and Newton. Or more, missing all of you who make home what it is. Even while enjoying the bejeezus out of Costa Rica I can still look forward to going home for the summer, and then back to school in the fall. Here lies such a blessing, I am in such a great place with close friends doing stuff I really enjoy, and I still have room to look froward to home. I feel incredibly fortunate to be able to say that, and thank you to all of you who make home, wherever it is, so great.
I am happy to say that despite the incredibly enjoyable time we have had at la iguana, I am getting ready to move on in my travels. The work has grown rather repetitive, and although we are living and working on a farm, there are many monotonous tasks such as frijoleandoing and general upkeep of the houses that have us yearning for a farm where we can work closer with the soil. We did manage to break out of some of this monotony by volunteering to cook lunch a couple of times last week, managing to produce patacones, black bean burgers, some salads and juices, and Dan and Mai´s incredible chocolate raw food shake. It is good to get some experience in the kitchen, especially considering that at the next farm we will be cooking all of our own food.
We do have some days of interesting work - Jimmy, Jeremy, and I spent a day making a gate for the upper end of the living space (just under the tree house I sleep in and attached to a beam supporting our water tank, which we prayed we wouldn´t collapse). We also had a morning of hauling huge palm frans up a small mountain - I haven´t poured sweat like that since the summers before NNHS soccer. It was also great to help with the reconstruction of the porch, and the compostable toilet´s roof and walls, all of which were destroyed by the winds.
The winds struck about a week into my stay here, and were the closest thing I have ever felt to a hurricane. La Iguana is located in the mountains, on the top of a ridge with valleys on either side, so it truly bore the brunt of father wind´s wrath. On the first night of the winds, I insisted on sleeping in my tree house when Lidiette, the mother of the family, advised me to sleep in the lower house with the rest of the voluntarios. This turned out to be a terrible idea as the wind brought all kinds of bugs, leaves, and general earth into my bed - my mosquito net was also quickly blown off and I was harassed by the bugs that managed to withstand the wind. It sucked. The second night Lidiette mandated that I sleep in the lower house, although the only bed open was the lone top bunk. This became a problem because the wind that night was so strong that it began to tear the roof off of that house. Fortunately the roof, or at least the parts that remained attached, held fast and I was still alive on the top bunk when morning finally came. It was amazing to see and feel the incredible power of the wind, and we spend about a week repairing the damage it inflicted.
The schedule here is breakfast around 7:30, and then work until Lidiette hollers the blessed word ¨ALMUERZO!!!¨, around 12:30. After an always sensational lunch we are free to do as we please, which ususally includes lots of hammocking and reading, usually a walk to the glorious river that reminds me of Switzerland, and maybe a walk into town for internet or la cantina. It is great to have the main activity of my free time be reading, of which I am really discovering my love for. So far I have read the Unbearable Lightness of Being, Deep Economy, Ishmael (thank you ms dannenberg), the Shock Doctrine, The Garden of Eden, Episodes of the Revolutionary War by Che, and the Jungle Book. I am currently in the midst of The Israel Lobby, In Defense of Food, and The End of Poverty. There is so much good stuff to read, and here there is plenty of time to read it.
One of the best parts of living here has to be the food, as I look forward to every single meal. We eat rice and beans with breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and I don´t think I could ever get sick of them. We have salad with lunch and dinner, eggs of some form for breakfast and often another meal, meat every couple days, and a bounty of other treats that Lidiette throws in. I can never stop myself at one plateful, and I have found myself walking around with a paunch for a few hours after each meal. I even got to make brownies yesterday while they were making peanut butter chocolates, which were easily the best baked good i´ve encountered in my life.
Otherwise, I am really enjoying the companionship of both Jimmy and Jeremy, and we have also grown close with Jorge, the 20 year old son of the family, who is a great guy. The family has a fooseball table, so we have been playing plenty of that, and every now and then we get to catch a local soccer game down on the little black and white tv they have at the bar. At nights, there are more stars than I have ever been able to see in the sky, so we do a fair bit of star gazing on the hill behind the farm - although even in the mountains of Costa Rica there is still a visible street light.
It´s truly a wonderful life, yet I still find myself missing home, both at UVM and Newton. Or more, missing all of you who make home what it is. Even while enjoying the bejeezus out of Costa Rica I can still look forward to going home for the summer, and then back to school in the fall. Here lies such a blessing, I am in such a great place with close friends doing stuff I really enjoy, and I still have room to look froward to home. I feel incredibly fortunate to be able to say that, and thank you to all of you who make home, wherever it is, so great.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Journey to the Chocolate Farm
February 2, 2009. 5:00am. I wake suddenly, startled by a strange beeping sound. I have become accustomed to waking up to strange noises here in Sierpe, so I wait lying in the darkness for the irritating ringing to subside. I wonder, what the hell is that noise, it´s killing me. After a few more minutes of frustration, I realize the beeping is emanating from a tiny alarm clock my host mother loaned me for this morning. Today I leave Sierpe for the chocolate farm, north up the pacific coast. I´ve been asleep not two hours. Last night I couldn´t fall asleep, and I had forgot to bring my water bottle back to my room. Around 2:30 in the morning I was desperate enough to enter the main house and get a drink from the fridge. Of course the door was locked, but ma heard my open the gate, and came out to investigate what was going on. ¨lo ciento¨ ¨disculpame¨I stammered, but she motioned me inside for a drink of water. I opened the fridge to find an old ocean spray jug filled with cold water - I didn´t bother to ask if it was filtered, at that point, it really didn´t matter either way.
5:30am I sit in the dark waiting for my first bus of the day, the bus pulls up as I start to glimpse the first rays of the rising sun, and I am pleased to see it is a big yellow school bus. As I stumble to catch my balance on the stairs of the quickly accelerating bus, I realize that I have only 10,000 colon bills to pay a 300 something fare. I opt for adollar, which is worth about 550, and of course the school bus driver shorts me about 100 in my change, but I´m not about to fight with this guy for 20 cents. As we move out of town, we gather more and more people, it seems like you just stand at the side of the road and the magic school bus will pick you up. As they board the bus, the sky is still partially dark but their smiles are beaming, I am the only whitey, and I am grumpy. They giggle and tease each other as they walk past the rows, givng daps and hand shakes. They sit down with friends, smiling and chatting, and I am struck by how appropriate the big yellow school bus now seems.
I think back to what Bill Mckibben has been stressing to me in Dep Economy in recent days, about the importance of community in our lives. I think about how nice it would be if we all traveled to work with our neighbors and friends in a magic school bus.
In Palmar Norte, I get off the bus waaayyyy to early, as I have no idea wher teh bus station is, let alone that ther are multiple stations. I end up walking some 20 minutes to the station, asking directions all the way. I twice board the wrong bus, running to catch one of them, only to be turned away by the shake of the bus drivers head when I ask ¨Va por Uvita?¨ I could not be more out of place, but I laugh at myself and eventually make it onto the bus for Uvita.
2:30pm Fourth bus of the day, one more to go. When I got to Uvita, I easily find the mango tree across the street from the bank where I´m supposed to catch an hourly bus to Quepos, but I´m told that this bus won´t be arriving for another 3 hours 15 minutes. I stood there numb as a taxi driver offered me a $15 ride to Dominical where there would be a bus to Quepos in an hour, at 9am. The bartender, who was a woman - I don´t know why that mattered, but it did, encouraged me to hitch hike to Dominical. I laughed and asked if anyone would kil or rob me, but she said it was safe. I walked to the other side of the street, stuck my thumb out, and before I knew it an older middle aged white guy was pulling over and telling me to hurry up and hop in because he was in a rush. When he said he was going to Dominical, he pronounced the last three letters like in California, which left no doubt in mind that he was an American. We chatted along the way, he was from North Carolina, vacationing as always in this area, and get this... he had pioneered as a land developer. I started asking him how he goes about doing this, and he tells me that you have to be careful not to get scammed, and that he has two lawyers in the area. All I wanted to do was respectfully ask him if he thought he was scamming anyone by buying cheap land from the Ticos and selling it at hugely increased rates to foreigners, pocketing the profits. I held my tounge, him picking me up was a kind act that really helped me out, and after buying six of the most delicious bananas for about 40 cents, and boarding the wrong bus for a third time (thank goodness I ask each bus driver if they´re going where I want), I was off on a bus to Quepos. Quepos was the biggest city I´d been to in a while, and I was able to find a post office and an internet cafe (which was of course interrupted by a routine 15 minute blackout), before returning to the bus station where about 100 people, half pregnant or with small children, where waiting for an array of unlabeled buses. There was one guy who seemd to be running things, as he would yell out where the buses were going before they left. I aked him to please let me know when the bus for Puriscal arrived, because I wouldn´t have a shot without him. The bus for Puriscal climbed slowly into the mountains, stopping long enough for me to buy two empanadas and a bottle of water, which I was dying for. Finally we arrived in ¨Santa Rosa¨, which turned out to be a tiny roof on the side of a completely abandoned mountain road, where a bus would allegedly pass for Mastatal in an hour. I spent that hour unsuccessfully trying to hitch a ride, which probably would have been easier if I would just cut my hair or shave my increasingly ridiculous looking face. When the bus came I was glad to have finally boarded my fifth and final bus of the day, although the bus driver seemed to be giving driving lessons to a friend. This led to a stall for every hill, turning a 15 minute drive into a 30 minute one.
Arriving at La Iguana (the chocolate farm) has been an absolute dream, and the week I´ve been here has easily been the best so far. I am sleeping in a kind of tree house in my own room, and there are about 10 other volunteers staying at the farm, although they change frequently. We are staying in the house of a Costa Rican family, who are wonderful and I´ve grown close with. My Spanish has dramatically improved, and I can get on in conversation without too many problems, I´m even starting to make and understand jokes, the thing that has elluded me in my Spanish so far. Anyway, I´ll talk more about La Iguana soon, I have to get back for dinner now. The meals are absolutely glorious, so much rice and beans with every meal, I´m absolutely in heaven, and over eating too much. Until next time, Pura Vida.
5:30am I sit in the dark waiting for my first bus of the day, the bus pulls up as I start to glimpse the first rays of the rising sun, and I am pleased to see it is a big yellow school bus. As I stumble to catch my balance on the stairs of the quickly accelerating bus, I realize that I have only 10,000 colon bills to pay a 300 something fare. I opt for adollar, which is worth about 550, and of course the school bus driver shorts me about 100 in my change, but I´m not about to fight with this guy for 20 cents. As we move out of town, we gather more and more people, it seems like you just stand at the side of the road and the magic school bus will pick you up. As they board the bus, the sky is still partially dark but their smiles are beaming, I am the only whitey, and I am grumpy. They giggle and tease each other as they walk past the rows, givng daps and hand shakes. They sit down with friends, smiling and chatting, and I am struck by how appropriate the big yellow school bus now seems.
I think back to what Bill Mckibben has been stressing to me in Dep Economy in recent days, about the importance of community in our lives. I think about how nice it would be if we all traveled to work with our neighbors and friends in a magic school bus.
In Palmar Norte, I get off the bus waaayyyy to early, as I have no idea wher teh bus station is, let alone that ther are multiple stations. I end up walking some 20 minutes to the station, asking directions all the way. I twice board the wrong bus, running to catch one of them, only to be turned away by the shake of the bus drivers head when I ask ¨Va por Uvita?¨ I could not be more out of place, but I laugh at myself and eventually make it onto the bus for Uvita.
2:30pm Fourth bus of the day, one more to go. When I got to Uvita, I easily find the mango tree across the street from the bank where I´m supposed to catch an hourly bus to Quepos, but I´m told that this bus won´t be arriving for another 3 hours 15 minutes. I stood there numb as a taxi driver offered me a $15 ride to Dominical where there would be a bus to Quepos in an hour, at 9am. The bartender, who was a woman - I don´t know why that mattered, but it did, encouraged me to hitch hike to Dominical. I laughed and asked if anyone would kil or rob me, but she said it was safe. I walked to the other side of the street, stuck my thumb out, and before I knew it an older middle aged white guy was pulling over and telling me to hurry up and hop in because he was in a rush. When he said he was going to Dominical, he pronounced the last three letters like in California, which left no doubt in mind that he was an American. We chatted along the way, he was from North Carolina, vacationing as always in this area, and get this... he had pioneered as a land developer. I started asking him how he goes about doing this, and he tells me that you have to be careful not to get scammed, and that he has two lawyers in the area. All I wanted to do was respectfully ask him if he thought he was scamming anyone by buying cheap land from the Ticos and selling it at hugely increased rates to foreigners, pocketing the profits. I held my tounge, him picking me up was a kind act that really helped me out, and after buying six of the most delicious bananas for about 40 cents, and boarding the wrong bus for a third time (thank goodness I ask each bus driver if they´re going where I want), I was off on a bus to Quepos. Quepos was the biggest city I´d been to in a while, and I was able to find a post office and an internet cafe (which was of course interrupted by a routine 15 minute blackout), before returning to the bus station where about 100 people, half pregnant or with small children, where waiting for an array of unlabeled buses. There was one guy who seemd to be running things, as he would yell out where the buses were going before they left. I aked him to please let me know when the bus for Puriscal arrived, because I wouldn´t have a shot without him. The bus for Puriscal climbed slowly into the mountains, stopping long enough for me to buy two empanadas and a bottle of water, which I was dying for. Finally we arrived in ¨Santa Rosa¨, which turned out to be a tiny roof on the side of a completely abandoned mountain road, where a bus would allegedly pass for Mastatal in an hour. I spent that hour unsuccessfully trying to hitch a ride, which probably would have been easier if I would just cut my hair or shave my increasingly ridiculous looking face. When the bus came I was glad to have finally boarded my fifth and final bus of the day, although the bus driver seemed to be giving driving lessons to a friend. This led to a stall for every hill, turning a 15 minute drive into a 30 minute one.
Arriving at La Iguana (the chocolate farm) has been an absolute dream, and the week I´ve been here has easily been the best so far. I am sleeping in a kind of tree house in my own room, and there are about 10 other volunteers staying at the farm, although they change frequently. We are staying in the house of a Costa Rican family, who are wonderful and I´ve grown close with. My Spanish has dramatically improved, and I can get on in conversation without too many problems, I´m even starting to make and understand jokes, the thing that has elluded me in my Spanish so far. Anyway, I´ll talk more about La Iguana soon, I have to get back for dinner now. The meals are absolutely glorious, so much rice and beans with every meal, I´m absolutely in heaven, and over eating too much. Until next time, Pura Vida.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Perspectives of Sierpe
Ricardo Camacho. Works in Las Vegas as tour operator, bartender, amd he drives a shuttle from the airport to Las Vegas. He says that Sierpe needs more than anything more commerce, more work. He says the best way for this to happen is for a huge international airport, which was proposed by the government, to be built about 10 minutes from Sierpe. He says this would benefit everyone in Sierpe, bringing more jobs and easier transportation. He says the town Coto 46 is also vying for the airport, but that closer to Sierpe is better, as there are no mountains and plenty of ocean. He also says that there are strong political interests working on behalf of Sierpe. He claims the airport would have no impact on the mangrove ecosystem because the airport would be 10 minutes away from Sierpe.
Susan Barbosa. subarbosa86@hotmail.com. contigo el fenix numero 2.
She would also like to see more tourism, which she thinks would bring more money for her internet cafe and her town. She said while an airport and increased tourism is important, it wouldn´t affect everything, that there would be very little impact. After talking for a bit longer, she decided she really likes the tranquilness of the two, and that its good for her the way it is. She doesn´t worry about her kids playing alone outside, that there is very little juvenile delinquency. She appreciates that most everyone in Sierpe has lived there for a long time, and that there are not too many outsiders. She worries that more movement within the town would bring more crime. She says that there is no crime in Sierpe, and that she feels totally safe. She has seen the problems that larger metropolises like San Jose have, wehre increased traffic of people bring more money but also more criminals. She doesn´t want this for her town.
Kattia. Daughter of the house that I am staying in (Casa de Ilda).
She says there is more bad things to report on in Sierpe than good. She says the aquaduct is more expensive than ever, but the water is still bad. She says the tourism has declined as gas has become more expensive and the boats have started to cost too much to operate. With less tourism, there is not much work in Sierpe. Now there are too many people with boats, but not enough work to go around. Don Jorge helps many people out, but not all. He takes care of the tourists and makes Sierpe a more attractive place for them to come, but also gets most of their money. She appreciates that Sierpe is calm and safe, and also acknowledges that the school is improving, which she attributes to the work of the ministry of education. She says the town needs a better old folks home, school, and medical clinic, but that Sierpe receives very little money from the government. She says they could also use someone to give english lessons, and that this would help with getting people work.
Worker in the local grocery store. El Fenix. From San Jose.
She says Sierpe is very small, but has improved a lot in recent years. Says 30 years ago there was no water or electricity. Now she praises the town for having 6 buses in and out each day, and points to tourism as the reason behind the improvement. She says that without tourism, Sierpe would die. She says there is little crime in Sierpe, and not too many drugs, only marijuana, which she doesn´t seem to mind. She talks about a friendly and relaxed population, and that Donya Sonia and Don Jorge are very important people in the community. She says the only work is tourism related and fishing, and that Sierpe needs immersion into a larger economy. She says that many years ago, when the American company Bananera left, there was no work, but now that land is being used to grow palm trees to make palm oil. She says the town is waiting for an airport, which would bring money like in Quepos, Jaco, and Guanacaste. Despite this, she believes that Sierpe wouldn´t change much even with an airport.
Daisy Rojas Salazar. Sierpe contigo el escuela, Hotel Margarita. dayana1607@hotmail.com (niece´s email)
Says the aquaduct needs to work better, and that Don Marcos Morillo is planning filters that will clean the water, which is extremely important. She laments that besides this man, very few people are trying to collaborate with the community. She is forming a group to help the children, by creating a band to help keep them busy and give them something to do. She worries that there isn´t much for the kids to do, the boys have only soccer and the girls next to nothing. She worries that they may fall into drugs for lack of activities. She wishes people would stay for a night at least when they go to Drake Bay (a nearby tourist destination) because there is no tourism for her now. She blames the economy of the U.S. for the drop in tourism, as most of the tourists the town relies on are Americans. She also thinks news of the huge earthquake that struck the country about a month ago is dissuading people from coming to Costa Rica.
Dona Emanuela. Owns local pizzeria with husband, from Italy. ummo66@yahoo.com
Says Sierpe is tranquil and beautiful, but that there is not much for tourists to do, nowhere to go and have fun, can´t go see a movie. Despite this, she says she wouldn´t change much - says there are not many places where you can leave your door unlocked and not worry. She says Sierpe is not for everyone, but she is content - she could only use a few more patrons. Appreciates the people of Sierpe as good people, as lived here with her husband for two years.
Maritzia Rojas Salazar. 50 oeste Hotel Margarita. Owns the Cabinas Sofia.
Part of the Catholic Church, where they do activites to improve the church structure and give food to the poor. She said Sierpe has already improved a lot, that there are much better roads and much more beautiful houses than there once was. She says increased tourism has brought more money into the community, and that the increase is due to the relatively new highway, the park corcovado, and the attraction of seeing whales and dolphins. She says that they eat and sleep in Sierpe. She is glad she has the cabinas, and that she gets a fair share of tourists. She says many years ago, when the banana company left, the town died and many people left. She says only the highway was able to revive the town. She says that after this, the people changed to accomodate tourism, and that the water has improved a lot and she is grateful that they now have plumbing. She also appreciates the good order that is kept in Sierpe.
Sonia Rojas. soniadesierpe@yahoo.com. lives behind fenix.
From Grecia, which is close to the airport, but has lived in Sierpe for 25 years now. She says the best part of the town is its calmness, and lack of crime and hard drugs. The town is very safe for the children. They have clinics, school, high school, and that they are all good. Life in Sierpe is very cheap, because there are not many diversions, not too many places to waste money. There are free fish, flee platanos, and papayas everywhere - plenty to eat for little money. Also there is very little pollution, as there are not many cars. She thinks of Sierpe as already being in paradise, and that there is so much to enjoy. She says good health is easy to maintain in an environment like this, with pure air, clean water - the best things with little money. It is a simple life in Sierpe, not necessary to work much, more time to enjoy family. She said her son went to University, and was offered a high paying job with a computer programming company in San Jose, but that he stayed here to be a fisherman instead, and now he is paid to do his hobby.
Susan Barbosa. subarbosa86@hotmail.com. contigo el fenix numero 2.
She would also like to see more tourism, which she thinks would bring more money for her internet cafe and her town. She said while an airport and increased tourism is important, it wouldn´t affect everything, that there would be very little impact. After talking for a bit longer, she decided she really likes the tranquilness of the two, and that its good for her the way it is. She doesn´t worry about her kids playing alone outside, that there is very little juvenile delinquency. She appreciates that most everyone in Sierpe has lived there for a long time, and that there are not too many outsiders. She worries that more movement within the town would bring more crime. She says that there is no crime in Sierpe, and that she feels totally safe. She has seen the problems that larger metropolises like San Jose have, wehre increased traffic of people bring more money but also more criminals. She doesn´t want this for her town.
Kattia. Daughter of the house that I am staying in (Casa de Ilda).
She says there is more bad things to report on in Sierpe than good. She says the aquaduct is more expensive than ever, but the water is still bad. She says the tourism has declined as gas has become more expensive and the boats have started to cost too much to operate. With less tourism, there is not much work in Sierpe. Now there are too many people with boats, but not enough work to go around. Don Jorge helps many people out, but not all. He takes care of the tourists and makes Sierpe a more attractive place for them to come, but also gets most of their money. She appreciates that Sierpe is calm and safe, and also acknowledges that the school is improving, which she attributes to the work of the ministry of education. She says the town needs a better old folks home, school, and medical clinic, but that Sierpe receives very little money from the government. She says they could also use someone to give english lessons, and that this would help with getting people work.
Worker in the local grocery store. El Fenix. From San Jose.
She says Sierpe is very small, but has improved a lot in recent years. Says 30 years ago there was no water or electricity. Now she praises the town for having 6 buses in and out each day, and points to tourism as the reason behind the improvement. She says that without tourism, Sierpe would die. She says there is little crime in Sierpe, and not too many drugs, only marijuana, which she doesn´t seem to mind. She talks about a friendly and relaxed population, and that Donya Sonia and Don Jorge are very important people in the community. She says the only work is tourism related and fishing, and that Sierpe needs immersion into a larger economy. She says that many years ago, when the American company Bananera left, there was no work, but now that land is being used to grow palm trees to make palm oil. She says the town is waiting for an airport, which would bring money like in Quepos, Jaco, and Guanacaste. Despite this, she believes that Sierpe wouldn´t change much even with an airport.
Daisy Rojas Salazar. Sierpe contigo el escuela, Hotel Margarita. dayana1607@hotmail.com (niece´s email)
Says the aquaduct needs to work better, and that Don Marcos Morillo is planning filters that will clean the water, which is extremely important. She laments that besides this man, very few people are trying to collaborate with the community. She is forming a group to help the children, by creating a band to help keep them busy and give them something to do. She worries that there isn´t much for the kids to do, the boys have only soccer and the girls next to nothing. She worries that they may fall into drugs for lack of activities. She wishes people would stay for a night at least when they go to Drake Bay (a nearby tourist destination) because there is no tourism for her now. She blames the economy of the U.S. for the drop in tourism, as most of the tourists the town relies on are Americans. She also thinks news of the huge earthquake that struck the country about a month ago is dissuading people from coming to Costa Rica.
Dona Emanuela. Owns local pizzeria with husband, from Italy. ummo66@yahoo.com
Says Sierpe is tranquil and beautiful, but that there is not much for tourists to do, nowhere to go and have fun, can´t go see a movie. Despite this, she says she wouldn´t change much - says there are not many places where you can leave your door unlocked and not worry. She says Sierpe is not for everyone, but she is content - she could only use a few more patrons. Appreciates the people of Sierpe as good people, as lived here with her husband for two years.
Maritzia Rojas Salazar. 50 oeste Hotel Margarita. Owns the Cabinas Sofia.
Part of the Catholic Church, where they do activites to improve the church structure and give food to the poor. She said Sierpe has already improved a lot, that there are much better roads and much more beautiful houses than there once was. She says increased tourism has brought more money into the community, and that the increase is due to the relatively new highway, the park corcovado, and the attraction of seeing whales and dolphins. She says that they eat and sleep in Sierpe. She is glad she has the cabinas, and that she gets a fair share of tourists. She says many years ago, when the banana company left, the town died and many people left. She says only the highway was able to revive the town. She says that after this, the people changed to accomodate tourism, and that the water has improved a lot and she is grateful that they now have plumbing. She also appreciates the good order that is kept in Sierpe.
Sonia Rojas. soniadesierpe@yahoo.com. lives behind fenix.
From Grecia, which is close to the airport, but has lived in Sierpe for 25 years now. She says the best part of the town is its calmness, and lack of crime and hard drugs. The town is very safe for the children. They have clinics, school, high school, and that they are all good. Life in Sierpe is very cheap, because there are not many diversions, not too many places to waste money. There are free fish, flee platanos, and papayas everywhere - plenty to eat for little money. Also there is very little pollution, as there are not many cars. She thinks of Sierpe as already being in paradise, and that there is so much to enjoy. She says good health is easy to maintain in an environment like this, with pure air, clean water - the best things with little money. It is a simple life in Sierpe, not necessary to work much, more time to enjoy family. She said her son went to University, and was offered a high paying job with a computer programming company in San Jose, but that he stayed here to be a fisherman instead, and now he is paid to do his hobby.
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