aaaaaAAAAAAAAHhhhhhaaa (angels singing).
t'other day I threw out the stubborn "forging ahead" thoughts I had about trying to make a N. American model of Community Gardening work here. I had been hearing over and over again from locals, from ex-pats (mostly N. Americans), from local gardeners, from ex-pat gardeners, that the ideas I'd been throwing out there won't work. I think generally I'm upbeat and positive thinking, but this was getting me down. Instead, I tried open-minded thinking, allowing information to come at me, still trying to keep to the basic idea of gardening to better the lives of locals. My good husband said "take the rest of your time there as a holiday, Hon". Aw.
This morning, the babes got themselves up and made their way to their first surfing lesson (!!!) I'm so proud of them for taking the initiative. They've worked out some financial deal between them that I am not privy to. Uncle went with them to take pictures and hang on the beach. More on this later.
I sat at Robins a bit, chatting with regulars, feeling quite at home. Sheri pulled up on her bike to make her greens delivery to Robin. We spoke of Harmony Hotel's worm farm and sustainability tour. She's up for that, there's need for a good soil building system. I felt like I'd done some good, just talking with her.
I found myself slightly relieved to do something by myself, for myself. It's Saturday morning, so it's a no brainer for me, I stumped my way up (literally up) the road 10 minutes to the organic market. There, I found Paloma, and her puppets. She's from Argentina and is a wonderful jewelry and puppet maker. She and I talked last week about the possibility of my putting her stuff on my web site, but I had to tell her that it would be difficult to ship and still have her make a decent wage. She's keeping my information and will contact me. I hope in her travels she comes to Canada and stays with me. Wonderful girl.
With some cool puppets in tow, I made my way down the line to the Thai lady's reclaimed vintage Thai material bags. I love that I can buy from the artist and so in a fit of "pura vida" I bought one.
Right next to her, I found Dona Anna (said "Donya Anna" and is a form of respect, like Don for a man). This is the same Anna that was my first garden visit, taken there by Javier. Dona Anna's Californian helper, Anna (sorry, that's why I added the Dona) was able to express to me that she and a few others are trying to inspire more volunteer help for Dona Anna, as she's by herself. I stood there, frozen. This, I can help with!
The conversation was being pulled in several directions, so I'm still trying to piece it together. Choosing a bag, buying some nyampis (like potatoes) and getting a cooking lesson from Dona Anna, and speaking with the Thai lady, name of Wantana, and with Anna and helping the bunch get organized to close down (here, the market ends at about 11, too hot to sit after that) made for a busy 10 minutes. Before I knew it I was whisked away, carrying Wantana's eggs and her stool. Down the road to her house, Wantana hitched a ride for us with a couple who'd been at the market. We met with Dona Anna and Anna there and had a quick visit before they had to leave.
Afterward, Wantana and I looked around her property, at her rental properties, her Ayurvedic gardens and a lovely view from the third story and talked about why each of us is here. I had a hard time explaining my end of things, because of my decision to be more open about the needs here. I heard more about how the original idea won't work. I think I was finally able to express that whatever works will be the direction I go and was met with much complimenting; "good karma" was said a few times.
The ideas started flowing. Turns out, Wantana's land in upper Nosara is adjacent to Sheri's garden. There, she's trying to grow more medicinal herbs and dreams of a healing space for people to come...perhaps we could do something there? A few more ideas were tossed around. I took my leave, but not before being invited to bring some Thai noodles for some home made Pad Thai tomorrow with my family. I left there feeling elated, knowing that being open has brought me to some sort of beginning.
The directions Wantana gave me to get back to my place were to skirt the Refugio (natural preserve) between our places, and cut thru the Harmony Hotel. In passing thru, I found a book store (whoo ee! art supplies and everything!). Just as I was leaving the gate, I hear "MARGOT! MARGOT!!! MARGOT!!!!" being yelled from the little store I'd visited earlier in the week (bought that dress- funds to Escualita and Santa Marta school). The girls I'd spoken to earlier in the week, and their mother, were all calling me back in. They'd promised to ask their husband/father, Gunther, the photographer at Escualita if I could have a couple pictures. They also told him about what I was here for. Turns out Gunther and Ganca (said like the Jamaican "Ganja", yet she's Turkish) have a 46 acre parcel, close to Ostional, that they would like to develop naturally, into a sustainable community.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Could I come and advise?
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
in exchange for the Esualita pictures (I said this part was unnecessary, I am here to share my knowledge). Ganca expressed their desire to give back, to keep things natural, possibly a community garden, and not to develop it in a touristy way.
!!!!!!!
A good day indeed.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
ERRRRCH
That's me stopping. I give. I was told we'd adapt to the pace here and I have, because I have no other choice. It's a great place to network, because, it seems, everyone else is here doing the same thing. Other than the surfers, they stick to the waves in the early am, and party late into the night.
I went to meet with Joellen at the Guilded Iguana yesterday. She's the Canadian manager of which I spoke in the previous post. She was open and receptive, but had little to offer other than things I'd been told already. The Harmony Hotel came up again, so I decided to stop in on my way home. There's a little store just inside the gates that I'd peeked into. It's decidedly too expensive. Turns out they have baskets full of on-sale items and the proceeds will go to Santa Marta School.
The young lady working there, the daughter of the shop owner, AND the daughter of the fellow taking the pictures at La Escualita (!!!) told me that the Harmony Hotel is owned by a Johnson, son of Johnson and Johnson. And, that it's a not-for-profit company. The profits from Harmony go back into the community. And, that the woman owner's business in New York is one that helps big companies become sustainable. This is a very good connection. The owners will be back in town in February. I wait.
I went to meet with Joellen at the Guilded Iguana yesterday. She's the Canadian manager of which I spoke in the previous post. She was open and receptive, but had little to offer other than things I'd been told already. The Harmony Hotel came up again, so I decided to stop in on my way home. There's a little store just inside the gates that I'd peeked into. It's decidedly too expensive. Turns out they have baskets full of on-sale items and the proceeds will go to Santa Marta School.
The young lady working there, the daughter of the shop owner, AND the daughter of the fellow taking the pictures at La Escualita (!!!) told me that the Harmony Hotel is owned by a Johnson, son of Johnson and Johnson. And, that it's a not-for-profit company. The profits from Harmony go back into the community. And, that the woman owner's business in New York is one that helps big companies become sustainable. This is a very good connection. The owners will be back in town in February. I wait.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Dear Lisa
Dear Lisa,
How delish. I love your expansive notes, very telling of you. You write just as if you were here, across from me. I'm sitting, now, at a table in the ice cream store up the road from our house. It's an open-concept design, with only the kitchen behind doors. The rest is 1/2 a covered patio with tables, and 1/2 under the branches of a very big tree. There are Magpie Jays (look them up, they are cool) that hang out on the branches just feet above my head, squirking and squibble de dibbelding. I'm in the shade and online, connected to home, in a way, so I'm happy. My breakfast is a peanut butter and banana shake in yogurt. I think you could probably find a picture of it if you were to google Robin's Ice Cream Nosara.
Just a few minutes ago, my enjoyable conversation with the owner, Robin, was interrupted by Don Carlos, who is her friend but also is the fellow who had shown interest in helping me. I think his end of things must've fallen flat when he proposed the idea to his boss, because when he came in he spoke only to Robin, with a quick "ola" to me. These people are very concerned about loosing face. I can only assume our previous plans have fallen thru. I had a few hints that this would happen, and have already turned my sites toward the public school, Santa Marta.
The challenge there is to get up to the school. It's a fair distance up a cruel road. This is a very mountainous area, so traveling anywhere outside the immediate area is difficult to say the least. The woman, Saskia, who's running the summer program for kids has shown interest and asked me to come back next year to build a garden at the public school. This is probably the best find so far, if it's legit.
I am considering renting a golf cart to travel up there. We've rented bikes for a few days here and there, but have scaled back on our original plan, based on the price given us before coming. We budgeted for $40/week, but found that it's $10/day. This is also the case for internet, which we deemed necessary for the full time we're here, so we're trying to find ways to spend less elsewhere.
The golf carts are $60/day plus one has to give up their passport for the duration of the rental time. I'm not comfortable with giving up my identification, having just read about a woman who lost hers right before a trip to Italy in the New Orleans' Katrina Hurricane. I can't imagine trying to work that one out while here. The pace is painfully slow on a good day.
I may give in and take a chance, seeing as how gardening up in the real town of Nosara. Where we are down here, it's called Projecto Americano. Quite touristy. Quaint, and still run by mostly Ticos, but not where the locals reside.
This morning while still at Robin's I spoke with 2 couples, one after the other. One is originally from Banff/Calgary (moved to Colorado, but for the sake of this letter are 'the Canadians') area, and the other from N. California, up in the mountains. Both couples were good to talk with. The Canadians told me of the manager at The Guilded Iguana, a Canuck who shares the same ecological interests. I will go and chat with her today on my way to the bookstore and grocery shopping.
The American couple were interested to hear about the farm/horseback ride to Javier's family's home because their home and garden are built in the permaculture way. I don't know how much I've told you about my interest in permaculture, so I hope you'll bear with me. It's a concept that I had started looking into during the last year of my Community Shared Agriculture, as a way of growing with nature's systems in mind. Permaculture is a man-made system that mimics mother nature very closely, and agrees that we are part of nature, rather than outside of it. It's very complex, and could possibly be a life-study for me, but I will try to give you an example. When planting a tree in the permaculture way, one chooses the site with all of the elements in mind; where will it shade, how much water will reach it's roots, what do I plant under it to best benefit the tree and the underplanting, will the underplantings and it be co-dependent, how will this tree effect subsequent generations? In permaculture, all life is interconnected and we can use this to best situate all that we need to survive, to be sustainable in what we use to live.
OK, that's it for our Permie lesson today, *smiles*. The American couple, it turns out, are a very good source of information. The fellow's web site is a forum for how to grow tropical, and sub tropical plants. Altho I don't want to be heavily engaged in this aspect of the gardens, it's good to know that those who will be can find resources online.
Networking. I asked Erroll just now if he knew what that means. I explained thus: "you know when you've thought 'man! my mother talks to EVERYONE!'?". *NODS*. (man of few words). "That's networking, it's pretty cool how most people I talk to have some connection to what I'm doing".
I feel back on track today. The disconnect I've been feeling both from hitting brick walls each way I've turned of late and from being homesick has lifted somewhat. I think purpose is what a person needs. The kids are finding the midday heat oppressive (of course they miss the morning coolness by getting up at noon). They do their homework as fill-in, then are bored. Surfing is expensive, but they might work something out between them to get that going. Erroll is going to ride with me to the store soon, and we'll stop at the bookstore for some good reads. The path to the store is more forgiving, and quite a treat to travel by bike.
Uncle Bob is well on his way to a good trip. He's found his way to Downtown Nosara twice (despite his bad feet). He's made fast friends with Consuello, the librarian, and has given English lessons and taken Spanish from her. The last time he went up there, he found and bought a bike for a decent price. He'll do whatever fixing he can, and leave behind both it and some tools when he leaves Costa Rica. He also has secured a volunteer job of teaching English at the Library to grade 3s. He's a happy man. Purpose.
Well, my dear, I must be off. Thank you for your letter. Hope to see you on facebook in the evening.
LOVE,
MJ
How delish. I love your expansive notes, very telling of you. You write just as if you were here, across from me. I'm sitting, now, at a table in the ice cream store up the road from our house. It's an open-concept design, with only the kitchen behind doors. The rest is 1/2 a covered patio with tables, and 1/2 under the branches of a very big tree. There are Magpie Jays (look them up, they are cool) that hang out on the branches just feet above my head, squirking and squibble de dibbelding. I'm in the shade and online, connected to home, in a way, so I'm happy. My breakfast is a peanut butter and banana shake in yogurt. I think you could probably find a picture of it if you were to google Robin's Ice Cream Nosara.
Just a few minutes ago, my enjoyable conversation with the owner, Robin, was interrupted by Don Carlos, who is her friend but also is the fellow who had shown interest in helping me. I think his end of things must've fallen flat when he proposed the idea to his boss, because when he came in he spoke only to Robin, with a quick "ola" to me. These people are very concerned about loosing face. I can only assume our previous plans have fallen thru. I had a few hints that this would happen, and have already turned my sites toward the public school, Santa Marta.
The challenge there is to get up to the school. It's a fair distance up a cruel road. This is a very mountainous area, so traveling anywhere outside the immediate area is difficult to say the least. The woman, Saskia, who's running the summer program for kids has shown interest and asked me to come back next year to build a garden at the public school. This is probably the best find so far, if it's legit.
I am considering renting a golf cart to travel up there. We've rented bikes for a few days here and there, but have scaled back on our original plan, based on the price given us before coming. We budgeted for $40/week, but found that it's $10/day. This is also the case for internet, which we deemed necessary for the full time we're here, so we're trying to find ways to spend less elsewhere.
The golf carts are $60/day plus one has to give up their passport for the duration of the rental time. I'm not comfortable with giving up my identification, having just read about a woman who lost hers right before a trip to Italy in the New Orleans' Katrina Hurricane. I can't imagine trying to work that one out while here. The pace is painfully slow on a good day.
I may give in and take a chance, seeing as how gardening up in the real town of Nosara. Where we are down here, it's called Projecto Americano. Quite touristy. Quaint, and still run by mostly Ticos, but not where the locals reside.
This morning while still at Robin's I spoke with 2 couples, one after the other. One is originally from Banff/Calgary (moved to Colorado, but for the sake of this letter are 'the Canadians') area, and the other from N. California, up in the mountains. Both couples were good to talk with. The Canadians told me of the manager at The Guilded Iguana, a Canuck who shares the same ecological interests. I will go and chat with her today on my way to the bookstore and grocery shopping.
The American couple were interested to hear about the farm/horseback ride to Javier's family's home because their home and garden are built in the permaculture way. I don't know how much I've told you about my interest in permaculture, so I hope you'll bear with me. It's a concept that I had started looking into during the last year of my Community Shared Agriculture, as a way of growing with nature's systems in mind. Permaculture is a man-made system that mimics mother nature very closely, and agrees that we are part of nature, rather than outside of it. It's very complex, and could possibly be a life-study for me, but I will try to give you an example. When planting a tree in the permaculture way, one chooses the site with all of the elements in mind; where will it shade, how much water will reach it's roots, what do I plant under it to best benefit the tree and the underplanting, will the underplantings and it be co-dependent, how will this tree effect subsequent generations? In permaculture, all life is interconnected and we can use this to best situate all that we need to survive, to be sustainable in what we use to live.
OK, that's it for our Permie lesson today, *smiles*. The American couple, it turns out, are a very good source of information. The fellow's web site is a forum for how to grow tropical, and sub tropical plants. Altho I don't want to be heavily engaged in this aspect of the gardens, it's good to know that those who will be can find resources online.
Networking. I asked Erroll just now if he knew what that means. I explained thus: "you know when you've thought 'man! my mother talks to EVERYONE!'?". *NODS*. (man of few words). "That's networking, it's pretty cool how most people I talk to have some connection to what I'm doing".
I feel back on track today. The disconnect I've been feeling both from hitting brick walls each way I've turned of late and from being homesick has lifted somewhat. I think purpose is what a person needs. The kids are finding the midday heat oppressive (of course they miss the morning coolness by getting up at noon). They do their homework as fill-in, then are bored. Surfing is expensive, but they might work something out between them to get that going. Erroll is going to ride with me to the store soon, and we'll stop at the bookstore for some good reads. The path to the store is more forgiving, and quite a treat to travel by bike.
Uncle Bob is well on his way to a good trip. He's found his way to Downtown Nosara twice (despite his bad feet). He's made fast friends with Consuello, the librarian, and has given English lessons and taken Spanish from her. The last time he went up there, he found and bought a bike for a decent price. He'll do whatever fixing he can, and leave behind both it and some tools when he leaves Costa Rica. He also has secured a volunteer job of teaching English at the Library to grade 3s. He's a happy man. Purpose.
Well, my dear, I must be off. Thank you for your letter. Hope to see you on facebook in the evening.
LOVE,
MJ
Monday, January 26, 2009
organic market/ soil test at Del Mar/ playing garden consultant
Today, Saturday, January 24, was a good day. Awake at 5, up at 6:30 and over to the organic market by 7:30. there, I met a Tica/American. She'd gone to school in the States and has excellent English. The market was not yet set up so we chatted with the meat producers, a couple that sounded Italian, German and a little something else. Silvia (said "Silbvia") shared some good, Costa Rican recipes, and tips on cooking their rice, peppers and beans. I will be trying them out later this week.
After buying the vegetables from Albin, the organic vegetable farmer, I made my way over to the hand made crafts. there are only a few booths at this market, but every one of them has wonderful things. The shells, stones, silver work, beaded jewelry all is splendid. There are a couple of people who sounded interested when I talked about a fair trade portion of my web site. I collected one name and promised to meet the other gal at the grocery store on Monday before we go to La Escualita.
There was a wonderful surfer-dude singing and playing the harmonica. I stood at the booth beside his stump (really) and chatted with the fellow from the grocery store (this is a small town). He was a blast.
My appointment with Kim to do a soil test at the school was at 10 so I begrudgingly left the music and wonderful market to haul my very heavy load to the house. I bought 2 chickens, 2 packs of bacon ends for beans, beets, lettuce, oranges, onions, cilantro, and peppers. There wasn't enough room in my pack for the eggs so I had the open carton of 15 balanced on one hand and the other trying to reduce the weight of the pack on my shoulder and back. On impulse I took a page out of Uncle Bob's book and stuck my thumb out. Normally, I wouldn't do this, but a golf cart was putting by. I felt I could be pretty safe in a golf cart. The young Tico stopped and was kind enough to haul me and my groceries down the hill to within a few steps of the house. GRIN.
Tonight, we feast on fresh chicken, potatoes, beets, carrots and onion. The oven is slow, and we're all waiting patiently for the chicken to cook. It's 8 pm.
In the mean time, I want to tell a couple of stories. The first is what I taught myself to say to impress Javier, who teases me about not learning spanish fast enough, and Manuel, who patiently teaches me something every time I go to the office. Two days ago I learned how to say como si dice "how do you say...." . Yesterday it was yo intentar " I try" (I am most likely spelling everything wrong, but at least people understand me when I say these things). This evening, Manuel was getting into the golf cart, just outside our house so I stopped him to tell him "Manuel, si va a Canada, no comer nieve amarilla" It's choppy, and needed some correcting, but he understood the sentence. I had to tell him why not, tho. (If you want to figure it out, try googling the last 4 words).
After buying the vegetables from Albin, the organic vegetable farmer, I made my way over to the hand made crafts. there are only a few booths at this market, but every one of them has wonderful things. The shells, stones, silver work, beaded jewelry all is splendid. There are a couple of people who sounded interested when I talked about a fair trade portion of my web site. I collected one name and promised to meet the other gal at the grocery store on Monday before we go to La Escualita.
There was a wonderful surfer-dude singing and playing the harmonica. I stood at the booth beside his stump (really) and chatted with the fellow from the grocery store (this is a small town). He was a blast.
My appointment with Kim to do a soil test at the school was at 10 so I begrudgingly left the music and wonderful market to haul my very heavy load to the house. I bought 2 chickens, 2 packs of bacon ends for beans, beets, lettuce, oranges, onions, cilantro, and peppers. There wasn't enough room in my pack for the eggs so I had the open carton of 15 balanced on one hand and the other trying to reduce the weight of the pack on my shoulder and back. On impulse I took a page out of Uncle Bob's book and stuck my thumb out. Normally, I wouldn't do this, but a golf cart was putting by. I felt I could be pretty safe in a golf cart. The young Tico stopped and was kind enough to haul me and my groceries down the hill to within a few steps of the house. GRIN.
Tonight, we feast on fresh chicken, potatoes, beets, carrots and onion. The oven is slow, and we're all waiting patiently for the chicken to cook. It's 8 pm.
In the mean time, I want to tell a couple of stories. The first is what I taught myself to say to impress Javier, who teases me about not learning spanish fast enough, and Manuel, who patiently teaches me something every time I go to the office. Two days ago I learned how to say como si dice "how do you say...." . Yesterday it was yo intentar " I try" (I am most likely spelling everything wrong, but at least people understand me when I say these things). This evening, Manuel was getting into the golf cart, just outside our house so I stopped him to tell him "Manuel, si va a Canada, no comer nieve amarilla" It's choppy, and needed some correcting, but he understood the sentence. I had to tell him why not, tho. (If you want to figure it out, try googling the last 4 words).
Saskia's invitation/La Escualita
La Escualita is a program designed by Saskia, a Dutch Gringo that spends 1/2 time in Nosara and the other 1/2 in Holland. She is one of the people recommended to me by David, our waiter a few nights back, at Marlin Bill's. He felt that his friend Christopher and Saskia may be interested in the community garden and could possibly help find land and people to take part.
The kids and I took Muriel's shift yesterday. The kids from La Escualita were on a field trip to La Luna, a restaurant/ bar on the beach (same owners as Miss Sky, the canopy tour). We'd passed by it when riding to Del Mar. It's just past the point to the west. The bike ride on the beach took us about 1/2 hour. No flat tires this time, but still as hot and hard going at times as when we went to Del Mar. It was about 1/3 the distance, tho.
The kids were just getting registered when we met Saskia and a couple of other gals, one an ex-pat from the US and the other another Dutch. There were two Ticos as well. Not all of the kids showed up, only about 100. They ranged from K-grade 8 or 9.
We were told that our main purpose would be to keep the kids off of the beach, and out of the water, the parents were all told that they wouldn't be going in today. The word the Dutch girl told us to say sounded something like "Bengay". I've searched the Spanish/English Dictionary you sent, Mom, and can't figure out what it is. They said it means "Come". I spent a lot of time motioning to theUncle Bob arrives!
On schedule, but a little travel worn, Uncle Bob came via Daniel's taxi. It was a long day for him, traveling to San Jose, so it was head hit the pillow, then up at 7, feet hit the ground running. The flight into Nosara was most exciting. There was another earthquake (didn't feel that one) so the pilot, upon pre-landing, scooped the nose straight up unannounced. The airstrip was undamaged, so they landed after one circle. phew!
After a good snooze during the day's heat we ate and set off for our turtle tour. They come once a month, en masse, to Ostional Beach. Our taxi driver is Abel (espaniol- Ay beel), with a long, grey braid hanging down his back, and much enthusiasm for all the tourist stuff of his country he drove and explained all our surroundings. We stopped for monkeys in an overhead tree (Abel warns us not to stand below, they do like to poop on people) and he pointed out many trees, including one you asked about, Lynn. Sorry, I have to ask again...my memory fails. The river, which we crossed (is forded the right word? we drove thru it, up to the bottom of the doors) 2 or 3 times, he explained that it's uncrossable in the rainy season. One spot, where there's a walking suspension bridge beside where we crossed, cannot be crossed during the rainy season. The people of Nosara get taken by vehicle to the bridge, they walk across and a truck takes them from the other side to Ostional.
I love these people. They are so sweet and generous. My inner skeptism says that the reason we get such good service, and I'm assuming that this is the standard, is to distract the tourists from the awful roads. Poor Uncle's bones were being jarred with every rock, 1/2 sticking out of the ground, softball-sized and angular, every 10" or so, the washboard and pot holes. Some of the roads are still washed away by the winter's rains. The roads follow natural terrain, with it's ups and downs, often having to go around obstacles like valleys and hills, so they wind and curve. The locals know every pot hole (I think I mentioned before that many of the holes will swallow a truck if you're not watching), so drivers swerve into the oncoming lane, not that there are lanes, often there's not enough room for another full lane, and, alarmingly, there's not a clear line of sight around a corner, while on the opposite side. Abel was very good at pointing to bulls, birds, trees, and monkeys. Is English is very good.
Uncle Bob told Abel that he'd like to buy an old bike and fix it up. Abel tells him where there are some retired bikes, next to the Super Nosara, downtown. He'll have to bus it there.
The turtles were sparse when we went. The monthly "Arribada", arrival, is much more abundant during the rainy season and there are more at night, we were told. I was fine with the 30-50 girls making their way up the beach. The culture hit us like a brick wall again. The people at the site, which is run by the University, don't speak English. This includes our guide, and all the rest of the people going on the tour.
Ostional is the only turtle preserve in the world where some of the eggs can be legally collected. It was a very controversial decision. The people, having been there for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, collecting these eggs, proposed that they be allowed to do so legally, rather than having to steal them in the night. The eggs are sold on the black market. The people believe they provide virility. Because of the deal made between the locals and the University, the eggs can be sold legally from this source. Later in the evening we discuss this deal with Don Carlos on our patio.
I had mixed emotions watching the turtles make their way up to the shore. Uncle Bob's "poor things" caught me thinking the same thing. I'd read that the turtles are unaffected by the bystanders, that they have a mission that cannot be stopped. As a mother of 3, I can understand the drive. But I can't help but wonder if our presence doesn't change their natural state. A few of the turtles came up on the beach, obviously struggling on land with their big, clumsy flippers, only to turn around and head right back.
The men collecting the eggs were carrying bags on their backs that are similar to the white, woven feed bags we buy for chicken feed and oats for the horses. They are big. Our guide told us the bags full of eggs reap $10. You would think they were full of gold, those bags, the way the men carrying them were laughing and celebrating. We watched as some of them pointed their toes heavenward and dug their heal into the sand, over and over until they found a soft spot. There'd be a "Whoop!" and 4 or 5 guys would fall to their knees and dig with their hands. I know, from conversations with the gal I met at the beginning of my journey who stays with the people of Ostional, that this is pretty much the only source of income for Ostional. I have met 2 people working in the tourist industry, but most, I'm told, collect eggs and sell them. There's not as much open friendliness coming from these men as there is from the rest of the people we've met. No "Ola!" no smiles. There is a vibe here. Exciting to watch the turtles, yes, but underlying that is a culture, a way of living that man has replayed many times over history. I can't decide where to put it.
~~~~~~
Next door to us there are a few girls sharing the rent of the newest, most beautiful and biggest house that Craig owns. Muriel who was here with a friend 2 weeks ago, went to stay in another house for a couple weeks and is now back for the duration. She's a nice gal, quiet, which is a relief from the party boys we had in our little cul de sac for a few weeks. Muriel is a massage therapist and is paying for her 3 month stay by setting up shop in this house. There've been days when my aching muscles want to take her up on her offer "Special Tica price, only $60". A steal of a deal, compared to home. Alas, I spend my money on zip lines, horse back rides and turtle tours.
Muriel told me yesterday that Saskia, a lady I want to meet, is the girl to connect with for la Escualita, the summer school. Muriel can't make it to volunteer today, so the kids and I will go for a couple of hours. It's on the next beach over, where Erroll's tire became flat. We'll bike there again today via beach. This time, we'll leave well ahead and ride slowly, taking breaks. Unfortunately, it's mid day when we are to go, so it'll be hot.
~~~~~~~
While at Ostional, we bumped into Raineer and his new family. He lives in Ostional, and works as manager at Cafe de Paris. Raineer told me that Don Carlos has something good to tell me but I have to wait for Don Carlos.
After a dinner, treated by Uncle Bob, we were sitting at the house and Don Carlos came to visit. We're told many stories, including one about going to Disney World with the family of Miss Canada, back in his youth. Very entertaining. Perhaps I'll tell the story later. The good thing Carlos has to tell me is that there are 2 options for land. One belongs to his gardener and is beside the road, but about 5 km away. The other is a bit of garden that he told me about on Cafe de Paris land. It's small, tucked away and up on the hill. He spoke with the owner, who said that they would entertain the idea of putting something there to "show the people what can be done". I'm mulling it over.
These are not the last options Carlos says, "give me some time". I think he knows a lot of people here, and is determined to find the right space. I want to talk with the owners and see the space. Perhaps I can morph the idea into one that will work even after I'm gone, if I play my cards right. The garden at Harmony Hotel may be a model. If one at Cafe de Paris can both supply a little organic food, maybe some herbs to their restaurant, and at the same time give some locals the idea of putting together a garden for public use, it might work.
kids saying "Bengay!" and got very strange looks. giggle.
The afternoon was somewhat unstructured. Saskia told me that it's very difficult to round these kids up, that they are not used to much structure. There was a long black poly sheet out on the front lawn, overlooking the beach. Someone stood holding a hose to the kids and the tarp, and periodically squirted more watered down dish soap, while another two held a rope going across the poly. A considerable amount of time was spent lining them up (something that was a given by grade 1 in Canada...."single file, children!" still rings in my ears). With very good tunes blaring (regae) the kids took turns sliding under the rope. I stood at the side lines trying to teach them to come to me and run around to get back in line. There was absolute mayhem as each kid either sat on the tarp, playing in the bubbles or running back, toward the next person in line to do it again. It took a while, but we got it sorted out. There were a few times when 6 or 7 of them ran at the same time, piling up in a tangle of legs, arms, soap and laughing faces.
I haven't smiled and laughed that much in a LOOONG time. I love these kids. There wasn't so much as one complaint, neither about other kids nor getting hurt. There were quite a few bumps, and scrapes, but each one of them took it and ran. Not a fight or tear all afternoon.
There was a fellow taking pictures. I hope to get some from him, as I didn't take my camera (nowhere to put valuables).
The owners of La Luna, locals, donated the space and lunch-hamburgers. Very nice people. We ate, then went down to the beach. The thought was to play frisbee and tug of war. I wondered how serious the leaders were about keeping them out of the water. It was hot, the beach sandy, the water right there.....hmmmm. Me thinks there's trouble here.
It took exactly 0 seconds before they started sneaking in. Got those out, and the next 3, then 5, then 7 kids charged the water. Soon, each of us looked at each other and just as I said "you can't fight it" all 100 kids stormed the beach, screaming. It was a sight to see. We spent the next 45 minutes watching as each wave broke, and crossing our fingers that they would all be safe. They were. At 4 we managed to get them all out and safely dispatched to their parents.
I chatted with Saskia for a while about my ideas, and she invited me back next year to build a community garden at Santa Maria (I think), the elementary school. I have her email, and so can talk more about this. Also, Monday we may ride the bus up to volunteer at the school, where they normally meet. We'll most likely take the craft things Rainne brought and perhaps the school supplies that the kids and St. Peter's Church back home fundraised for.
The event was successful!
The kids and I took Muriel's shift yesterday. The kids from La Escualita were on a field trip to La Luna, a restaurant/ bar on the beach (same owners as Miss Sky, the canopy tour). We'd passed by it when riding to Del Mar. It's just past the point to the west. The bike ride on the beach took us about 1/2 hour. No flat tires this time, but still as hot and hard going at times as when we went to Del Mar. It was about 1/3 the distance, tho.
The kids were just getting registered when we met Saskia and a couple of other gals, one an ex-pat from the US and the other another Dutch. There were two Ticos as well. Not all of the kids showed up, only about 100. They ranged from K-grade 8 or 9.
We were told that our main purpose would be to keep the kids off of the beach, and out of the water, the parents were all told that they wouldn't be going in today. The word the Dutch girl told us to say sounded something like "Bengay". I've searched the Spanish/English Dictionary you sent, Mom, and can't figure out what it is. They said it means "Come". I spent a lot of time motioning to theUncle Bob arrives!
On schedule, but a little travel worn, Uncle Bob came via Daniel's taxi. It was a long day for him, traveling to San Jose, so it was head hit the pillow, then up at 7, feet hit the ground running. The flight into Nosara was most exciting. There was another earthquake (didn't feel that one) so the pilot, upon pre-landing, scooped the nose straight up unannounced. The airstrip was undamaged, so they landed after one circle. phew!
After a good snooze during the day's heat we ate and set off for our turtle tour. They come once a month, en masse, to Ostional Beach. Our taxi driver is Abel (espaniol- Ay beel), with a long, grey braid hanging down his back, and much enthusiasm for all the tourist stuff of his country he drove and explained all our surroundings. We stopped for monkeys in an overhead tree (Abel warns us not to stand below, they do like to poop on people) and he pointed out many trees, including one you asked about, Lynn. Sorry, I have to ask again...my memory fails. The river, which we crossed (is forded the right word? we drove thru it, up to the bottom of the doors) 2 or 3 times, he explained that it's uncrossable in the rainy season. One spot, where there's a walking suspension bridge beside where we crossed, cannot be crossed during the rainy season. The people of Nosara get taken by vehicle to the bridge, they walk across and a truck takes them from the other side to Ostional.
I love these people. They are so sweet and generous. My inner skeptism says that the reason we get such good service, and I'm assuming that this is the standard, is to distract the tourists from the awful roads. Poor Uncle's bones were being jarred with every rock, 1/2 sticking out of the ground, softball-sized and angular, every 10" or so, the washboard and pot holes. Some of the roads are still washed away by the winter's rains. The roads follow natural terrain, with it's ups and downs, often having to go around obstacles like valleys and hills, so they wind and curve. The locals know every pot hole (I think I mentioned before that many of the holes will swallow a truck if you're not watching), so drivers swerve into the oncoming lane, not that there are lanes, often there's not enough room for another full lane, and, alarmingly, there's not a clear line of sight around a corner, while on the opposite side. Abel was very good at pointing to bulls, birds, trees, and monkeys. Is English is very good.
Uncle Bob told Abel that he'd like to buy an old bike and fix it up. Abel tells him where there are some retired bikes, next to the Super Nosara, downtown. He'll have to bus it there.
The turtles were sparse when we went. The monthly "Arribada", arrival, is much more abundant during the rainy season and there are more at night, we were told. I was fine with the 30-50 girls making their way up the beach. The culture hit us like a brick wall again. The people at the site, which is run by the University, don't speak English. This includes our guide, and all the rest of the people going on the tour.
Ostional is the only turtle preserve in the world where some of the eggs can be legally collected. It was a very controversial decision. The people, having been there for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, collecting these eggs, proposed that they be allowed to do so legally, rather than having to steal them in the night. The eggs are sold on the black market. The people believe they provide virility. Because of the deal made between the locals and the University, the eggs can be sold legally from this source. Later in the evening we discuss this deal with Don Carlos on our patio.
I had mixed emotions watching the turtles make their way up to the shore. Uncle Bob's "poor things" caught me thinking the same thing. I'd read that the turtles are unaffected by the bystanders, that they have a mission that cannot be stopped. As a mother of 3, I can understand the drive. But I can't help but wonder if our presence doesn't change their natural state. A few of the turtles came up on the beach, obviously struggling on land with their big, clumsy flippers, only to turn around and head right back.
The men collecting the eggs were carrying bags on their backs that are similar to the white, woven feed bags we buy for chicken feed and oats for the horses. They are big. Our guide told us the bags full of eggs reap $10. You would think they were full of gold, those bags, the way the men carrying them were laughing and celebrating. We watched as some of them pointed their toes heavenward and dug their heal into the sand, over and over until they found a soft spot. There'd be a "Whoop!" and 4 or 5 guys would fall to their knees and dig with their hands. I know, from conversations with the gal I met at the beginning of my journey who stays with the people of Ostional, that this is pretty much the only source of income for Ostional. I have met 2 people working in the tourist industry, but most, I'm told, collect eggs and sell them. There's not as much open friendliness coming from these men as there is from the rest of the people we've met. No "Ola!" no smiles. There is a vibe here. Exciting to watch the turtles, yes, but underlying that is a culture, a way of living that man has replayed many times over history. I can't decide where to put it.
~~~~~~
Next door to us there are a few girls sharing the rent of the newest, most beautiful and biggest house that Craig owns. Muriel who was here with a friend 2 weeks ago, went to stay in another house for a couple weeks and is now back for the duration. She's a nice gal, quiet, which is a relief from the party boys we had in our little cul de sac for a few weeks. Muriel is a massage therapist and is paying for her 3 month stay by setting up shop in this house. There've been days when my aching muscles want to take her up on her offer "Special Tica price, only $60". A steal of a deal, compared to home. Alas, I spend my money on zip lines, horse back rides and turtle tours.
Muriel told me yesterday that Saskia, a lady I want to meet, is the girl to connect with for la Escualita, the summer school. Muriel can't make it to volunteer today, so the kids and I will go for a couple of hours. It's on the next beach over, where Erroll's tire became flat. We'll bike there again today via beach. This time, we'll leave well ahead and ride slowly, taking breaks. Unfortunately, it's mid day when we are to go, so it'll be hot.
~~~~~~~
While at Ostional, we bumped into Raineer and his new family. He lives in Ostional, and works as manager at Cafe de Paris. Raineer told me that Don Carlos has something good to tell me but I have to wait for Don Carlos.
After a dinner, treated by Uncle Bob, we were sitting at the house and Don Carlos came to visit. We're told many stories, including one about going to Disney World with the family of Miss Canada, back in his youth. Very entertaining. Perhaps I'll tell the story later. The good thing Carlos has to tell me is that there are 2 options for land. One belongs to his gardener and is beside the road, but about 5 km away. The other is a bit of garden that he told me about on Cafe de Paris land. It's small, tucked away and up on the hill. He spoke with the owner, who said that they would entertain the idea of putting something there to "show the people what can be done". I'm mulling it over.
These are not the last options Carlos says, "give me some time". I think he knows a lot of people here, and is determined to find the right space. I want to talk with the owners and see the space. Perhaps I can morph the idea into one that will work even after I'm gone, if I play my cards right. The garden at Harmony Hotel may be a model. If one at Cafe de Paris can both supply a little organic food, maybe some herbs to their restaurant, and at the same time give some locals the idea of putting together a garden for public use, it might work.
kids saying "Bengay!" and got very strange looks. giggle.
The afternoon was somewhat unstructured. Saskia told me that it's very difficult to round these kids up, that they are not used to much structure. There was a long black poly sheet out on the front lawn, overlooking the beach. Someone stood holding a hose to the kids and the tarp, and periodically squirted more watered down dish soap, while another two held a rope going across the poly. A considerable amount of time was spent lining them up (something that was a given by grade 1 in Canada...."single file, children!" still rings in my ears). With very good tunes blaring (regae) the kids took turns sliding under the rope. I stood at the side lines trying to teach them to come to me and run around to get back in line. There was absolute mayhem as each kid either sat on the tarp, playing in the bubbles or running back, toward the next person in line to do it again. It took a while, but we got it sorted out. There were a few times when 6 or 7 of them ran at the same time, piling up in a tangle of legs, arms, soap and laughing faces.
I haven't smiled and laughed that much in a LOOONG time. I love these kids. There wasn't so much as one complaint, neither about other kids nor getting hurt. There were quite a few bumps, and scrapes, but each one of them took it and ran. Not a fight or tear all afternoon.
There was a fellow taking pictures. I hope to get some from him, as I didn't take my camera (nowhere to put valuables).
The owners of La Luna, locals, donated the space and lunch-hamburgers. Very nice people. We ate, then went down to the beach. The thought was to play frisbee and tug of war. I wondered how serious the leaders were about keeping them out of the water. It was hot, the beach sandy, the water right there.....hmmmm. Me thinks there's trouble here.
It took exactly 0 seconds before they started sneaking in. Got those out, and the next 3, then 5, then 7 kids charged the water. Soon, each of us looked at each other and just as I said "you can't fight it" all 100 kids stormed the beach, screaming. It was a sight to see. We spent the next 45 minutes watching as each wave broke, and crossing our fingers that they would all be safe. They were. At 4 we managed to get them all out and safely dispatched to their parents.
I chatted with Saskia for a while about my ideas, and she invited me back next year to build a community garden at Santa Maria (I think), the elementary school. I have her email, and so can talk more about this. Also, Monday we may ride the bus up to volunteer at the school, where they normally meet. We'll most likely take the craft things Rainne brought and perhaps the school supplies that the kids and St. Peter's Church back home fundraised for.
The event was successful!
Bob/Turtles/Muriel and La Escualita/ Garden Options
Uncle Bob arrives!
On schedule, but a little travel worn, Uncle Bob came via Daniel's taxi. It was a long day for him, traveling to San Jose, so it was head hit the pillow, then up at 7, feet hit the ground running. The flight into Nosara was most exciting. There was another earthquake (didn't feel that one) so the pilot, upon pre-landing, scooped the nose straight up unannounced. The airstrip was undamaged, so they landed after one circle. phew!
After a good snooze during the day's heat we ate and set off for our turtle tour. They come once a month, en masse, to Ostional Beach. Our taxi driver is Abel (espaniol- Ay beel), with a long, grey braid hanging down his back, and much enthusiasm for all the tourist stuff of his country he drove and explained all our surroundings. We stopped for monkeys in an overhead tree (Abel warns us not to stand below, they do like to poop on people) and he pointed out many trees, including one you asked about, Lynn. Sorry, I have to ask again...my memory fails. The river, which we crossed (is forded the right word? we drove thru it, up to the bottom of the doors) 2 or 3 times, he explained that it's uncrossable in the rainy season. One spot, where there's a walking suspension bridge beside where we crossed, cannot be crossed during the rainy season. The people of Nosara get taken by vehicle to the bridge, they walk across and a truck takes them from the other side to Ostional.
I love these people. They are so sweet and generous. My inner skeptism says that the reason we get such good service, and I'm assuming that this is the standard, is to distract the tourists from the awful roads. Poor Uncle's bones were being jarred with every rock, 1/2 sticking out of the ground, softball-sized and angular, every 10" or so, the washboard and pot holes. Some of the roads are still washed away by the winter's rains. The roads follow natural terrain, with it's ups and downs, often having to go around obstacles like valleys and hills, so they wind and curve. The locals know every pot hole (I think I mentioned before that many of the holes will swallow a truck if you're not watching), so drivers swerve into the oncoming lane, not that there are lanes, often there's not enough room for another full lane, and, alarmingly, there's not a clear line of sight around a corner, while on the opposite side. Abel was very good at pointing to bulls, birds, trees, and monkeys. Is English is very good.
Uncle Bob told Abel that he'd like to buy an old bike and fix it up. Abel tells him where there are some retired bikes, next to the Super Nosara, downtown. He'll have to bus it there.
The turtles were sparse when we went. The monthly "Arribada", arrival, is much more abundant during the rainy season and there are more at night, we were told. I was fine with the 30-50 girls making their way up the beach. The culture hit us like a brick wall again. The people at the site, which is run by the University, don't speak English. This includes our guide, and all the rest of the people going on the tour.
Ostional is the only turtle preserve in the world where some of the eggs can be legally collected. It was a very controversial decision. The people, having been there for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, collecting these eggs, proposed that they be allowed to do so legally, rather than having to steal them in the night. The eggs are sold on the black market. The people believe they provide virility. Because of the deal made between the locals and the University, the eggs can be sold legally from this source. Later in the evening we discuss this deal with Don Carlos on our patio.
I had mixed emotions watching the turtles make their way up to the shore. Uncle Bob's "poor things" caught me thinking the same thing. I'd read that the turtles are unaffected by the bystanders, that they have a mission that cannot be stopped. As a mother of 3, I can understand the drive. But I can't help but wonder if our presence doesn't change their natural state. A few of the turtles came up on the beach, obviously struggling on land with their big, clumsy flippers, only to turn around and head right back.
The men collecting the eggs were carrying bags on their backs that are similar to the white, woven feed bags we buy for chicken feed and oats for the horses. They are big. Our guide told us the bags full of eggs reap $10. You would think they were full of gold, those bags, the way the men carrying them were laughing and celebrating. We watched as some of them pointed their toes heavenward and dug their heal into the sand, over and over until they found a soft spot. There'd be a "Whoop!" and 4 or 5 guys would fall to their knees and dig with their hands. I know, from conversations with the gal I met at the beginning of my journey who stays with the people of Ostional, that this is pretty much the only source of income for Ostional. I have met 2 people working in the tourist industry, but most, I'm told, collect eggs and sell them. There's not as much open friendliness coming from these men as there is from the rest of the people we've met. No "Ola!" no smiles. There is a vibe here. Exciting to watch the turtles, yes, but underlying that is a culture, a way of living that man has replayed many times over history. I can't decide where to put it.
~~~~~~
Next door to us there are a few girls sharing the rent of the newest, most beautiful and biggest house that Craig owns. Muriel who was here with a friend 2 weeks ago, went to stay in another house for a couple weeks and is now back for the duration. She's a nice gal, quiet, which is a relief from the party boys we had in our little cul de sac for a few weeks. Muriel is a massage therapist and is paying for her 3 month stay by setting up shop in this house. There've been days when my aching muscles want to take her up on her offer "Special Tica price, only $60". A steal of a deal, compared to home. Alas, I spend my money on zip lines, horse back rides and turtle tours.
Muriel told me yesterday that Saskia, a lady I want to meet, is the girl to connect with for la Escualita, the summer school. Muriel can't make it to volunteer today, so the kids and I will go for a couple of hours. It's on the next beach over, where Erroll's tire became flat. We'll bike there again today via beach. This time, we'll leave well ahead and ride slowly, taking breaks. Unfortunately, it's mid day when we are to go, so it'll be hot.
~~~~~~~
While at Ostional, we bumped into Raineer and his new family. He lives in Ostional, and works as manager at Cafe de Paris. Raineer told me that Don Carlos has something good to tell me but I have to wait for Don Carlos.
After a dinner, treated by Uncle Bob, we were sitting at the house and Don Carlos came to visit. We're told many stories, including one about going to Disney World with the family of Miss Canada, back in his youth. Very entertaining. Perhaps I'll tell the story later. The good thing Carlos has to tell me is that there are 2 options for land. One belongs to his gardener and is beside the road, but about 5 km away. The other is a bit of garden that he told me about on Cafe de Paris land. It's small, tucked away and up on the hill. He spoke with the owner, who said that they would entertain the idea of putting something there to "show the people what can be done". I'm mulling it over.
These are not the last options Carlos says, "give me some time". I think he knows a lot of people here, and is determined to find the right space. I want to talk with the owners and see the space. Perhaps I can morph the idea into one that will work even after I'm gone, if I play my cards right. The garden at Harmony Hotel may be a model. If one at Cafe de Paris can both supply a little organic food, maybe some herbs to their restaurant, and at the same time give some locals the idea of putting together a garden for public use, it might work.
On schedule, but a little travel worn, Uncle Bob came via Daniel's taxi. It was a long day for him, traveling to San Jose, so it was head hit the pillow, then up at 7, feet hit the ground running. The flight into Nosara was most exciting. There was another earthquake (didn't feel that one) so the pilot, upon pre-landing, scooped the nose straight up unannounced. The airstrip was undamaged, so they landed after one circle. phew!
After a good snooze during the day's heat we ate and set off for our turtle tour. They come once a month, en masse, to Ostional Beach. Our taxi driver is Abel (espaniol- Ay beel), with a long, grey braid hanging down his back, and much enthusiasm for all the tourist stuff of his country he drove and explained all our surroundings. We stopped for monkeys in an overhead tree (Abel warns us not to stand below, they do like to poop on people) and he pointed out many trees, including one you asked about, Lynn. Sorry, I have to ask again...my memory fails. The river, which we crossed (is forded the right word? we drove thru it, up to the bottom of the doors) 2 or 3 times, he explained that it's uncrossable in the rainy season. One spot, where there's a walking suspension bridge beside where we crossed, cannot be crossed during the rainy season. The people of Nosara get taken by vehicle to the bridge, they walk across and a truck takes them from the other side to Ostional.
I love these people. They are so sweet and generous. My inner skeptism says that the reason we get such good service, and I'm assuming that this is the standard, is to distract the tourists from the awful roads. Poor Uncle's bones were being jarred with every rock, 1/2 sticking out of the ground, softball-sized and angular, every 10" or so, the washboard and pot holes. Some of the roads are still washed away by the winter's rains. The roads follow natural terrain, with it's ups and downs, often having to go around obstacles like valleys and hills, so they wind and curve. The locals know every pot hole (I think I mentioned before that many of the holes will swallow a truck if you're not watching), so drivers swerve into the oncoming lane, not that there are lanes, often there's not enough room for another full lane, and, alarmingly, there's not a clear line of sight around a corner, while on the opposite side. Abel was very good at pointing to bulls, birds, trees, and monkeys. Is English is very good.
Uncle Bob told Abel that he'd like to buy an old bike and fix it up. Abel tells him where there are some retired bikes, next to the Super Nosara, downtown. He'll have to bus it there.
The turtles were sparse when we went. The monthly "Arribada", arrival, is much more abundant during the rainy season and there are more at night, we were told. I was fine with the 30-50 girls making their way up the beach. The culture hit us like a brick wall again. The people at the site, which is run by the University, don't speak English. This includes our guide, and all the rest of the people going on the tour.
Ostional is the only turtle preserve in the world where some of the eggs can be legally collected. It was a very controversial decision. The people, having been there for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, collecting these eggs, proposed that they be allowed to do so legally, rather than having to steal them in the night. The eggs are sold on the black market. The people believe they provide virility. Because of the deal made between the locals and the University, the eggs can be sold legally from this source. Later in the evening we discuss this deal with Don Carlos on our patio.
I had mixed emotions watching the turtles make their way up to the shore. Uncle Bob's "poor things" caught me thinking the same thing. I'd read that the turtles are unaffected by the bystanders, that they have a mission that cannot be stopped. As a mother of 3, I can understand the drive. But I can't help but wonder if our presence doesn't change their natural state. A few of the turtles came up on the beach, obviously struggling on land with their big, clumsy flippers, only to turn around and head right back.
The men collecting the eggs were carrying bags on their backs that are similar to the white, woven feed bags we buy for chicken feed and oats for the horses. They are big. Our guide told us the bags full of eggs reap $10. You would think they were full of gold, those bags, the way the men carrying them were laughing and celebrating. We watched as some of them pointed their toes heavenward and dug their heal into the sand, over and over until they found a soft spot. There'd be a "Whoop!" and 4 or 5 guys would fall to their knees and dig with their hands. I know, from conversations with the gal I met at the beginning of my journey who stays with the people of Ostional, that this is pretty much the only source of income for Ostional. I have met 2 people working in the tourist industry, but most, I'm told, collect eggs and sell them. There's not as much open friendliness coming from these men as there is from the rest of the people we've met. No "Ola!" no smiles. There is a vibe here. Exciting to watch the turtles, yes, but underlying that is a culture, a way of living that man has replayed many times over history. I can't decide where to put it.
~~~~~~
Next door to us there are a few girls sharing the rent of the newest, most beautiful and biggest house that Craig owns. Muriel who was here with a friend 2 weeks ago, went to stay in another house for a couple weeks and is now back for the duration. She's a nice gal, quiet, which is a relief from the party boys we had in our little cul de sac for a few weeks. Muriel is a massage therapist and is paying for her 3 month stay by setting up shop in this house. There've been days when my aching muscles want to take her up on her offer "Special Tica price, only $60". A steal of a deal, compared to home. Alas, I spend my money on zip lines, horse back rides and turtle tours.
Muriel told me yesterday that Saskia, a lady I want to meet, is the girl to connect with for la Escualita, the summer school. Muriel can't make it to volunteer today, so the kids and I will go for a couple of hours. It's on the next beach over, where Erroll's tire became flat. We'll bike there again today via beach. This time, we'll leave well ahead and ride slowly, taking breaks. Unfortunately, it's mid day when we are to go, so it'll be hot.
~~~~~~~
While at Ostional, we bumped into Raineer and his new family. He lives in Ostional, and works as manager at Cafe de Paris. Raineer told me that Don Carlos has something good to tell me but I have to wait for Don Carlos.
After a dinner, treated by Uncle Bob, we were sitting at the house and Don Carlos came to visit. We're told many stories, including one about going to Disney World with the family of Miss Canada, back in his youth. Very entertaining. Perhaps I'll tell the story later. The good thing Carlos has to tell me is that there are 2 options for land. One belongs to his gardener and is beside the road, but about 5 km away. The other is a bit of garden that he told me about on Cafe de Paris land. It's small, tucked away and up on the hill. He spoke with the owner, who said that they would entertain the idea of putting something there to "show the people what can be done". I'm mulling it over.
These are not the last options Carlos says, "give me some time". I think he knows a lot of people here, and is determined to find the right space. I want to talk with the owners and see the space. Perhaps I can morph the idea into one that will work even after I'm gone, if I play my cards right. The garden at Harmony Hotel may be a model. If one at Cafe de Paris can both supply a little organic food, maybe some herbs to their restaurant, and at the same time give some locals the idea of putting together a garden for public use, it might work.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Don Carlos Venezueala/ Don Constantino and Angie
Mid way, and I'm feeling discombobulated, and yet elated. Having the pilot project derailed with only a month left here made my boat float, rudderless. I was pleasantly surprised that Erroll chose to hang with me and help me hash thru some of the thoughts about redirection last night. It's pretty cool to see one's 17 yr old .....HAPPY BIRTHDAY ERROLL!!!.... work thru grown up problems with such an even keel (all these nautical terms are making me think of you, Dad).
I also have Raineer's ear. Being both a Tico and a manager of the Cafe de Paris, I think he has his fingers on the pulse of the place. He was telling me how he felt that the people here most likely wouldn't be interested in working beyond what they do for a job. This, I'm used to hearing. It's the same for the mainstream Canadians. It took 6 years to accumulate 25 families for the CSA, and so I know what it means to hear of disinterest in anything sounding like manual labour. I also am accustomed to negative thinking for something new.
As we spoke, he was putting up the sign up sheet for tours to see the turtles. it's been overcast here for the past couple of days, so they say the turtles will come up on the beach to lay. I think it has something to do with the moon, too. Javier had mentioned this too. As well as the turtles, Raineer said "this man (pointing) is the head gardener for Cafe de Paris". He was quick to introduce me to the 72 yr old, greying, but young (again, thinking of you, Dad) looking man. Don Carlos Venezuela is a fascinating man. We had coffee while chatting about our common passions; growing things and people. Don Carlos has been the landscape architect for the first lady of Costa Rica when the president was male. He had many projects with this woman, including creating play spaces all over the country, as well as building roads into natural areas, naturalizing beach plantings, and building homes for the poor. Also an artist, Don Carlos has spent time in France, with his own studio, studying under an accomplished artist there.
We spoke of my challenges here, and he agreed with Raineer about the people. I still hold on to the thread that, like Canada, there are people who understand the importance of reconnecting with the land and our food source. Don Carlos expressed quite well, in English that he thought this a "beautiful project" and obviously wants to help. We collected Lindsay and he showed us his cabin, which is 3 doors away from ours. Just a small room, where he stays while not in San Jose, and while he works here, in Nosara, we pull up a chair (just enough for the 3 of us) and Don Carlos shows us the art magazines in which his beautiful, creative work is displayed. His visual arts are painting, plants and architecture. I will see if I can ask him for the name of the magazine and perhaps post them later. His offer to converse in the evening after his work will be taken. Interesting man.
There was a hint that if the space needed was just small, he may offer the long strip that has nothing in it at the moment. It is up the hill, behind Marlin Bill's on Cafe de Paris land. He feels it would be perfect for small, container gardening. There was much to talk about last night, and because I was not yet on course, I did not jump on the offer. Perhaps tonight I will ask if I can see it and weigh how serious he is. The garden needs a local to inspire others to join. Don Carlos would be a charming one.
One more little note for Dad: Don Carlos says the BEST magazine ever is Popular Mechanics. I smiled and I told him of your little speed boat and he drew the one he ordered plans for and built. I think it may be the same one! Was yours a little like a spade/shovel-head shape?
HARMONY HOTEL- DON CONSTANTINO (TINO) AND ANGIE
This morning I went to meet with the sustainability director at Harmony Hotel. We'd had many false starts in trying to connect, and this morning was no exception. I waited for an hour, the appointment being at 7 am, and found Mariano with the head gardener. This place is amazing! The mini tours that Mariano had taken me on were enlightening. The grounds are big, with many large plants, most of which are not native, so they have much work to do to change that. That they are aware of this is awesome.
The vegetable garden is in part, for the restaurant's use, yet mostly it is just a sample to show what can be done. The current garden is open-air, and young. They will see how the plants are affected once the rains come. In the mean time they are going to build a structure to house native plants. The Five Leaf program for hotels has assessed them and they are anxiously awaiting the results.
Don Constantino and I ploughed thru my Spanglish. I learned quite a bit. He has gardened for 6 years, no university, just hands on. The worm composting they do helps tremendously to keep their plants. Tomatoes, peppers, radish (! I thought these wouldn't grow here due to the heat) pepina, zucchini, Tarragon, Cas (a tree fruit), jucca, cilantro, pepper, chilis, sage, oregano, papaya, lemon grass, chives. Most of these are used to bake into bread, but they can not produce enough in the small space (about 1/2 of my smallest garden....might serve me to plant for 5 families).
Angie, who rescued us from our attempt at understanding each other, is the hotel's manager. She took over and Don Constantino left us to do his day's work. Angie is a 30-something beauty. She is very well-spoken and knowledgeable about sustainability and we fast became of the same mind. I only took about 15 min of her time, as there were emergency interruptions due to there not being any gas (I don't know if this was for cooking or for vehicles) in Nosara. The closest available is in Nicoya, 35 km away.
Angie explained that their goal is to be a model for sustainability. They used a parking lot to create their kitchen garden, and have tours daily. She agreed to allow me to share seeds for my project, as their plants are hardy to this area.
Because they can't produce enough for the hotel, they have tried 5 times to make deals with a local organic farmer. There aren't many of these around, and the difficulty, as in N. America, has been supply and demand. The farmer that I met at the organic market, Albin, has finally agreed to sell exclusively to Harmony Hotel, an idea that the hotel had and offered. This is a good connection, especially since the demand is high for organic food, and that they are willing to educate the public with their garden. Very innovative. I think I have now found my rudder and may actually be able to point myself in the right direction.
The rest of my day will consist of a birthday boy, an Uncle, and perhaps some tortegas (turtles)....
I also have Raineer's ear. Being both a Tico and a manager of the Cafe de Paris, I think he has his fingers on the pulse of the place. He was telling me how he felt that the people here most likely wouldn't be interested in working beyond what they do for a job. This, I'm used to hearing. It's the same for the mainstream Canadians. It took 6 years to accumulate 25 families for the CSA, and so I know what it means to hear of disinterest in anything sounding like manual labour. I also am accustomed to negative thinking for something new.
As we spoke, he was putting up the sign up sheet for tours to see the turtles. it's been overcast here for the past couple of days, so they say the turtles will come up on the beach to lay. I think it has something to do with the moon, too. Javier had mentioned this too. As well as the turtles, Raineer said "this man (pointing) is the head gardener for Cafe de Paris". He was quick to introduce me to the 72 yr old, greying, but young (again, thinking of you, Dad) looking man. Don Carlos Venezuela is a fascinating man. We had coffee while chatting about our common passions; growing things and people. Don Carlos has been the landscape architect for the first lady of Costa Rica when the president was male. He had many projects with this woman, including creating play spaces all over the country, as well as building roads into natural areas, naturalizing beach plantings, and building homes for the poor. Also an artist, Don Carlos has spent time in France, with his own studio, studying under an accomplished artist there.
We spoke of my challenges here, and he agreed with Raineer about the people. I still hold on to the thread that, like Canada, there are people who understand the importance of reconnecting with the land and our food source. Don Carlos expressed quite well, in English that he thought this a "beautiful project" and obviously wants to help. We collected Lindsay and he showed us his cabin, which is 3 doors away from ours. Just a small room, where he stays while not in San Jose, and while he works here, in Nosara, we pull up a chair (just enough for the 3 of us) and Don Carlos shows us the art magazines in which his beautiful, creative work is displayed. His visual arts are painting, plants and architecture. I will see if I can ask him for the name of the magazine and perhaps post them later. His offer to converse in the evening after his work will be taken. Interesting man.
There was a hint that if the space needed was just small, he may offer the long strip that has nothing in it at the moment. It is up the hill, behind Marlin Bill's on Cafe de Paris land. He feels it would be perfect for small, container gardening. There was much to talk about last night, and because I was not yet on course, I did not jump on the offer. Perhaps tonight I will ask if I can see it and weigh how serious he is. The garden needs a local to inspire others to join. Don Carlos would be a charming one.
One more little note for Dad: Don Carlos says the BEST magazine ever is Popular Mechanics. I smiled and I told him of your little speed boat and he drew the one he ordered plans for and built. I think it may be the same one! Was yours a little like a spade/shovel-head shape?
HARMONY HOTEL- DON CONSTANTINO (TINO) AND ANGIE
This morning I went to meet with the sustainability director at Harmony Hotel. We'd had many false starts in trying to connect, and this morning was no exception. I waited for an hour, the appointment being at 7 am, and found Mariano with the head gardener. This place is amazing! The mini tours that Mariano had taken me on were enlightening. The grounds are big, with many large plants, most of which are not native, so they have much work to do to change that. That they are aware of this is awesome.
The vegetable garden is in part, for the restaurant's use, yet mostly it is just a sample to show what can be done. The current garden is open-air, and young. They will see how the plants are affected once the rains come. In the mean time they are going to build a structure to house native plants. The Five Leaf program for hotels has assessed them and they are anxiously awaiting the results.
Don Constantino and I ploughed thru my Spanglish. I learned quite a bit. He has gardened for 6 years, no university, just hands on. The worm composting they do helps tremendously to keep their plants. Tomatoes, peppers, radish (! I thought these wouldn't grow here due to the heat) pepina, zucchini, Tarragon, Cas (a tree fruit), jucca, cilantro, pepper, chilis, sage, oregano, papaya, lemon grass, chives. Most of these are used to bake into bread, but they can not produce enough in the small space (about 1/2 of my smallest garden....might serve me to plant for 5 families).
Angie, who rescued us from our attempt at understanding each other, is the hotel's manager. She took over and Don Constantino left us to do his day's work. Angie is a 30-something beauty. She is very well-spoken and knowledgeable about sustainability and we fast became of the same mind. I only took about 15 min of her time, as there were emergency interruptions due to there not being any gas (I don't know if this was for cooking or for vehicles) in Nosara. The closest available is in Nicoya, 35 km away.
Angie explained that their goal is to be a model for sustainability. They used a parking lot to create their kitchen garden, and have tours daily. She agreed to allow me to share seeds for my project, as their plants are hardy to this area.
Because they can't produce enough for the hotel, they have tried 5 times to make deals with a local organic farmer. There aren't many of these around, and the difficulty, as in N. America, has been supply and demand. The farmer that I met at the organic market, Albin, has finally agreed to sell exclusively to Harmony Hotel, an idea that the hotel had and offered. This is a good connection, especially since the demand is high for organic food, and that they are willing to educate the public with their garden. Very innovative. I think I have now found my rudder and may actually be able to point myself in the right direction.
The rest of my day will consist of a birthday boy, an Uncle, and perhaps some tortegas (turtles)....
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Rainne and Di's last days/ Javier's pass time/ New beginnings?
The girls have decided that today, Monday, is a good day to poke around the shops again, making sure they have all that they want to take home.
Javier came by our house and we talked about his family's farm. You can tell he knows what he has. He only spends 2 days a week there, but that he does that much shows where his heart is, I think.
He takes the time to show Di, Linds, Erroll and I his pass time; the palm leaf grass hopper. He laughs at us a lot.
Later, we walk down the road, past the beach access and to the store to pick up some juice for drinks. On the way, we see monkeys eating in the tree above the road, only 10' away! A baby follows his mamma and they pose for us. It was quite remarkable.
We decide that since our groceries are low and the girls want to get rid of their colones, we'll eat at Marlin Bill's. We miss the sunset from up on their balcony, but see the afterglow and the silhouette of the desert-like trees.
Our waiter, David, asks about our stay and we tell them about gardening. He's very curious and asks if we've met with any resistance. I'm honest and tell him I think Del Mar's project is going well, but it's been taken in a different direction than I'd come for. After the meeting on Saturday, I had time to think about their approach. It's moved more toward the children's garden only, eliminating the idea of a community garden. I am very excited for Del Mar, that they have an excellent garden co ordinator in Kim, and want to help them with their soil building and finding resources for them. The bridge into a community garden outside of Del Mar won't happen, tho, if there isn't one at Del Mar.
David says he has a horticulturist friend, who has an artist friend, who're running La Escualita (a summer program for kids who's parents work in the tourist industry. It's still running for another 3 weeks before public school is in). REALLY. I love this stuff. He tells me that these two people will most definitely be interested in what I'm doing. We exchange email addresses.
Kim will drive me up to the school on Saturday to go over the garden site (Tuesday is the day the girls leave, so I had to rebook the appointment). We'll have to decide then how much time I'll put into the garden.
Javier came by our house and we talked about his family's farm. You can tell he knows what he has. He only spends 2 days a week there, but that he does that much shows where his heart is, I think.
He takes the time to show Di, Linds, Erroll and I his pass time; the palm leaf grass hopper. He laughs at us a lot.
Later, we walk down the road, past the beach access and to the store to pick up some juice for drinks. On the way, we see monkeys eating in the tree above the road, only 10' away! A baby follows his mamma and they pose for us. It was quite remarkable.
We decide that since our groceries are low and the girls want to get rid of their colones, we'll eat at Marlin Bill's. We miss the sunset from up on their balcony, but see the afterglow and the silhouette of the desert-like trees.
Our waiter, David, asks about our stay and we tell them about gardening. He's very curious and asks if we've met with any resistance. I'm honest and tell him I think Del Mar's project is going well, but it's been taken in a different direction than I'd come for. After the meeting on Saturday, I had time to think about their approach. It's moved more toward the children's garden only, eliminating the idea of a community garden. I am very excited for Del Mar, that they have an excellent garden co ordinator in Kim, and want to help them with their soil building and finding resources for them. The bridge into a community garden outside of Del Mar won't happen, tho, if there isn't one at Del Mar.
David says he has a horticulturist friend, who has an artist friend, who're running La Escualita (a summer program for kids who's parents work in the tourist industry. It's still running for another 3 weeks before public school is in). REALLY. I love this stuff. He tells me that these two people will most definitely be interested in what I'm doing. We exchange email addresses.
Kim will drive me up to the school on Saturday to go over the garden site (Tuesday is the day the girls leave, so I had to rebook the appointment). We'll have to decide then how much time I'll put into the garden.
Eduardo, Javier, and Graebin's family
Happy Birthday Di!
To think I was wondering whether I should spend the money on the horse back tour! I do believe it will be difficult to top that experience here. Javier, manager at Nosara Paradise Rental office, arranged to have the taxi, Daniel, pick us up at 9 am. The taxi ride up the mountain seems very expensive to me at $20, but fuel's expensive and vehicles don't last on these roads. Up, past Miss Sky's office, across the river 3 times (crossing fingers every time. water up to bottom of door).
On the way up we pick up Graevin, Javier's brother and the gardener for Nosara Paradise Rentals. He's going home to see Mama. We hear monkeys up in the trees above us. WROWWWWER-ER-ER. We were told on the canopy tour that the Howler monkeys are the second loudest mammals in the world. Blue Whales being the first. We wonder if that is in ratio to their size. I still am shocked every time I see how small they are in comparison to their booming voices. Daniel stops the vehicle and the bunch of us get out. Daniel and Graebin stay in the truck, watching us, watching their wild life. I think I could pick up a bit of their conversation. It sounds much like ours, only they were marveling not at the wild life, but at the tourists' awe. I heard the word "passione" in there. Daniel honks the horn a few times, stirring up much noise amounst the monkeys. The girls were thrilled. They'd seen only a few monkeys. there were at least a dozen in one tree, and several closer in one right above us.
We meet Eduardo, a 40-something man, who looks a lot like his brother, Javier. He hugs and smooches everyone on the cheeks, in Costa Rican fashion. The horses stand by, tethered to trees on the river bank. They're a lot smaller than our standard breds. We note that part of their gear runs under their tails and don't know what that's for. Mom, do you? One, Rainne's horse, has the tip of his tail tied to the saddle, so that he can't swish the person on him. Eduardo says the lashing tail will actually cut. We think they don't cut the hair so that he can still swish the flies off himself when not saddled. His name is Macho, I think I understand that Macho is a breed of horse here, and that he's mother was Macho and father a burro. His ears are donkey-like.
My horse is named (something in Spanish meaning star). We get right on, heading into the bush. Lindsay gives direction to those of us who're less horsey. Diane has ridden before, as have I, but Rainne wishes she has Lindsay's horse because her's is a bit spunkier. Erroll sits back on his horse, in last place and we all laugh. It's just like when he was small "Come ON Erroll!! catch up!" He smiles and says "my guy's taking his time. s'ok"
Unlike any of the trail horses I've ever been on, these don't mind switching up their order. Rainne's at the front, behind Eduardo and wants someone with more Spanish up there to get what he's saying. Diane has a bit of Spanish because of her Mexican co worker. Rainne knows she has only 10 days here and has the basics down hola, gracious, porfavor etc. Lindsay and I take turns being close to the front to pass on what we think Eduardo is saying. Erroll lags behind.
We are amazed at the beauty of this forest. Some of the trees are as thick as a man is tall. Some are white, my mind keeps calling them ghost trees. There are vines hanging everywhere, and running up the trees. One tree, Eduardo tells me, is 4 hundred years old. There are lemon, lime and orange trees, Cacao (mountain chocolate), and a tree that produces two fruits (I think, by his grin that the reference to "bolls" is what it sounds like). The horses grab twigs with leaves on them and munch, despite our attempts at not letting them. This is their food. No grass, no hay, just trees.
Tepescuintle
We are in the mountains. Some of the trail seems brutal on the horses feet. The terrain is very hilly, and we get a good sample of how it is to ride across it. There are steep hills up and down. One set of difficult highs and lows leads us to a beautiful falls. We all wonder how it would be to travel here in the rainy season.
The trail takes us to Mamma's house, her name is Jesus. She has raised 5 boys and 2 girls. There's no Papa. Strong little woman. Her home is modest. We sit at her table, situated under a canopy outside the front door, much like every other home here. The bathroom is just off the patio and is chirping. There is an outside tiled sink. Diane uses the facilities first, and finds many 2 or 3 day old chicks in the shower pan!
There are chickens wandering about everywhere, at all stages of life. At home, spring is for chicks, fall for killing roosters and fryers but the layers must endure the cold winter. Here, I suppose the chickens can survive any season. I ask about beef. They don't eat it here. Just chicken and pork. Their cattle are for milking only.
The farm spans many acres. Jesus' house and that of Javier, and another for Eduardo's family dot the trail. The hills rise up from either side of the house, one face is steep and grassy, the other full of trees, where we rode. This is what my husband should have seen. I wish he came.
We take a walking tour to see the protected animal, Tepescuintle. It's body is round, about as big as a basket ball. Short hair shows on it's rump, as it hides in a hole under a plank. There are stripes on it that remind me of a chipmunk. It's dark in there and we all skootch in to take a closer look and someone steps on a twig. The SNAP sends about 6 of them running into the bush. Eduardo makes an obvious sniffing face, and says "He says 'Gringos!'". One comes scurrying back on it's little legs and hides, face out so that we can see that it looks like a huge rat face. Eduardo tells us that it's Javier's idea to make a protected, fenced area for them. The meat is delicious, and many farmers kill them for their dinner, making them almost extinct.
Eduardo's Spanish becomes easier to understand as he slows down (thanks to Auntie Dee, who told me "lento"- slow). Many Spanish and English words are "equale" and thus easier to pick up the gist of what's being said. Understanding their twists in rules for letters, such as G has an H sound, J also, and LL sounds like a combination of Y and J together, and V sounds a lot like B...then one can pick up more.
He shows us Star Fruit in a tree, and explains that the name is something else entirely. Americans invented this name. He picks one for us, and we all take turns biting into it's orange flesh; a tart taste, much more powerful than the watery business we have tasted at home. We see soy bean fields, corn and coffee plants from which his cute, 14 yr old boy, Manuel (Lindsay=big eyes) picks reddish juicy berries for us to eat, they are sweet (both the kids with big eyes and the berries). Eduardo shows us the different berries' stages and explains in Spanglish and sign language and a lot of "Si!"s when I say the English words for things, that they make their own coffee here, by drying it in the sun, crushing it by hand, exposing the inner coffee bean, then roasting it. The plants are about 6' tall and 3' deep. The monkeys get into them and cause much havoc.
The boy, Manuel, shadows us, speaking very quietly and respectfully to his Papa. There is a shed with hand hewn wood stacked from naturally felled trees. Manuel climbs a palm and throws down some coconuts to Eduardo. We head back to the house where Eduardo uses a machete (another word that's shared in both languages) to open the tops of 5 to give us each a good drink of the milk. MMMMM. Then, a spoon to dig out the slimy meat. Yum. We're full.
We ride some more, looping around on a trail that leads to another water fall, and across the river. Eduardo grabs some leaves off of one of the trees and tells us to do the same. We follow his directions to crush them between our fingers and smell. Lemon! All of us sniffed and ahhhed! for quite some way. A crack and splash, made Eduardo stop his horse and peer at the river beside us. It was an Iguana falling out of a tree.
I thought that the fruit was lunch. We stop at the house again, and are delighted at the spread Jesus had out for us. The family eats later, I'm told. Our conversation ranged from the foods our respective cultures have, the reasons why the other language is difficult (same for each of us...es mui rapido), how vegetables grow, that children here are given coffee at a very early age, and the reason why the coffee beans and Lindsay are so white is because they don't get enough sun.
Di remarks that the chicken dish is much like East Indian cooking. We also have typical rice, beans, salad, green beans and carrots, and tortillas. The drinks are starfruit juice, water with the ever present lime, and home made coffee. All is made on a wood burning stove. Mamma doesn't have electricity.
The water came up about 3' last winter during the floods. They'd all heard on the news that it was flooding in the valley and so came up to rescue her. She works very hard say both Eduardo and Javier.
Rainne and I agree afterward that this part of the trip was very fun, trying to understand, and seeing that they, too wished to understand and be understood. Di was in awe of everything, cooing and ooing the whole way.
Graebin took me thru the horse pen to see the sugar cane. We all have a piece of it. It's very sweet, juicy and woody-grained. We suck the goodness out of it and give the remains to our horses. Eduardo asks us politely if we'd like to vamoose, it's 3 already, and Javier was going to be at the river to pick us up at 2 (something we weren't told).
We mount our steeds again, and ride to the river bank. When we get there, there's no Javier, but we get the treat of watching as Eduardo tucks the reigns into the saddles and lines all but his horse up then smacks them on the behinds to send them back. It's quite a site, seeing the bunch of them running (we marvel at this, as they were quite pokey on the trail) up the river, riderless.
Daniel shows up instead of Javier (sigh, quel surprise, not as planned) off we go back to the house.
Fewer Posts
I've been told by a few of you that you check daily for a post. Hope you haven't given up on me. There were a few days with little on the gardening front to post about, and with Rainne and Di here, it's been somewhat a touristy existence for us. The fact that that left little time for posting, coupled with the interesting state of things in Costa Rica (often no internet connection) has made for a sparse blog site. Pardone.
I've all but given up on loading pictures too. I sit at Cafe de Paris if I want to send a few emails and post blogs because it's faster there. The signal is from there so is stronger, I think. Because I can't run anything else while sending pictures, and there's limited battery power in this lap top, and the plug in is not always available, I have to be selective as to what I can do.
All excuses aside, I want to remain in touch with my people, so please bear with me.
I've all but given up on loading pictures too. I sit at Cafe de Paris if I want to send a few emails and post blogs because it's faster there. The signal is from there so is stronger, I think. Because I can't run anything else while sending pictures, and there's limited battery power in this lap top, and the plug in is not always available, I have to be selective as to what I can do.
All excuses aside, I want to remain in touch with my people, so please bear with me.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Canopy Tour
Up and attem' 6:30 am! It's cool outside. We don't have a thermometer but I'm guessing it is around 23 C. The kids get ready in record time. We've booked a canopy tour for today, woo hoo!
Daniel, our taxi, picks us up at the office and takes us up to Miss Sky, the canopy tour office. We now have enough Spanish to have a couple little conversations. He looked impressed. On the way up we note the way to go (not many choices, but as there are no street signs, no addresses and precious few signs to direct us in Nosara, it's important to log these details whenever possible). Bob Marley lulls us into a good morning stupor.
Di had started making little noises at the house. "What have I gotten myself into?"
Miss Sky is housed in a small, long building with a covered porch. The gear is hanging at one end, and we pay at the other. Typical Costa Rica; I'm slightly shocked that all of us have to pay $10 USD to ride up the mountain, but the gal taking our $ says "$5 for ride". I thank her and give a genuinely pleased smile.
Our bunch is quiet , except me, who's reminded of days long past when my then soon-to-be husband and I geared up together to skydive. I miss him. We step into the offered harnesses and are introduced to our respective team member. All are in their early 20s (not surprising that this type of work would attract the young, thrill seeking) and all are Tico except one who speaks with an interesting accent, he's from Isreal.
There are two other groups, one couple our age from Isreal and a couple of girls from Missouri. There's little chatting, and a lot of wide eyes. I'm too tired to talk (yeah yeah, go ahead, I'm used to the digs), Di's fears look like they are bubbling to the surface.
We jump aboard the back of a 5 ton, rigged with sides on it's flat bed. There's standing room only folks. We're offered coolers to sit on (in that chivalrous way that is mostly forgotten in N. America). We all decline, choosing to stand at the sides, gripping the rails. It's bumpy. Perhaps that's redundant to say, but really, it's a huge thing here. Even the locals complain; "only in Nosara". For the umpteenth time, I wonder if it's because of this that Nosara has been successful in keeping out the all-inclusives. Not at all a bad thing, in my mind. The ride up (and down and up and down...) gives Diane too much time to let the fears in. We spend time doing some grounding. I try to send her some of my extra energy and tell her about letting the bad stuff go. She still smiling, that's a good sign.
At the top, we jump out of the truck and take a look at our fait. The wires look very long and there's not much canopy, it's all down, down, down below the line. I thought we'd be in, amounst the tree tops, this is a thrill ride after all. They go thru a quick safety routine, showing us how to sit in the harness, where to hold on, how to break by putting our dominant hand behind the zip-line rig we're hanging from, joking here and there. The jokes are addressing the elephant in the room. "....I don't know, most of you will make it, but some might not....if you see me patting the top of my head, use your breaks, no I'm not waving at you so we can have a coffee later, I want you to break..." . Laughter is a good remedy for nerves. Rainne mentions she's not planning on using her helmet, ha. I ask Linds if she's gonna fly (the girl has wanted to do this all her life) and look on at Erroll, who's got a permanent grin slathered on his face. My kids are very happy.
Now we take turns, first Isreal, then Canada, then Missouri, getting hooked up and pushed down. "Ready? SIT! Have fun!!!". Di says "OH MY" to every person's take off. I go before her.
"OH MY" is right. The rush is definitely a reminder of skydiving. Only this time instead of finding one's self suddenly in a quiet atmosphere, there's a zzzzzzzz above; the lines buzzing as the gear does it's thing to hold you. I try not to put too much thought into that, choosing instead to relish every moment. The fact that you can look down and see nothing but your feet and LOTS of air between you and all of Creation is the same as skydiving. There's a lovely sense of exhilaration and freedom.
At the other end, I miss seeing Linds's reaction, she's gotten ahead of Erroll somehow. He doesn't seem to mind. I did, thoough, see Rainne and Di's faces and know that they were enjoying it. In fact the turn-around was instant for Di. Her woohooing can be heard for a long time, down that line. Diane OWNS that line. There are 11 lines to go and the adrenaline is pumping through our veins.
The team is wonderful. At every line they joke and have something to say. Their broken English makes them funnier. There's not much time between lines to talk but we do, marveling at the beauty of this land. It's very mountainous, with a river running below us as we zig zag down, across the valley. I look watch the boys checking our gear each time, noting that they have been trained well to be respectful in their touch, but efficient at counting each carribeaner (sp) and buckle, counting . The lines are solid, secure, the harnesses newer looking, the posts holding the long, heavy lines are about 4' thick with rebar sticking out above. I feel safe.
About mid way, the boys started to ask if each one of us would like to tandem. sort of. There's a distance between us as they hook the second security line to their harness and the first line to the gear on the lines . They tell us to "sit, you don't break, you don't hold on (to our handles), I break, you...(letting go and flinging their arms back, and even throwing their feet up to rest on the handles). It's too late to argue "Ready? Sit! We go!". What a rush. Flying with an experienced zip liner, who's giving permission to let go and fall backward to look at the giant tree tops rushing below is the ultimate. They obviously feed off the adrenaline as we did in skydiving when fresh blood jumped for the first time. "You like? Is fun?" Oh yeah.
!/2 way thru we take a walk down the path and across a river where rocks are placed for a make-shift bridge. Erroll Is the only one of our group to jump in for a refreshing dip. The rest of us get our feet wet to cool off. The hike back up proves the tour guides are actually monkeys. They tickle the backs of everyone's legs with pieces of grass, and shout "look out for the snakes!" At one point we stop to look at the moss in the tree (I thought at the time that it was a bit much asking the whole group to stop. They must be up to something....) boo! Out from the bush runs a gorilla masked guide. Rainne gets a fern stamped on her arm. When it was removed, there, left on her arm, was a powdery residue "tatoo" of a fern.
Back to the office we wait for the dvd of our trip to be burned. There are guides pouring water, and in trees picking mandarin oranges.
All in all, well worth the $65. We're all exhausted and fall into bed asap.
Daniel, our taxi, picks us up at the office and takes us up to Miss Sky, the canopy tour office. We now have enough Spanish to have a couple little conversations. He looked impressed. On the way up we note the way to go (not many choices, but as there are no street signs, no addresses and precious few signs to direct us in Nosara, it's important to log these details whenever possible). Bob Marley lulls us into a good morning stupor.
Di had started making little noises at the house. "What have I gotten myself into?"
Miss Sky is housed in a small, long building with a covered porch. The gear is hanging at one end, and we pay at the other. Typical Costa Rica; I'm slightly shocked that all of us have to pay $10 USD to ride up the mountain, but the gal taking our $ says "$5 for ride". I thank her and give a genuinely pleased smile.
Our bunch is quiet , except me, who's reminded of days long past when my then soon-to-be husband and I geared up together to skydive. I miss him. We step into the offered harnesses and are introduced to our respective team member. All are in their early 20s (not surprising that this type of work would attract the young, thrill seeking) and all are Tico except one who speaks with an interesting accent, he's from Isreal.
There are two other groups, one couple our age from Isreal and a couple of girls from Missouri. There's little chatting, and a lot of wide eyes. I'm too tired to talk (yeah yeah, go ahead, I'm used to the digs), Di's fears look like they are bubbling to the surface.
We jump aboard the back of a 5 ton, rigged with sides on it's flat bed. There's standing room only folks. We're offered coolers to sit on (in that chivalrous way that is mostly forgotten in N. America). We all decline, choosing to stand at the sides, gripping the rails. It's bumpy. Perhaps that's redundant to say, but really, it's a huge thing here. Even the locals complain; "only in Nosara". For the umpteenth time, I wonder if it's because of this that Nosara has been successful in keeping out the all-inclusives. Not at all a bad thing, in my mind. The ride up (and down and up and down...) gives Diane too much time to let the fears in. We spend time doing some grounding. I try to send her some of my extra energy and tell her about letting the bad stuff go. She still smiling, that's a good sign.
At the top, we jump out of the truck and take a look at our fait. The wires look very long and there's not much canopy, it's all down, down, down below the line. I thought we'd be in, amounst the tree tops, this is a thrill ride after all. They go thru a quick safety routine, showing us how to sit in the harness, where to hold on, how to break by putting our dominant hand behind the zip-line rig we're hanging from, joking here and there. The jokes are addressing the elephant in the room. "....I don't know, most of you will make it, but some might not....if you see me patting the top of my head, use your breaks, no I'm not waving at you so we can have a coffee later, I want you to break..." . Laughter is a good remedy for nerves. Rainne mentions she's not planning on using her helmet, ha. I ask Linds if she's gonna fly (the girl has wanted to do this all her life) and look on at Erroll, who's got a permanent grin slathered on his face. My kids are very happy.
Now we take turns, first Isreal, then Canada, then Missouri, getting hooked up and pushed down. "Ready? SIT! Have fun!!!". Di says "OH MY" to every person's take off. I go before her.
"OH MY" is right. The rush is definitely a reminder of skydiving. Only this time instead of finding one's self suddenly in a quiet atmosphere, there's a zzzzzzzz above; the lines buzzing as the gear does it's thing to hold you. I try not to put too much thought into that, choosing instead to relish every moment. The fact that you can look down and see nothing but your feet and LOTS of air between you and all of Creation is the same as skydiving. There's a lovely sense of exhilaration and freedom.
At the other end, I miss seeing Linds's reaction, she's gotten ahead of Erroll somehow. He doesn't seem to mind. I did, thoough, see Rainne and Di's faces and know that they were enjoying it. In fact the turn-around was instant for Di. Her woohooing can be heard for a long time, down that line. Diane OWNS that line. There are 11 lines to go and the adrenaline is pumping through our veins.
The team is wonderful. At every line they joke and have something to say. Their broken English makes them funnier. There's not much time between lines to talk but we do, marveling at the beauty of this land. It's very mountainous, with a river running below us as we zig zag down, across the valley. I look watch the boys checking our gear each time, noting that they have been trained well to be respectful in their touch, but efficient at counting each carribeaner (sp) and buckle, counting . The lines are solid, secure, the harnesses newer looking, the posts holding the long, heavy lines are about 4' thick with rebar sticking out above. I feel safe.
About mid way, the boys started to ask if each one of us would like to tandem. sort of. There's a distance between us as they hook the second security line to their harness and the first line to the gear on the lines . They tell us to "sit, you don't break, you don't hold on (to our handles), I break, you...(letting go and flinging their arms back, and even throwing their feet up to rest on the handles). It's too late to argue "Ready? Sit! We go!". What a rush. Flying with an experienced zip liner, who's giving permission to let go and fall backward to look at the giant tree tops rushing below is the ultimate. They obviously feed off the adrenaline as we did in skydiving when fresh blood jumped for the first time. "You like? Is fun?" Oh yeah.
!/2 way thru we take a walk down the path and across a river where rocks are placed for a make-shift bridge. Erroll Is the only one of our group to jump in for a refreshing dip. The rest of us get our feet wet to cool off. The hike back up proves the tour guides are actually monkeys. They tickle the backs of everyone's legs with pieces of grass, and shout "look out for the snakes!" At one point we stop to look at the moss in the tree (I thought at the time that it was a bit much asking the whole group to stop. They must be up to something....) boo! Out from the bush runs a gorilla masked guide. Rainne gets a fern stamped on her arm. When it was removed, there, left on her arm, was a powdery residue "tatoo" of a fern.
Back to the office we wait for the dvd of our trip to be burned. There are guides pouring water, and in trees picking mandarin oranges.
All in all, well worth the $65. We're all exhausted and fall into bed asap.
Parent garden meeting
The parent meeting went well. The four of us met at Cafe de Paris and enjoyed doing the True Colours work shop and hashing out a few of the details needed to accomplish a community garden. If you're interested, you can look up ACGA's site and find "how to start a Community Garden".
True Colours is a course using simple techniques to help individuals recognize their personality style. It's based on very old psychology. I like it because it allows people to 1, see who they are and appreciate it, 2, see who others are and appreciate them and 3, learn to work together using everyone's strengths. My purpose for using it in for the community garden is to help those involved work as a community.
We looked thru the basic points of starting a community garden and agreed on a few things. One is that this is their garden, but they will allow it to be used as an example to the rest of the community. Another is that the first 2 goals are soil building and putting up a greenhouse structure. There may not be a huge amount of planting this year, perhaps watermelon. Watermelon, they've found grows from the seeds the kids spit out on the school grounds.
This was a wonderful discovery for me when I looked into buying in Costa Rica, but when I was still in Canada. I was having difficulties finding any seed companies whatsoever, despite my learning the spanish words for seeds, planting, and vegetables. The fact that Jessie said the watermelons grew from seed from their fruit and that seed is not readily available in a packet made me realize that this country has not yet been spoiled in the way of the seed.
Another focus kept coming up again and again in this meeting; learning possibilities. The potential for the kids to learn is, of course, the school's #1 priority, so it stands to reason that we keep going back to that. Seed collection is a dying art. Large seed companies make it their business to buy up small seed companies who've provided seed to specific locations for years. These seeds have been taken from plants and fruits that are hardy to that location. Each successive plant builds immunity to the pest and conditions of the area and the seed collectors then choose the best of the best. When the large seed companies take the smaller over, they then market seed that is conducive to a broader market, making the seed less viable in the various micro-climates. Because of the accessibility of the seed packets, and the buying power of the larger companies, other small seed companies are squeezed out of the market.
To make matters worse, our culture has rapidly moved away from growing our own food, so the knowledge of collecting, saving and trading seed has all but gone by the way-side. Del Mar Academy has the opportunity to be a pioneers in their part of Costa Rica; to teach their kids how to carry on the genes of the plants they grow.
We also discussed how we might gather enough green and brown material to compost enough for this project. The ground, as I saw it, is quite hard-packed which makes me believe that it's got quite a bit of clay. We'll be meeting at the school again this week to assess the site, the land and all it's pros and cons. Rainne brought a soil test so we can do a preliminary test. Where the simple, store bought tests test for ph, a full test, sent to the university will tell of more details, such as mineral content.
Another soil building idea was Kim's. She was informally voted in as the garden coordinator, and so it should be. She's a fireball. The ideas she's had and people she's contacted already amaze me. A compost barrel, turned on it's side with a turning handle, the whole thing suspended so that one can turn it daily to mix, is her goal. Even better, it's welded into a crocodile shape. The vegetables go into the hinged mouth, and the compost comes out the belly (I thought the trap door should be closer to the tail). Perfect for kids. Who wouldn't want to do that chore?
The last bit on the agenda was to name the garden. We haven't come up with anything definitive yet, but there were some good ideas. I'll keep you posted on that.
True Colours is a course using simple techniques to help individuals recognize their personality style. It's based on very old psychology. I like it because it allows people to 1, see who they are and appreciate it, 2, see who others are and appreciate them and 3, learn to work together using everyone's strengths. My purpose for using it in for the community garden is to help those involved work as a community.
We looked thru the basic points of starting a community garden and agreed on a few things. One is that this is their garden, but they will allow it to be used as an example to the rest of the community. Another is that the first 2 goals are soil building and putting up a greenhouse structure. There may not be a huge amount of planting this year, perhaps watermelon. Watermelon, they've found grows from the seeds the kids spit out on the school grounds.
This was a wonderful discovery for me when I looked into buying in Costa Rica, but when I was still in Canada. I was having difficulties finding any seed companies whatsoever, despite my learning the spanish words for seeds, planting, and vegetables. The fact that Jessie said the watermelons grew from seed from their fruit and that seed is not readily available in a packet made me realize that this country has not yet been spoiled in the way of the seed.
Another focus kept coming up again and again in this meeting; learning possibilities. The potential for the kids to learn is, of course, the school's #1 priority, so it stands to reason that we keep going back to that. Seed collection is a dying art. Large seed companies make it their business to buy up small seed companies who've provided seed to specific locations for years. These seeds have been taken from plants and fruits that are hardy to that location. Each successive plant builds immunity to the pest and conditions of the area and the seed collectors then choose the best of the best. When the large seed companies take the smaller over, they then market seed that is conducive to a broader market, making the seed less viable in the various micro-climates. Because of the accessibility of the seed packets, and the buying power of the larger companies, other small seed companies are squeezed out of the market.
To make matters worse, our culture has rapidly moved away from growing our own food, so the knowledge of collecting, saving and trading seed has all but gone by the way-side. Del Mar Academy has the opportunity to be a pioneers in their part of Costa Rica; to teach their kids how to carry on the genes of the plants they grow.
We also discussed how we might gather enough green and brown material to compost enough for this project. The ground, as I saw it, is quite hard-packed which makes me believe that it's got quite a bit of clay. We'll be meeting at the school again this week to assess the site, the land and all it's pros and cons. Rainne brought a soil test so we can do a preliminary test. Where the simple, store bought tests test for ph, a full test, sent to the university will tell of more details, such as mineral content.
Another soil building idea was Kim's. She was informally voted in as the garden coordinator, and so it should be. She's a fireball. The ideas she's had and people she's contacted already amaze me. A compost barrel, turned on it's side with a turning handle, the whole thing suspended so that one can turn it daily to mix, is her goal. Even better, it's welded into a crocodile shape. The vegetables go into the hinged mouth, and the compost comes out the belly (I thought the trap door should be closer to the tail). Perfect for kids. Who wouldn't want to do that chore?
The last bit on the agenda was to name the garden. We haven't come up with anything definitive yet, but there were some good ideas. I'll keep you posted on that.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Playing tourist
We had a day off yesterday. There was no response to my email to Mariano. Rainne, Di, the kids and I went up to the stores. For this little area, the strip mall's 3 little arts and gift shops are pretty good. I think the girls enjoyed seeing all the hand made goods. The woods are beautiful, and the art work splendidly primitive.
We checked out Robin's ice cream for a sorbet. The fruits Robin uses are all local and fresh. One is called either Andean Blackberry or Mora. Others include guabanana (we remember how to say that one based on Animal's "manamana!" ), pina (pineapple), pineapple and ginger, papaya. yum. A little cup of sorbet is well worth it at 1500 colones, which amounts to about $3 USD. I hope to introduce Robin to the girls today.
I think it might've been my decision to go to the store up past the Yoga Institute instead of the Super Mini. Somebody shoot me. The walk was most likely about the same distance as to Super Mini, but mostly up hill (seemed that way on the way back...but the lay of the land is just like that) and HOT. All of us (Erroll stayed at home to do homework) felt the heat. Whatever this little market is called, it's nicer than Super Mini, but not worth the walk, I don't think. The Super Mini's path at least is shady most of the way. We all were pretty tuckered out from carrying the week's groceries, and definitely overheated so the pool sounded like the solution.
It's a little peanut shaped pool. My arms (not so long) do the front crawl in about 4 strokes. But ooo baby, it's deliciously cool!
Di whipped up an awesome stir fry and rice. I don't know about anyone else, but I sure appreciated the home cooked meal (specially because I didn't cook it). The kids did dishes. They've been great about getting right at it after dinner. Having ants for guests (all over a fork or plate) has been a little inspiration for them, I think. We've used our OFF, not on selves, but around baseboards and on clothing selves.
The kiss kiss kiss noise of a gecko is tell-tale of where they are hiding. They're shy little guys here, so it was neat that one came out and stayed on the wall for about 1/2 hour. I think that made Rainne's day.
Hung out after dark at Cafe de Paris pool to email. We had all tried to have a drink, but for some reason, didn't feel like another. The heat, we think. Perhaps tonight.
We hear the monkeys less now. The haunting, dog-like barky howl is further away. We speculate that the fruit trees around the house must not be bearing as much fruit. We'll have to go looking for them in the next couple nights.
Today, we'll book our canopy tour today (Lindsay insists that it can also be called zip line but my mind won't accept the idea of zipping. I want to tour. sounds a little safer) for Di's birthday tomorrow. I also want to go up to see Kim at the real estate office to go over the meeting's agenda for Saturday. I know my stuff, but Kim had offered to go over it with me.
We checked out Robin's ice cream for a sorbet. The fruits Robin uses are all local and fresh. One is called either Andean Blackberry or Mora. Others include guabanana (we remember how to say that one based on Animal's "manamana!" ), pina (pineapple), pineapple and ginger, papaya. yum. A little cup of sorbet is well worth it at 1500 colones, which amounts to about $3 USD. I hope to introduce Robin to the girls today.
I think it might've been my decision to go to the store up past the Yoga Institute instead of the Super Mini. Somebody shoot me. The walk was most likely about the same distance as to Super Mini, but mostly up hill (seemed that way on the way back...but the lay of the land is just like that) and HOT. All of us (Erroll stayed at home to do homework) felt the heat. Whatever this little market is called, it's nicer than Super Mini, but not worth the walk, I don't think. The Super Mini's path at least is shady most of the way. We all were pretty tuckered out from carrying the week's groceries, and definitely overheated so the pool sounded like the solution.
It's a little peanut shaped pool. My arms (not so long) do the front crawl in about 4 strokes. But ooo baby, it's deliciously cool!
Di whipped up an awesome stir fry and rice. I don't know about anyone else, but I sure appreciated the home cooked meal (specially because I didn't cook it). The kids did dishes. They've been great about getting right at it after dinner. Having ants for guests (all over a fork or plate) has been a little inspiration for them, I think. We've used our OFF, not on selves, but around baseboards and on clothing selves.
The kiss kiss kiss noise of a gecko is tell-tale of where they are hiding. They're shy little guys here, so it was neat that one came out and stayed on the wall for about 1/2 hour. I think that made Rainne's day.
Hung out after dark at Cafe de Paris pool to email. We had all tried to have a drink, but for some reason, didn't feel like another. The heat, we think. Perhaps tonight.
We hear the monkeys less now. The haunting, dog-like barky howl is further away. We speculate that the fruit trees around the house must not be bearing as much fruit. We'll have to go looking for them in the next couple nights.
Today, we'll book our canopy tour today (Lindsay insists that it can also be called zip line but my mind won't accept the idea of zipping. I want to tour. sounds a little safer) for Di's birthday tomorrow. I also want to go up to see Kim at the real estate office to go over the meeting's agenda for Saturday. I know my stuff, but Kim had offered to go over it with me.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Del Mar Academy Environmental Committee meeting
Del Mar Academy Environmental Committee meeting
On Tuesday afternoon, after much fussing about whether there'd actually be a meeting, and my trying to find a ride, Kim from Jessie's husband's real estate office picked me up at the house. She drives a golf cart, a standard around here. A happy Texan born gal, with 3 boys and a girl (same same) was very kind to give me a ride. I was not looking forward to the idea of riding up on my own.
The Environmental meeting was under way when we arrived. The subject at hand was to have the elementary students prepare a response video to a You tube film: pickup3.org Here too, the children are at Del Mar, have kids who surf, and are environmental. The difference, I think they said, is that the kids in the film are Californian.
My turn. sigh. I found myself with less time that I thought I'd have and so tried to sum the past gardening life-time and the last year's planning into about 5 minutes. I left feeling let down a little, even tho a couple of the 5 people there were still enthusiastic about it. There was some doubt that a community garden was a good idea, and that it may let the children down. I agreed that gardening is difficult in this climate but there's hope as I've been to successful organic gardens. And expressed my concern of a year's planning going to waste.
The group were then asked to attend the parent's meeting, and I was asked if I wanted to use the kids' computer to go online. I was deflated. For 5 minutes. Kim came bounding in and told me the parents had just voted "yes" to the garden and would I come to arrange for a meeting of interested parties!
We meet Saturday at the Cafe de Paris playground so that parents can take their kids. From a little doom and gloom to Kapow! We're on. :)
I don't know how many parents might be interested, but this little group is gung ho about fund raising and planning. Now for planning a full-on meeting. Shouldn't be difficult, as that's what I thought I was walking into with this meeting. Doesn't hurt that it's outside, either.
~
I just wanted to mention that the rest of the parents' meeting was about Del Mar's extending the offer of scholarships to the local community. Those that might not be able to afford to pay the school's monthly fee, can apply for this scholarship. I was pleased to hear about this outreach program. Their plans are to immediately find space in the downtown area, where there is need, to house a thrift shop. One of the parents will run the thrift shop and plans to donate 50% of the proceeds to the community and 50% to a scholarship fund. If there is money left above the scholarship amount used each year, that money will go to paying community members to work in the store. Items donated may include "the gear" ie: stuff that the average gringo might have like crocs and a lunch box. Those will be spirited away to offer to the scholarship recipients.
On Tuesday afternoon, after much fussing about whether there'd actually be a meeting, and my trying to find a ride, Kim from Jessie's husband's real estate office picked me up at the house. She drives a golf cart, a standard around here. A happy Texan born gal, with 3 boys and a girl (same same) was very kind to give me a ride. I was not looking forward to the idea of riding up on my own.
The Environmental meeting was under way when we arrived. The subject at hand was to have the elementary students prepare a response video to a You tube film: pickup3.org Here too, the children are at Del Mar, have kids who surf, and are environmental. The difference, I think they said, is that the kids in the film are Californian.
My turn. sigh. I found myself with less time that I thought I'd have and so tried to sum the past gardening life-time and the last year's planning into about 5 minutes. I left feeling let down a little, even tho a couple of the 5 people there were still enthusiastic about it. There was some doubt that a community garden was a good idea, and that it may let the children down. I agreed that gardening is difficult in this climate but there's hope as I've been to successful organic gardens. And expressed my concern of a year's planning going to waste.
The group were then asked to attend the parent's meeting, and I was asked if I wanted to use the kids' computer to go online. I was deflated. For 5 minutes. Kim came bounding in and told me the parents had just voted "yes" to the garden and would I come to arrange for a meeting of interested parties!
We meet Saturday at the Cafe de Paris playground so that parents can take their kids. From a little doom and gloom to Kapow! We're on. :)
I don't know how many parents might be interested, but this little group is gung ho about fund raising and planning. Now for planning a full-on meeting. Shouldn't be difficult, as that's what I thought I was walking into with this meeting. Doesn't hurt that it's outside, either.
~
I just wanted to mention that the rest of the parents' meeting was about Del Mar's extending the offer of scholarships to the local community. Those that might not be able to afford to pay the school's monthly fee, can apply for this scholarship. I was pleased to hear about this outreach program. Their plans are to immediately find space in the downtown area, where there is need, to house a thrift shop. One of the parents will run the thrift shop and plans to donate 50% of the proceeds to the community and 50% to a scholarship fund. If there is money left above the scholarship amount used each year, that money will go to paying community members to work in the store. Items donated may include "the gear" ie: stuff that the average gringo might have like crocs and a lunch box. Those will be spirited away to offer to the scholarship recipients.
Mariano and the Harmony Hotel
Mariano at the Harmony Hotel
Early morning Tuesday I left the kids to sleep and went up to the office to rent a bike. The soft plan was to ride up to Del Mar Academy later in the day for the Environmental Committee meeting, unless I could find a ride.
I rode the bike up to Harmony Hotel (just up the road), to see if I could meet up with one of the gardeners. I didn't have hopes too high, as I know the language barrier can put a damper on any potential information exchange (case in point; La Giaridina Tropicale, where the chef thought I was asking to see the vegetarian menu). The girls at the desk remembered my name (what sweet customer service), as did the guard sitting at the entrance of the parking lot who helped me lock my bike (more "Margoat").
Mariano, the head of the sustainability department at Harmony Hotel (HH) had only 5 minutes to take me to see the garden. He was very accommodating, and had excellent English. Their mandate, as it turns out, is to teach and learn much about growing practices.
In that 5 minutes I learned that I can come anytime (please call ahead), he would be delighted to act as an interpreter between myself and the gardener, their kitchen garden is extensive, and in progress. I was also told that they are, in the very near future, going to erect the exact type of greenhouse that we'll need to put up for protection against the elements ie: sun, rain and pests. I asked if I could come and be a part of that and was welcomed with enthusiasm!
Also on their agenda, is a world renowned guest speaker; a plant specialist, and yes, she speaks English. I had little time and didn't jot the name down, but will when I go next. The HH is a teaching facility, that welcomes outside participation.
Jackpot! My goal in checking out all these gardens is not only to find information for me to pass on to the people at Del Mar, but to find ways for them to network and engage in their culture's methods. I have approximately 17 yrs of learning about gardening (if a person can put such a fine point on these things) in Canada. And 3 weeks in Costa Rica. There are dozens of micro-climates here. This is an arid one. There are a lot of challenges to meet, but I take heart in the fact that the people attempting to grow here are very willing to share their knowledge. The interested parents at Del Mar will have a place to go to answer their questions when I leave.
Early morning Tuesday I left the kids to sleep and went up to the office to rent a bike. The soft plan was to ride up to Del Mar Academy later in the day for the Environmental Committee meeting, unless I could find a ride.
I rode the bike up to Harmony Hotel (just up the road), to see if I could meet up with one of the gardeners. I didn't have hopes too high, as I know the language barrier can put a damper on any potential information exchange (case in point; La Giaridina Tropicale, where the chef thought I was asking to see the vegetarian menu). The girls at the desk remembered my name (what sweet customer service), as did the guard sitting at the entrance of the parking lot who helped me lock my bike (more "Margoat").
Mariano, the head of the sustainability department at Harmony Hotel (HH) had only 5 minutes to take me to see the garden. He was very accommodating, and had excellent English. Their mandate, as it turns out, is to teach and learn much about growing practices.
In that 5 minutes I learned that I can come anytime (please call ahead), he would be delighted to act as an interpreter between myself and the gardener, their kitchen garden is extensive, and in progress. I was also told that they are, in the very near future, going to erect the exact type of greenhouse that we'll need to put up for protection against the elements ie: sun, rain and pests. I asked if I could come and be a part of that and was welcomed with enthusiasm!
Also on their agenda, is a world renowned guest speaker; a plant specialist, and yes, she speaks English. I had little time and didn't jot the name down, but will when I go next. The HH is a teaching facility, that welcomes outside participation.
Jackpot! My goal in checking out all these gardens is not only to find information for me to pass on to the people at Del Mar, but to find ways for them to network and engage in their culture's methods. I have approximately 17 yrs of learning about gardening (if a person can put such a fine point on these things) in Canada. And 3 weeks in Costa Rica. There are dozens of micro-climates here. This is an arid one. There are a lot of challenges to meet, but I take heart in the fact that the people attempting to grow here are very willing to share their knowledge. The interested parents at Del Mar will have a place to go to answer their questions when I leave.
Rainne and Di are here!
The girls have landed!
Rainne and Di arrived by Taxi today (Daniel, same guy who drove us for 2 hours from Liberia), with great big grins. :D
We went to the beach, they splashed in the waves, ooo-ed at the big driftwood, cool birds, and a gorgeous sunset. They wish me to tell the girls at home that they are very much enjoying the scenery on the beach.
After a good session of giggles, talking, and bug smashing (Di's particularly good at that, especially the cockroach that flew out at her when she made her bed), wwent to bed.
Their huge plans for the day on Wednesday are to head to the beach and KICK BACK.
....
4:15
Di and I should've gotten up and hung out. Neither of us slept well. I think her bed is not very comfortable. We'll remedy that for tonight. The howler monkeys and all the other noises made her feel like she's in a zoo. It's kinda freaky.
Our plans changed a bit. We had a slow morning, I, getting some blogging done on the balcony, and the rest slept in. We headed out to the shops and checked out all the cool Tico stuff. Lots of carved wood and locally made jewelry.
Decided to head up to a different grocery store than we'd gone to before. It's got a lot more there than the mini super, but the walk is very hot. Erroll hung back and did homework, so all the girls hauled our heavy load back. We'll eat well for a few days, light fair, but nutritious. Our recent food intake has been very light. It's easy to not eat as much with the heat.
I just left the rest of them at the little pool, and came to check my emails. Nothing from Mariano. Another day gone. More waiting.
Rainne and Di arrived by Taxi today (Daniel, same guy who drove us for 2 hours from Liberia), with great big grins. :D
We went to the beach, they splashed in the waves, ooo-ed at the big driftwood, cool birds, and a gorgeous sunset. They wish me to tell the girls at home that they are very much enjoying the scenery on the beach.
After a good session of giggles, talking, and bug smashing (Di's particularly good at that, especially the cockroach that flew out at her when she made her bed), wwent to bed.
Their huge plans for the day on Wednesday are to head to the beach and KICK BACK.
....
4:15
Di and I should've gotten up and hung out. Neither of us slept well. I think her bed is not very comfortable. We'll remedy that for tonight. The howler monkeys and all the other noises made her feel like she's in a zoo. It's kinda freaky.
Our plans changed a bit. We had a slow morning, I, getting some blogging done on the balcony, and the rest slept in. We headed out to the shops and checked out all the cool Tico stuff. Lots of carved wood and locally made jewelry.
Decided to head up to a different grocery store than we'd gone to before. It's got a lot more there than the mini super, but the walk is very hot. Erroll hung back and did homework, so all the girls hauled our heavy load back. We'll eat well for a few days, light fair, but nutritious. Our recent food intake has been very light. It's easy to not eat as much with the heat.
I just left the rest of them at the little pool, and came to check my emails. Nothing from Mariano. Another day gone. More waiting.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
bus/library/restaurant
I've decided that I couldn't get used to the hair raising, bone jarring ride on the bus. It's an interesting adventure, for sure. I gathered up my kin and waited for the bus this morning. As instructed by Sheri, when we went to her place, we got there 20 min early (because, surely, if you didn't it would come early). And waited 30 min past it's scheduled time. Down the hill it comes, a yellow school bus painted green. We panic a bit, having been told you must give the hand signal, palm down, waving up and down to tell the driver to stop. I've seen how he stops for the locals and can't wonder if we do it even a little the wrong way, we'll miss the only bus that will take us down town.
Rumble, rumble SKREETCH. I tell the rather surly driver that we'd like to go to the biblioteca- the library. He acts as if he doesn't understand, alternately shaking and nodding his head. The kids look at me like they expect me to know what's happening. I settle in for one of those Zen experiences. At least I know what the end of the line looks like, as that's where Sheri's stop is.
None of us remembers being on as long as we are this time. The end of the line shows up and I have a sinking feeling that he's gone past our stop. sigh. Up to try to communicate again. I think I understand that he's looping around. Raineer told us that sometimes he goes one way, looping around to where we'll want to go, and sometimes he'll go directly there. I guess, for whatever reason today it's the looping way.
One fellow tells us that we should get off in 100 metres. The driver is telling us to get off a el centro. I want to listen to the passenger, he seems to have my better interests. Oh well, the respectful child in me says I'd better listen to the authority. We walk the 100 metres, watching the bus stop ahead of us where we could have gotten off.
It's hot. We're in downtown, by some shops and are directed to the library. There, we met Consuelo, the librarian. she and I have a very halting conversation. I think both of us understand each other well, but are in the same boat language-wise. The library is a beautifully set up little building. With computers in one corner, metal shelves taking up about 1/2 of the 20' x 20' room. there are 3 other rooms, one for English books and one for little children and one that looks like a little conference room.
Consuelo gets Beverly Kitson, the Ex pat American founder of the library, on the phone. We talk about setting up a teaching day, and the possibility of us coming up to Downtown (I know, it should be called uptown. It is situated north east, and is altitude-wise, most definitely higher) to "happy gringo night". This is when they invite Gringos to come and converse with the Ticos to acquaint themselves with different accents. It sounds nice, but is much after dark and again, our transportation methods would not be conducive to travel at that time of day.
Beverly suggests we move. hmm. Well, if I had had any communication back from all the people I emailed asking questions about proximity, I might've been able to better make the decisions about where to plant ourselves. I became very frustrated at the lack of help that way, and am a little less than happy taking advice now.
Moving on. The English lessons are set in stone. The people they have from a US college have a fairly regimented curriculum, and they are not welcoming any help. Sorry, Uncle. We'll find somewhere else to use your talents.
The crafts portion of our trip is, I think, set up for next Monday.
~
We took a look a few metres down the road at the house of a fellow I'd met. He and Robin were negotiating his putting together a new sign for the ice cream store. She'd let me look over their discussions, and I was able to understand most of it. He introduced himself as (another) Manuel. He is a carver, an artist, who's shop is right beside the library. Unfortunately, he was not home. We'll have to see if he's there next Monday.
We had time to kill before the last bus. I wanted to stay on the same road so as not to miss it, it'd be a long walk back to the house. The kids were hot. I offered to feed them. That made a little difference in their enthusiasm. We stopped at the first restaurant we saw, Rey Pollo.
To be honest, I was unsure as to whether it was a restaurant, or someone's home. The driveway, sans parking lot, is steep, and lead right onto the standard tree pole and metal roof awninged patio. There are 3 tables, one of which hadn't been cleared, but each with a nice navy blue table cloth. A turkey gwabbles at you in greeting 5 feet away. Past the counter top, there's a 1960s green frigde. Grandmother sits in her apron, rocking a crying baby. A 22 yr old tells me this is indeed a restaurant.
There's no menu. We're told there's chicken, rice, beans and salad. Yes. Thank you, we say. I watch the twenty something girl tell her grandmother something and I'm sure she uses the universal language of "lots of money". I wonder if they'll take advantage of us. I'd pay it either way, but am curious.
The chicken comes out with salad. No rice, no beans. No worries, we're too hot anyway. It was good. We speak a little with the waiter, who tries to give a kitten to Lindsay. I laugh. This is the same trick farmers use. Mark the young kitten-loving girl and sell her on taking the unwanted mouth. This fellow smiled in understanding. He has a little English, having gone to Universidad 2 years to become a doctor. He wants to come back and practice in Nosara (but maybe has to go to San Jose)
Rumble, rumble SKREETCH. I tell the rather surly driver that we'd like to go to the biblioteca- the library. He acts as if he doesn't understand, alternately shaking and nodding his head. The kids look at me like they expect me to know what's happening. I settle in for one of those Zen experiences. At least I know what the end of the line looks like, as that's where Sheri's stop is.
None of us remembers being on as long as we are this time. The end of the line shows up and I have a sinking feeling that he's gone past our stop. sigh. Up to try to communicate again. I think I understand that he's looping around. Raineer told us that sometimes he goes one way, looping around to where we'll want to go, and sometimes he'll go directly there. I guess, for whatever reason today it's the looping way.
One fellow tells us that we should get off in 100 metres. The driver is telling us to get off a el centro. I want to listen to the passenger, he seems to have my better interests. Oh well, the respectful child in me says I'd better listen to the authority. We walk the 100 metres, watching the bus stop ahead of us where we could have gotten off.
It's hot. We're in downtown, by some shops and are directed to the library. There, we met Consuelo, the librarian. she and I have a very halting conversation. I think both of us understand each other well, but are in the same boat language-wise. The library is a beautifully set up little building. With computers in one corner, metal shelves taking up about 1/2 of the 20' x 20' room. there are 3 other rooms, one for English books and one for little children and one that looks like a little conference room.
Consuelo gets Beverly Kitson, the Ex pat American founder of the library, on the phone. We talk about setting up a teaching day, and the possibility of us coming up to Downtown (I know, it should be called uptown. It is situated north east, and is altitude-wise, most definitely higher) to "happy gringo night". This is when they invite Gringos to come and converse with the Ticos to acquaint themselves with different accents. It sounds nice, but is much after dark and again, our transportation methods would not be conducive to travel at that time of day.
Beverly suggests we move. hmm. Well, if I had had any communication back from all the people I emailed asking questions about proximity, I might've been able to better make the decisions about where to plant ourselves. I became very frustrated at the lack of help that way, and am a little less than happy taking advice now.
Moving on. The English lessons are set in stone. The people they have from a US college have a fairly regimented curriculum, and they are not welcoming any help. Sorry, Uncle. We'll find somewhere else to use your talents.
The crafts portion of our trip is, I think, set up for next Monday.
~
We took a look a few metres down the road at the house of a fellow I'd met. He and Robin were negotiating his putting together a new sign for the ice cream store. She'd let me look over their discussions, and I was able to understand most of it. He introduced himself as (another) Manuel. He is a carver, an artist, who's shop is right beside the library. Unfortunately, he was not home. We'll have to see if he's there next Monday.
We had time to kill before the last bus. I wanted to stay on the same road so as not to miss it, it'd be a long walk back to the house. The kids were hot. I offered to feed them. That made a little difference in their enthusiasm. We stopped at the first restaurant we saw, Rey Pollo.
To be honest, I was unsure as to whether it was a restaurant, or someone's home. The driveway, sans parking lot, is steep, and lead right onto the standard tree pole and metal roof awninged patio. There are 3 tables, one of which hadn't been cleared, but each with a nice navy blue table cloth. A turkey gwabbles at you in greeting 5 feet away. Past the counter top, there's a 1960s green frigde. Grandmother sits in her apron, rocking a crying baby. A 22 yr old tells me this is indeed a restaurant.
There's no menu. We're told there's chicken, rice, beans and salad. Yes. Thank you, we say. I watch the twenty something girl tell her grandmother something and I'm sure she uses the universal language of "lots of money". I wonder if they'll take advantage of us. I'd pay it either way, but am curious.
The chicken comes out with salad. No rice, no beans. No worries, we're too hot anyway. It was good. We speak a little with the waiter, who tries to give a kitten to Lindsay. I laugh. This is the same trick farmers use. Mark the young kitten-loving girl and sell her on taking the unwanted mouth. This fellow smiled in understanding. He has a little English, having gone to Universidad 2 years to become a doctor. He wants to come back and practice in Nosara (but maybe has to go to San Jose)
Monday, January 12, 2009
On dogs
I can't say that this is an important part of our stay here, but seeing as they are part of the culture, I want to make a note about the dogs. When our health nurse told us "Even if you really, really want to, and they are looking so cute, don't pat the dogs in Costa Rica. They have no protection from rabies" I immediately looked at Erroll. He's our dog guy. If it weren't for the dogs at every CSA and garden we've ever visited, and a lot of the homes of friends, Erroll would have been bored to tears. Put a mutt, a purebred, floppy eared, cropped tail, small, large, dirty, lazy, rambunctious ....(you get where I'm headed here)...any old hound in Erroll's space and his whole existence is good.
I raised an eye brow. He grinned. I knew I couldn't keep him away from them all, he's just about 17, very strong willed, and I want him to make his own decisions. I asked the health nurse to explain further about rabies and watched him to make sure he was listening.
Since then, the health nurse's word on a few things have been discredited. They use UHT, an "ultra high treatment" for pasteurizing milk products here, so we can eat those. We've bought organic vegetables that we haven't washed or peeled, and even, in a pinch drank the water out of the tap w/o boiling it. John and Rick from Virginia have said that they don't trust the water here, they've had problems. I will continue to boil ours. But I have already broken the rule about dogs.
Mango was our first indication that all dogs' treatment is not the same. Robin chooses to keep him tied for part of the day, then, I think falls prey to his imploring eyes to let him romp and roam down to the beach. The beach is where a lot of dogs seem to be at their best. While waiting for the kids to get out of the waves, I've watched the large assortment of dogs, mostly short hairs, cavorting in and out of the water. Most seem to come with owners, altho there seems to be a few like Mango, who know where to get cool and play with their buddies.
An expat from the US told me that he doesn't trust them. A lot of them are smelly and obviously wanderers. He's gotten bit twice trying to be friendly. Just this morning I sat at Robin's and watched while an obvious four leggedfriend of Mango's tried to entice him to unhook himself from his leash and come play. The mid-sized short haired wiry mongrel jumped sideways and crouched, bum in the air, yipp yipping, and wagging. I thought it was safe when he came boldly to stand beside my chair, so I put my hand down, without looking. I felt, rather than heard the rumble of his growl. Oops, Okay. I get it.
Often, unlike at home, you see a dog trotting down the street. I have to wonder if it's a stray, or if it's standard to let them roam. A few times while on our bikes I've thought "now, what would I do if that dog charged me or the kids?" The answer is I don't know.
I remember when we were younger, and at the lake my sister being fairly small had a run-in with a dog while she rode her bike. I had come home from a friend's and she was asleep on her bed. Mom told me to be quiet, the poor thing had been chased by a dog and wiped out pretty good. She had some really harsh road rash all over her face and hands. The bike she rode was the smallest 2 wheeler I had ever seen then and can't say I've seen one like it since. It was a good learning bike. It was red and belonged to first my older sister, then me, then the youngest. She was allowed, perhaps for the first time to go down the road by herself. She told me upon awakening, that the dog came running out, barking at her wheels. She swerved and tried to go faster, but fell and was badly shaken up. The dog, with nothing to chase anymore, walked up to her with a wagging tail and licked her.
To me, this was a huge lesson. I learned that my sister loved biking so much and that sheis a very strong individual. I was astounded that she wanted to get on that bike and go again. I also learned that you can't read a dog like you do people. We've had so many encounters with dogs. I've told my kids over and over not to put their faces up to theirs because they see that as aggressive language, and bad manners. There have been quite a few nips as they ignore my warnings and want to love those dogs up close.
My friend Rainne will enjoy seeing these dogs in their element. There's something about letting them go free that seems so right. I know I enjoy watching them, but it's still something about which I have parental concern.
I raised an eye brow. He grinned. I knew I couldn't keep him away from them all, he's just about 17, very strong willed, and I want him to make his own decisions. I asked the health nurse to explain further about rabies and watched him to make sure he was listening.
Since then, the health nurse's word on a few things have been discredited. They use UHT, an "ultra high treatment" for pasteurizing milk products here, so we can eat those. We've bought organic vegetables that we haven't washed or peeled, and even, in a pinch drank the water out of the tap w/o boiling it. John and Rick from Virginia have said that they don't trust the water here, they've had problems. I will continue to boil ours. But I have already broken the rule about dogs.
Mango was our first indication that all dogs' treatment is not the same. Robin chooses to keep him tied for part of the day, then, I think falls prey to his imploring eyes to let him romp and roam down to the beach. The beach is where a lot of dogs seem to be at their best. While waiting for the kids to get out of the waves, I've watched the large assortment of dogs, mostly short hairs, cavorting in and out of the water. Most seem to come with owners, altho there seems to be a few like Mango, who know where to get cool and play with their buddies.
An expat from the US told me that he doesn't trust them. A lot of them are smelly and obviously wanderers. He's gotten bit twice trying to be friendly. Just this morning I sat at Robin's and watched while an obvious four leggedfriend of Mango's tried to entice him to unhook himself from his leash and come play. The mid-sized short haired wiry mongrel jumped sideways and crouched, bum in the air, yipp yipping, and wagging. I thought it was safe when he came boldly to stand beside my chair, so I put my hand down, without looking. I felt, rather than heard the rumble of his growl. Oops, Okay. I get it.
Often, unlike at home, you see a dog trotting down the street. I have to wonder if it's a stray, or if it's standard to let them roam. A few times while on our bikes I've thought "now, what would I do if that dog charged me or the kids?" The answer is I don't know.
I remember when we were younger, and at the lake my sister being fairly small had a run-in with a dog while she rode her bike. I had come home from a friend's and she was asleep on her bed. Mom told me to be quiet, the poor thing had been chased by a dog and wiped out pretty good. She had some really harsh road rash all over her face and hands. The bike she rode was the smallest 2 wheeler I had ever seen then and can't say I've seen one like it since. It was a good learning bike. It was red and belonged to first my older sister, then me, then the youngest. She was allowed, perhaps for the first time to go down the road by herself. She told me upon awakening, that the dog came running out, barking at her wheels. She swerved and tried to go faster, but fell and was badly shaken up. The dog, with nothing to chase anymore, walked up to her with a wagging tail and licked her.
To me, this was a huge lesson. I learned that my sister loved biking so much and that sheis a very strong individual. I was astounded that she wanted to get on that bike and go again. I also learned that you can't read a dog like you do people. We've had so many encounters with dogs. I've told my kids over and over not to put their faces up to theirs because they see that as aggressive language, and bad manners. There have been quite a few nips as they ignore my warnings and want to love those dogs up close.
My friend Rainne will enjoy seeing these dogs in their element. There's something about letting them go free that seems so right. I know I enjoy watching them, but it's still something about which I have parental concern.
John and Rick/organic market
I must retract a statement. The boys making all the noise were not from Virginia. Sorry, Virginia.
The other day, while we hung out mid afternoon in the small pool, sort of central to the 6 houses Craig owns, and calls Nosara Paradise Rentals, I was looking at a seed collecting book. No, you don't collect seeds, like stamps and glue them in. It's an instructional book called Seed to Seed. It was recommended as the best seed collection how-to book I could get. Got it at Earth's General Store in Edmonton. Great store. Hola, Michael.
So, perusing the book, I came across the very interesting method of collecting tomato seeds. Seeds and gel, they say, are squeezed into a labeled deli tub.In one or two days, a layer of fungus will have grown completely across the surface of the mixture. Seeds and fungus are poured into a strainer. The seeds are washed until clean by rubbing the mixture against the strainer under running water.
That is just part of the process. Fascinating, I think, that it's a process mimicking nature's in that a tomato, left on the vine, would rot and fall off. The rotting produces the same fungus that happens during the above described method. It disintegrates the gel sack the seeds are in, leaving them on the ground to eventually, when the conditions are right, grow.
I tell the kids about this, getting them to come to the side of the pool to look at the illustrations (they do, with very curious looks on their faces. Good, I like that). "What's that?" asks the young fella that is staying at the house closest to the pool. His friend joins us. They tell me about their own collection of tomato seeds. I'm impressed. Most 20-somethings don't have a clue about growing things, much less are interested in it. I think there's hope for the future after all.
John, Rick and I chat about growing things, and what we're doing here. The reason for their interest soon becomes apparent. They are chefs. They have recently, within the past year or so, graduated from a New York culinary school.Erroll's eyes light up. These quiet guys are from Virginia.
Later, the two of them come to Robins and we chat some more. they are going to go fishing today, and ask what my kitchen is like. "Sorta old fashioned, but I have all I need to cook well", thinking they were curious about my cooking environment at home. Turns out they want to know because they haven't had a home cooked meal since they left home. Their abode here is a bachelor pad, with limited cooking options. I eagerly offer up our space, offering to share whatever we bring back from the organic market held every Saturday, up at the Giardinia Tropicale; the same place we went the day before to see the chef's garden.
They have a few minutes before meeting the boat, so we all pile in their vehicle to go up the road to the market. Lindsay is in her glory, listening to little boys sell their juice. Much like cool aid salesmen on the side walks at home, these little darlings charm the coins out of the foreigners. There are cool, hand made puppets I didn't get to see, because I knew our time up there was limited. I wanted the vegetables.
There's beautiful jewelry made by foreigner hands. My magpie instincts draw me over, but it's mexican turquois, something I can get elsewhere. I float to where John and Rick are, buying big, bundled leaves, with string wrapped around them. I ask what they are. "plates". hmmm. I watch as they unravel the leaves and take a fork to eat the rice, tucked inside. the leaves are plates after all. I'll try one next time.
I knew that the garden vegetables were easy to miss. Someone had told me to look for a little sign, pointing down the path, thru the trees. Down there, there were 2 farmers set up, with their goods spread out on tables in a small square, doing their business in the centre. On one end, a woman, Mamma maybe, sells her freshly squeezed orange juice, and from a jug, some kind of drink that the farmer motions and says something that must mean "very good for you". I was going to try it, but was distracted by the tables full of cherry tomatoes, basil, spinach, corn, cilantro, buckets of potatoes, huge tubs with big leaves covering the chilled contents: very big celery, lettuce, cucumbers, onions, leeks. Just like home.
I bought $20 worth and struck up a conversation with the farmer that took 6 of us to have. Amongst us, we expressed that I want to go to their farm, that it's a fair distance away, that it's up the mountain, (something I found out earlier is that altitude is a big benefit. The cooler nights allow things we're used to having, like lettuce, a better chance of growing). He, Albin, offers a tour of the garden, and a taste of his fair. I've just read about this custom, common in Italy, in a wonderful book (lent to me by Sheri), called Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. It's not unusual for Italian city dwellers to spend the day, wandering the country roads, sampling (for a fee) the local foods, such is their love of all things edible. I like this idea.
The whole thing has me scratching my head, trying to think of how I'll go the 1 hour trip on windy roads. Maybe a reason to rent a vehicle for a day. The altitude of his farm puts his growing methods out of my reach, but the connection may work out to be of use later. I may have to splurge.
In anticipation of eating a good catch (knowing that they might not catch anything, but hoping anyway), I make a fresh salsa. We have tomatoes, onion, garlic, lime, cilantro, cumin and chili powder. With tortilla chips, we can't wait and dig in. mmmm. Also with tomatoes, there's olive oil, balsamic vinegar and fresh basil (OH! I miss having that! I feel like I've cheated and gone summer). Those simple dishes and some fresh bread from Cafe de paris and an avacado are my contributions.
John and Rick come fully loaded with a huge ziplock full of dark tuna meat, already filleted, some soy sauce, wasabi, a few beers and some pretty mean looking knives. They get to work, being slightly mysterious about what they'll make. They chop, mince, drizzle, and sizzle. The first dish is a tuna tar tar. Heavenly. I was a little alarmed that they'd ask us to eat raw fish, but it was so durned good! The next was thinly sliced, just seared on the outside discs. It tasted like a very good steak. I could've eaten the whole thing. Then, there were french bread rounds, toasted in olive oil, with avacado. The next, and last course was fish tacos, with some of my cherry tomatoes in vinegar, a little lettuce and fried fish. Oh me oh my.
After cleaning up, we had a rather disorganized round of 5 crowns. Much banter, then an alarming counter attack on the ants that decided our food smelled that good. That put a little bit of a damper on things. we sprayed OFF around the baseboards and the boys left for home.
Ants be darned. It was a good evening. Food is good.
The other day, while we hung out mid afternoon in the small pool, sort of central to the 6 houses Craig owns, and calls Nosara Paradise Rentals, I was looking at a seed collecting book. No, you don't collect seeds, like stamps and glue them in. It's an instructional book called Seed to Seed. It was recommended as the best seed collection how-to book I could get. Got it at Earth's General Store in Edmonton. Great store. Hola, Michael.
So, perusing the book, I came across the very interesting method of collecting tomato seeds. Seeds and gel, they say, are squeezed into a labeled deli tub.In one or two days, a layer of fungus will have grown completely across the surface of the mixture. Seeds and fungus are poured into a strainer. The seeds are washed until clean by rubbing the mixture against the strainer under running water.
That is just part of the process. Fascinating, I think, that it's a process mimicking nature's in that a tomato, left on the vine, would rot and fall off. The rotting produces the same fungus that happens during the above described method. It disintegrates the gel sack the seeds are in, leaving them on the ground to eventually, when the conditions are right, grow.
I tell the kids about this, getting them to come to the side of the pool to look at the illustrations (they do, with very curious looks on their faces. Good, I like that). "What's that?" asks the young fella that is staying at the house closest to the pool. His friend joins us. They tell me about their own collection of tomato seeds. I'm impressed. Most 20-somethings don't have a clue about growing things, much less are interested in it. I think there's hope for the future after all.
John, Rick and I chat about growing things, and what we're doing here. The reason for their interest soon becomes apparent. They are chefs. They have recently, within the past year or so, graduated from a New York culinary school.Erroll's eyes light up. These quiet guys are from Virginia.
Later, the two of them come to Robins and we chat some more. they are going to go fishing today, and ask what my kitchen is like. "Sorta old fashioned, but I have all I need to cook well", thinking they were curious about my cooking environment at home. Turns out they want to know because they haven't had a home cooked meal since they left home. Their abode here is a bachelor pad, with limited cooking options. I eagerly offer up our space, offering to share whatever we bring back from the organic market held every Saturday, up at the Giardinia Tropicale; the same place we went the day before to see the chef's garden.
They have a few minutes before meeting the boat, so we all pile in their vehicle to go up the road to the market. Lindsay is in her glory, listening to little boys sell their juice. Much like cool aid salesmen on the side walks at home, these little darlings charm the coins out of the foreigners. There are cool, hand made puppets I didn't get to see, because I knew our time up there was limited. I wanted the vegetables.
There's beautiful jewelry made by foreigner hands. My magpie instincts draw me over, but it's mexican turquois, something I can get elsewhere. I float to where John and Rick are, buying big, bundled leaves, with string wrapped around them. I ask what they are. "plates". hmmm. I watch as they unravel the leaves and take a fork to eat the rice, tucked inside. the leaves are plates after all. I'll try one next time.
I knew that the garden vegetables were easy to miss. Someone had told me to look for a little sign, pointing down the path, thru the trees. Down there, there were 2 farmers set up, with their goods spread out on tables in a small square, doing their business in the centre. On one end, a woman, Mamma maybe, sells her freshly squeezed orange juice, and from a jug, some kind of drink that the farmer motions and says something that must mean "very good for you". I was going to try it, but was distracted by the tables full of cherry tomatoes, basil, spinach, corn, cilantro, buckets of potatoes, huge tubs with big leaves covering the chilled contents: very big celery, lettuce, cucumbers, onions, leeks. Just like home.
I bought $20 worth and struck up a conversation with the farmer that took 6 of us to have. Amongst us, we expressed that I want to go to their farm, that it's a fair distance away, that it's up the mountain, (something I found out earlier is that altitude is a big benefit. The cooler nights allow things we're used to having, like lettuce, a better chance of growing). He, Albin, offers a tour of the garden, and a taste of his fair. I've just read about this custom, common in Italy, in a wonderful book (lent to me by Sheri), called Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. It's not unusual for Italian city dwellers to spend the day, wandering the country roads, sampling (for a fee) the local foods, such is their love of all things edible. I like this idea.
The whole thing has me scratching my head, trying to think of how I'll go the 1 hour trip on windy roads. Maybe a reason to rent a vehicle for a day. The altitude of his farm puts his growing methods out of my reach, but the connection may work out to be of use later. I may have to splurge.
In anticipation of eating a good catch (knowing that they might not catch anything, but hoping anyway), I make a fresh salsa. We have tomatoes, onion, garlic, lime, cilantro, cumin and chili powder. With tortilla chips, we can't wait and dig in. mmmm. Also with tomatoes, there's olive oil, balsamic vinegar and fresh basil (OH! I miss having that! I feel like I've cheated and gone summer). Those simple dishes and some fresh bread from Cafe de paris and an avacado are my contributions.
John and Rick come fully loaded with a huge ziplock full of dark tuna meat, already filleted, some soy sauce, wasabi, a few beers and some pretty mean looking knives. They get to work, being slightly mysterious about what they'll make. They chop, mince, drizzle, and sizzle. The first dish is a tuna tar tar. Heavenly. I was a little alarmed that they'd ask us to eat raw fish, but it was so durned good! The next was thinly sliced, just seared on the outside discs. It tasted like a very good steak. I could've eaten the whole thing. Then, there were french bread rounds, toasted in olive oil, with avacado. The next, and last course was fish tacos, with some of my cherry tomatoes in vinegar, a little lettuce and fried fish. Oh me oh my.
After cleaning up, we had a rather disorganized round of 5 crowns. Much banter, then an alarming counter attack on the ants that decided our food smelled that good. That put a little bit of a damper on things. we sprayed OFF around the baseboards and the boys left for home.
Ants be darned. It was a good evening. Food is good.
funding and donations
My absolute least favourite thing about this whole trip has been the money aspect. I say in the side-bar, "About me", that I want to share so that people who're trying to do some of the same, can glean from my experiences what to and not to do. The avenues that I actively went were a good example of what not to do. Well, for a first time, anyway. There's potential for further exploration down the Rotary Club road, but that doesn't help now.
All negativity aside, there have been some wonderful outcomes. I'm not sure what the polite thing to do is, here, some people may wish to remain anonymous. I will mention that my relationships with the people donated cash, out of pocket are close. A dear friend donated money both in memory of her late Aunt (who loved gardening), and from herself. A generous relative donated enough that we will be able to buy some tools and perhaps some shade cloth and plastic to keep out the sun's intense rays and protect from the hard rains in the winter. A fellow that sat beside me while I presented the concept, and asked for funding from the Lion's club pulled a bunch of 20s out of his pocket on my way out. He said "buy some tools and seeds". A co worker added her contribution just before we Ieft. 2 more wonderful gifts came from another close relatives. One works with computers and was influential enough to have a lap top (the one I'm typing on now) donated (!!!) to the project, and his lovely wife works where there are mosquito nets. 2 were donated.
To all of these people, I am very grateful. There are times when I wonder if chasing this idea is perhaps a bit crazy...Loco. Maybe we shouldn't personify money, but it can speak volumes, especially when given with loving hands. (ok, I didn't know how else to say that).
All negativity aside, there have been some wonderful outcomes. I'm not sure what the polite thing to do is, here, some people may wish to remain anonymous. I will mention that my relationships with the people donated cash, out of pocket are close. A dear friend donated money both in memory of her late Aunt (who loved gardening), and from herself. A generous relative donated enough that we will be able to buy some tools and perhaps some shade cloth and plastic to keep out the sun's intense rays and protect from the hard rains in the winter. A fellow that sat beside me while I presented the concept, and asked for funding from the Lion's club pulled a bunch of 20s out of his pocket on my way out. He said "buy some tools and seeds". A co worker added her contribution just before we Ieft. 2 more wonderful gifts came from another close relatives. One works with computers and was influential enough to have a lap top (the one I'm typing on now) donated (!!!) to the project, and his lovely wife works where there are mosquito nets. 2 were donated.
To all of these people, I am very grateful. There are times when I wonder if chasing this idea is perhaps a bit crazy...Loco. Maybe we shouldn't personify money, but it can speak volumes, especially when given with loving hands. (ok, I didn't know how else to say that).
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Juan Carlos
HOOOOEEE! Sometimes the path I'm on seems crystal clear, and well laid out. Yesterday the path was bumpy, and hot, but seeing as we were on bikes, bringing to the house a lot more food than we could've had we walked the long way to the store, that's ok. I was busy, relating to my sister, who loves the bicycle, riding with the wind in my hair (what little there is left), congratulating myself on such efficiency, when literally, Juan Carlos crossed our path.
Lindsay (yes, I've given up the cub names. if for no other reason that my audience is most likely people who know us), Juan Carlos and I came to a stop, greeted and I asked about the path to left, if it would take us closer to home than the one we were on. I didn't recognize Juan Carlos from our visit to Del Mar, but as we spoke, it became apparent that he recognized us so he stopped to chat.
Turns out, he's the art teacher at Del Mar (oh my). AND, he works at the Harmony Hotel, the hotel at the end of the path of which we spoke. "This is a good hotel" he says, grinning in the same manner that Raineer did when telling me about Cafe de Paris. Wow, these people really believe in job-security thru casual promotion of their place of employment! I teased him a little about this, and he told me that I shouldn't "worry, if a place I work is crap, I tell people don't go there, it's crap". Ha.
I ask if there's a garden. Yes! AND he will act as an interpreter (this is something I found a bit frustrating at La Guardinia Tropicale yesterday...our visit ended up being 5 minutes long. I'll do a little blog on that) between myself and the gardener. I explained that our intention is to establish a garden that would benefit the locals. Face lighting, Juan Carlos tells me about the place he's renting that has a lot of land. It's for sale, but the owner wants 600 000 for it and it's worth 200 000. He thinks it won't sell, and even if it does (uh oh) the new owners would surely love to have the garden on it. I know a lot of generous people, but I've also heard of a lot of Community gardens getting the boot because a new owner wants to build.
Very exciting, this. We're on week, what? 3, and there are locals interested. Well, I found out thru Javier that Juan Carlos is Mexican, but don't know that this makes a lot of difference. He wants do good things. I'm not convinced that the land he's renting is the best idea, both because of the risk of it selling, but also because of the proximity. Certainly, it's located close to where we are now, but not to where the majority of the families live that work down here, close to the beach and tourist place.
Someone I met this morning who's staying at the Harmony, who is from New York, said she thought that Harmony might actually have space to donate. Either way, the interest to get something started here has been established. step one, check.
The other cool thing about Juan Carlos is the art part. He's involved in Nosara Art, an has married the surf culture with local art. The last show he had was for a fellow who's a surf board expert (art, waxing...don't laugh, I don't know what you have to do with a surf board to make them ready to go!). He had 6 boards showing.
Also, Juan Carlos is an art teacher for La Esualita, a program that provides local children, who's parents are working in the tourism industry during this, their summer holiday, to have a day program. The kids are learning photography. I read in the paper that the program was looking for donations to help them buy cameras. 150 kids!
I have a little more talking with Juan Carlos to do!
Lindsay (yes, I've given up the cub names. if for no other reason that my audience is most likely people who know us), Juan Carlos and I came to a stop, greeted and I asked about the path to left, if it would take us closer to home than the one we were on. I didn't recognize Juan Carlos from our visit to Del Mar, but as we spoke, it became apparent that he recognized us so he stopped to chat.
Turns out, he's the art teacher at Del Mar (oh my). AND, he works at the Harmony Hotel, the hotel at the end of the path of which we spoke. "This is a good hotel" he says, grinning in the same manner that Raineer did when telling me about Cafe de Paris. Wow, these people really believe in job-security thru casual promotion of their place of employment! I teased him a little about this, and he told me that I shouldn't "worry, if a place I work is crap, I tell people don't go there, it's crap". Ha.
I ask if there's a garden. Yes! AND he will act as an interpreter (this is something I found a bit frustrating at La Guardinia Tropicale yesterday...our visit ended up being 5 minutes long. I'll do a little blog on that) between myself and the gardener. I explained that our intention is to establish a garden that would benefit the locals. Face lighting, Juan Carlos tells me about the place he's renting that has a lot of land. It's for sale, but the owner wants 600 000 for it and it's worth 200 000. He thinks it won't sell, and even if it does (uh oh) the new owners would surely love to have the garden on it. I know a lot of generous people, but I've also heard of a lot of Community gardens getting the boot because a new owner wants to build.
Very exciting, this. We're on week, what? 3, and there are locals interested. Well, I found out thru Javier that Juan Carlos is Mexican, but don't know that this makes a lot of difference. He wants do good things. I'm not convinced that the land he's renting is the best idea, both because of the risk of it selling, but also because of the proximity. Certainly, it's located close to where we are now, but not to where the majority of the families live that work down here, close to the beach and tourist place.
Someone I met this morning who's staying at the Harmony, who is from New York, said she thought that Harmony might actually have space to donate. Either way, the interest to get something started here has been established. step one, check.
The other cool thing about Juan Carlos is the art part. He's involved in Nosara Art, an has married the surf culture with local art. The last show he had was for a fellow who's a surf board expert (art, waxing...don't laugh, I don't know what you have to do with a surf board to make them ready to go!). He had 6 boards showing.
Also, Juan Carlos is an art teacher for La Esualita, a program that provides local children, who's parents are working in the tourism industry during this, their summer holiday, to have a day program. The kids are learning photography. I read in the paper that the program was looking for donations to help them buy cameras. 150 kids!
I have a little more talking with Juan Carlos to do!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)