Gracias por Dios que es Viernes
Trip Start
Aug 08, 2008
1
15
42
Trip End
Oct 12, 2008
Puerto Viejo,
Province of Limon,
Costa Rica
Friday, September 12, 2008
Yesterday I taught the students in my study group the colloquial expression "blown away," in the sense of "very impressed." Today it came in handy. A few groups of children ranging in age from about eight to twelve performed a series of dances, songs, and theatrical scenes, and I couldn't believe how good they were. There was a younger girl, probably the little sister of one of the performers, who was also dressed in the traditional long skirt and frilly blouse (but not the same style as the dancers) who kept trying to join them "on stage," and finally one of the girls led her by the shoulders into the cluster. Her bedazzled smile was priceless. I was glad I had my sunglasses with me, because I had tears in my eyes
The hostel bar
. On the way back, some of the girls were asking me what we do for our independence day. I felt so lame. No, we don't have people dressing up in traditional attire. (What is traditional attire for us, anyway? Pilgrim hats?) Some people wear the colors of our flag, but that's it. No, we don't have weeklong parties hosted by beauty queens; just half off on mattresses at wholesale furniture stores. We do have fireworks, I told them. And lots of people go to baseball games, or the beach. They politely acted impressed.
I had prepared a list of some typical job interview questions for the students to practice answering. I made sure not to dumb it down, phrasing the questions in the elevated language they might have to face with a potential employer, so we spent some time learning new vocabulary before we got down to discussing how to answer questions about your greatest weakness or why you quit your last job.
Bishnu stumped me with yet another Spanish vocabulary question, but this time it turns out I had a legitimate reason for not knowing the answer. She asked me how to say "hesitate" in Spanish, and as we discovered when I described the concept to the students (and later confirmed with the teacher) there is no Spanish equivalent
Alli likes Imperial
. "Pausa" is "pause," but that's really not the same. I'm tempted to read all sorts of cultural implications into that curious omission, but I'll try to refrain.I also tried my first jocote today. Jocote is a dimpled fruit about the size of a cocktail wiener, with a thin but tough skin that ranges in color from deep green when it's young to red and yellow when it's ripe. The flesh of the green fruit is firm and extremely tart; you're supposed to eat it with salt, while the ripe fruit is sweet and mealy and a bit like mango. It's not my favorite new fruit, but I've had worse.
I had thought about staying home this weekend, because I needed a break. But then some of the girls started planning a trip to Puerto Viejo, with the express purpose of lazing around on the beach, and I decided I could take my break there just as easily. Well, not really, but I could probably sleep in and sit around, and as my time here is finite, it seems silly to "waste" a weekend doing nothing. I'm probably missing a point somewhere in that statement, but I don't care. I want a sunburn and a Pina Colada.
Later that night...
We'd been warned the Caribbean coast was "different." We got our first taste of that on the grueling four-and-a half hour bus ride from San Jose to Puerto Viejo.
After the sun set, I sniffed the air and could have sworn I smelled pot. After a minute or so, I couldn't smell it anymore, so I figured it must have been outside
Lizano sauce...is there anything it can't do?
. But a few minutes later, it was back, and it was definitely inside the bus. Pretty soon the others smelled it, too. I've known some ballsy potheads in my life, but I've never met anyone who whipped out the stash on public transportation. That's definitely...different.Lydia's eagle eyes saved us a walk from the bus stop; she spotted the sign for our hostel as we drove by and pulled the cord. Kaya's Place is cutesy and clean, right on the beach, and very quiet; it's definitely one of the better hostels I've stayed in anywhere. I discovered when I went to wash out my coffee cup the next morning that the kitchen was filthy, and only one of our rooms had a working water heater for the shower, but the place had a decent bar and friendly people.
We ate dinner at a place called Mare Nostrum, just down the street from our hostel. I had the paella, which was decent, but everyone else hated their food. Sarah finally doused hers in Lizano sauce (she had pasta with pesto) and thus managed to choke it down. I'm going to have to pick up a gallon of that stuff before I leave Costa Rica.
