Take it to the bridge

Last weekend, on my weekly hour-long walk to the big bridge, I ran into the one student at the school whom I do not teach. His name is either Jared or Gerald, I'm not sure which, and he's in the special special-education class. He's so special that he can't attend class with the other special-ed students, so he gets what amounts to private tutoring in the afternoons. That's why I don't teach him English, except when he randomly shows up in the third-grade class giving me the sad eyes until I let him in. So far as I can tell, what makes him "special" is that he has a lot of energy and just can't sit still and be quiet long enough to be in a regular class.

Thus, he is a really good walking partner. We walked to the bridge together last weekend, where he threw in a bag of trash he found on the side of the road in hopes of proving to me that there are too crocodiles in the river. I guess he hoped the croc would mistake the pink-and-white striped bag for a something delicious to eat, but it didn't work. The bag just drifted on the down the river, ruining the view.

Jared/Gerald, 11, doesn't bother with shoes, but he can still keep up with my rapid gringo pace, even on the rocky roads that hurt my feet when I'm wearing shoes. He talks on and on, not really caring if I understand or not. That takes the pressure off me as the listener and lets me test my comprehension skills. Sometimes I ask him to explain a word, and he always does so with great patience and skill. I learn a lot of Spanish from Jared/Gerald.

A few days ago, I decided to go for a walk again. Aside from an early-morning stroll, I'd been cooped up in the house all day, cleaning and trying to find a place to be that wasn't too hot. Finally I decided outside would be the best place to look for that spot, so I strapped on my tennies and headed out. The thought passed through my mind briefly that it would be nice to run into Jared/Gerald. I'd only rounded two corners when I heard, "Ticher, venga!"

Wouldn't you just know that it was none other than Jared/Gerald with a big bag of rice on his shoulder. I jogged to catch up with him, and we set off for his house. He carried the bag of rice on his right shoulder, then his left, then his head and laughed to himself when he compared the bag to a Mexican sombrero. Finally, after I asked him several times, he let me carry the load for awhile, but when we got near his house, he took the bag back.

Jared/Gerald invited me into his house, which was constructed in the traditional ranchero style, with wooden posts and dried palm leaves. There was just one big, round room made that way, with only dirt for a floor. A couch sat against one wall and on the couch lay a guitar. My host mom told me later that the rest of the house has floors, just the ranchero doesn't. Anyway, Jared/Gerald and I went outside to sit with a shirtless man I assumed to be his father.

Just as I was noticing the mountains stretching out before me, creating what might be the most beautiful view I've seen in Costa Rica so far, a cool, cool breeze blew through. "Oh, que rico," I heard myself say, spontaneously for the first time. I had definitely found the best spot for cooling off. We sat for awhile and chatted. I complimented the family on the view, and the family asked me to translate lots of words into English. Eventually, Jared/Gerald ran inside and got the guitar and played us a few songs. He's a pretty good guitar player and singer, too. I was impressed.

I've since asked Jared/Gerald to write his name for me. First he wrote Heral, then Geraldo, so I'm still not really sure what his name is. Whatever it is, I kicked him out of class today because he just couldn't leave the other students alone. We exchanged a wave as he left the school yard, and I hope he understood the wave to mean I look forward to another walk this weekend.