Free day

Today is Sunday. A man just drove up on a four-wheeler and parked right in my line of sight. I've been lying around in the outside hammock all weekend reading The Poisonwood Bible for the third time. When the guy got off the four-wheeler, I saw that it has the name “The Ozark” emblazoned across the side, with little hilltops forming a logo above the name. If only the Ozarks really had just pulled right up to my front door!

Today is Independence Day. We had a parade this morning, which was actually very good. There were no floats or anything, just people marching and banging drums and whatnot, but it was festive. Apparently all the other teachers had decided to wear white shirts with red bandanas today, but no one ever told me, so I walked around in a brown - of all colors - shirt looking once again like the dufus gringa. Oh, well, I told myself, this isn't my country anyway. No need to be patriotic.

The cheerleaders also cheered in the parade. I had been wondering what they would be cheering for. For all I knew, the parade would end with a soccer match, and the girls would be rooting for one team or the other as cheerleaders usually do. But there was no game or teams or rooting for one or the other at all. The cheerleaders were cheering for - get this - peace!

Give me a V!
V!
Give me an I!
I!
Give mean a V!
V!
Give me an A!
A!
Give me an L!
L!
Give me an A!
A!
Give me a P!
P!
Give me an A!
A!
Give me a Z!
Z!

Three cheers for peace!!

What a strange concept.

The Independence Day events started yesterday morning, with a school assembly at 9 a.m. The kids got to skip mass, but they had to put their school uniforms on and stand in single-file line according to grade and height and listen to some boooooring (then again, how would I know? I don't understand a word anyone says) explanation of Costa Rican independence.

Someone asked me what we Americans from the United States do to celebrate our independence. We sure don't have school assemblies on Sunday mornings. Mostly there are beer and bodies of water involved. That or we don't do much of anything. I was always working on the Fourth of July.

Last night every town, big and small, in Costa Rica, marched with lanterns. I think they called them faroles, not sure, but the kids made them out of cardboard boxes and plastic, colored paper. Some were painted to look like houses or churches; others were just symmetrical designs or nothing at all. I didn't have one, because, I of course, had no idea why the little cardboard houses were piling up in the classrooms, and no one bothered to tell me I should make one of my own so as to march with it with the whole rest of the country on the night before the anniversary of independence. Once again, not my country, not my tradition, not my fault.

There was another school assembly just before the lantern display, which was mostly the kids mumbling along to the recording of the national anthem that blasted, way too loud, from the speaker of the town's ambulance, which is an old four-by-four SUV with lights -- and speakers apparently -- planted on top.

The lantern march culminated with a talent show that, in my honest opinion, was one big disaster. The first act was fine. The fifth graders danced a traditional dance in their colorful, billowy skirts and embroidered lace tops. But then the kindergartners got up there in their adorable little outfits and the whole auditorium was on their feet for a better look. By the time the third group started, the place was a riot and I went home.

Graciously there were two chopped up fish -- eyes and mouths and tails and scales and all -- sitting on a cutting board in my kitchen just waiting to be thrown into the frying pan. All that celebrating had made me hungry. Viva la paz!