Another view

I am sitting in the fanciest Internet café ever. It’s all sleek and black with widescreen monitors and ceiling fans. There was no school in all of the country on Wednesday or Thursday of this week, so while many of my gringo friends headed off to the beach, I squeezed into the extended cab of a pickup and headed to a town called Coronado.

I went to help the sister, Zaida, of one of my colleagues at school edit her thesis, which is in English and due in December. The women grew up on a farm on the Terrabá River just almost where the river rolls out into the sea. All of the brothers and sisters (I think there are six or seven of them) work during the week in other towns but return to the farm on weekends to visit, or in the case of my colleague Jeanette, live.

My experience there was more like what I expected from Costa Rica when I first came here. The people were genuinely nice and laid back and just having a great time. They joked and laughed, and because Zaida speaks English, she could translate most of it for me. We went kayaking on the river and it reminded me of being at home, as a teenager, at the bayou.

They have a pig farm and all the pig poop gets drained into a big plastic bag. From the plastic bag, the leftover pig farts run through a pipe to the house, where the gas is used to heat the stove. Every thing we ate for lunch yesterday was caught or gathered or grown on the farm. We had fish soup with coconut milk and rice, all cooked with gas collected from the pigs. It was one of the most delicious meals I’ve eaten in Costa Rica.

After lunch, Zaida and I went to work on her thesis. She was writing in her second language, so there were lots of problems. We weren’t even halfway through the 40-page report when she announced I’d just have to go to her house to spend the night.

This is one of the things that still catches me off guard here. There was no, "Hey would you mind spending the night at my house tonight? I’d be a big help." It’s just, "Looks like your coming to my house tonight. Go get your bags."

I talked myself out of being huffy about this and instead gathered my bags and jumped into the car. On the way to her house, she took me to a little pond where there were lots of alligators. So that was nice. When we got to her house, I forgot all about being almost huffy. Her two-story peach-colored house has walls that go all the way to the ceiling, bathrooms with sinks in them, big puffy couches, cable TV, and a spotless kitchen. It even has an aquarium! And hot water!

We finished the thesis and watched Maria Jose lose to the Panamanian on Latin American Idol. I was bummed, but then I took a hot shower and forgot all about it. I slept bug-free last night and woke up right on top of the world. This morning Zaida dropped me off at the bus station, and while I had a great time with her and her family, I was grateful to be alone again. I hopped on the bus and set out for Buenos Aires to do my regular Friday e-mail check.

We made it as far as Palmar Norte, the town I am in now. Just as we were pulling out to continue on our way, the bus veered smack into a car, and the waiting began. It was just a little crash, but the police had to come and measure whatever they measure in these situations, and the drivers had to blow into the machine to see if they were drunk, which the person sitting behind me said the bus driver probably was because he’d seen him drinking guaro last night. I didn’t stick around to find out. Ticos can wait forever, I know, but I can’t. So I got my money back and walked off in search of an Internet Café. And here I am. This afternoon I’ll go back to the bus station and try my luck again. Maybe tomorrow I’ll go to Buenos Aires and post pictures from Coronado.