Ant Attack

Yesterday I talked with Raquel online. I asked her my moth question, but in different words. She said, “What kind of liberated woman are you if you are trying to fulfill someone else’s idea of what a liberated woman is?” but in different words. And then she cursed me out, which was refreshing, because no one here in Monteverde uses curse words, and I’ve come to miss them. In Frisbee, when I miss a catch or make a bad throw and say, “Shoot!” I feel like some sort of morally corrupt person. Plus, Raquel curses like a sailor, and it’s wonderful. We had this agreement last year: I strung together the nastiest, most vulgar curse words I could find and put them on the fridge. If I started to stress out about work Raquel was to use those words on me. She only had to use the system once, and it was a wonderful wake up call. I love work, but not enough to stress continuously about it.

Another thing that happened yesterday: I did laundry. As I brought in my dry clothes I noticed a swarm of ants on the wall of the porch. I leaned closer to see what they were so excited about and I noticed that the swarm was slowly leaking across the railing of my porch and onto the floor next to my feet. This was new. I carefully sneaked a peak down the wall of the balcony. There were ants everywhere, swarming from the grass, up the landlady’s wall and towards me. I shut the door and went inside. As I readied to leave I peeked outside for an ant swarm update. They were all over the floor of my porch now. I shoved a towel in the crack of the door and left the house.

I asked later, at the yoga place (I was there to drop off a reading group book for Daniel, who works with us in the classroom on Wednesday) what was up. I think I said, “Should I be worried about the swarm of ants that were taking over my house when I left?” Daniel said they had been doing the same thing there. Both he and Rise agreed that having ants swarm your house was a great thing to happen since they will clean out all of the carcasses. Yes, they used the word “carcasses”. “Do they bite?” I asked. “They bite HARD”, Daniel replied. Cool. I remembered feet so swollen from ant bites in Nicaragua that my puffy skin pushed on the sides of my sandals. “It’s best to just let them be”, he added. “Yeah”, Rise agreed. “You’re lucky you won’t be home until later tonight.”

And then I left and on the way out I got bitten by one of these ants and it turned bright red, but did not swell.

This makes me think of two things:

1. Mutant Message Down Under. A woman is crossing the outback in Australia and some kind of insect swarms them. She, naturally, freaks out until her guides tell her to just relax and let the bugs do their work. She closes her eyes and tries to remain calm as they work their way into her ears and nose, cleaning and eating. And then they are gone and she feels like she has gone to a spa.

2. Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver. An American family is living somewhere in Africa and ants swarm the village and leave nothing in their path – only skeletons. They have to run and submerge themselves in the river to save their lives.

When I got home last night there were no ants anywhere on the porch. I know because I turned on the outside light and checked. There was one tired and lost ant on my bedroom floor. I gave it two feet of space as I put on my PJs.

A few more pictures from Independence day:



This was towards the end of the parade. These kids had been marching and standing in the sun for a few hours and got tired, so they sat down. Maybe my favorite part of parade was the kids dressed up with green crosses who went around giving water to parade participants who looked hot and tired.



I already have a picture of this kid in yesterday’s post, but he was adorable. His sunglasses where so huge they stuck out from his face on both sides and he is wearing those super cool cut off gloves. He saw me trying to take his picture and turned and looked right at me. I think this is my favorite picture from the entire day.


A beautiful flower on the walk home, which was 5km uphill in the hot sun. This flower makes me think of skin. I think if I could choose any skin color, it would be this, but then I’m sure the bees and humming birds would be a real bother.



This cow had slipped out of the fence at my favorite spot on my walk home from work. My father has passed on to me an obsession with cows and I simply had to take some pictures. This picture does not do this munching lady justice. Her dark brown faded to light brown further down her back. She made a surprising amount of noise ripping up roots, grinding and swallowing. She was beautiful.



These are the flowers at the gate to my house, and my house. See that corner there? That is my kitchen. See my corrugated tin roof? That is why the rain sounds so lovely. No, the rain would sound lovely regardless. The roof is why the rain sounds especially lovely.


Something interesting about life in Monteverde: It has not rained here in at least a week, even though we are in the middle of the rainy season. This means there is no water in the streams and that sometimes there is not water at the school and if you have to use the restroom you have to use the out house with the spiders. I wonder whose job it is to get rid of the spiders in the out house but don’t want to ask because I fear the answer will be “yours.”

Apparently, during the dry season, sometimes there won’t be water for two days at a time and people can’t shower. This is on my List of Things I Wish They Had Mentioned in the Interview, right next to “There are spiders and scorpions everywhere”. I still would have taken the job - I don’t like to shower.

Costa Rican Independence Day

9/15/09

Costa Rican Independence Day, no school, one of the best days yet.

The parade started at 8. Well, it was supposed to. I was at the school a little after seven to help load the truck and get a ride into Cerro Plan, the small town before Santa Elena, where the parade was to start from. The family who owns the truck has two kids at the school, one in my class and one in kindergarten. They were in the front seat as the truck pulled up wearing matching lime green school t-shirts. They had pen marks all over their legs. I asked the younger one, a boy, “Who drew on your legs?” He looked up at me, very business-like and answered, “I drew on my legs.” I looked at his sister, a third grader in my class. “And who drew on your legs?” She smiles a sneaky smile, “I drew on my legs.”

We arrive in Cerro Plano, help set up the truck and the waiting begins. The Monteverde Friends School lead the parade with kids dressed up like local birds – quetzlas, motmots – and banner presentations and dances. I’m pretty sure that every school in the area was present in the parade. We gathered in a field in Cerro Plano and listened to music and talking. I spoke with a woman who’s grand children are in my class. I thanked her for the peanut butter she had made and sold me the week before. She buys peanuts from a man in San Jose who imports them from Nicaragua. I had mentioned to her one evening that I’d like to buy some peanut butter from her and the next morning her grandson delivered it to me. I gave him the money, checked in with him the next day – “Did you give your grandmother the money?” “Yeah” and marveled at small town life. Until today when she mentions that she never got the payment. Huh.

I watched the parade seated between two teachers and two families with sons under seven years old. The six year old, who I know because he is in my quilting mini-course on Thursday afternoons, sees me and immediately sits next to me and later clambered into my lap. This is why I love kids this age – when they love you, you know you have done something wonderful in the world. They do not mask their emotions.

I spent a large amount of the day today with Mike and Sally ( of nobreadcrumbs.blogspot.com) and their two almost-four-year-olds Michael and John Gustavo. Let me explain a little bit about life with these two boys. I had seen Sally with Michael this morning around 8:30. I waved and called, “Good morning!”, but Michael stared right through me. He looked exhausted, like Sally had just made him walk from San Jose. I jumped up and down a bit and waved some more but got only blank stares. This is not the norm. My “Hi Michael!” is usually returned with a huge smile and a “Hi Ginna!” from Michael and a tentative wave from John, who is much more unsure of me. Later that morning in the field I must have said something to Michael because as we sat on the curb watching the parade go by he asked me a question. I could not hear him above the drumming and music and said, “I didn’t hear what you said.” He put his mouth next to my ear, his lips covered with cracker crumbs and repeats his question: “Why did I break your heart?” Oh goodness. I have been careless with my words again. I must have told this sweet child that his lack of greeting broke my heart (which is a little bit true, but did I have to be so dramatic?). I tell him that one of my favorite things in the whole world is when he, his brother, mom or dad says hello to me. I reminded him that I had said hello to him that morning and he was too tired to respond. I worry that he will carry my words with him forever, regretting his actions. I hope he has forgotten it already. Why am I so careless with words around inquisitive minds?

After the parade I hiked back up the hill to my house. I arrived tired and covered in sweat. I had only eaten a few mandarin oranges, a handful of sesame sticks and one cracker offered up to me by Michael. I devoured a plate of pasta and hunks of bread with (unpaid for?) peanut butter and honey. I chugged three glasses of water with limon acido. I changed out of my drenched clothing and sat in my hammock reading The Time Keeper’s Daughter.

But only until 2 o’clock when I changed clothes again and ran down to Heather and Jonathan’s house. Jonathan is great at gently making sure I am always working on the edge of my limitations physically. Today we took a new route (left at Las Colinas Lodge) towards San Luis. He gave a fantastic tour and history of the land as I slipped around in the mud and stumbled over rocks. I felt great.
Come home, shower, throw away the weird worms in my shower, read, devour more food. Life is good.

I have had some images bouncing around in my head for a few days that I have wanted to share. On Sunday there is a separate Children’s Meeting that joins us about twenty minutes before the end. Last Sunday one of the children who joined us was a second grader at the school. He sat quietly next to his mother and sister for the remainder of Meeting. With a long, thin stick. That he stuck down the back of his shirt and used to gently scratch his back, sometimes with one hand, sometimes with two.
During Meeting it can get very quiet. Last Sunday there was no wind and no rain and we sat in silence. Almost. It is impossible, in this kind of calm, to ignore the incessant pounding of insect bodies against windowpanes. (are these noises then, window pains?) This is the music that started me thinking about the moths and their moon behavior. Sunday during Meeting something big flew in which caught the attention of at least four other people, besides myself. I watched their amused/concerned/curious faces before turning to see what was clanking against the windows to my left. It was a blue Morphos butterfly (please google image that so you can see for yourself how amazing they are). I watched, amazed, as this butterfly tapped into one windowpane and then the next, moving methodically in one direction, looking for a way out of the Meeting house. Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. It passed by the open wooden slats – they don’t give off enough light. Finally it came to an open window and silently disappeared.

As I was typing this I looked up to find a rather large spider web above my head. Why? With all of this protected reserve surrounding me, why do they choose my little cabina? It is hard for me to relate this experience without using expletives. I might have to change my policy on killing insects. I stood on a chair and swept it away with a broom. The fibers were so strong it made a sound like cloth ripping. I’m pretty convinced that whatever made that web will crawl out of the gap between the wall and the ceiling tonight and seek revenge. Probably on my jugular.


Two of my students dressed up like Mot Mots for the parade.


Most MFS students in the parade dressed up as Morpho Butterflies and Quetzals (green) and some other bird I don't know (yellow).


A girl dressed in traditional clothing.


"Those skirts look a little short", you may be thinking. Because they were.


Cowgirls.


Little drummer boys.


I have no idea what this act was. They just walked down the street in their cute little outfits, hold these red circles.


She was my favorite, although I never saw her actually play the cymbals.





Michael the heart breaker.

Moths

Today in Meeting I thought about moths. When I first got to Costa Rica I used to watch them with confusion as they smashed relentlessly into the lights bulbs in my house. Why do they do that? What satisfaction could they possibly be gaining? Then someone explained to me that they are programmed to keep the moon at a certain position in relation to themselves for navigational reasons. I guess this helps with community and mating. When they are smashing into my light bulbs, they are confusing the light for the moon and circling closer and closer until boink they hit the “moon”. Their programming, instead of helping them, leads to their demise.

I thought today of my own programming. That alone was quite a task – how am I programmed? I think of myself as an educated, critically thinking, independent woman and, as much as I hate to admit it, a feminist. I can indentify times when this programming (for lack of a better word, but let’s just keep using it because that’s not really the point) has helped me, mostly in standing up for myself and trudging through sexual harassment at work. I am proud of my programming, but I have to wonder – if I find myself drawn to a light bulb, will I know? In a community of moths, what would happen if one thought, “Hey, this doesn’t make sense” and flew away from the light? I’m not sure if my metaphor is clear, but my worry is this: will there come a point where trying to be a free-thinking independent, confident woman will actually hinder me?

And then after Meeting the clerk spoke about what they did in children’s Meeting. They read a story about a painter who felt like his paintings were not beautiful enough, so he went out into the world to find the most beautiful thing. First he came across a couple in love and thought that this love was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and painted them. He continued on until he saw a soldier coming back from war, rejoicing in peace and thought this was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and painted the soldier’s face. Then he came across an old man saying his evening prayers with dedication and thought that this man’s faith was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and painted the old man. As he was returning home he glanced in the window before passing through his door and saw his wife reading a love letter that he had written her when they first met. On her face he saw all three of the beautiful things he encountered in the world: love, peace and faith. He realized that he has had all three right at home all along, he just hadn’t realized it.

What, is this supposed to be some sort of sign? Geesh.

Someone else shared a quote from a famous theologian about how doubt is not the absence of faith, but rather, a necessary component. That made me feel a little bit better.

And as people began to share information about flu vaccines and swine flu, my gaze was drawn to the window in the back of the Meeting room, looking out over the soccer/frisbee field. A cloud had started to move in and was slowly creeping around the corners of the school house, hiding everything in its path. Very exciting.

And then, after typing this, I walked to Stella's bakery for a snack and ran into a woman here from Texas who I had met last Sunday at the Meeting potluck. We ate together and she explained the research she is doing - Costa Rican history - and how it is having such a positive impact in a place where people only want to talk about the Quakers. We talked for a long time about her work and my experiences and culture and immigration and privlege and and and... It was all quite fascinating.

Half Hearted Update

Some interesting things that have happened recently:

1. Frisbee this afternoon. Why is it so fun? Ages ranged from 60's to 4, with everything in between.

2. A student asking, "So, if I find a dead animal, should I bring it in?"

3. Friday after work we walked down to the cheese factory for ice cream. On the way there we passed a pasture filled with young cows munching on wet grass. Two cows were outside of the fence. When we got to the factory we asked about it, but they said that they belonged to a family in the community, not the factory. It all felt very...small town.

4. I took my first yoga class, ever. It was hard. I am sore.

5. Spanish book club! Jorge Luis Borges = complex.

6. It rained for six hours straight yesterday. I thought this was pretty cool, but I hear that the same thing happened in NYC that day. Well, here we get 2 - 2.5 m of rain every year. That's 9 feet!

7. Square dancing tonight at 7. Don't be jealous.

8. Last Tuesday I had recess duty. Sitting out by the field watching the soccer match, I heard howler monkeys. They were close, and very loud. They were prancing around in the trees in the forest at the edge of the field. I could not keep my eyes off of them. No one else seemed to notice. I guess this is what happens when you are a kid in Monteverde. It was like NYC kids ignoring pigeons.

I woke up this morning at 5:20 a.m. to the sound of howler monkeys. They were not as close or as loud. I wonder - why are they called howler monkeys? The sound they make is nothing like a howl. I think they should be called Grumble Monkeys or Grunting Monkeys. I was hungry as I lay in bed listening and my stomach growled. It made the same exact sound as the monkeys. Not a howl.

San Luis

9/7/09

Today was a good day. A day of good teaching and good communication. I discovered a friend’s blog who has recently moved to Mexico – msalexismexico.blogspot.com So different from mine and so hilarious. Alexis and I studied abroad together in Santiago, both went to college in the Pioneer Valley, started our teaching careers in NYC and have now moved to Latin America to do a different kind of teaching. Why are we both so awesome?

Today after work I went for a run with three other people: the high school English/history teacher, a high school senior and a biologist and his two dogs. What an interesting group of people. The high school teacher grew up Quaker in Pennsylvania and taught at Westtown before moving to Monteverde three years ago with his wife, who is also a teacher at the school. The high school senior is from a small town by Cherry Hill, NJ and came here because his “town got too small”. He’s already taken the math class that our school is offering this year and is currently looking for a local apprenticeship in agriculture and/or carpentry. The biologist is none other than my new friend with the dead monkeys. He reminds me a lot of my Grandpa Barnes. For those of you who never had the joy of knowing my grandfather, this just means that this man is wickedly smart and willing to gently and simply explain everything he knows to you.

We did not go on our regular route, but instead took the road towards San Luis.

Elevation of Monteverde: 1350m

Elevation of San Luis: 900m

We ran halfway there and back. It was steep. We stopped at a look out point over the San Luis valley and could see the Monteverde Reserve, the San Luis waterfalls, the town of San Luis and the Gulf of Nicoya.

I was feeling pretty good about myself until I got home and decided to take a shower. Showering at night = not cool.

Mild freak out #1 - I get out of my clothes and am about to hop in the shower when I look down and notice a black bug … on a spot that is normally covered with clothes.

Mild freak out #2 - I go to step into the shower and see a spider 1½ inches in diameter chilling on the wall of my shower. I step in anyway and try to shoo it away with some gentle water sprays. It moves up the wall, where I am content to leave it. I get under the water, shampoo my hair, glance up to the spider and it has disappeared. The only thing worse that a giant spider in the shower with you is a giant spider that you can’t see in the shower with you. Luckily, it had only scooted further up the wall and spent the rest of my very quick shower on the ceiling.

Mild freak out #3 – It is dark out, the bathroom light is on, and a moth comes in. With a 2 inch wing span, this is not the biggest moth I’ve ever seen, but bugs seem a lot bigger when you’re completely naked, covered in soap and they are dive bombing you. It ended up on its back in the bottom on the shower. Although I try not to kill bugs, I have no problem watching them die. I toed it towards the drain where it slowly drowned. Sorry moth, but not really.

Dead Monkeys in the Classroom

Tedi and I are teaching a unit on the human body. I think back to AP Bio class and how our teacher brought in pig lungs and inflated them with us and let us touch them. Let me tell you, I really learned about lungs. So we went on a hunt for some left over animal parts. There are tons of cows around here and one has to die sometime, right?

I got the contact information of a local biologist. I was nervous to call and ask if he knew where I could get a heart or lungs for my third and fourth graders. I told myself, "Noelle would do this", and called. What an interesting conversation. Here are some highlights:

-"Just a piece of advice, and you can take it or leave it, but why don't you teach the kids about the organs in sitio?" I don't understand, so he clarifies. "Why not bring the entire animal into the classroom. You can get someone to prepare the body for you."

-"Did you say you were doing a unit on the human body?" Affirmative. "So it really sounds like you need a primate. Every once in a while I run into some monkey road kill. If I find some I'll pick it up and put it on ice as soon as possible. I usually have some stuff around the house....no, I don't believe I have any monkeys."

Jackpot.

Bugs and Bites

Update on the arm (since I know you are all super interested): it's still a little swollen, and hot, and drove me crazy in Meeting today with itching.


Also, I've had another encounter with a not dead insect. I hate it when this happens. I woke up this morning to find a curled up, "dead" spider on the floor. No biggie - I slid him across the floor with my toe and out onto the porch. It was only when I got down and close that he started to move. And then I noticed how hairy it was. Gross.


The "dead" spider on my porch.


And then it did this.


And then it passed out and I got up and walked away.

Soggy Loops

Yesterday there was an art festival in Monteverde. Visual art, jewelry making, fabric products and live music. The first music I heard was a saxophone and bagpipe duet playing “Amazing Grace”. The man on the bagpipes is the father of one of my 4th graders. I looked around – I knew almost everyone. This is a small community. After the bagpipes and saxophone there was Appalachian music (banjo, recorder and viola), then folk, then beautiful, sweet, gentle, rich Spanish vocals and guitar from a man named Don Eduardo. I was transfixed. He was like a dream. He looked and sounded and felt magical. His voice was honey. I sat. I stared. I was amazed.

But in the moment I was acutely aware that the experience was lacking. I was sitting by myself on a cement block in the mountains of Costa Rica aching to share the experience with someone I love. Anyone I love. There are so many people that I love and with whom I wanted to share that moment. I thought of my first 2 ½ weeks in Costa Rica with Noelle and how special that time was for me because we were creating something. We were building on our relationship, adding to it, making it stronger. Listening to Don Eduardo by myself on a soggy afternoon, I was not building anything. I was sewing with a needle and thread but no cloth, making empty loops of string in the damp air.

Moonshine

9/1/09

Walking home tonight I stood in the middle of the road at the intersection with the road to San Luis. This was the first night I had walked in the moonlight with such little cloud cover. The moon is bright. I could see my shadow. As I stood there looking up I felt the developments of man – phone lines, roads, buildings – melt away and it was just the trees, the moon and I.

Everyone Has Off Days

This Saturday has not been as productive or active as last. I got up later than usual and took the bus down to Santa Elena and back. No walking today. When I got into my house I noticed that a bug bite from yesterday had swollen. I had a lump the size of half a baseball on my forearm and it was radiating enough heat to warm my entire house during the rainy season. I took some Benedryl, did the laundry, and passed out. I slept through frisbee. Now it's six hours and fifeteen minutes later and the swelling has gone down almost the entire way. Maybe I should have taken two Benedryls? I didn't used to take any Benedryl at all for this type of thing until that fun blister experience one summer in Spain...

Is taking Benedryl often bad? Will I develop a tolerance? How often is often? Is it worse to leave a swollen and inflamed bite untreated? These are the things that I do not know.

Today walking to the internet cafe I saw one of my students pushing a little girl in circles on his bike. He's little. Tiny. He looked so huge in comparison.

Right now, I am sitting on the balcony of the cafe and watching the rain come down. I love rain but I'm glad I brought my brand new, bright orange raincoat. Thanks Mom.