Every other Friday, Phil takes his workers to the city of
Turrialba for shopping and to enjoy themselves in the city. Exactly the sort of
experience I was looking for, especially when the words street-food and cerveza
came up. Around 2 pm we load the group in the truck, that is a flatbed truck
with women in the cab and men standing up in the back. Over bumpy, rocky roads,
winding turns and beautiful scenery we made our way to Turrialba. I window-shopped
for a bit, made the all-important phone call to my parents, and decided to walk
around the city. Everyone was excited to see a gringo (the term used for white
people that sometimes carries a negative connotation), and I got some good,
hard stares. With no luck at finding an internet café, I decided to meet up
with Marcos at a bar owned by his friend. Over a delicious meal of arroz con
pollo and some cerveza, I did my best to converse with Marcos and his friends. Then
I did some puppy-dogging as Marcos went to visit other friends and buy
groceries. At the Tico-store, all your groceries are loaded up into a huge
burlap sack, which strong men throw on their shoulders and walk home. We enjoyed
two more beers with the Tico loco (crazy Costa Rican), and took a cab back to
Turrialba. Sitting in the back, where trouble always happens, Marcos’ son
Wayner told me the secrets to the Costa Rican language: curse words!
The next morning, after my 15 minute walk up the hill, I
was introduced to another volunteer, Alan Eaglewolf. Alan is a Native American of
Cherokee descent visiting Costa Rica for the first time. We did a few minor
jobs together today that included finishing the installation of a sink from
aforementioned Peter, moving some furniture, putting Costa Rica’s version of
sheetrock up, and at the end of the day the best job of all: bringing the dogs
down to the river. And by dogs, I mean all seven of them: Heraffa and her pups
Aros and Sister, Jack, Barbie, Chika, and Bubba. You know, just another day in
paradise.
Dinner
tonight was the most crowded I’ve seen Finca Quijote. In addition to Alan,
Ginnee, Phil and myself were two friends from San Jose, Sam and Colin, and two
older gentlemen Ginanda and Roy – and every time I hear their names together I
instantly imagine a circus act. But the most exciting part of my evening
happened before dinner, when I was aimlessly walking outside while Sam and
Colin got the tour and Alan, Ginanda, Ginnee and Roy talked politics. I heard
the characteristic Tico whistle, as used to get the attention of a dog, child,
bartender, or apparently friend. Marcos was standing by his house and called me
over to chat, then extended the
invitation to come over to his house to watch TV and hang out with the
family!!! Unfortunately because of the predictable, Jurassic-Park-style
thunderstorm Alan and I just hoofed it back to our house and I did not get to
visit with them for a while… But I certainly plan on hanging out with my new
Tico amigos!
