Musings

One month musings:


Always shake your laundry before you put it in the wash and then again before you bring it in from the line. You never know what kind of creatures might end up going for a spin in the washing machine, or--if they make it through that---what might end up in bed with you


Dust. There is so much of it. The roads aren’t paved so every time a car goes past, it kicks up a big billow of dust. The worst is if you’re on the quad and a car is ahead of you. The kids refuse to wear the ski goggles, even though most people here do. I worry about how much dust we’re inhaling too. The protection options aren’t pretty. Some people wear bandana’s AND goggles and helmets, an odd Raiders of the Lost Ark outlaw look. Others opt for the more stylish middle eastern look with beautiful scarves wrapped around their heads and faces. There’s the hospital mask as well, so familiar to the Toronto girl in me from our days as Sars Central. Riley has chosen opted for this.

The Dust II- Sounds like a bad muffin recipe I know, but they spread molasses on the roads to keep the dust down. (at least those who can afford it). It comes in big huge barrels that they roll onto the roads and then open up with something akin to a large can opener. Teams of people set to work raking it around. It is very sticky at first, but eventually just gets covered in dust again. It’s a somewhat futile process. The other option, which many little businesses do, is to hose down the dust with water. Which is even MORE futile and also reckless since there are huge water shortages in Santa Teresa, which is essentially the business district (!) of Mal Pais.

Molasses II- Who knew someone could be allergic to Molasses? i didn’t until our first night here when Paul started projectile vomiting on our walk to the beach. First though it was the insanely gut jarring 6 hour ride from San Jose. But the next morning when it happened again, and again and again we started to figure it out. It is a curse to have a molasses-sensitive puke button here. But, like all children, Paul is adaptable. By day three he knew to hold his nose whenever he saw dark patches on the road. try to visualise this for a moment: Paul, wearing ski goggles and a helmet, sitting on the front of the quad, one elbow up in the air, with fingers firmly gripped on his snout! Thank god he’s not allergic to dust. He’d have to turn into the boy in the bubble.

Houses here do not have closets. Anywhere. Kitchens have open shelves. so do bathrooms and bedrooms. Even though I don’t have nearly as many clothes as i used to, i still miss my walk in closet. There’s something so NAKED about having people come in your house and see all your food and clothes. Am I going snaky? (they don’t have closets, by the way, because everything moulds unless it is fully aired out)

Sand in the crack of your bum is hard to get out. Even harder to get out of someone ELSE'S bum.


Trying to buy bulk here defeats the purpose. It’s actually cheaper to buy two small jars of peanut butter than one big one. Speaking of peanut butter, a staple in our diet, it is extremely expensive here. 7 dollars US for a regular size jar. Please help me find a way to reconcile that cost with the fact that most people working here make, at most, 2 dollars an hour.

I now get dogs. I am in love with one. Eva named him lucky, but really WE are the lucky ones. He is white with blue eyes and big and strong and so funny and sweet. But it is an unrequited love because he has an owner. Every time I start to question whether he’s just using us for food, he does something to prove he loves us too. He is at our door every morning when we wake up (6 am). He gets some love (and food). He comes for a five mile run with me and stays with us most of the day and past dinner. Every night though, like a cheating husband, he skulks away home for bed. Today Riley, Eva, Paul and I went on the quad to a beach about 3 miles away. He ran beside us the entire way. What unbelievable beauty to see that dog run, his mouth foaming near the end from sheer exhaustion and thirst. Never too tired though to come to a skidding halt to mark some bush or bark at some dog. And then at the beach, the funniest sight. He went tearing into the water...right up to a huge wave...quickly turned his body around and then BODY SURFED right back to shore. Honest to god, it happened....we couldn’t believe it. And he protects me too. One one run together he ran a dog through barbed wire, getting himself all caught up in it as well and then fought like a wild animal for a good 10 minutes before continuing on. And he sings and throws his paws in the air like he’s dancing when you play the harmonica. He stinks and is covered ini ticks but we’re working on that.

Chickens are small here. So small that a crow was on the road and Paul said: Look mum, a chicken! So too are racoons and cats. And most of the dogs have normal sized bodies and very small legs. (except Lucky who is perfect) I think there must have been one very prolific small legged stud who had his way with a lot of female dogs.


Sometimes I feel a little bit like the mum from Little House on the Prairie. Doing my chores, goin’ into town, hangin’ up the laundry, baking bread (i actually tried to make bagels yesterday, but the yeast here is wonky. Eva brought her lunch home and said: “Mummy, honestly I TRIED to eat it but my teeth wouldn’t go in). Riley tried to be kind as well: “Strange mum, how one little bagel can fill you up so much”. Steve went to San Jose yesterday for supplies!!!! (images of Hoss and what’s his name saddling up the horses and takin’ the convoy into the big smoke to load up on supplies). We need books, bowls and stuff for the new house. He wont be back until tomorrow night or the next, so I’m out here in the wild frontier by myself.

Paul has started school (which means I have my mornings free to learn spanish, do yoga, surf. Haven’t used the time yet for any of that though, hanging out at the coffee shop instead making friends etc). The school is run by a beautiful young Israeli woman. It’s set up on the large outdoor veranda of her beach front house. There are four kids, Sol, Jonathan , Zoey and Paul. They are all Israeli and I think Paul may learn Hebrew before Spanish. He’s already starting to open books backwards! For those of you who have shared in my horror at Paul’s new anger management tactic with his siblings, you’ll be glad to know that the first thing he does when I pick him up is run over and whisper so proudly in my ear: “mummy, i DIDN’T say shut up you loser!!!) And, he’s toilet trained. All that outdoor shitting and peeing has finally paid off. He’s so proud to flush.

Speaking of pee and poo, and what conversation would be complete without a little scatological discussion: No one throws their toilet paper in the toilets. (so do you think they even call it TOILET paper? Maybe it’s just garbage paper or bum paper) The septic system can’t handle it but man it’s weird to go poo and put it i n the garbage. Try it and think of me.

And speaking of weird, so much for Costa Rica as an environmental haven. They burn everything here, including plastic!!!! You have to pay a buck a bag for garbage pick up (you leave the garbage out front of your house, someone comes and gets it and then throws it in the back of a pick up and you hand over your $1000 colones) So all day long people burn their trash to save the cash. There’s no recycling either. I’ve talked to some people who are working on alternatives, but so far there’s nothing.

Two pages of musings and I haven’t even scratched the surface.....