Cantos

Notes from the field and everyday life

The longest night 16 PMpSat, 19 May 2007 22:10:21 +000010Saturday 2007

Filed under: Centeno — soterrey @ 10:10 pm

The night of May 10th was the longest night ever. I can say with confidence that it was the worst night of my life. Which is amazing, when I think about how many nights I’ve experienced – almost 10,000. Let me set the scene – while in the field for the last 4 years I have lived in a secluded house here in Costa Rica, about 0.5 km off the Interamericana highway (Costa Rica’s main thoroughfare). The house, referred to as Centeno, is owned by the park, has electricity and running water, but no phone or other means of communication. It is a beautiful location, very tranquil and surrounded by wilderness. Until that night, I had thought of it as a safe haven. Here is a brief break-down of what happened:

May 10th

8:00 pm – I heard strange noises, branches cracking, men talking. Thought it was my imagination, or animals, or something else.

8:30 pm – Sandy, the only other individual with me at Centeno, went to bed.

9:00 pm – I realized that there were definitely people outside our house, but that they were surrounding us, and that we couldn’t get away at that point. I hoped that they would just take our stuff outside and leave.

10:00 pm – I decide to turn the lights off and go to bed, even though there were still noises outside. I left my clothes on, clutched my little flashlight and decided that I could use my drinking glass as a projectile weapon if need be.

10:20 pm – A loud BANG at the door – they are trying to break in! Adrenaline takes over and I turn on all of the lights, scream, wake Sandy and bang the inside of the door to try and scare them off. I hear footsteps scuttle away, and hope that they have left.

10:25 pm – They come back to the door. I can see their feet in the small space under it.

10:27 pm – They knock on the door and ask us to open it. Yeah right!

10:28 pm – Realizing that we weren’t just going to open the door, they try to knock it in. Sandy and I hold it closed.

10:29 pm – They realize that they can just break through the window. I pick up a mist net pole with a pointy end and start jabbing it in their direction, but then I see a gun pointed right at me. I drop my weapon, they blindfold us, tie our hands behind our backs, and put us in a small room.

10:30 to 11:10 pm – They take many things, often asking where our cash is, where the computers are, etc. I plead with them not to hurt us, and ask that they just take our things and leave.

11:10 pm – They leave, after telling us not to move for 2 hours and tying the door to our room shut.

11:20 pm – Sandy works her hands free and unties me. Then we just sit there, shocked and not knowing what to do with ourselves

11:45 pm – We work up the courage to try and get out of the room. After a few minutes, we manage.

May 11th

12:00 am – Start assessing what has been stolen. Meanwhile, I am hungrier and thirstier than ever – the adrenaline surge boosted my metabolism, and I drink glass after glass of water.

12:30 am– Compile a list of what they took, then sit and stare into space for a while longer.

1:00 am – Devise a plan for getting help at first light.

1:30 am – Decide that we will try and sleep, but neither of us manages a wink of it.

4:00 am – I get out of bed and watch the sun rise from in the house. I first watch the shapes emerge from the blackness, then the colors.

5:00 am – Sandy and I open the door to the outside, walk around, see what they took from the outside and what they didn’t.

5:10 am – Eat a small breakfast. Pump up the bike tires.

5:20 am – Ride the bike into the park (about 10 km), and feel renewed. The birds are all singing, the air is still cool, and I am alive and well!

After 5:30 am – I make it to the Comedor and get help. A park employee drives me back to Centeno, where we pick up Sandy.

7:00 am – Go to Poco Sol, where the park guards are stationed. Many questions.

9:00 am – A park guard takes us to the police station in Liberia.

9:30 am to 1:30 pm – We tell our stories at least 3 times to 3 different people. We’re both dead tired. We look at a line-up of suspects, but neither of us recognizes any as the burglars.

The story goes on from there, but I won’t bore you with the little details. In the end, I feel very lucky that neither Sandy nor I were hurt, and that only our things were taken. They took mostly small portable electronics and equipment, as they were on foot. Among other things, they took my deodorant – my bamboo-scented deodorant for women only. Two whole sticks of it. They did stink, so have at it boys.

The park employees have all been sympathetic and helpful. None of them would like to see anybody go through this, and they have done everything that they can to help us. I have a new respect for the locals here and what they do to keep this place safe and running. Also, so many people back home have made it possible to go on. Thanks to everybody for being there for me!

Now, we have moved out of Centeno and have found a cute little house in Quebrada Grande, a village nearby. More on that coming soon…

 

What more could a frog want? 16 PMpMon, 30 Apr 2007 15:59:33 +000059Monday 2007

Filed under: Centeno, Costa Rica, everyday — soterrey @ 3:59 pm

Wildlife is abundant in Parque Nacional Santa Rosa, and it penetrates everything, including the house where we live. Scorpions take up residence in the dark corners of our house, army ants regularly pass through and once the rains start, frogs of all types can be found (or more often heard) around the perimeter. However, during the dry season, some resident frogs are desperate for water, and four such frogs have found my bathroom. They are milk frogs (of the genus Phrynohyas), so named for the sticky mucous that they secrete which is difficult to wash off of one´s skin.

Milk Frog

I imagine that the bathroom to them is what the Ritz Carlton is to us. In their posh residence they enjoy the luxury of water year round. I often find them wallowing in a film of water on my shower floor. One particularly lazy individual just uses his suction-cup feet to stick to the shower tiles, often in the perfect position to be rained upon by fresh shower sprinkles. As he hears me turning the shower on, he often opens his eyes no more than a crack, and may reposition himself a bit so that he´ll be in the most advantageous position. More surprisingly, they treat the toilet like their own personal swimming pool, and sometimes they have parties where up to three will be lounging inside. Piña colada, anybody? But most amusing is when, in the middle of the night, a male wiggles his way down the shower drain and into the pipes and choruses. The acoustics are perfect, as he sounds as if he were 10 times the size! Ladies, beware – this is a man´s man of the milk frog world.