Three Generations 16 PMpMon, 16 Jul 2007 18:22:59 +000022Monday 2007

Last Last week I had the pleasure of traveling around Costa Rica with my mom and grandma.  Over only eight days, we witnessed an erupting volcano, saw the sacred and beautiful avocado-eating Resplendent Quetzal, mozeyed over suspension bridges that were over 200-ft high, learned how delicious coffee is produced from the seed to the cup, survived the Costa Rican roads (there are crazy drivers here), learned some Spanish, ate home-made tortillas, relaxed on the beach and saw 100 species of animals including four species of monkeys, sloths, crocodiles, toucans, spiders, and the BANDED WREN. 

It was a wonderful eight days, and I can hardly think of a better way to spend my time!  It was also so cool to travel around with my mom and grandma, and many people commented on how nice it was to see three generations enjoying a vacation together. 

Thanks for visiting, you two! 

Quebrada Grande 16 AMpTue, 29 May 2007 09:07:20 +000007Tuesday 2007

At the foot of Rincon de la Veija, a lazy old volcano that has bubbling mud pits, hot springs, and numerous steam vents, rests a little pueblo called Quebrada Grande (translation: Big Stream). About 400 people live here, and it is split into three neighborhoods. The village has a grade school, a central park, one church (in picture above), one bar, and a dozen little pulperias (small stores that sell necessities, often a part of a person’s house). The bar is one huge, cavernous room with perfectly polished floors, a very worn pool table, and an inconspicuous little bar tucked into the corner. It is set up more for dances than anything else – which they have about once a month here, and where men and women meet to salsa and meringue. The town is surrounded by farms, so it is common to see a horse with saddle roped to a fence post near a pulperia, waiting for the rider to return after picking up some local cheese. The climate is much cooler here and it rains daily – much more than it does a few hundred feet below, where we had been living.

For the last two weeks, we have been living in a dense neighborhood of this town called barrio del angel (translation: angel neighborhood). Here the houses are packed together, and all are more or less the same. Everybody has a small back yard, where neighborhood chickens roam, where roosters cock-a-doodle-doo throughout all hours of the day, and where the dogs seek out a patch of shade to cool off in. This barrio consists of two blocks and about 60 houses. On our street alone, there are at least five people who work for the same park where we do our research. One of these five is Lenin, the park guard who so graciously escorted us to the police station and waited with us for a long 4 ½ hours while we reported the robbery.

Our crew is growing today – Margaret will arrive this evening to join Selvino, Jen and I. There is barely enough room in this house for three of us, so we have been looking high and low for another place to live which is near the park, is big enough to accommodate four of us and is affordable. This is a tall order, since there are so few houses around the park. Our only option, after much searching, is located about 15-minutes south of the park entrance just off the Interamericana Highway. Today we will start moving there.

Although I will be happy to live in a place where we can all have a lot more space, I will miss Quebrada Grande, a village that I have enjoyed so much, with its welcoming community and small-town atmosphere. Although I might not miss the roosters crowing at 2am…

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

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.

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.

Blackout 16 PMpFri, 27 Apr 2007 18:01:34 +000001Friday 2007

It seems that Costa Rica is going through some rough times at the moment. Much of the country uses hydroelectric energy which is generated by Lake Arenal, a beautiful body of water that is popular with windsurfers, and which is nestled at the base of an active volcano. Now, at the tail end of the dry season, there is not enough water in the lake to generate a sufficient amount of electricity to power the country. Therefore, we have had blackouts, both scheduled and unscheduled. Last night during an unscheduled blackout, we had little choice but to be entertained by all of the bugs that were attracted to our computer screen (which was running on battery power)!

Red, White and Blue 16 PMpWed, 25 Apr 2007 18:16:40 +000016Wednesday 2007

As the sun set into the tropical Pacific Ocean two days ago, my plane landed to kick off a three-month field season in Parque Nacional Santa Rosa to study the communication system of the banded wren. I immediately started sweating upon exiting the plane and soon shed the one and only long-sleeved shirt that I brought with me – it was 85 degrees Fahrenheit at 7:00 pm.

After the first 24 hours in Costa Rica, my body was sporting some very patriotic colors – both to the country that I am visiting and to the good ol’ US of A, since they both feature red, white and blue on their national flags. Here’s how the story goes:

Red – I spent about an hour walking through the streets of Liberia, trying to track down a cell phone that we can rent during our stay here. Unfortunately, we came up empty-handed, although I now have a souvenir of tender, red shoulders.

White – My skin is as pale as snow and I’m far from wearing the beautiful bronzed skin that Ticos (aka Costa Ricans) possess. But then again, I’d be leather before I ever attained skin of that hue, so I’m not even going to try.

Blue – If you’re currently involved in spring cleaning, consider yourself lucky that you don’t have to sweep the walls… and the ceilings… and the outdoor walls. Because that’s what I did yesterday – a big sweep-down of the entire house. It has been overgrown with all sorts of life, namely spiders and insects, frogs, skinks and scorpions during our absence since last September. While sweeping in my sandals, an unattached table leg came loose and slammed down on my big toe, which bruised within seconds.

So even though I am somewhat painfully patriotic at the moment, I will try and wear my colors with pride.