My one month anniversary

Today marks one full month in Costa Rica. It has been an adventure like no other. I feel like I’m in a movie, or maybe in an investigative news program like 20/20. Week 4 was a whirlwind of drama. Where to begin…

This week we went from 5 volunteers, down to 4, then back up to 6 on Monday. Two that we gained are a married couple (Allen & Carol) who were having bad wwoof experiences here in CR and had nowhere else to go. To summarize who is here now and their relationship with Frank, which may be important as the saga unfolds:

-Martha (24, Wisconsin, can’t stand up to Frank though she probably despises him the most)
-Gerome (24, Belgium, told Frank off yesterday, earning major respect from me)
-Justin (20, Massachusetts, kind of like teacher’s pet, acts as sort of a mediator between us and Frank)
-Carol (28, New York, also outspoken with Frank)
-Allen (26, Argentina, totally agreeable with everything)

Prior to Allen and Carol’s arrival, Frank told us that they were here on a trial basis for one week, possibly because there may be some upcoming space issues but more likely because he gets off on that kind of power. Suffice to say that the first few days of their stay were quite uncertain. Frank also made up a new rule just for them that they would have to work 7 days in a row in their first week. Bitching about Frank rose to its highest level. (I’m far less involved in these talks, as they have lost their fun for me.) Things got really uncomfortable on Wednesday. I wasn’t there to witness it, but some of the others saw Frank parading around the farm, holding hands with some young girl. They said she looked like she was 16, tops. Let me say again, Frank is 50 years old. Needless to say, we were all repulsed. Repulsion then grew into serious concern, as we may have become witnesses to something illegal (prostitution is legal here, but not under the age of 18). It definitely adds a new layer of complexity to our situation.

Justin had a talk with him about it. Frank says that he doesn’t sleep with them but admitted that he gives them money because they’re in need. Hmm, not sure if 1) I believe it, or 2) that that makes me feel any better. Then I was brought up. Frank has come to believe that I am “poisoning” the group and referred to me in a metaphor as a moldy orange. Ha. Since I had been the only one to confront him about anything, he believed that I’m persuading the others to dislike him. He also expressed disappointment in our not including him in our Thanksgiving festivities, assuming that I was the primary reason for that.

That brings me to our happy day. Who knew I would have one of my most memorable Thanksgiving meals in Costa Rica. Justin, Marta and I cooked for the group, and we pretty much rocked it out in our tiny kitchen. I made cornbread, mashed ñampis (tastes sort of like potato) and sweet potatoes, which are yellow and not as sweet as the US version. Justin made this incredible stuffing using some old bread, some butter, some herbs, celery, and homemade vegetable stock. Martha takes the cake though…or the pie rather. In addition to making green beans, she made these two incredible pies (pictured), one squash and the other banana cream. The squash was out of this world, better than any pumpkin pie I’ve ever tasted. Top it all off with some blackberry wine and there you have it, our Costa Rican Thanksgiving. The best part of all was simply being able to celebrate the holiday with food from the farm. No canned or boxed anything. Never in my life had I ever felt so connected to my food or more inspired to grow my own some day.

It was hard to get up the next morning, but we managed to drag ourselves out the door to go to work. First thing, Frank told me he needed to talk to me and to wait outside his house. I headed over, while he continued talking to the others. Allen and Carol were in Frank’s kitchen and gave me the warning: he’s planning on kicking you out. Oh brother, just what I feel like dealing with at 6 in the morning. So he came over and we moved to the table. I was feeling mostly calm and confident, though I had no idea what I was going to say. He started by saying that he’s not happy and neither am I and that it’s not working out. I said that I needed to tell him something that would basically explain my behavior that I should have mentioned a while ago. And so I brought up all those creepy things he did to me that first week I was here. He definitely didn’t see that coming. I mentioned his invitation to go in his jacuzzi tub with him, and he interjected “but with a bathing suit,” as if that makes it okay!!! Anyway, it turned out to be a great way to start the conversation, because 1) it explained why I’m so distant with him and 2) he ended up apologizing several times. At that point, I could tell he wasn’t going to ask me to leave.

We continued to talk for another 45 minutes or so. He brought up a number of seemingly petty things I’ve done that have bothered him, like leaving my laundry in his washing machine overnight, and I brought up things that are real problems, like his sexism. He asked me to be the Anti-Gossip Ambassador, which involves stopping any gossip I hear and running to grab him so he can be included in the conversation. I never actually agreed because that would just be too exhausting. He seemed most concerned about the gossip going on about him and the young girl. I think he’s scared of getting in trouble, as I’m noticing this new strange nervous energy about him. I said very little about it, since I didn’t actually see the girl, and it seemed that that worked in my favor. While nothing was actually resolved (we agreed to continue talking later), telling him how uncomfortable he made me was definitely a much-needed cathartic experience.

I found out a bit later that he had told all the volunteers, right before talking to me, that he was going to kick me out. He asked them individually if they would leave if he did kick me out. I was touched to learn that Martha told him that she would.

Overall, I felt pretty good after our talk, but then found out that during lunch, he told Carol and Allen that he was going to make things hard on me for a while. Sure enough, next day, he was prepared to test me. He came over to the cabin and seemed rather angry. Martha and I were giving ourselves egg white and lemon facials. He saw this and then asked if he can use some. So we said okay and he stuck his dirty hand in the bowl and started to complain again about the gossip that’s going around about the girl, saying that he’s disappointed and disgusted with us. This is while the nasty old pervert is slathering egg whites on his face, dripping egg whites on the floor. If I could draw better, I would make one sick cartoon out of this scene.

Then, in yet another power trip, he tells us he’s implementing a new rule. If we want to continue to use his washing machine, we have to work an extra hour in advance, cleaning “common” areas of his house that we don’t even use. It is such total crap, but at this point, I’m not even surprised. There was no way I could agree to that. My heart was racing. He’s slathering on more egg white, telling us how good it feels. At this point, I’m thinking that this man is actually crazy. Is this how he’s going to test me, by treating my like his slave? Well, he’s got another thing coming, because I don’t want to stay here that bad. I told him I was unwilling to do that and that I prefer to wash everything by hand. Unfortunately, Justin and Martha agreed and ended up spending an hour of their day off cleaning his house. However, when I told Jerome about the new rule, he ran over to Frank’s house and told him off! That was pretty exciting, but I think the new rule still stands.

So that’s where things left off yesterday. Despite a lot of wavering, Frank decided that the new couple could stay, which I’m very happy about. Supposedly, two more people arrive today.

This is the saga of volunteering on an organic farm. One month full of drama, but also full of life and adventure and beautiful scenery:) I feel like I have finally adjusted to the physical demands of the work, to living in a small space with others, and also to just being dirty A LOT. Going to go celebrate my anniversary now with some beer and maldito, my favorite new card game. Adios!

Thank you

Every so often Thanksgiving falls ever so fittingly on my mama’s birthday, and today is one of those special days. So today I just want to give thanks for my little mama, who is the greatest blessing a girl could ever be given. It’s amazing to think there’s someone in this world who has devoted her whole life to loving me. What I ever did to deserve this I’ll never know. Possibly I was something exceptional in a previous life. I just feel so overwhelmed with gratitude when I think about my relationship with my mom. Nothing hidden, nothing fake, nothing forced, just the most beautiful natural easy friendship. To be able to laugh about something random the exact same way, with the same depth and the same interpretation, nobody else understanding it the way we do…that’s one magical thing. What else to say? I am too choked up, at a loss, no way of comprehending this fortune I inherited just by being born. I love you Mom, I wish you the happiest of birthdays, and I thank the universe for working so magically.

It’s only 9:30 and this is already turning out to be one amazing Thanksgiving. My cabin-mates and I sat around giving thanks, not kumbaya style or anything, just talking about the foods from the farm that we love, admiring the beautiful weather. We were in the midst of a cold front, endless drizzle all day, but TODAY is all sunshine and clear skies. Absolutely amazing. We are already starting to prepare our Thanksgiving meal. I’ll be making camote (sweet potatoes) and cornbread. Martha is making a pie from a beautiful fragrant squash from the farm hoping it’ll be pumpkin-y. I was going to make stuffing but passed the responsibility to Justin, which is just as well cause I was just going to wing it. The three other volunteers are working today, so we’ll see if they are going to have any energy left to cook anything. Maybe we’ll have some more tilapia from the farm (turkeys are very expensive here). Regardless of it turns out, it’s going to be a joy to prepare.

We are extremely blessed here on the farm. We went around the table this morning and named our top 3 farm foods (yeah, totally cheesy and my idea). My top 3, in order, are:

1) aguacate (avocado)

2) jugo de caña (sugar cane juice)

3) banano (I'll let you figure that one out)

My oh my, the food, the food! So many runners-up…fresh squeezed orange juice, plantains, tilapia, pejibaye (a small starchy palm fruit that tastes more like a vegetable), oh, and all the fresh herbs…basil, rosemary, mint, lemongrass, and the heavenly smell off the oregano. Sometimes I carry some around in my pocket just to take whiffs when I’m doing some boring farm work. And though we don’t grow them on the farm, the pineapples in town are incredible and only like 75 cents!

I’ve grown to appreciate some totally random things too, as we live so minimally here. For example, ziploc bags and paper towels, which our host doesn’t provide, are like gold. What he does provide is oatmeal, rice, beans, pasta. So we eat oatmeal just about every morning, which gets pretty old. Today we threw in like 6 raisins that we found, which was so exciting. Every time we got a spoonful with a raisin we celebrated. I never would have thought that a raisin could make me so happy. Then there’s my ipod, which is my savior. Serves as entertainment and a clock while I work, ear plugs when I sleep, and a very effective way of ignoring (or pretending to ignore) Frank.

Lastly, the lovely volunteers here who I would go crazy without. A big thanks for them. Excuse the excessive cheesiness...and HAPPY THANKSGIVING to all!

My dilemma

I’m falling behind on my writing and for no good reason. Perhaps my thoughts have been too scattered to convey any one message. So I am finally going to stop trying to focus and just write. I can’t think of a better way to figure out my own feelings.

Week #3 went pretty smoothly. No major bug incidents occurred. We went from 3 volunteers (myself included) to 5. Four of the five are long-term volunteers, so it should be interesting to have a more permanent group here. Frank continues to be a lingering obstacle in my pursuit of la pura vida. I have confronted him on a couple issues, which seem to only make matters worse. He makes me out to be the complainer, while the others get off scott free by saying nothing to his face but badmouthing him constantly behind his back. A bit frustrating.

One of the concerns I shared with him was that I wasn’t learning enough about coffee, though I made it crystal clear prior to arriving that was a primary reason for my visit. I remember talking to him on the phone, saying that I just didn’t want either of us to end up disappointed, and he said something like ‘well, I certainly don’t want to see any long faces around here.’ As it turns out, he hardly knows anything about coffee. He’s not even sure what color coffee beans he should pick (definitely a bad sign). However, he makes no apology for misleading me nor does he seem to empathize with my frustration.

Now my other main frustration is how he treats women. In a nutshell. he is a sexist pig. (Note, this is all aside from him hitting on me when I first arrived.) Whenever Angel isn’t running the day’s activities, Frank will give the female volunteers (me and Martha) the lame, boring tasks, like weeding or raking, while the men go around carrying machetes, whacking down trees and building things. You know, I really don’t need to say any more about what a bastard he is. I’ve figured out my feelings: I really despise this man. It’s really unfortunate because I really wanted to find a way to at least sort of like him. (Note: creep is pictured above)

Then there is Angel, who I previously referred to as the anti-Frank. Well, as it turns out, there is an unfortunate similarity. Like Frank, Angel has no problem hitting on a volunteer. And unfortunately, that volunteer would be me :( I’m not sure exactly what happened, as it all seemed to happen so fast, but awesome new friend somehow turned into crazy friend having feelings for me, blowing me kisses, whispering mi reina in my ear. Ughhh. Why????? I don’t understand why I attract this kind of nonsense. I guess our friendship was just too good to be true. However, unlike Frank, Angel continues to be exceptionally generous and patient with all of us and I can’t take any of that away from him. And since our relationship was built on joking around, I can’t take his come-ons too seriously. I guess a part of me still hopes it’s all a joke. (Note: loco is pictured above)

I will say no more about the details of my weird problems. The last I ever wanted to blog about was problems with men, but what can you do. Life is just full of surprises. It is sufficient to say that I feel conflicted about what to do next. I don’t enjoy working for Frank. I don’t like the way I feel around him or the ugliness my own thoughts about him. However, I love love love Costa Rica and I want to experience it to the fullest. I have contacted the WWOOF organization and informed them about my situation and they plan to evict Frank from the program. (I haven’t actually given them his name yet and am not sure I should until I have an exit strategy). I am considering going to a different farm, but am finding that so many have hidden fees that aren’t listed in the packet. WWOOF wants to remove those farms too, as they are not supposed to be charging volunteers. So, as usual, I’m stirring things up, speaking my mind…that’s just my way of making things right:)

Not sure what I’ll do next, but I’m definitely exploring my options and hoping that a better opportunity arises. Any advice, I’m all ears.

Buggin' out

Unfortunately, this week resembled real life. Damn. My streak of highs was too good to last forever. I’d like to think that it is simply a matter of attitude, but I can’t imagine even the most positive person enjoying the source of my torture: BUGS! I’m even paranoid that in writing this I will piss them off more. Maybe they can sense my fear. Maybe they are plotting their next attack. Or maybe I’m giving them way too much credit right now.

It started out small, with some ordinary fruit flies swarming around the kitchen 24/7. Not really a problem. Moths circling around the cabin at night, occasional spider roaming about. Totally manageable. Then there came the giant slug in the shower. I decided to go to bed dirty that night and pray that it would leave by morning. It did.

They came on stronger as the week went along. Wednesday was a bad day. I worked with Frank that day, which in itself is torture. He micromanages every stupid last detail of the even the most basic project. All that the project entailed was fertilizing some trees, but he blabs on and on about the best strategy for carrying buckets, how many trees a bucket will feed, how to minimize the number trips to get more fertilizer, etc etc ad infinitum. Then he might revise the strategy, at which point I just stop caring altogether.

The icing on the cake was my lovely run-in with a mound of angry ants that swarmed into my boots in record speed. I still can’t fathom how they made it all the up and over my practically knee-length boots before I even noticed them. Needless to say, I totally spazzed, frantically took my boots off, tried to brush them off, then awkwardly ran through a wet obstacle course to get back to safe ground. Eventually I got them all off me with the hose and rinsed out my boots, but the damage was done. I will refrain from counting how many bites I have and just say that my legs are sufficiently hideous and I don’t plan on wearing shorts any time soon.

Then came Thursday. Frank gave me a small window of opportunity to do my laundry after work, so I tried to move fairly quickly (but not too quickly, so I could annoy him a little). I went to fetch my dirty clothes, which I keep in a plastic bag under my bed, and out crawled a tarantula. Ah yes, just what I felt like dealing with. I just stared for a minute, at a loss for how to best approach the hairy little dude. Surprisingly, he didn’t make even the slightest movement. That was promising. So I grabbed the broom and a bucket with the intention of course to sweep him inside. Well, I swept him inside pretty quickly, but he crawled out before I could trap him in, damnit. But then he just stayed put (such a cooperative little fellow), so I thought I could just keep sweeping him until he was out the front door. And sure enough, he stayed frozen, and I just swept him outside. That was a proud moment for me, conquering my fear all by myself, and I am actually fonder of tarantulas now. If only all our insects were so agreeable!

Friday’s incident was much more traumatizing yet so very fascinating. It involved our cute little friend, the caterpillar. The caterpillars I’ve seen on the farm (the name in spanish gusano

ciprés) are a beautiful lime green color, making them nice to look at but also hard to find amidst a field of green coffee plants . Unfortunately, the act of finding them is usually a very painful one. Picking coffee Friday morning, my left hand brushed against one hidden amongst the branches. I felt a very sharp isolated pain on the edge of my pinky finger. Initially, there was no visible mark, but slowly my finger started to swell and subtle white circles appeared where the caterpillar’s spikes made contact. It seemed like a manageable pain at first, but time proved otherwise as I grew nauseous and dizzy. Frank, in a very nice gesture, put my coffee sack on the ground and suggested I lie down for a while with my hand elevated, which I did for about 20 minutes. The pain eventually subsided but didn’t completely go away for about an hour.

Believe it or not, it actually happened again later on the same day! This time though, Angel came over and busted out this crazy cure. I have a short video I’m posting on here, cause it will help explain what happened, and gross you out as an added bonus. He grabs the caterpillar with a couple of leaves and pulls it apart, then rubs its slimy green innards on your hand, which then turns red! It’s supposed to help ease the pain. I think it helps, but it’s still pretty darn painful. Even worse than the pain though is the paranoia that I’m going to encounter another. The rest of the day I worked like a snail as every single branch required a once-over before I would even touch it.

I appreciate the abundance of life here, but I’m not sure how to cope with this many bugs. I am trying my best to coexist peacefully with them, but they are certainly making it difficult. First Frank, now thousands of mini-Franks…isn’t one giant pest enough?

Life is good

This may have been the most memorable week of my life. Perhaps of your life too. It suddenly feels like a great time to be alive. There’s a new and unfamiliar vibration in the air, eerie yet electrifying. I have to wonder, is it all Obama? Is there some universal wave of excitement that made its way to Costa Rica? I can’t say for sure, but here at the farm, we are thrilled.

Obama aside, my first ten days in Costa Rica have been amazing. I absolutely love it here. There is so much to say, so much more than my tired coffee-picking fingers can type, but I will share as much as they’ll allow. I’m just going to break it down by topic, hopefully answering the basic questions that you might have.

The people: The main people in my daily life are Frank, the owner of the property, Angel, the caretaker of the farm, and the other volunteers. When I first arrived, there were five others, and now there are just two. All in all, there have been 3 guys and 3 girls here, ranging in age from 19 to 29. It is so fascinating to see how all these strangers come together and build relationships so quickly and how, even in such a short time, it is sad to see people leave.

Early on, we seemed to have bonded over one topic: Frank. A nice soft-spoken man in his 50s, from New Mexico, kind of quirky and funny, seemingly harmless. Yet somehow he manages to give all of us the creeps. Don’t be alarmed, it’s under control, but the guy has said some weird things to me. My first night he asked if I wanted to go in his jacuzzi tub with him, the next invited me over for dinner and a movie. He has offered to teach me massage, suggested we do yoga together, and the list goes on. (In case you weren’t sure, I said no to all of them.) Boy is he creepy, but, thankfully, pretty easy to avoid. We have too much fun making fun of him to really be bothered.

Then there is Angel, a 41 year old Nicaraguan man, who is like the anti-Frank. He is such a huge source of joy in my life here. He lives with his family in a house on the property and started working here about 11 years ago, long before Frank bought the property in 2005. Though Frank owns the farm, Angel really runs the show. He knows everything about all the plants we grow and leads the volunteer crew every day. Actually, he seems to know everything about everything. He is an amazing teacher, so patient and helpful and just so much fun to be around. We are extremely lucky to have him on the farm. Even if I left here with nothing other than my friendship with Angel, I would be perfectly content.

The layout of the farm: Frank’s property consists of the farm land, his house, an a-frame we call the chalet, a cabin, and Angel’s house. The first few nights I stayed by myself in the a-frame, but then moved into the cabin because I didn’t like the darkness. Here I get to wake up to the sunlight in the morning and our view is spectacular. We also get hot water here (a huge plus) and have a little kitchen. We had 4 people in here, but now it’s just me and another gal Martha.

The work: I have worked 6 days now. Most of my time has been devoted to coffee picking which is pretty tiring but enjoyable in a meditative kind of way. Every weekday we work from 6am to 1pm, with a one hour lunch. First thing in the morning, we are given a canasto (basket) that we fasten around our waists and a sack (see picture). Angel leads us to a section of the farm where coffee has ripened and we divide and conquer. Usually he puts us close together, which makes it much more enjoyable (I like to make up games). All it really entails is picking the ripe cherries, which are usually red, though sometimes yellow. It is pretty straightforward, unless there are questionable cherries, which look a bit dried out. I usually just squeeze them and determine the ripeness by their juiciness.

Angel told me that his family, who helps with the coffee, gets paid about 80 colones (approximately $1.50) for a basketful of cherries, which weighs about 20 pounds. This is about the average pay. It would probably take me, at my leisurely pace, the whole work day to fill just one. With 2000 hand-picked cherries equaling just one pound of coffee, you may find new appreciation for your morning cup of joe. I know I have.

The city: The city of Sarchí is small, quaint and artsy. We are about a 30 minute walk to town. Since we’re at the top of a long hill, I sometimes walk to town and take a bus back up, though today I rode on a tractor. Buses are very common here and take you to neighboring towns as well as San Jose, the capital. They are super cheap, about 25 cents to get to town. The city has everything I really need, including a couple different internet cafes I go to about twice a week. I enjoy just sitting at the park and people watching, New York style.

The food: Frank provides us with staples (rice, beans, oatmeal, pasta) and we can eat anything the farm grows. Unfortunately, there isn’t very much to eat on the farm on a regular basis. I’ve been waiting on a bunch of bananas to ripen since I got here. I am very excited about those. We have avocados, which are delicious. I have two in the cabin right now that need a couple more days to ripen. My favorite plant though is the caña (sugar cane). I will post a picture of this contraption that Angel made that we use to squeeze out the juice. The juice is so refreshing and I like to munch on the cane when there’s some juice left on it. There are also some oranges, though I avoid them cause they sometimes have small transparent worms that blend in too well.

The culture: The national expression is “pura vida,” which translates to pure life. I thought that sounded pretty cool, though I didn’t really understand it until spending a week here. It’s quite a magical feeling. Life just feels more real here, the experiences more rich, the interactions with people more genuine. I have had a difficult time finding time to write because life is just so enjoyable that I just want to keep taking it all in.

One of my Costa Rica books said that this country ranks #8 in the list of friendliest places in the world. I have to disagree. While people are quite nice and helpful when you ask them something, people on the street don’t come across as warm at all. They mostly look at us gringas (white girls) like we’re aliens. It’s one of my few frustrations.

Language: I love speaking Spanish. Most days I speak more Spanish than English, mostly because of Angel, who only speaks Spanish. Sometimes it is quite difficult, like when I’m tired. I was telling Angel last night that it’s hardest first thing in the morning and late at night, but in the middle of the day, it’s really enjoyable. I can communicate well in town, going to the internet café, the post office, the market, etc. I even got in an argument with the guy working at the ice cream shop…in Spanish! That was a trip. Not a good person to piss off, since ice cream here is so good!

It just keeps getting better here every day. Skyped with my parents today. Life is good :)