Site Visit to Puerto Viejo de Sarapiqui

The last trip I took as part of my training was a visit to my future site. We had all found out our sites during a delightful day at a country club on the day before Thanksgiving. It was a delightful day, spent looking at our folders to figure out where we’d be living, who’d we be living near, who we would be working with in our sites, and eating some a delicious Thanksgiving dinner (thanks U.S. taxpayers!). Although, things weren’t so great the next morning, as it was deduced that either the fruit juice or gravy had stricken about half the group (including staff) with food poisoning (yours truly included). Of course, after my adventures across the Pacific, food poisoning without two nights in the hospital is nothing.

Moving on to more pleasant topics, my visit to Puerto Viejo de Sarapiqui was absolutely wonderful. Before the site visits, our entire training group, staff, and a great number of counterparts all got together at the retreat center in Tres Rios (where we spent the first week of training). A counterpart is ideally the person representing the local government agency or community group whom Peace Corps volunteers use as a partner, resource, or guide during their service. For example, many of the Community Economic Development volunteers work with local groups similar to a chamber of commerce. As for us in the TEFL project, we work with MEP (el Ministro de Educacion Publica-should be easy enough to translate). For this retreat, some counterparts couldn’t come, so some host families came, or other members of the groups, but not necessarily the counterpart. Yet, heavy rains had swept the waters of Rio Sarapiqui over the main bridge in town, and only one of the five counterparts from our region, the principal of the elementary school in the town where Beth D. is serving. Fortunately, he was a really cool guy, and not only gave me and another volunteer, Marlene R. rides to our new homes, but had us over for lunch at his house, and we enjoyed a nice chat with him and his wife and a walk around their pretty property.

(the patio where I often sit and read)

As we were driving along the street trying to find my house (Costa Rican directions are at best approximate), Marlene and Beth joked about one house, wouldn’t it be crazy if this was your house. Well, as it happened, when the principal asked the lady sweeping the porch, in fact it was my house, and she was Ester, my new host mom. While some people may be living in straw huts in Zambia, or in slums in Guatemala, my host family kind of fits with the Peace Corps in Costa Rica theme. I live in a gorgeous, spacious, and super peaceful house. All the floors are tile (fairly standard here) and every corner has a beautiful tropical plant. The house sits on a spacious lot, maybe a bit bigger than where my parents live back home. Marvin, my host dad, is a truck driver for a company that exports tropical plants to hotels in Spain, France, and the Netherlands. So, as the price is right (read: free), along with gorgeous plants in every corner, the yard is chock full of tall, green, and splendid tropical plants. My visit to the home was a wonderful time, as I was able to relax, see some of the surrounding areas, and get to know my new family. One great piece of news was that both Stephany (10th grade) and Bryan (7th grade) were ‘eximidos’ from every one of their year-end exams. What this means is that they maintained a 90 in each of their classes during all three trimesters and thus are exempt from taking any tests. I learned this as I was trying to figure out why they weren’t going to school even though it was still in session. It was the second round of finals (you get three chances in Costa Rica-what a sweet gig), but they got all three rounds off due to their assiduous studying during the year.

(the Chinchilla Jarquin home)

During my trip we took a little trip in the family’s Suzuki mini-SUV to swim in one of the many rivers passing through the area. We drove through some dirt roads on a tree plantation (maybe teak) to a delightful little pool in Rio San Jose. There was a little cascade that fed the pool, and we passed an hour or two swimming in the watering hole, wandering along the banks, and getting massaged by backing into the cascades. On a roundabout way home, we took a little adventure through some country roads. Now, if you haven’t gotten the hint, Costa Rica’s infrastructure is decidedly an area for improvement. Country road here doesn’t mean two-lane gravel, it means one lane stones thrown into the mud, or sometimes, just deep, thick, barely passable muddy paths. We took this trip with the intention of finding the farm of the father of one of my host dad’s coworkers. We were looking for this farm to buy some queso fresco; as I mentioned in another post, this stuff is all the rage here, and buying it from the farmers can save some cheddar (yeah I did). Of course, you have to find the farmers. The problem was that my host dad had slightly messed up the name of the guy we were looking for, but through stopping and asking three different times, while essentially describing everything he knew about the family-as he realized the name was wrong. Eventually we found the farm, sat on the porch while my host dad and the farmer chatted, bought a big block of cheese (maybe a six inch by six inch cube), and headed home.

The only other really notable occurrence of my visit to Puerto Viejo was the cutting of the lawn. I can’t say mowing, because no lawn mower was used. The lawn at my house is, like I said, about the size of a normal lawn in the States (on a quarter/third acre lot). In lieu of a lawn mower, my host dad used the next best thing: a weed wacker. Granted, it was one of the dual handled ones that are much easier to maneuver over large areas (yes I have professional experience backing that statement). The best part was not simply the fact that he weed wacked his entire yard, it was his get-up. He was rocking his knee high rubber rain boots, a full-length rubber apron, goggles, and a wide brimmed hat. I’d make fun of him, but there were all sorts of rocks flying up from the gravel driveway that I probably would’ve been decked out like he was. I remember in China I was amazed at how they cut grass by grabbing it in one hand and then chopping it with a cleaver like knife. Well, Costa Rica has not been a letdown at all, and here’s to hoping one day I can get to weed wack our lawn!