Bonding with the Brunka

The next and final stop of this crazy and wild ride of culture enrichment was in the Boruca indigenous territory where we spent two nights in a homestay, which was a joyful juxtaposition of basic living mixed with modern life. Por ejemplo, the walls of the houses don't quite extend up to the roofs, creating either a slightly-open-to-the-elements atmosphere or a one-with-nature vibe, depending on your mood. One morning, as I groggily pushed open my door, I caught glimpse of a chicken casually clucking around the kitchen. Yet, these houses have electricity and many gather around the glowing glare of TVs in their living rooms.

The Brunka (the people who live in the Boruca area) are so wonderfully welcoming. In groups, we conducted different research projects. My group did household surveys about edible mushroom comsumption and knowledge, going door to door to get responses to our burning mushroom questions.  Instead of knocking here, one must shout ¡Upe! to see if someone is home. Upe is a shortened version of "Ave María Purísima Nuestra Señora la Virgen de Guadalupe." Yeah, I'm still a little baffled about its origin too, but let's just roll with it. It's a version of "we come in peace and only want to have a friendly conversation about mushrooms!"

And oh did people want to have friendly conversations about mushrooms! And gush and gush about these mushrooms for half an hour or more sometimes. Just think if in the States, a group of foreigners rang your door bell and asked if you had time to discuss mushrooms. First off, you probably wouldn't answer. Or you'd think these wackos had consumed some other type of mushrooms before approaching you. But no, the Brunka invited us into their homes, pulling out seats so we could have a little heart to heart about how knowledge of collecting wild edible mushrooms is passed on generation to generation.

Besides being brilliantly kind, the Brunka are also known for making bank from their artisan professions. They specialize in natural dyes and carved, wooden masks.

While resembling a bowl of scrumptious pesto pasta, this is naturally dyed green yarn!

You know what they say...while in Boruca, attempt the art of the Brunka! Our day of research was sandwiched by two different crafts: tie-dye and mask painting. With burning conviction, I can say this was the most intense tie dye I have ever partaken in. Armed with my twisted and tied white shirt in hand, I scanned the scene and approached the natural dye, bubbling in large pots over a flame, with smoke wafting off of them.

The longer you soak the fabric, the more fervent the hues become. But, the longer you stand above the flame, the more smoke fills your eyes and lungs, the more the heat penetrates your skin. It becomes a test of endurance. You know what they say: if you can't handle the heat, get out of the tie-dye arena.

Tie-dye!

Mask painting in the evening proved to be slightly less dramatic (I think the fire kindles the drama flame). Although to see the pre-carved jaguar face better in the dim light, I did wear a headlamp while painting!

Similar to the rice and meat empanadas we made at Boruca stuffed into a banana leaf to cook overnight, this week was filled with such interesting combinations of insights into indigenous living, from a health lens and into their cultural sphere. And the traveling has only begun! On Wednesday, we bid a temporary farewell to the Ticos as we head to Nicaragua for a week, and I'm very curious to see what this neighbor to the north has in store for us!

Elevating the Explorations: Las Alturas

Last Monday morning, we rolled out of Las Cruces and drove an hour to Las Alturas, the first stop in our week-long tour of internet-less, limited-electricity-having, off-the-beaten-path living. You clever Spanish speakers out there might recognize that translation to be "The Heights," and indeed we ascended up in altitude along a grass road to around 1500 meters (4,920 feet).

A somewhat short, briefly bumpy ride down the mountain brings you to a small town with a few features that you swiftly spot. First and foremost, you notice the houses on the left side of the road are popping pastels that look quite livable (in your ethnocentric Western bias), whereas the houses on the right side of the road are overwhelmingly wooden, small, and darker. Well, what's going down with this "other side of the tracks"-esque divide?

Ngöbe houses

 Glad you asked! The divide is between the non-indigenous Costa Ricans living in the larger houses, and the indigenous, migratory Ngöbe group. Despite the stark geographic divide in living conditions, these groups do share one thing: their limited access to health care. There's no EBAIS for this town of about 200 people, but once a month a clinic is set up at the consultario...

...And with the regular doctors away, our group took over the clinic for this month's health post! In small groups, we took patients' vitals and shadowed one of our professors, also a physician, as he checked out the patients. Many Ngöbe people came in, often a mother carrying a few children carrying a few illnesses. At the clinic, we also ran a educational hand washing activity for (adorable) children from the school. Who doesn't love a good coloring book with a splash of rhyming Spanish phrases about hand washing! (Actually, the hope is for the kids to do their persistent, pestering kid thang and nag the parents about the habits so that this behavior change floods the household).

One afternoon we explored the environment around us via hike! Sporting the essential tropical hiking gear (rubber boots, jungle pants, field shirt, rain jacket), we sauntered off into the rhythmic rain. The soft, casual drizzle morphed into heavy plops against my water-resistant hood. But, that reliable post-lunch rain is never unforgivingly unrelenting, and a bit of the way up, the rain let up but our vigor did not. After moseying around mosses, dabbling through a dwarf forest and braving bamboo plants for 500 meters of ascent, we reached our cruising altitude and final destination: a lovely vista of misty grey skies! #Jungleproblems but the plants along the way and time in the forest was worth the blood (from blisters), sweat (or was that rain? Or both. Definitely both), and (figurative) tears.

What a view!

Return to the Rainforest

Annnnnd we're back from that brief commercial break of the more commercial city, and now live from Las Cruces field station!

Oh hey, rainforest! 

On Monday, I bid "¡hasta luego!" to my host mama for the time being, until I go back to stay with her for a week in October. Mi mama tica and I had multiple scoops of interesting dinner conversations over the weeks I was there...we touched on views about immigration, family structure, religion and ice cream--basically all the important issues.

A brief recap of things I learned from mi mama tica, mostly while eating ice cream together after dinner (if you want, you can pretend you've just dined on some rice, fried plantains, squash soup, have just sipped on some splendid fruit juice, and have accepted the offer of ice cream for dessert):

-Immigration is a charged issue in Costa Rica, that has some parallels to the situations in the states. Many people from Nicaragua migrate south to Costa Rica in search of jobs, since the scare supply of jobs available in Nicaragua offer meager pay. For the most part, Nicaraguans in Costa Rica are concentrated in the city area, and women primarily work in houses while men work in construction. The largely un-patrolled border between the two countries stretches for 192 miles. Some Ticos are unhappy about the migrant population, asserting that Nicaraguans are usurping the jobs that citizens could carry. But, the job sectors of the Ticos and the Nicaraguans are mostly two sides of a venn diagram that don't overlap. Yet, prejudices present themselves and resentment rings among some. Sound familiar? Why can't we all just get along?

-The only time my mama tica went out of the country was to visit a friend in Denver. She brought back a panini maker from a garage sale as a souvenir. I'm fairly certain this is the panini maker that receives the most enthusiasm on Earth.

-Costa Rica is something like 76% Catholic, with the runner-up religion being Evangelism. Costa Rica is actually not a secular state--it is indeed has Catholic government, which can be seen in some governmental policy as well (ex. abortions are illegal). Anyway, my host mom is a church-going Catholic, and has been surrounded by similar-believing people for her whole life. Consequently, she didn't know much about religions besides Christianity. She had only heard of Judaism in passing (and it probably didn't help I perpetually forgot the español word for Jewish), and didn't know about Hinduism either, both of which I tried to explain (uh, cómo se dice, "the mesiah hasn't yet come?"). So either my host mom now has more of an understanding of them, or is utterly confused with some haphazardly-created, nonsensical religion I may or may not have concocted.

Before I left San José, I decided to wander around UCR (Universidad de Costa Rica) since it was a 10 minute walk from my house and I was feeling explorative.

Pay phones are still a thing! Maybe that Maroon 5 song is more relevant than you thought it was, sí?

I'm a fan of all these energetic mosaics

The UCR equivalent to the WashU bunny?

And that (and a six hour bus ride with muchísimo traffic out of San José) brings us to Las Cruces, also known as my home, home in the rain, where the agoutis and the toucans play, where often is heard a serenading bird, and the skies are basically cloudy all day.

This week, we've had plenty of classes learning about anthropological research methods, protozoan diseases with funky life cycles, and identification and information about field plants. On Monday, we head out for the week to live with and research two different indigenous groups nearby!

Happy Independence Day!

When Costa Rica first gained its independence from Spain in 1821, nobody in the country knew about it. No one had seen any fighting...in fact, no revolutionary revelry took place on the country's soil. No rocket's red glare, no bombs bursting in air. It ain't no star-spangled banner.

Instead, Costa Rica, along with all of Central America northwards of it, gained their independence through the Mexican War for Independence. But since news travelled at a the pace of a runner, it took a while for it to trickle down from Mexico. Galloping through Guatemala, empowering El Salvador, hopping in Honduras, and navigating through Nicaragua, messenger-runners spread word of this independence through towns until they coasted into the then-Costa Rican capital of Cartago.

September 15, the day that independence was declared, is Costa Rica's Día de la Independencia. To commemorate Central American independence, high school runners tag team carrying a torch from Guatemala down to Cartago, mimicking the motion of the message spreading almost 200 years ago. Runners from each town get to work their legs to run a leg of this journey, passing the torch off at the next town...quite the relay race! And there's a deadline for it too--the torch must reach Cartago by midnight of the 15th. Or else the Cinderella moment's over (just kidding, I think...but I'm not quite sure what happens if it doesn't make it!).

Glad we got that background settled. Well, on the night of September 14th, the torch was making its way through San Pedro, the area of San José where I've been living! Leading up to the torch touch-off, masses of people gathered on a street with these little lanterns, many of them shaped like houses. Local school children played music and danced, as the on-lookers (mostly their parents and us group of gringos) watched. My host mama explained to me how the majority of people that partake in Independence Day festivities are families with children involved in the parade...otherwise it's just the same event year after year and you don't need to keep going (although that logic doesn't seem to stop anyone in the US from getting fired up for fireworks year after year!). It was also raining as we looked on at the performances, creating quite the sea of umbrellas!

At 6:00 pm, the Costa Rican national anthem patriotically paraded through some loud speakers. Our professor recounted how the anthem always plays at 6:00 pm on September 14 and how he remembers cars and buses pulling over when he was a kid for the respectful recitation...now it's less common to do so, as I saw while buses continued to zoom by through the anthem.

Meanwhile, post-anthem, post-performances, the crowd geared up for the torch! A group of high school runners stood together on the side of the road, encouraging cars and buses to honk out of support as they drove by (many of them did. It was quite the orchestra of beeping! Acoustically, I kind of preferred the anthem moment, but hey that's just me).

Then, the runners from the previous town plowed into the street, passed on the torch, and San Pedro's runners brought it over to light a larger torch in the middle of a park. One group continued on carrying the torch onwards to its Cartago destination, while other runners got a piece of the fire to bring back to kindle a flame at their own high school.

Lighting the larger torch in the park

Carrying the torch to its next destination!

 I hope you all had a liberating Independence Day! Tomorrow morning, I bid adios to the city for some time, as we head back to the Las Cruces field station. Got my jungle pants and rubber boots all ready to go...to the rainforest!

Zipping through the Mercado Central

Saturday morning, we ventured into San José's most popular maze, also known as the Mercado Central.

Stepping into one of the four corner entrances of this market, you are immediately bombarded by the quantity of goods for sale. Numerous narrow nooks of store-line pathways comprise this central shopping spot. The intersection of the pathways are plentiful, each another decision-point in this choose-your-own-adventure novel of a novel experience. 

Strolling swimmingly down one aisle, you are immersed under the odor ocean of fresh fish filling your nostrils: look to each side around you, and the fish will stare blankly back from their bed of ice. March over to another alley and you'll find enticing tropical fruits galore! Running low on energy? Rally yourself to a restaurant. Pursuing some new purses? Clothing and more touristy shops got you covered. Suddenly find yourself wishing you had a pet bird? No problema! Pets stores got your back.

Frutas!

One group from our class had the assignment of finding and buying tropical fruits, which we later got to sample!

In addition to inquisitively wandering around, we had assignments in the Mercado as well. My group was supposed to find what traditional plant remedies were being sold to treat Diabetes. Plenty of medicinal plant stores flourished throughout the market, and all of them had treatments for Diabetes. Some recommended only one herb, while others advised an arranged assortment, with many of the suggestions overlapping from vendor to vendor. With all of the herbs, it's instructed that you make a tea and drink it with some sort of frequency (differs depending on whom you ask). One of the vendors wore a long white shirt with the name "Dr. House" sharpied on the front...traditional medicine meets pop culture?

Medicinal plants shop with some herbs hanging from the ceiling

The wide array of uses and types of plants rooted in traditional medicine blew me away!

After hunting down methods to lower blood sugar for an hour, it seemed only fitting to find a way to increase my own! So, to an ice cream store I went. This little 100+ year old ice cream shop inside the Mercado Central makes only one flavor, which might as well be named the Most-Delicious-Thought-Provokingly-Intriguing-Flavor-Ever flavor. Except it would probably be in Spanish. And it would need to be more catchy. Blissful Twist? Heaven Crunch? Cloud of Delight? Anyway, I have no idea what its actual name is. You can make your own name for it...it'll be part of your Choose-Your-Own-Adventure path! Glad we settled that. Anyway, eating the ice cream itself is analogous to throwing yourself down a glorious black hole of flavors, in that the world outside of your mouth suspends in both time and space as you bask in the glory of a combo of cinnamon, nutmeg, perhaps some pumpkin thrown in there. Seriously, if I wasn't feeling so anti-corporation, I'd suggest someone call of Mr. Willy Wonka himself to check this out (but not the Johnny Depp version, because that was just terrifying). 

Enough said.

On Sunday, we did that quintessential Costa Rican touristy thang...ziplining through the tree canopies! About a half-hour's ride from San José, I strapped on a harness, helmet and gloves and zipped past some trees! It was pretty cool. Here's a video (in which you get an excellent view of my precautionary raincoat sleeve, as well as some trees)! You might want to watch it in full screen mode if you don't have your field magnifying glass on you.

7.6

This morning, I rolled out of bed, gobbled down my gallopinto, cheery eggs and toast and sleepily stumbled down the street to the bus stop. I kept glancing down at my watch, wondering when the bus would eventually arrive. I hopped on the bus, and began the routine ride going as smoothly as these buses go (which usually involves sudden braking and accelerating amidst people climbing aboard or signaling for "parada" (bus stop) to get off).

Perhaps 100 meters from the bus stop that I normally get off at, traffic slowed from its glacial pace to a solid standstill. The bus began to quiver slightly...well, that's a bit odd, I pondered to myself. Is this shaking more than normal? Perhaps. Or maybe the bus is having problems and is breaking down? Oh wait, definitely more shaking that normal. Wow, this is a noticeable front-to-back, side-to-side motion! Like a more tame version of being on a rodeo horse! And indeed, the bus driver, must've had a similar sentiment as he kept one hand on the wheel on the stopped bus with the other one flailing about in the air, mimicking a rider of a bucking bronco. Oh, maybe this is an earthquake!

The epicenter was 87 miles west of San José, and 25 miles underground (map from ABC news)

Well, the shaking stopped, and the traffic remained, so I hopped off the bus, and made my way to the language school. I thought it was a bit odd that there were so many people outside of their offices and houses after just a slight tremor. After all, Costa Rica is prone to some quakes since two seismic plates timidly (or today, more aggressively) touch, moving toward each other at about 80mm per year. There's even two Spanish words to describe earthquakes: "temblor" for the meager under 5.0 magnitude, and "terremoto" for the ones greater than 5.0 magnitude that mean more serious business.

When I got to school, it had been perhaps 10 minutes since the terremoto had passed, but I hadn't know that it was actually a strong one until I heard someone remark, "SIETE PUNTO NUEVE!" 7.9? Es verdad? No way, José. But, basically true! It was initially recorded as a 7.9 magnitude, and later readjusted to 7.6. And there was no damage that I saw in San José...except that when we entered our class room, one of the closet doors had fallen down, knocked off its hinges! 

Since San José is about 87 miles east of the epicenter, the force was probably more muted here, but nonetheless, Ticos have been saying this is the strongest quake they remember being shook up by in recent history. Apparently, some workplaces and schools (including the Universidad de Costa Rica) were cancelled today after the event, but our classes continued as usual! 

Do You Know the Way to San José?

I've been settling in and learning how to navigate around San José...specifically the San Pedro area where the universidad is though. And if we're getting really technical about it, more like getting from my host house to class to places to eat (muy importante) and coming home. Sometimes I feel like those leaf cutter ants, merrily marching to the route that they've established so faithfully there's a visible pathway through the grass. And while I've yet to carry around breadcrumbs to trace my way back, I'm becoming more capable of venturing off the path while still making it home for dinner time.

View from inside the Carmiol Bus! You pay the driver your 210 colones fare (less than 50 cents) and hop on for a ride. 

One thing that contributes to my developing sense of direction is the fact that the streets lack names. You know how when you've just google-mapped directions (or perhaps you've already cruised into the 21st century and are more of a GPS kind of kid), and you finally find that street sign, crisp white letters against that green or blue background beholding the name of the desired street and that feeling of satisfied relief washes over you? Yeah, see that doesn't happen here. Sure there are streets and many, many of them. All paved in the city too, with round-abouts and all! But people use landmarks here to give directions/addresses. And sometimes the landmarks they use colloquially are no longer there physically. Por ejemplo, near my Spanish school there's a Hyundai dealership, that people call "El Subaru" because it was a Subaru dealership for some 20 years before the recent past. How would a Gringa like I know that? (Well it seems like I do...but I'm lookin out for all my Gringo brethren out there).

Whoops, seems like I got lost in my ideas of getting lost! During the day, I actually do other things besides just transport myself...for four to five hours a day, we have our clase de espanol! Which is a lot of structured Spanish, but I get really excited when I use new grammar structures I've just learn while talking to my host mama! I'm pretty sure she's confused why I'm teeming with glee as I team up some solid imperfect subjunctive and conditional tenses in the most mundane sentence.

Under an awning during a casual torrential downpour at Spanish school. 

Some days, we finish class early enough in time to Salsa! And while it would be definitely delicious if I was referring to mouth-watering, meal-enhancing spices, I am indeed, very much for realz referring to the dance. To the baile, if you will. Throughout salsa class, my two left feet seem to stage protests against moving in space with any trace of grace. In fact, never having salsa-ed before (not counting any times I may have spilled pico de gallo on my feet), my feet were so surprised at how much they were moving and exercising, they were about ready to stage a sit-in! But, since salsa-ing towers past merely toeing the line of fun, I'll go marching on with it.

For a change to our daily rhythm (aside from changing the Salsa music), our group went to the Museo Nacional this past Saturday! The museum is housed in an old army fortress, no longer needed after the army was abolished after Costa Rica gained independence in 1948.

One watchtower used during the military days.

This museum is a true Juan of all trades. Walking into the museum, you are immersed in an enclosed butterfly garden, colors fleeting quixotically around. Then you go up to a long hallway where the museo relatively succinctly summarizes the history of the country, from when people crossed the Bering Strait to come to the Americas and moved south with some staying in the general area to the present day. Downstairs in the museum are remnants of the structure's militaristic past with prison cells present, among other facts about the building itself.

Butterflies!

In addition to sharing culturally cool insights, my host mama makes delicious dinner laced with customary Costa Rican cuisine. This evening, I had "sopa negra," soup with beans, a hard-boiled egg, and a banana--a combination I certainly wouldn't have conducted on my own, but a strikingly super soup nevertheless. Since she's in her 70's with children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren to her name, she's got a lot to say. It's like her life observations comprise a longitudinal study in culture change, noting how she's seen family sizes decrease, divorce become somewhat more common...but also in clear consistency of how children almost always live with their parents until marriage.

View from the small balcony right outside of my room!

¡Continuamos explorando San José!