Sundries

Pura Primavera
Spring is weaving its way into the mountains and jungles of Arenal, whose green pastures and canopies are beginning to glitter with gemlike colors: neon orange and pink impatiens volunteering from the crooks of tree trunks, bright red and yellow bromeliads shooting up from sky-high branches, purple and white orchids hanging from sturdy stalks. . . And the blazing assortments of green are nothing short of amazing – a special shade exists for every mountain, meadow, leaf, weed, bush, and vine. Nature is its own muse, never ceasing to impress with its inspiration.

Fire! Fire!
As we rode into town the other day, we passed several neglected roadside fires, flames dancing and crackling in the wind, the sweet smell of smoke curling through the air, reminding me of Sunday barbecues. In ordinary circumstances, we’d conjure images of Smoky the Bear (“Only you can prevent forest fires.”), flip out our cell phones and call the fire department. There are not many places where you can light fires along the side of the road and leave them burning unattended. But that is exactly what happens here when summer is nigh and spring has sprung overgreen. How does this work? First, a dark, wiry gentleman wields a machete (or in some unfortunate cases, sprays poison) to fell overgrown spring grasses. Second, the hombre allows the slain greens to brown in the sun for a day or two. Third, he returns to light fires in several places among the desiccated fauna to blacken the earth, simultaneously preventing and preparing for new growth. Fourth, the senor goes home and relaxes with the confidence that the fires will dwindle (sometimes even before they do their job), staunched by the perpetually damp earth and its environs. This method does not work in the lower, dryer lands, but up here in the mountains apparently you can set fire to your lawn, play with fireworks, or do any of those other things Smoky always warned you against, and no one will call Fire Marshall Bill on ya.

4-Wheel Driving
Ignore the fact that we wear helmets and focus on the fact that we fit our whole family on the ATV for jaunts to town, and we’re another step closer to becoming bonified Ticos! We take Wilder to school, go out to lunch, run errands, do our shopping, visit friends and neighbors, cart stuff around the property, and just generally fart around on the ATV. It’s been fun, but very practical as well. Especially since our car is – you guessed it! – currently at the shop.

Our Road
Everyone’s got something to say about our road. Our road may be shitty, it may jar your kidneys and shake your titties, but it’s “our” road. I’ve developed an affinity for it’s man-sized potholes, mounds of boulders, heart-shaped puddles, cobblestones, and bamboo-laden thoroughfares. It may take a half an hour to drive 5 minutes as the crow flies, but it is Our Road. And once you know it (like drive it a hundred times and call it friend rather than foe), you never experience it the same again. We wave to neighbors, stop to ogle toucans, swerve around cows, notice wasp nests high in trees as big and white as paper lanterns, roll through mud and over hill and dale, to get to the place we call home. I may have cultivated a new appreciation for Cal-Trans, but I’ve also learned to love Our Road, and I’ll take it over the freeway any day.