Picadillo, Tortillas y Varicella – Oh My!

So, late yesterday afternoon we were visited by our friends, the Martinez family, a nice family with 3 boys (the two older of which used to be my students at Mata de Caña when I “taught” English there; and their mom and dad were principle players in the “bible study” episode of yesteryear). They’re just stopping by for a nice, friendly neighborly visit. Just an impromptu visit on a Tuesday afternoon. This is not surprising, but it is rare. When I go to greet their middle son, Andrey, he waves his palm in front of himself to tell me and Sage to stay away from him and mumbles, “infermo” – sick. “Oh, tiene gripe?” I ask – do you have a cold/flu? “Sí,” he says offhandedly. And I think nothing of it. A bit later, he’s playing fútbol with Chris and Chris sees something on his arm. Chris asks him what it is and Andrey says it’s just dirt. And Chris thinks nothing of it.

After a bit of chitchat and fútbol and ogling over the baby, the mom, Gina, announces that they’ve brought us some picadillo. This is very nice – it is a well-known fact that I LOVE Gina’s picadillo – it is the best in all of Costa Rica. Picadillo is a sort of “hash,” made of just about anything and everything. Hers is made of potatoes, shredded green papaya or papaya root, celery, chile dulce, cilantro, achiote, sausage and ground beef to flavor, onion, garlic, herbs. It’s delicioso. So she goes to the car and pulls out a baggie of frozen picadillo and gives it to me. I thank her and put it in the fridge for dinner. She says something to me about tortillas and I’m thinking she’s just advising us to eat it with tortillas, so I nod my head and soon we’re talking about when Ester taught me how to make tortillas (which I have not done in quite a long time). So I’ve got Sage asleep on me in the sling and I’m just nodding my head and Gina’s looking at me expectantly. I’m not sure why. Then she asks if I have corn flour. I affirm that I do and she asks for it. She then proceeds to cook up the picadillo and make a dozen hot, fresh tortillas for us. “Because you have the baby in your hands,” she says. How sweet of her not to put me on the spot and expect me to make tortillas – it’d be like going to a piano lesson without having practiced -- which I did many, many times. Not a good feeling.

While Gina is at the stove, everyone else is outside playing more fútbol except for Andrey and I (and Sage). She and I make a plan for me to visit her house the following week with Nago’s wife Ester so I can learn to make picadillo – something I’ve been wanting to do for two years now. . . . Andrey also keeps asking me for more juice and telling me how much his throat hurts. His mom asks if his head feels hot and he says it does. I’m thinking he’s got a throat infection or something. But then he starts to pull down the collar of his shirt to scratch his shoulders and pretty soon he’s telling me about these small blisters that have just started to appear today on his shoulders and back, inside his nose, and on his scalp. “Varicella,” he says. I need no translation; I immediately recognize the word because it’s a vaccination we have thus far declined for Wilder and which Sage wouldn’t have for another year or so anyway – for chickenpox. WHAT?! I play it cool. But my Spanish suddenly fails me and I’m trying to ask - - isn’t it contagious? I step a little further away with the baby and I’m suddenly painfully aware of everything Andrey is touching and has touched after scratching his blisters. Gina and Andrey tell me, oh no, no, no, it’s not contagious, this is the first day he’s had the spots. [Yeah, and the virus is contagious for two days before the spots appear until the spots dry out a week or so later! But I didn’t know this until I looked it up on the internet after they left.] So I was calm but freaking out inside and a little disbelieving of the situation. Let me get this straight . . . you stopped by for a random visit with the whole family on a day when your son has the chicken pox and your other two sons may also be contagious? And you let them come into my house and touch and play with all of Wilder’s toys? Great! We’re having a huge party in a few weeks with dozens of people coming from the States and then two weeks later we’re scheduled to fly home to California -- not a good time for Wilder or Sage to get the pox! Not to mention that Sage is only 5 months old (thankfully he may have my immunity; go breast milk!).

When Chris and the other guys walk in from playing fútbol, I tell him what I’ve just learned and he says, in a very unsympathetic tone, “What?! Did you ask them to leave?” Now come on, how can I ask them to leave when she’s kindly taken over my kitchen, poo-pooed any possible risk of infection, and is preparing food for us? (Plus, they’ve already spewed their germs all over everything anyway!) Chris and I begin to banter back and forth a little worriedly in English. She finishes (but not before she’s done a few dishes), and soon the family is piling into the car, all smiles and no worries, to go visit Nago’s family up the road. Apparently they’re just spreading the love everywhere today! Chris bleaches everything he can think of after they leave. He is so zealous I literally have to tell him, “Do not wipe the baby down with bleach!”

After doing my internet research and consulting my family doctor (Dr. Sears’ “Baby Book”), I call Gina this morning and I’m explaining to her that I’m a little worried because varicella is very contagious in the first few days. After my rehearsed explanation of what I’ve learned about varicella, she then asks me, “Who has varicella?” . . . Uh, Andrey – you told me this yesterday and I saw with my own eyes that he seemed infected . . .????? I am so confused at her confusion. Is she in denial or what? She says, that, oh yes, Andrey is at the clinic today getting checked out. I guess that until the doc confirms it, she’s still open to interpretation. In any case, I tell her that I am a little nervous to visit her house the next week if her family is sick with the chicken pox, and that while I appreciate her offer very much, my family and I have to travel soon and need to do what we can to avoid exposure. [I wish I’d been that eloquent in my Spanish – but what I really said was probably more like, “I no want my sons to have the varicella.”] She laughs, says she understands and then is saying “hasta luego” and hanging up the phone with a chuckle before I can figure out if I still have my dignity or not. She’s so nonchalant and isn’t concerned or remorseful at all – no “I’m so sorry we came to your house and exposed you to this highly contagious virus on purpose!” I mean, this is so Tico. I don’t think it’s malicious. It’s just that so many things are viewed as just no big deal. Like running across four lanes of freeway traffic to catch the bus. Or riding a family of four on a motorcycle. Or letting a 5-year-old amuse himself with a machete. Or coming to your house with a diseased child. What’s the harm in any of that?

In any case . . . we’ve got anywhere from 7 to 21 days to see if either of the boys get it. It’s surely going around school by now too (Wilder’s in pre-K), so avoiding it may be an impossible mission, but we can at least take precautions -- like not letting infected people into our house! Obviously easier said than done.