Cedro's perfect dream

traficos

Just as the United States divides itself sharply along volleyball lines each spring between factions of police (Sheriffs Vs. Deputies, local cops Vs. state troopers, Reno PD Vs. John Stewart, etc.), so does Costa Rica subdivide its public protection forces.  There are immigration police, dedicated to keeping our beloved country free of the dreaded scourge of Nicaraguan aliens (who, as local scapegoats, take all the jobs the Ticos refuse to do, giving rise to resentment, racial slurs, and even calls for border fences along the Northern frontier...).  Then there are the local police, who get paid shit, have no say in where they are posted, live in tiny shacks, and as a result, respond to the easiest calls only (noise complaints about local musicians mostly). 

The OIJ is the investigative wing of the police department.  They get paid more for doing slightly less.  Oh, they’ll come by, dust for finger prints, and look for clues, but that’s about where it ends.  The local neighborhood shall very soon be more powerful and effective, mark my words.  We have park security cops, mall cops, rental cops, bank cops with automatic weapons and shotguns, and all the other iterations of crime fighting hooplah, but nothing, and I mean nothing compares to the power wielded by the traffic police.   It took me three years to fully realize this, as I have been on foot until this past week, but it is absolutely true.  I’ve heard other people’s stories about having their passports taken from them, about bribes, about harassment, but as with so many things, nothing is as real as personal experience. 

They are everywhere.  Traffic cops here are like Starbucks in the US.  That is, I often find Traffic cops across the street from Traffic cops, or just down the block a bit.  They stand in the middle of the highway and, with superhero confidence, throw themselves in front of oncoming traffic when they sense danger, unlicensed vehicles, or gringos ignorant of Costa Rican transit laws. 

I put an offer down on a car about five weeks ago.  The owner is a local who fixes cars up and sells them, and this one’s a beaut!  ’95 Mitsubishi Montero with a turbo intercooled diesel engine (hello, biodiesel!) and nearly everything from bumper to bumper recently replaced.  However, said car was not ready when promised.  Due to busy schedules, a couple of last minute repairs and some other business that came up, the owner told me the car would not be ready until this Thursday (this was a couple of weeks ago).  In the mean time, he gave me a different car to use (also a Montero, but model year '90).  This other car has had a series of engine mishaps, and we as a family have had adventure after adventure in it. 

Fuel filters and water pumps aside, we set out yesterday to gather paperwork needed for Cedro’s US citizenship and to pop in for a visit with Sandra’s family in good ‘ole Sonzopote.  As we wound our way out of Liberia, paperwork in hand, I was waved to the side of the road by an older traffic officer, who promptly let me know I would be receiving a ticket for going a whopping four kilometers over the speed limit (which works out to about 52mph on the highway here).  He asked for a license and passport, which I handed over.  Now, Costa Rican law requires that foreigners acquire a Costa Rican license within 90 days of entering the country.  If one leaves and comes back within those 90 days, the cycle starts over.  In other words, one's most recent passport stamp serves to validate one’s foreign license in Costa Rica for three months -indefinitely.

It’s a fine system, but flawed in my case, because they don’t stamp my passport when I enter the country.  I have a work visa, which renews every year.   The most recent renewal date was June 3^rd, and a lawyer told me that this should cover me for at least the next three months.  The traffic cop didn’t agree.  “This is invalid.  I’m impounding the car and suspending your license.” He declared, as much to my wife, baby and 12 year old son as to me.  We were on a lonely stretch of highway, about an hour shy of our destination.  With no cell phone and no one else that could drive, this left us with a bit of a problem. 

“Look” I said, gingerly wiping a red ant from the officer’s shoulder.  “I just got the car and was planning to go get my tico license in two days” (I actually was…).    I explained about them not stamping my passport when I enter with the visa, so there really is no way for me to prove that I’m within my 90 day legal driving period.  I told him that I had entered recently and that the visa stamp was legal.  No dice.  He wrote a bit more on the ticket he was filling out.

It was at this point that the junior officer chimed in, telling  his partner (the proverbial "bad cop") to please hold off on completing the ticket for a moment.  He made friendly conversationg with us for a couple of minutes, while the older cop scowled, pen ready to sign the death warrant and finally confided in me that one way to save the situation was that I could go to the Nicaraguan border and pay so-and-so such and such amount and he’d probably put a stamp in my passport, which would make me legal.  I could do this without having to stay out of the country the mandatory 72 hours.   "My sister did it just last week" he told me.  I could then come back and get the car and drive it with no trouble... However, if the older officer signed the ticket, they’d simply HAVE to impound the car and suspend the license.  Several seconds of awkward silence ensued.  I then asked how far it would be to walk to the nearest telephone.  “10 km” came the reply.  “Honey, I’ll be back in a couple of hours, I’m going to walk the rest of the way.  Maybe I can get us another legal driver” I said.  "That would be acceptible, right?"  I added to the dynamic blue duo. 

There was a quick exchange of glances followed by “Sir, you can go.  We’ve decided not to ticket you.  Have a nice day” and off we went.  We talked with my wife’s cousin who is a lawyer later that night, and he assured us that there was no way they could have suspended my license or taken the car away.  His best guess was that they were hoping the big rich gringo would just whip out his fat wallet and bribe his way out of the situation.  Little did they know they were dealing with GRINGO/TICO JEW Man – he’s poor, he's stingy and he walks places! 

Interestingly and "carmically", the following day we headed out for San Jose, and the car overheated (see above parenthetical reference to bad water pump) leaving my wife, my baby and I stranded by the side of the road on a tall remote mountain pass.  We pulled off the road and within one minute, a traffic cop stopped, helped us get the car to a safe spot, called a mechanic, and stayed with us until the car’s owner got there to fix the radiator and drive us the rest of the way to Alajuela.  This cop was among the nicest, most helpful officers of the law that I’ve ever met. 

As of this morning, I have a Costa Rican driver’s license, own a new car, and managed to find time to register Cedro for his US birth certificate and passport.  All has seemed to work out quite well for now…

Beach!

Last week I took 21 twelve and thirteen year olds to the beach.  Am I crazy?  Some readers of this blog seem to think so...

You know what?  It was amazing!  We spent the better part of this calendar year raising funds through movie nights, food sales, and "Haunted" forest tours, etc.  and by the end, we had enough to rent out a small beach front hotel at playa Samara and to bring all our food.  The students were awesome from start to finish.  Many had never been to the beach before (an inexcusable reality for too many youths in this isthmus country) and the whole trip was punctuated by comments like "this is the best trip I've ever been on!" and "I never imagined the beach would be this cool." 

The hotel graciously granted the students unlimited use of the pool and several boogie boards.  The kids wore themselves out and incredibly were almost all asleep by 10 PM, but were out on the waves again by 6 the following morning. 

No one wanted to return to Monteverde, but they didn't complain too loudly, as most were right out again once the bus hit the highway.  No one drowned or found the crocodiles that were hanging out just up river.  No one broke anything.  I don't think anyone even noticed that the rooms were without televisions until the following day when they realized that they were two days behind the ever evolving anime fight club world of Naruto...  A wonderful way to wind up a truly superb year in sixth grade!

altitude/attitude

            Utopia is a myth.  All communities, no matter what face they present to the world, have dark sides, and face problems that require work and trusted leadership to resolve.  It is through the resolution that we grow stronger and more unified. 

Chasing an ideal, many talented teachers step out of their mundane routines in the first world for a year or two, seeking solace in the mists of Monteverde and the open arms of our school on the hill.   They bring with them the baggage of public education, over testing, over drugged children and the daily grind (commute, debts, impersonal neighbors, time pressures and a perpetually jam-packed schedule).  Too many of them arrive with words like “magical” and “unbelievable” hanging on their lips like morning dew, hungry for heaven on Earth.  It only takes a few months, however, for the altitude sickness to set in. 

            Let me say this clearly.  We are not a perfect school.  The kids don’t all just get along, holding hands and singing songs while writing their own curriculum and hugging trees.  There is far too much mold and ugly construction up here for this place to be heaven.  There is far too much trash on the street (and our school pathways) for us to declare our mission accomplished.  However, it is indeed among the most beautiful natural areas on the planet.  It is indeed a small, tight knit, peace loving community, and everyone has a kind greeting in the morning, knows your name and who you kissed last week, whether you like it or not.  The school is a place where people support each other, the kids are independently motivated, and are not afraid to speak their minds.  However, like any institution, there is a process for everything, there are disagreements between staff and fights among students.  And, as with anything change takes time and is only sometimes necessary…

Every year new staff members arrive with their bags packed overfull with new ideas to help the school, and they are welcomed.  Most prove to be inspirational, helpful and constructive.  Their new ideas mix with the old and, so it goes.  We could plaster one half of the school with all the new policies, rules and ideas that have been put into action by our staff, students and parents.  We could cover the other half plus a couple of more schools with all the ideas that still sit on the table.   I’m not sure why, but each year without fail we get one or two teachers who try to change everything from the ground up, to fit some vision of utopia that obviously they’d cooked up well before stepping foot on our enchanted grounds.  Frankly, I’m losing my patience with them. 

A teacher was just dismissed from the school last week, largely because he complained loudly and virulently about perceived injustices and inequalities in the school, ignoring due process and repeatedly insulting the school director and other staff members in his search for (re)solutions.  When dismissed, he turned to the students, told them his version of what had happened, sparing no names or details, passed out private communications with administration in class and called for them to rise up, which they did, not fully understanding why.  They just liked their teacher and were sad to see the guy go, though it turned out he was only planning to stay because he couldn’t find work in the US.

This year, more than any other in my 12 years working as an educator, I’ve seen due process ignored, insults and complaints used in lieu of constructive criticism, and my school community successfully divided by the efforts of a couple of individuals.  This division echoes in the student body, runs over our parents and breaks my heart.  Towards the end of my first year here (and before I met my wife) I decided to stay on at the school, largely because of the way our staff, administrators, parents and students shared one thing in common: they all went out of their way to support each other, often volunteering time and money well outside of normal obligation to make everything from theater productions building efforts, to something as simple as an indoor recess run smoothly and efficiently.   We help each other because it’s the right thing to do, not just because it’s in our contract.  It is that spirit of unity and shared responsibility that is threatened by these individuals, who place fights over class schedules, staff compensation and curriculum above the “what can I do to help?” attitude that should be driving the school.  They fight tooth and nail, go behind backs when they don’t feel like they’re winning their fight, and ultimately leave the school in flurry of conflict. 

I love all the new ideas, and certainly give credit to those that have bettered the school during their short tenure here.  But those that poison the well and leave make me feel sometimes like there should be rule against proposing changes until after one’s second year at least…

I’m writing this because we have five weeks left of the school year, and right now the place I love is hurting.  Misinformation and manipulation of students’ emotions have left us rudderless (or perhaps in possession of too many rudders, all trying to take the boat in different directions) for the moment.  We need good positive energy, we need inspiration, we need to concentrate on wrapping up the year and graduation, and more than anything, we need respect and unity.  In short, we need to heal and move on.  This is how I process and find closure.  I thank Sandra immensely for staying with the baby for awhile while I wrote this.     

Feeding Time

The all important five month mark has come and gone, and my son is doing amazingly well.  He is just as happy as could be, all smiles all the time, and lately has taken to following every movement of the fork with a vulture's keen interest.  He's grabbed handfuls of anything he can get off our plates/bowls/silverware and tried to get it to his mouth, to the point that he even grabbed a spoonful of Sandra's blueberry yogurt out of her hand yesterday.  I think he's been trying to tell us something...

Today, we took the plunge away from relatively clean clothes, away from easily cleaned, odor free diapers, and entered the solid food zone

From here, there's no turning back.

 

 

  

  

I got to do the honors, since Sandra has been feeding him for the last five months...

I have a feeling I will "get" to do this a lot in the next few months.

 

...But Sandra took her turn too...

then daddy just couldn't resist messing with the baby a bit, 'cause that's what dads do.

 

 Then, after meal time, it's off to grandma's house... (sorry mom, we'll get up there soon, I promise)

Swimfan

Ah, baby's first swim in the big pool. 

He had this look in his eyes the whole time that said "I just can't believe they make them bigger" (than my plastic bathtub.)

He's been to the ocean already, but slept through the whole thing, so the next time is sure to blow his mind...

 

 

 

the boys

Exito

About a year ago, I wrote a song about a taxi driver here in Monteverde who had lost his farm to an economic eddie and had to take up driving to make ends meet.  That song grew slowly into a musical called Monteverde Melodies, which successfully brought down the house at Bromelia's amphitheater last night.  The first of two performances, it came off as near to perfectly as I could have ever dreamed.  My cast is amazing, and they stepped it up last night to reduce the most machista of Ticos to tears and the most serious of town elders to unbridled laughter. 

This was exactly what I was hoping for.  The play addresses the people of our fair town directly and challenges them to laugh at themselves and step out of their daily cycles to view from afar what makes this place such an incredible community.  It jumps unapologetically between English and Spanish, as do most overheard conversations, and just as easily leaps between the natural world and the invented world of humans, as do most Monteverde residents on a daily basis.  Watching the audience react was for me every bit as rewarding as watching the actors flawlessly make their way through the play, and I am filled with a serene satisfaction, knowing that this was the right thing to do at just the right moment in our town's history. 

The only downside is that the camera that Angela gave me some years ago finally met its match and expired, so I sadly announce that there will be no pictures for awhile on the trogglehumper.  I'll just have to make them out of words.   

Ced Stand

In order to get a better look at the tress and various fauna that continue to fascinate him, Cedro Greist Salazar has begun to hold himself in a standing position on the wooden frame of our couch.  Looks like we'd better begin the arduous process of hiding everything that sits within a meter of the ground...

 

In other news, I couldn't find my wallet the other day, and got all stressed out, thinking I was going to arrive late for my weekly gig at Moon Shiva.  Not in any dirty pants pocket, not on the night stand, not in my day bag, nor in the guitar case.  Then Sandra called up to me that she'd found it...

   

Looks like I've got to hang the credit cards out of reach as well... (not that any of them are valid anymore...)

Aw, Nuts!

When I lived in North Florida, there was no time more celebrated and anticipated than Pecan season, when shells hit earth like a Baghdad storm, and children dashed out at recess and after school to fill bags, pockets, folded up tee shirts and anything else they could get their hands on with seeds for roasting at home or smashing with a hammer and eating raw in the sandbox. 

            Here in Monteverde, all the fruits of the tree and vine are coming in ripe and delicious, which is the one positive consequence of the extended rainy season we had this year.  However none of the fruits of the season are so coveted as the fragile cashew (marañon), which is literally littering the roads and pastures these days.  The fruit itself is sweet but slightly tart, and the seed sits like a crown jewel at the apex of each, tempting even the most ardent junk food junkie. 

            I didn’t think to photo document this process until the fruits were all devoured this afternoon, so I here offer stock material, but the roasting was too interesting to pass up.  Sandra showed me how to do this.  We took the seeds, which have a fleshy outer layer and roasted them over the gas stove, which was an adventure, since they are filled with thick oil, which ignites and sparks, roasting the seed inside within about a minute and a half.  The seeds came out a cream color and were indeed the best cashews I’ve ever tasted, proving once again that fresh is exponentially better than the alternative.  It is worth the trip to Costa Rica just to try this…

             

 

Student Essay

The following is a persuasive essay written by one of my sixth graders.  We submitted it as an editorial to the New York Times, but it was never published.  I publish it here as a consolation.  Not quite the same readership, I'm afriad, but it's about quality, not quantity, right?

      The Problems As I See them

          written November, 2008

There is no need for The United States and Russia to start the cold war again. Right now the world and even The Unites States need to help schools, people, the Economy and petroleum problems.

  Recently the president of The United States said that the States are in an Economic crisis. Actually the whole world is in one. One of the main reasons too that the States is in this problem is that they spent 100 billion dollars in Iraq and who knows how much more they’re planning on spending. Not even in World War 2 did they spend as much, and that at least was a just war! There is no need to kill people and destroy other countries only because they want to prove who’s stronger, or to prove that’s the only way to stop terrorism.  It’s not.  Instead, they should help the Economy and people.

    The United States doesn’t have to spend another $100 billion on a Cold war, The United States has to be a leader in peace. Spending that much money is certainly unwise. They have to help people and especially the Economy! When I hear the news and about the gas prices I think “why can’t they just start using electric cars or Bio diesel?”  But there’s the famous phrase. No money. What do they mean? Why is there 100 billion dollars being sent to Iraq.

And what about the economy? It’s our fault we have been spending money we don’t have, a whole bunch of people have been doing it, and the Government started giving money to banks and voila, Economic crisis! In other words, don’t start spending what you don’t have because you’ll lose.

  So I hope that the Government and people open their eyes to all the problems that are happening.

by D.A.

vacation!

The CEC may be in session year round, but we do have one week off every six, and this time, the family took a trip.  Angela Gillingham is here and treated us to a couple of days in La Fortuna.  The rain was nearly constant, which kept us away from most of the attractions (ample time in the pool and natural hot mineral baths, and one outing to see the crocodiles - see below and last post), but granted us some much needed chill family time.  There is nothing in the world that can come close to the feeling of hours spent talking, playing, watching movies and singing uninterrupted by cooking, dishes, laundry, and work.  Amazing!