Jamaica Dominica
Costarica. A survey
►It's
how we do it
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light in the Heart of Darkness The Bullfight
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Gotta get used to it
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saratica dilemma
Costarica. A survey
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Light in the Heart of Darkness
The Bullfight
The temporary stadium where the fight is to be held is
essentially constructed by driftwood toothpicks which pose more risk to
spectators surviving the evening’s event than the fight does to the bull.
Unlike bullfights in other countries, bullfights in Costa Rica consist of two
teams who each try to herd the bull in question through a set of orange
traffic cones on either side of the ring.
The teams enter the ring and begin by throwing one of their compatriots
several feet in the air on what may at one point in time have resembled a
parachute. The attempt to catch the flying team member in said parachute is
genuine though not always successful. It is at this point that the first fire
breaks out.
I am under the mistaken assumption that fire in a rickety stadium is something
to be avoided, however when laughter ripples around the audience, I realise I
am missing the punch line. A few pieces of newspaper have been twisted
together, tucked into the back of someone’s trousers and set alight. The fun
begins when the victim registers his predicament and tries to snatch the
burning newspaper from his ensemble before he himself is set alight. Somehow
the elementary-school anti-fire advice “stop, drop and roll” does not seem
appropriate in a dirt-floor arena that has been absorbing the last few hours’
constant drizzle.
The first bull to enter the ring is named Dynamite and seems more the spindly
bookish adolescent than the bully who shoved your head in your locker. It’s
difficult to tell which team is ascending toward victory as the spectators are
more apt to shriek at the bullfighters scaling the arena walls as Dynamite
patters towards them that hoot at actual scoring. The fiery newspapers
continue to be tucked into unsuspecting fighters’ belts, adding to the mayhem
and hysteria.
It is at about this point that I notice that one of the bullfighters is
dressed in drag. It’s not the sophisticated fashion of a cross-dressing lounge
singer but rather consists of a stretched neon green slip dress covering a
size triple D chest with a haphazardly placed long brunette wig that may at
one time have resembled a Beyonce do. It’s unclear whether the presence of a
supposed woman is supposed to excite Dynamite further or calm him.
After a good while, three cowboys ride into the ring on horseback and lasso
poor Dynamite to his knees, all the while with the announcer yelling “Aye yaye
yaye!” as Dynamite is led off the stage.
Just as The Gift, the next bull who is only slightly more robust than
Dynamite, enters the ring, what was a light drizzle turns suddenly to a windy
downpour. The wind whips the rain around the stadium, drenching anyone brave
enough to be seated in the first row. There was much shrieking as those being
pelted tumble backward in search of drier ground, in the process giving one
the sense that the stadium is slowly swaying with the massive synchronised
movement. Thirty seconds later, it is back to a drizzle.
The Gift’s stint in the ring follows a similar pattern to Dynamite’s as he
graciously chases a bunch of raucous men -one dressed as a woman- around the
mud arena with a dog yapping as his feet. The moment The Gift turns to eye the
dog personally, the small beast dashes under the rickety bleacher wall and
barks back at The Gift from relative safety.
Jorge
Alberto Leiton Calvo - vida
After The Gift, two more equally impressive bulls follow,
all with equally mild temperaments, all equally sluggish in their pursuit of
their tormentors, by which point my attention begins to wane. There are really
only so many times that watching someone being set on fire is funny. As we
drift away from the makeshift stadium and back to the rest of the county fair
in search of another beer, I am happy to note that the nearby port-a-potties
are considerably better constructed than the stadium itself. The shrieking and
clamouring from within the stadium echoes across the night sky until the
sounds of the latin music tent take over.
Gotta get used to it
.This is a Spanish speaking country. If you don't know
Spanish, you are probably missing out on 90% of what is going on. No, they
don't have English subtitles for the local news and it is ALL is Spanish. They
(not me) are on the metric system, too. Gotta get used to it.
It rains here practically six months out of the year and that you can plan on.
The ground gets so saturated with water that it can present some real
problems. Water backing up into your house or your roof springing new leaks is
nothing compared to landslides, flooding, and such. There is no city sewage
system here where I live so I expect my septic tank not to work some of the
time. The mosquitoes are out in full force during the rainy season and dengue
is alive and well here. Avoid getting it. It can kill you the second go
around. I've had it but I didn't know at the time. Just a raging fever and
delirium. I actually backed my car into my house trying to avoid hitting my
new fence on the other side. I needed to go to the store for food. The boo-boo
is still on my car. I survived, my house survived. I never fixed the ding on
my bumper, I'm used to it.
There are no
numbers on buildings. You just have to know where it is. There are barely
street signs. The postman delivers mail according to the description of the
location, like Casa de Verde, 100 meters Sur de Hicaco (a nearby landmark).
It's very confusing and the postmen have my utmost respect. The one-way
streets in San Jose are not always marked as such. Just get used to it. If you
ask direction from three different people, you'll probably get three different
answers. If they are Tico and speak to you in "English", make sure they know
which hand is the "right" one and which one is the "left". I got directions
from someone that had the two English words for right and left confused. Of
course, I got MORE lost.
wimmen
Prostitution is legal. That makes the demand for Gringas like me practically non-existent. It also encourages drugs, early pregnancy, disease and bad behavior on both sides and things like sex vacations exist here. I'll never get used to that. It's really detrimental to Costa Rica but they haven't figured that out yet. Ticos don't pay for sex, well, most don't.
ANONYMOUS PERSON These Costa Rica Girls are not like American women. If you want a beautiful sincere costa rica bride, your search stops here.
If
you haven't done it twice, it probably isn't done correctly. That's the case
here. Rarely have I had something repaired/fixed that didn't need to be
"fixed" again. The most used expression here is "Si puedo", which means, yes I
can. Be sure to ask if they have EVER DONE THIS BEFORE. Chances are, they
haven't but they are willing to try (learn) at your expense.
Paying bills... just get used to going all over town, waiting in lines to pay
bills. No one sends out notices except for RACSA (Internet) and I don't know
of one location where you can pay all of your bills. The due dates are all
different but I have finally developed a system after almost five years. I
just remember.
There is no channel that has the scrolling program list for what's on
television. Half the time I can't figure out what is coming on because they
advertise it in Spanish (that doesn't directly translate) with the time being
in some other country which I have no idea what the time zone would be. I
usually catch a movie that is half over and never know what it was I
was actually watching. I'm used
to it. Also, CBS and ABC come and go. Now are the final episodes of some of my
favorite programs and of course, CBS and ABC are not working. Works, doesn't
work - get used to it.
The largest denomination is ten thousand colones (about $20). Even big ticket items, they expect you to pay cash, like buying a car. That is a huge wade of colones when you need $20,000.00! You would think they would have something equal to $50 or $100 BUT they don't. Again... get used to it.
the thief
Hints for
Travel Safety:Never leave valuables unattended
in your vehicle.
When traveling by bus, be aware that most
thefts happen inside the bus, so keep a close
eye on your carry-on luggage. Special care
should be taken on the bus from San José to
Puntarenas. Pay attention around Barrancas, 15
kms before Puntarenas. Here thieves often
leave the bus, having snatched bags in the
last moment.
The bus terminal La Coca Cola in San José,
near the Mercado Central, is reputed for its
gangs of thieves who work very professionally.
Take extreme care of your belongings and
always be suspect if anyone pushes against
you.
Burglaries happen even in the most upscale
hotels. Use the hotel's safe for your
valuables and keep your doors and windows
closed.
In popular beach towns you must be careful of
thieves that sit and watch for tourists to
leave valuables unattended. As well, some
thieves may sit close to you and while you nap
or are distracted they grab your valuables.
Should you be robbed there is little recourse.
On the whole Nicoya Peninsula police stations
are scarce and highly understaffed. You can
file your robbery report at the police but
response to theft will be limited. And anyways,
prisons are too full already. Also there is a
law that until the age of 18 there is no
punishment for petty crime - even if you catch
the thief, you may greet him the next day on
the street.
Pura vida
Pura Vida time
is not in real time. Manana (tomorrow) is
any day
but not today. In fact, manana doesn't
exist, I was recently told by a Tico.
Yesterday is over and past, tomorrow doesn't
exist, there is only today. That is part of
the Pura Vida
way of thinking. When someone tells you they
will arrive at 4pm, expect them to come
whenever, either earlier or later, whatever is
convenient to the event OR they won't come at
all. That's normal. There is no day-light
savings time here. It's the same time all the
time. It keeps things simple.
Dodging potholes, people on bikes, and people
walking in the road is a way of life here.
Before all the Gringos with all the cars, they
were free to do this. They still do. Drunk
drivers are another issue. It could be a taxi
driver, bus driver, or
whomever.
Here in this beach town, being drunk appears
to be norm. People don't use turn signals and
will stop on a dime to talk to someone walking
along side the road. Just go around them and
get over it.
Waiting. You will spend half your life living
here waiting for things. I won't elaborate
because if you live here, you know already and
have gotten used to it. The days go by slow
but the years go fast. You know what I mean if
you really
live here.
Buying meat can be a real challenge. Most
stores have the meat frozen before it is sold.
You should know this so you don't refreeze it.
If you buy pollo entero (a whole chicken), it
comes with the feet AND BEAK. The first time I
put my hand in the bag and pulled out a claw,
I screamed. I now know.
The poverty here can be alarming. What
impressed me the most was seeing people that
were dirt poor (they actually have dirt for
floors) but yet they were dressed nice and
clean and were HAPPY. Even the kids playing
with a stick and a rock WERE HAPPY. I love the
fact that they are happy with what they have
because I, being a true Gringa, have come back
to the basics of life living here and have
learned the true spirit of
LESS IS MORE. Ticos taught me what I
"learned" years ago in college.
So, the trick to living here is, yes, you
guessed it.... Get used to it! (or go home)
Ethical Dilemma. Sorta.
Only this day, the machine counts and counts and counts and counts, on and on and on. It must have taken 10 minutes. I kept wondering should I stop it? Cancel? Would it debit my account anyway? Would I have to go in and try to convince someone I didn't get the money? Argh. The two places you want to make sure each party understands the other is the doctor's office and the bank. One little word out of place and you could be unnecessarily re-writing your will. I'm anxious about having to get someone to understand what transpired here...
So I'm waiting, waiting, waiting. And finally the little door opens and out slides my cash. With 20,000 colones extra ($40). I count it three times and there it is. And the two extra bills are "out of place"... you know how when you get your money from an ATM, it's in a neat stack? This all was, too, except for these two extra 10,000 colon bills... Obviously a mix-up here and the reason for the extended counting process.
I practice rigorous honesty with money. I have so little of it, I need all the good karma I can get. And stealing is just flat out wrong. As wrong as you can get next to murder and mistreating animals.
This ATM is in front of a mini-bank, a one-teller deal and it's not open yet. I peer in the glass door and there is a young guy in there getting ready to open in 10 minutes or so. I knock and shout, "La machina [MAH-kee-nah] no funcionar [foonck-sea-oh-NAR]!" I think I said, "The machine does not work." This tico must not understand my Spanglish 'cause he looks at me with a blank expression. So I start wildly pointing to the machine and waving the wad of cash in my hand... He figures I need him and gives me the universal sign for one minute. Which I know is going to be ten because that's when he opens.
While I'm waiting, a lightbulb goes off and the coming scene unfolds before me. I KNOW when I give this guy my 20,000 extra magically-appearing colones, they will magically disappear into his pocket. I don't suspect this. I KNOW this. Because Costa Ricans, like most locals in most developing nations, don't have the idiotic compunction about honesty and stealing we gringos have.
Stealing is accepted here. Not everyone steals. And ticos are honest. But after seventeen months, I know stealing is a way of life here. Perhaps they don't think of it as stealing so therefore it's not dishonest. I don't know how anyone justifies it. Or if they think about it at all. But taking something that doesn't belong to you is accepted in the same way that bribery and corruption are accepted. Particularly among the young. And especially if it used to belong to a gringo.
In that moment, I decide to take the money to a bigger bank and explain what happened. But I'll have to wait until later when one is open. We go about our business. During which my mind is working. It occurs to me that, no matter who I give it to, this money will not make it back to the vault. I decide to donate it to a worthy cause. If it does indeed come out of my account or the bank discovers the mistake and contacts me, I am no worse off.
That same day, a very worthy cause presents itself. My friend Tica Teri is volunteering at a school in Jaco. I'll be heading her way this week so she asks me to look for art supplies and for a software program that will teach English to little kids. The software is $32 at Office Depot. I will find art supplies today. That's all gonna come to over $40 so my conscience is clear. I haven't really donated any money, but I did the footwork and didn't spend the money on me.
Meanwhile, I tell the Free Money story to several people. Before I get to the end and tell how I solved my ethical dilemma, ALL of them said keep the money, that no matter who you give it to at the bank, it will never make it back to the vault. Then, they said, make a donation.
But I have hard questions. Like, would this really have made it back to the vault in the U.S. like I so arrogantly assume? Are U.S. citizens so much more honest? Or just more afraid of being caught? Here, if a local is caught stealing, the judge basically says, "You shouldn't have done that! Now go home and don't do that again." A new twist on reinforcing ethical behavior.
Did I do the right thing? Will the bank suffer? Will the tico who fills the ATM machine lose $40?
And who am I to decide how this was going to unfold? Who made me Master of all Things Honest? Only I can make the most honest choice? In reality, the only right thing to do would have been to give the money back to the bank. No question about that. If the next person in line decides to do something dishonest with the money, that is really none of my business and not my responsibility. Is it?
But my busybody self-righteous mind got in the way of giving it back to the bank and justified keeping it - right or wrong, it was still justification for my behavior which needed justifying - and then committing a Truly Noble Unselfish act and then reporting on it. This is almost as bad as public piety. Ick.
Is it really "only money"? Does my choice matter in the big picture? Does it matter at all? Did I go with the flow? Do I need more coffee? This last is the only question I can answer with any certainty because it's easy: the answer is always yes. If only the rest of life's little dilemmas could so simply fall into place.
Comments
SAratica
"Cuanto cuesta, por favor."
She looks at her mom
who is next door in the yard, on the
other side of their extravagant altar
where I am assuming they spend quite a
bit of time on their knees asking
forgiveness for any
sins,
and asks in Spanish how much
does the
gringa owe for two cheesburgers?
The mom says: "Un
mil quinientos." [One
thousand five hundred
colones, about $3.] With a
percetible nod to her head at me, Seli
asks: "UN
mil?" Mom looks at me,
then back to Seli and says: "DOS
mil quinientos."
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A SPECTRELLE is one of a girl group - actually called the FABULOUS SPECTRELLES - that sings doo-wop songs from the Phil Specter era (get it? specter? spectrelle?) The Fab Specs were quite famous on the Key West nightlife scene for almost 20 years. I got to be one for two months, a fill-in girl. Not good enough for the real thing, but a ton of fun while it lasted!
What else you got? And why don't YOU allow comments on your blog? And an about you page? Actually, I liked strolling thru it... is there a theme? Do you live in the Congo? Haven't quite figured that out yet...