Silencio

I'm sitting on the permawet ground outside the gate of the local school in Coope Silencio, with a layer of sweat (or settling air?) on my skin, my friend's laptop in my lap, and a plastic bag between me and the laptop. Yup, that's sweat trickling down the small of my bag. Have I mentioned it's humid? And kind of warm? Also, a little wet?

This tiny pueblo is snuggled against the rolling jungle only about 8 miles from the Pacific coast, but the lack of transportation makes it feel much farther inland. I've been staying with my friends, Aaron and Celeste, and their 5-year-old daughter, Velvet, in their little rented house in what is basically the suburbs of Coope Silencio. What this means is a see-through though stable shack divided into a few rooms. No washing machine, fridge, or phone, but they do have electricity and running water, and I'm feeling quite at home. I've claimed the front porch for the time being, with a foam pad and a sheet, and I go to bed hearing the neighbors in their homes, 10 to 20 feet in any direction, conversing in Spanish, and I wake up to roosters howling everywhere from what must be 3am to 7am, some of them wandering right up next to our porch perhaps just to mess with me.

When Aaron and I first got in to San Jose, on our midnight to 5am flight, we were tired and wired, and Aaron, remembering his Spanish amazingly well, navigated us into a taxi to the notorious Coca Cola bus station, apparently a very sketchy place where things just seem to disappear, expecially from tourists' pockets. Once there, we found a tiny diner, had a wonderful breakfast, watched some futbol, and took turns sitting with the packs while one of us would investigate the market. Next, we hopped on a bus to Quepos, the intermediate bus-stop on our way to Aaron's town. From there, we paid to ditch our things at the bus station, and took a 50 cent bus ride to the coast north of Manual Antonio National Park, where we played in the luke-warm ocean until my head was spinning from being pummeled by too many waves--a good intro to the power of the ocean, on account that I've never played too much in one as an adult.

When we finally got back to Quepos, we caught the last bus to the turn towards Aaron's town, and then hitched a ride from their into Silencio, where we stumbled onto his porch from waning light and a light shower, and into the squealing greetings of Velvet.

Since then, I haven't been doing a whole lot. Just hanging out here feels good though. And it's nice that "not doing much" can include studying a lot of Spanish, going hiking in the jungle to see waterfalls, and a lot of helados and playing in heavy rain. And, by the way, hiking into the jungle to see waterfalls, swimming in the rain in the waterfalls, and then watching those falls flash-flood into a swelling rust-colored beast is astounding. The thing is, you're always wet here, whether it's sunny or raining, or whether you're swimming or walking. A far cry from the desert, but comparatively it feels a lot like Missouri. Maybe an exaggeration of Missouri, but it feels a lot more like Missouri than Moab. And I'm liking it.

Aside from playing, I've been taking opportunities to walk to the store in town by myself, and to try and communicate. I'm getting along OK, I think, and I get absolutely delighted when I communicate more than I thought I could. It's lots of fun, and I can't believe I took until now to immerse myself in another language.

Next up on the list, I'll be heading over to the coast. I have plans to leave for there in a couple of days to stay at Celeste's brother's empty place there, and to learn to surf. Perhaps Aaron and maybe his family too will come with me for a few days, but then I intend to stay for a while. I feel like I have enough of a language base, or maybe just enough confidence now, to get by on my own for a bit, and I'm excited by the language develolpment I assume it will spur.

So that's the update. Nothing too exciting or shocking, but it's just gorgeous. Green, lush, thick. About how you might imagine a jungle. Minus the scary things, as far as I can tell... I dig it.

Well, it's a little after 1 here, and there's a fair at two, so I'm off to see what a very small town fair is all about. More later. Hasta luego!