Here is something from the archives. Hijo means son in Spanish.
Hijo A: Look, I found a wishing rock!
Hijo B: A wishing rock, what’s a wishing rock?
Hijo A: It’s a rock you can make a wish on.
Hijo B: Yeah, but it doesn’t work.
Hijo A: I hope it works.
Today we splashed in the waves of Montezuma’s Playa Grande, which, thankfully can only be accessed by foot. While dealing with the never-ending onslaught of waves, Liam and I came up with a series of names for our manuevers:
Undies – for under the wave
Ovies – for over
Bundies – for but-first into the wave
Pitsters – for armpit first (pronounced like pictures, with a bluebear accent)
Sitsters – sit underwater as the wave goes over you (pronounced “sisters”)
Layzers – lay down underwater
There was also the modifier:
Handy – which meant “hold hands while doing this maneuver.”
and at the end there was also:
Daddies – for when your daddy picks you up and holds you above the waves, or when you get a ride on his back.
Jimmy and Jimmy are, in Reid and Liam’s world a pair of silly small turtles, probably babies, who scarcely get beyond interrupting Escoffier to introduce themselves. “Hi, I’m Jimmy!”
“Hi! I’m Jimmy too!” They say, represented by a fist with the middle knuckle extended for the head. “… Hi. I’m Jimmy!…” The repeat. It’s cute and crazy.
Here, instead is Reid’s first graphic novel, with a different set of characters, also named Jimmy and Jimmy.
Today, I woke up to the krawk, krawk, krawk of a Keel-billed Toucan. I’m going to miss that. Again, the young cows wandered into our yard to eat the grass this morning, and we just let them. Minutes ago, an irridescent green hummingbird landed on a branch out my window not 5 feet from my face, and I didn’t even take the time to stare, they are so common.
With only a handful of days left in Monteverde I have begun celebrating our lasts. We had our last Quaker meeting yesterday. I was the greeter. I welcomed everyone, explained that everyone must find their own translation help if needed, and stepped through announcements. Oh – there’s the hummingbird again – let’s see … green, brown, blue tail, small…perhaps the steely-vented hummingbird, even though it would be uncommon at the altitude, everything is moving up the mountain.
We’ve had a number of last dinners with Sue and Richard and Ed and Jenny and Alia, with Fern and Luis, and last night Lori and Kori threw a great party, and the whole community showed up. Music and food and good conversation late into the night. Tonight I’ll have my last or second to last futbol game.
We are packing. The art is off the wall. Things are moving apart on their own now.
One of the many neighbors who has brought us joy this year is our neighbor Paul Smith. Within minutes of meeting him, we discovered that he had attended Kodai School in India, where Tim and I previously taught, and our friendship just took off from there.
Paul is an artist, a retired dairy farmer, a climate change activist, a solar vehicle enthusiast, and a fellow with a great laugh, among other things. He took my writing class at the Institute and produced a wonderful essay about his most recent endeavor, building a Bellbird with his friend John out of found materials:
Paul’s essay was published in the Tico Times–it’s a great story!