Monthly Archives: March 2012

5 Star Trail

This Old Girl Ain’t Seen a Dose of Salts in Ages

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Part of being back in the infrastructure of the US means reaping the benefits of the historical infrastructure of the US as well. For us, this means that a redundant rail line that once toted coal across this region has been converted into a rail trail (the Five Star Trail) and we now have an exclusive walkway across the town. That’s right — we can walk or ride a bike from one end of town to the other all without the bother of cars plus the added benefit of trees, squirrels, and birds.

So this old girl ain’t seen a dose of salt in ages 1, but that’s A-okay with me. Aw man, life is good.

1: What in the heck did that headline mean? Well, “a dose of salt” refers to “dusting her out” , which is another long antiquated rail road term meaning throwing sand through the fire door in a locomotive. It is said to have to cut the soot in the chimneys to make the locomotive make steam and therefore run better. 

on top of the brewing action

Beer Here. Welcome Back to the US.

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Since the only micro brewery in Greensburg, Pennsylvania closed a few years ago (and make that the only one in a 35 mile radius, for that matter), we weren’t holding out much hope for there being much of a beer scene here when we arrived.

I love being wrong about these sorts of things.

Apparently while Mike and I were working our way through the myriad of bad beers in Central America, the micro brew scene in the US was not waiting around for us to return. Quite the contrary, actually. It’s a regular old beer renaissance. Viva la revolution!

There are new craft beers popping out of US cities left and right. And Greensburg is no exception. All Saints Brewery opened recently. So recently, in fact, that the building is still really rudimentary. Having been a neglected bakery for years, there is plenty of work to do. We’re glad they’ve focused their energies on making beer before painting the walls. So we spent a few hours gawking at the beautiful copper tons, tasting the brews, and talking about good beer with people who like good beer. Ah yes, it’s nice to be back in the land of beer.

hanging on to a fallen tree

Evidence of Spring in Pennsylvania

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Though some may make a good argument for autumn and its brilliant colors, Mike and I have known for a long time that spring is the most magical season in Western Pennsylvania. All of the trees and plants still appear to be hibernating, but the excited chirps from the robins and jays are always the first to let the secret slip that spring is actually blooming right now. You just have to slow down, stop talking, and look closely.

We arrived here just at the tail end of the long gray days of winter–just in time to watch the first bright green tips of spring start to surface. So we spent a nice bit of Sunday morning playing in trees and streams.

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Saying Goodbye to Nosara

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In late 2011, we signed a lease to spend 3 months in the beach community of Guiones just outside of Nosara, Costa Rica. This beach community along with a few of the surrounding ones are all part of a wildlife reserve to protect the turtles that nest here. This means no development is permitted along the beach. No tall buildings, no large resort condos, and no boardwalks. Yes this place is as much of a preserved paradise in a modern world could be.

Guiones is a bit of a gringo bubble, and that’s fabulous if that’s what you’re looking for. We believed our ideal experience would be a bit more Costa Rican and less ex-pat, so we were feeling a little silly about having committed to a 3 month lease inside this bubble.

But sometimes you’re lucky enough not to get what you want, and to get what you need instead. And that’s exactly what happened for us here. We got to ease into some of the lifestyle changes of Central America without the additional stress of complete culture shock. After the big mental space it took for us to sell all of our stuff and get prepped for our adventures, it was really nice to land in a beautiful beach town. And frankly, it’s really convenient when your landlord is a guy who moved here from Ohio.

So when we finally stopped fussing over what Guiones isn’t (some quaint and rustic Tico town full of traditional art and food) and started appreciating what it is (a surfing/tourism community full of North Americans who worked hard to get here and who keep working hard to make this place beautiful), that’s when it got good.

We’ve met so many people passing through here who have fascinating stories about their lives and their current paths (puppet theater troupe in Toronto, a forest ranger in Wyoming…). Some were here for a short vacation, others for months, and others still who have managed to stay for years. We’ve had so many engaging and energizing conversations about big ideas and projects, and sometimes just about how much we enjoy the simplicity of playing in the sand. And all of this would have been much harder for us if we had to do it all while speaking Spanish.

Our time here felt short and long at the same time. Short because we were always learning something new about the beach or the community and long because compared to the vacation tourists, we felt so permanent. I feel little bit like  we’re Wesley and Buttercup in the movie The Princess Bride. As they emerge from the fire swamp, dirty and injured, they declare that they now know the secrets of the fire swamp and could live there quite happily for some time. But our lease is up, our visas are expiring, and even though we now know the secrets of this fire swamp, it is time to move on.

Though it was not planned, our next destination is Pennsylvania, in order  to be with family for a short while. After that, Nicaragua, for some of that traditional art and food we seem to be chasing.

So goodbye Playa Guoines, Nosara. Thank you for sharing some of your secrets with us. But please let me know in advance of any ROUS…

Some final photos from the neighborhood:

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Poolbar!

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After a morning of yoga and pretending that our bodies are temples, we headed over to the pool and cashed in on the beers the bartender owed us from earlier in the week. Ocean to my right. Jungle to my left. That’s right. Poolbar. It’s fun when friends visit…

yoga

Treetop Yoga

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Today we started the morning with a breakfast of gallo pinto, fried cheese, french toast, marmalade, peanut butter, and iced coffee. In my opinion, this is the best way to prep yourself for yoga in the treetops. Also, since you never know when you’re going to have to put out a wildfire after having skipped breakfast, so it is better to be prepared.

We did 90 minutes of restorative flow yoga on a hardwood floor in the jungle tree tops that overlooked the ocean. Birds and geckos were chirping in the warm breeze and a curious iguanas watched us from on top of the roof. It was a lovely way to start the day.

oh look, a log!

It’s big. It’s heavy. It’s wood.

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It’s better than bad, it’s good!

Okay okay… for those of you who don’t know the Ren & Stimpy “Log” commercial, here you go. To those of you who do know it, yeah sorry it’s stuck in your head now too…

This afternoon, my friend Mickki and I went on a paddling adventure. It was back to the mangroves for me and a whole new kayaking/SUP paddle experience for Mickki.

We spent a few hours quietly drifting through the mangrove root systems at unusually high tide, watching crabs scuttle up trees and listening for howler monkeys up above. Our guide Fellipe shared so much with us about the birds and fish and how wildlife lives in this brackish water. It was evident to us just how much he loves playing in his river and trees, so it was not surprising at all when he decided to hop off his kayak to paddle a big floating log. Of course, we all had to give it a go…

It’s log! It’s log! It’s big, it’s heavy, it’s wood. It’s log! It’s log! It’s better than bad, it’s good!

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Low Tide at the Tidal Pools

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This morning we played in the tidal pools. The tide was very low, so huge spans of rock were exposed that we don’t normally get to see in this magnitude. The rocks form a U shape that creates waveless pools where you can swim and snorkle. We were just exploring the rocks and not the water because we were waiting for the red tide to pass.

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Cervezas at La Luna

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Continuing with adventures with my friend Mickki (visiting from Denver), we spent the afternoon playing in the high tide at Playa Pelada followed by reservations at La Luna for sunset food and drinks. On our walk home, back down the beach, we had to tread carefully, as the beach was covered with thousands of hermit crabs. It was an incredible sight indeed.

only you can prevent wildfires...

Women of Action and Social Responsibility: Fighting Wildfires

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This morning, my friend Mickki and I got up early to go to the farmers market. With our bags full of fresh organic basil and lettuce, we rode our bikes down the beach on our way back home. It was getting hot already and we were looking forward to some real breakfast when we got home. As usual, the beach was full of swimmers, surfers, dogs, and horse poop. Something we were not expecting to see was smoke coming from the trees way down the in the desolate part of the beach by the river. Hmmm. We went to investigate, just in case. Controlled burn? Trash burn? Nope. Wildfire. And no other human in sight.

Well crap. Now we have to do something about this. And fast. It’s the dry season. All of the trees and driftwood have been parched by the sun and the last rainfall was a mere sprinkle in December. And by the way, the wind has been picking up over the past 4 days, so this is only going to get worse. After a couple furtive attempts to use hole-laiden plastic bags as buckets, we knew we were in over our heads on this one. Though it felt counter to our fire-putting-out instincts to flee, we left the scene to go get help.

Shouting “FIRE!” and “FUEGO!” while running to my bike wasn’t something I ever imagined myself doing, but here we were. Mickki headed north (to where people speak English) and I headed south (to where people speak Spanish). Mickki was able to send 4 people to the fire and then found a person with a cell phone. Luckily that guy knew how to call a man on the fire brigade. There is no fire department here in Nosara. No one is on call for fires. The fire brigade is just some people who volunteer, so it really was up to us to put this thing out.

When we got back to the scene, a guy named Matt was already hard at work with the only fire extinguishing tools we had–small plastic bottles that had washed onto the river bank during the wet season. The eight of us filled as many 20 oz water bottles as we could, as quickly as we could, and formed lines from the river to the tangle of trees, dousing the flames and embers. The terrain was very challenging because the trees and shrubbery were thick and difficult to navigate without a machete. Additionally, the ground was just a growing bed of embers. It was hard to get close enough to the hot spots with our water bottles without burning our feet and getting smoked out.

After two hours of smoke, ash, and heat, the flames subsided to the occasional flare up. The fire brigade was still on its way. Mickki and I had to leave to dress the burns on her feet, but as we headed up the beach towards home (with our now very wilted produce), we were passed by a man on a motorcycle with a red hat on. Yay! A member of the fire brigade!

We learned later that night that the fire brigade was only 2 men, but with the help of two of the guys who were there from the beginning (Matt and Henry), and a guy who brought a bucket, they were able to put it out. Phew!

After getting home and putting some ice on burns, and food in our bellies, Mickki and I couldn’t help but laugh about the whole thing. Of course we were organizing people and putting out a wildfire on a random Tuesday morning. We’re women of action and social responsibility. That’s just what we do.

You all can feel free to buy us beer tonight.

And THANK YOU to Matt, Henry, Brian, and you three other fabulous people I was too distracted by flames to ask your names. You are all awesome and it was, oddly, a pleasure fighting fire with you.

sandmickki

Getting Sh*t Done

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There is this amazing threshold of expectation that we have in the US about getting things done in a certain way and in a certain time period. Really, when you think about the things you do that go like clockwork, it’s pretty amazing. Need groceries? Hop in the car/bike, drive to the grocery store (20 simple, predictable minutes), and get all of the things you usually get (unless they’re out of your favorite brand), all year long. You pay (5-10 simple, predictable minutes) and drive back home.

In previous posts, I’ve talked about the unreliable infrastructure in my small beach community. The roads, electricity, water, availability of food, tools, internet, transportation, or just that specific thing you need right now are just a different standard than in the US. That said, there is an amazing other infrastructure that happens when these mechanical ones fail–the human connection. Oh yeah… that. And it’s with your human connections that you get shit done around here.

Today my friend Mickki came to visit and I got to experience one of those awesome human infrastructure moments. The things I needed to accomplish this morning were to

  1. provide a bike for her to ride while she’s here
  2. write her name in the sand so she could see it as she flew in
  3. get her from the airstrip to my house

So I emailed a couple of friends in advance. Two weeks ago I sold a bike to a man I met over beer, with the contingency that I would need to borrow this bike for a week. So I headed off this morning to pick up the bike. A hot hour and a half round trip on foot, but I got a free bike for a week! This gave me an hour to dig a giant “MICKKI” into the beach, which I accomplished just in time to grab the six-pack of Imperial that I had chilling as a barter and meet another friend several blocks away for a dusty and wild ride to the airstrip on the back of his ATV.

And that was my solution for replacing a bike share program and reliable public transit–i.e. that’s how you get shit done. And it went like clockwork, I might add. Plus later, we had beers with these fabulous fellows. Even better.

I had gotten so used to my mechanical infrastructures, that I had nearly come to believe they were better than the human version. Silly me. The electricity grid doesn’t care how important your email is. If the power is out, the power is out. The thing is, it can be hard to make things happen here, and we all know that. So when people need a hand, you help them. It’s a good trade. A person gets the thing they need and you get to be a hero for making it happen.

Yeah humans! I guess we win this round.

soot

The Pot Calling the Sponge Black

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As it turns out, sometimes you have to wash your hands after washing the dishes. Unlike the neat blue flames we are used to in the US (from natural gas), the cooking gas we have here (propane) produces long wiggly orange arms that rope around the bottom and sides of the pots and pans. Given their meandering nature, it has taken me a while to learn how to work with these flames (and I do mean “work with” as opposed to “control”).

But one thing we learned right away is that washing the dishes involves scrubbing the soot off the bottoms of the pots too. Otherwise we will leave black rings on the countertop, on the shelf, in the sink, on our hands…

It is a minor thing, but it is still a quality of life thing I will not take for granted the next time I have an enthusiastic and exacting little blue flame to cook my food.