Food, Fantasies, and Friends Chapter Four

Rum, coconuts and UNO.... that was a party for us.  I use the term "party" very loosely, but it would probably be better if I said "get together."  We only had three of these little throw downs, but they were completely worth it.  The garden was on the other far end of the island, therefore we were quite isolated from the rest of the volunteers; Mauricio and the surrounding neighbors helped to make us feel that we were part of the community and cared about by having these little soirees at Mauricio's house.


 Our first party consisted of Jessica, Jennifer, Mauricio, two or three of his neighbors and myself.  We all met out at his dinner table and passed the night laughing and playing cards.  From an alcoholic's point of view, there was very little to offer aside from these small bottles of rum; for about 5,000 colones (roughly $10), we could get two bottles of rum and some warm beers that were bought somewhere on the island, which remained a mystery for some time.  It wasn't much, but again, it was something.  The best (or worst) part of it all was that the rum was consumed in shots; we had nothing to mix it with, so down the hatch it would go.  It was such a memorable night because that was the first moment that we all let ourselves go and just enjoyed each others company; it was these moments that helped create that sense of bond that we all needed to fight against those first few days of isolation.

The next morning though was a mess.  Being hungover, while working in pure heat and humidity was rough enough, but we had to deal with the aftermath of our mystery guests.  Who were these people you may ask?  Costa Rican survivalists.  Now let me be clear, I love meeting new people while on adventures, I get the good fortune to come across a whole slew of travelers from every walk of life; however, there's always one group that will always annoy me: the inconsiderate backpacker.  How you can be so self absorbed and yet backpack is beyond me.  In my eyes, one HAS to be considerate of others when going on these journeys, because those fellow backpackers you stumble upon can either make your stay memorable or a living hell; unfortunately, these folks wrecked the place in less than 24hrs.  They came, pillaged and left a smoldering infrastructure in their wake.

I know I may be sounding a bit dramatic, but like I've said before, we had very little staying in the garden; one of the few things we had going for us was our very basic water pipe system.  It essentially consisted of a gas powered generator that would have to be cranked whenever the water in the well was no more; one simple crank from the generator and water would come to a balance again and the heavens once again would sing.  When these survivalists left, they not only dried out our well, but mysteriously, our generator  broke; we then had to hand  pump the water from the well to the rest of the hut.  Granted, getting the water to pump wasn't such as hassle.... at first.  We'd start each with 25 pumps or so, so we could all take a quick shower and brush our teeth; yet as the days passed and heat increased, we had to pump substantially more, multiple times a day.  In the end though, no one said this was going to be a walk in the park, and this water debacle surely highlighted that point for us all.

The day of the water system breakage would go down in infamy: that was the first day I had my "First World" breakdown.  It was already rough dealing with this intense hangover mixed with the heat and work... I couldn't even take a shower to cool down.  The ocean water offered little solace due to the sun baking it in her rays; since we were already pumping whatever little water we had in the well for basic uses, there wasn't any to drink.  I remember that after doing my rounds at the pump, I gave it about fifty or so pumps in hopes of getting a nice cold shower, I run back to the hut, grab my towel and galloped to my liquid paradise.  What followed came to be one of the funniest moments for me while at the hut and one that my roomies would never let me live down....  "Fuuuuuucccckkkkk!!! " I screamed.  "Fuck this bullshit!  I need some fucking water!"  I barge out of the shower almost forgetting my towel, through our bathroom curtain/partition, quickly put on whatever clothes I have around, all the while my three roomates are looking at me like I'm crazy.  "What the hell's wrong with you?" Carol chirped at me.  "I'm too hungover for this shit!  I'm going to the compound for some fucking working water!" With that said, I stampeded out of the hut, no towel or man bag in tow and proceeded to trample down the path to the compound.

My mind was set on one thing: a shower!  Once I arrived at the ranch, I asked everyone if someone had a towel that I could borrow, being fully prepared to air dry after showering if necessary.  Fortunately someone was able to lend me a small piece of parchment for my hungover soul; I felt vindicated!!  I headed to that shower, cloth in hand, grabbed the sink soap and gloriously enjoyed my cold rain.  When I got back to the hut, I was greeted with laughs and a good healthy dose of mockery... it had finally happened: after almost a week of being on site, I had cracked.  I look back at it now and still laugh about it; I love backpacking and go with a mindset that anything can happen and usually does, but this one particular day I had had it, and it was served right back at me in healthier doses.

Even though I felt like I had slain some kind of dragon or something after that cold shower, it gave me a true dose of humility.  All of us at one point or another while on the island reached a breaking point; I can't speak for everyone else, but it was from these lowest moments of frustration that came the greatest sense of humility.  In the States we joke around about our "first world problems."  "Oh my $6 double slim, extra soy macchiato didn't come out right."  "My Iphone battery dies too soon" or "My wifi range is very limited."  We have a right to gripe and be frustrated about things.... we do.  However, how many of us say, "my bed has ants in it."  "We have no water."  "My lights don't turn on!  Oh wait, do I even have a light bulb?"   We truly don't realize how good we have it until we're placed somewhere that has nothing in comparison.  Had the compound not had running water it would have sucked, yes... but in the end, all I would've had to do is pump, and pump some more for our own well to bless us.  At that very moment, my frustration had hit its peak and I didn't want to work to get the water rolling; it was there the whole time, I just didn't WANT to put the effort in it anymore for it to function... It was one of the most humbling moments of my time there; everyone got there jabs in on me for it, well deserved I know, but I really learned an important lesson about gratitude that hungover and humid day.

As the first week was nearing its end, we all had become adjusted and hardened enough to handle and accept anything thrown our way.  Five days into my stay I felt like part of the cast of "Orange is the New Black,"  I had gone through all the stages of my cycle of acceptance and had come out stronger than I was when I first arrived... I think we all did; we were the veterans of the cell block.  It wasn't until that sixth day when our newest recruit had stepped foot on the island shore, from the look in her eyes, I could already tell how much I had evolved. By this point, I had become the pseudo coordinator/orientation leader; I shook her hand, bid her welcome and showed her the hut... all the while, bets were being placed.