So much for women's lib

Dear Ancho,

I want you to know that I am o.k. Here's what happened--- we were closing up our conversation--- by the way you are supposed to call me at 8 a.m. Sunday. We were talking about something, which now has been permanently swept from my brain. For some reason, I glanced down at the floor to look at my feet. There, right beside my left foot was a large, I mean very large, spider. A tarantula. My first reponse was disbelief. Perhaps one of the kids had played a prank? Then it was realization--- oh my god, there is a tarantula by my foot! Then there was reaction- which is when you heard me yelling something like "Oh my god there's a tarantula by my foot! It is so big! Oh my god I have to get someone to help me! I can't kill it! Honey, I have to go now."

After I hung up I walked out the door and called out to the folks who were hanging out at the pulperia. "Can somebody come help me there is a big spider in my house and I can't kill it!" Two twenty-something guys came down to help me. When they got to my front door, they politely said, "con permiso" asking permission to come in, when I clearly was in need of immediate assistance. I appreciated the courtesy but was not in the mood for politeness. I wanted destruction. My biggest fear for the ten seconds that elapsed between discovery of the tarantula and the death of the tarantula was that it would crawl quickly away to some little nook or cranny to await my bed time, when it would creep ever-so-delicately under my sheets and strike!

I could not bear the thought of a sleepless night on tarantula patrol.

The guys, who undoubtedly think I am a nut (although it could be argued that most people here questions my sanity), walked into my office and surveyed the spider. One tried to actually pick it up by one of its legs. The other man, clearly aware that I wanted to see the spider die, not just get placed outside of my house where it could come back in, simply killed the tarantula--- I am not making this up- with his bare hands. He just knocked the crap out of it with his fist. There are blood and guts and unidentified liquids on my white ceramic tile floor to prove it, but I'll save you the details.

Anyway, I am o.k. But I feel like such a pansy. I have read that tarantulas aren't all that dangerous, but I am not really wanting personal experience with a tarantula bite. I mean I am all about participant-observation, but that is taking it a little too far. Now, I am writing this up to share with the blog world and drinking a screwdriver.

Slowly relaxing after the adrenaline tsunami, I write this to you with much love,

Lefty

From Sweet....

From Sweet....
Originally uploaded by ancho and lefty.

One day, three invitations

I was invited to go to soccer games in a neighboring community this morning. Our local elementary school boys and girls were going to play a team from another neighboring community. Our school actually had to join forces with another school to have enough bodies on the field, but we were well represented. The best boys and girls players proudly came from our school.

At seven this morning we (students, parents, and yours truly) set out for the soccer field in the next community about 2 kilometers from here. I led the boys, who have a tendency to want to walk faster. We arrived about 10 minutes before everyone else. We hung out on the concrete stadium bleachers and I tried to keep them from breaking apart the ageing concrete. Finally everyone started trickling into the playing area, the teachers finally lined out the field, and the girls, who were to play the first game, got their uniforms squared away.

The girls played valiantly, winning 4-1. The boys had the opposite experience losing by at least 5 goals- I lost count. Anyway, I thought you would enjoy the team photos I took. The boys and girls have to wear the same uniforms--- so maybe that’s why the girls get to play first.

It was a lot like any other kids’ soccer game anywhere else in the world- the parents tried to tell the coach who to play. The mom’s yelled out instructions on the field, even pacing up and around the field like a coach might. The kids had packed lunches and fruity drinks for refreshment. Blisters were rampant. A few tears were shed after some collisions. I got a sunburn, etc.

Yesterday I received another invitation- one that did not sound quite as fun as a soccer game. The local energy cooperative was having a community meeting here and all of us were invited to come and listen to the schpill about what’s going on with our electricity. They tried to bribe us into coming with promises that if we sat through the whole meeting we would be registered for a drawing for microwaves, irons, and lamps.... lots of electricity-using home appliances in other words. I went to the meeting, which was actually quite informative. I learned about the power infrastructure. I learned about the financial solvency of the cooperative. I learned about energy efficiency. I also witnessed a bit of a power struggle over who would be the local delegate to represent this community in the annual cooperative assemblies. This power struggle was definitely gender-based. I think many people left the meeting upset because a man who already holds many leadership positions sort of bullied his way into the delegate’s position, while bullying a woman who was really interested in serving out. The meeting was interesting in a way that only an anthropologist would appreciate. Full-on participant observation.

I also received a birthday party invitation for Oct. 8 for my landlady’s son. It is proudly posted on my refrigerator. That means two things- 1. cake and 2. arroz con pollo, most probably. It also means I’ll be snapping photos and thinking about a good present.

After all the high drama in the elementary school classroom where the electric cooperative meeting was held, I trudged down to Flor’s house in the rain. Flor, her Dad, Juanico, and I all left the meeting at exactly the same time--- pretty much sick of the lack of organization of the voting process. I knew that Flor’s daughters, who were also at the meeting could give me a report of the outcome of the power struggle. I also knew that if I stayed much longer I might open my big mouth and that’s not really what I am supposed to being doing here.

Flor’s daughters eventually did come by and report in. The outcome was as I expected. The man would get the voting delegate position in the assembly and the woman who many people supported would have a voice but no vote. We all gossiped about the meeting and then Roxanna snapped some photos of me with the kids. Thought you might like to see where I eat dinner every night and the little people who come visit me.

To Loco!!!!!

To Loco!!!!!
Originally uploaded by ancho and lefty.

LOS MUCHACHOS

LOS MUCHACHOS
Originally uploaded by ancho and lefty.

GIRLS RULE!

GIRLS RULE!
Originally uploaded by ancho and lefty.

Red equals ripe

Red equals ripe
Originally uploaded by ancho and lefty.

Ripe coffee can be beautiful, but you get tired of picking it, I have to admit. When it's really ripe and there have been recent rains, it likes to just sort of pop off the plant as soon as you move to a new plant to pick. Then you have to bend over and pick it up off the ground, which is difficult when you are also wearing a big basket around your waist. Things I never knew before.

Obviously no problems with deer here

Obviously no problems with deer here
Originally uploaded by ancho and lefty.

Don't try to dry your corn like this in Bath County. Especially when your neighbors have a pet deer (like Ancho and me).

Obviously problems with erosion here

Obviously problems with erosion here
Originally uploaded by ancho and lefty.

Because of the heavy rain, one does not have to walk far to find evidence of erosion and landslides. This was taken today on my walk.

Raindrop on lens

Raindrop on lens
Originally uploaded by ancho and lefty.

Rainy season is upon us still. We should be out of it by November. I am not sure if it is Rita’s work or just rainy season as usual, but yesterday it rained and rained and rained and rained and then, it rained some more. It’s gotten me a little down and homesick, but then I think about people living on the Gulf Coast who are gearing up for their 2nd big visitor in a month...

One great thing about the rainy season is that it brings beautiful mountain mist, that sort of looks otherworldly in the photo I added. The bad thing about the rainy season is that it makes recorded interviews rather difficult since the rain is noisy. We all have metal roofs down here, so when the rain gets going it gets rather loud. A couple of evenings ago I had to cancel what will hopefully be a great interview because of rain. One thing is for sure, it sure is green right now.

Making Bizcocho

Making Bizcocho
Originally uploaded by ancho and lefty.

This photo is from last weekend when my neighbor was making dulce. The ladies like to make bizcocho to put in the fire that is boiling the dulce. This bizcocho consists of some masa, a bit of cheese, sugar, and salt. I snapped this inside my neighbor's kitchen.

This bizcocho has not yet made it into the open flame oven.

Do I hear 500 colones?

Do I hear 500 colones?
Originally uploaded by ancho and lefty.

After my neighbor's cattle ventured into the great beyond, we spent the rest of the day at the cattle auction in Santa Anna, Costa Rica. Here, they are auctioning off two oxen who will be used as work animals. I liked the auction, but it was very loud and disorienting. The two men standing up on platforms over the animals had long electrical prods to boss the animals. The cattle were really disoriented when they went from the narrow line of cattle into a big room with lots of people staring at them. Nevertheless, for most of them I am sure it beat being in line for the slaughterhouse.

The bidding is done by pound. Once the bidding is complete, the animal goes through another door where it is weighed. By mulitplying the weight of the animal by the price per pound settle on during auction, you arrive at the price of the animal. Four percent of the price of the animal goes to the auction house. The rest gets paid out at the auction house in cash to the seller. This differs from the slaughterhouse where the seller waits about 15 days to get the money from the sell of the animals.

Headed for hamburger patties

Headed for hamburger patties
Originally uploaded by ancho and lefty.

This is the truck I rode in to visit Montecillos, a meat processing company in Alajuela.

I love this lady

I love this lady
Originally uploaded by ancho and lefty.

My math was all screwy in the previous post=== this fine young lady would now be about 140 years old!

Another morning of picking the golden bean

Another morning of picking the golden bean
Originally uploaded by ancho and lefty.

More coffee action, archival research, and more!

Today I worked a few hours picking my neighbor’s coffee. You may not be able to pick your neighbor’s nose, but you can, in fact, pick his coffee. It is about a kilometer from my house and up a ways. I felt lucky to have such a nice view (see photo of me with nice view). Yesterday, I worked in my office, trying to organize the mounting archival materials that I am encountering in my archival research. Monday, I went to San Jose to go to my favorite library, La Biblioteca Nacional. I took photos of old newspaper articles that featured information about the area where I am working. (They won't let me make copies.)

The woman in the photo was featured in a spread about Acosta that ran in a section of La Nacion called “Gentes y Paisajes.” This story is from 1976. I like Doña Herminia because she wanted to meet Fidel Castro. I would like to meet him too. I imagine Doña Herminia has passed on to the other side, and I imagine she never imagined she’d make the internet but now, here she is, for all to see. This year would mark around year 129 for her. Aaahh, what a face. She did not live in the zone where I am researching, but rather in San Ignacio, the municipal center of Acosta. Too bad I did not get an interview with her. I think I could have done a better job than this reporter.

This afternoon, I am leaving for Montecillos on a cattle truck. I am going to learn about where the cattle go to meet their maker. I have to spend the night in close proximity to a slaughterhouse and I am a bit curious about the smell. Anyway, I will try to post some photos of my adventure on the big truck and all. You know, just to give you something to look forward to.

I bumped into him after dinner

I bumped into him after dinner
Originally uploaded by ancho and lefty.

My buddy from the hood. His Mom brought back a Batman costume from the City for his enjoyment. He loves capes. He is always asking me to tie sheets, towels, anything around his neck that could be construed as a cape. Apparently, he likes Batman, but really has his heart set on a Superman get up. When he wears his cape he puffs his chest out and walks down the road like he really means business. It's really too cute to describe.

The hat adds to the ensemble, you see

The hat adds to the ensemble, you see
Originally uploaded by ancho and lefty.

His uncle gave him that hat to enhance his image to a sort of Batman/Zoro hybrid. I thought it worked out pretty well.

Bibliotecas

I was up at 4:50 this morning to get the 6 a.m. (and only) bus out of my pueblo, which took me to Acosta, where I caught another bus to San Jose, then walked to the National Library. My expectations were low.

The last library I visited in San Jose (which shall remain nameless, since I have to go back), kindly charged me 10,000 colones for a "card" which allowed them to "recoup" the expenses they would incur by allowing me to take a book off the shelf and read it in the library. I am not sure I quite understand where the cost comes in. There's neither soap nor toilet paper in the latrine. I don't get free copies of anything. I can't even check a book out of the library for crying out loud. I paid it anyway, but I hope the money goes to buying more books, because the libraries here need more books.

At this other library, the nameless one, when I paid for my "card," I was told I would receive an orientation. Of course, there was no orientation. When I asked when I would receive my orientation the librarian looked at me like I had six heads. I asked them if there was a photocopier in the library to at least copy books that were particularly important to my work.

She explained, "Yes, but you can't copy the entire book."

And I responded, "But what if I need the entire book?"

She replied, "You can only make complete copies of books at copy shops outside the library."

To which I responded, "Yes, I understand that, but you just told me that I can't take the book out of the library.

She snaps back, "Yes, that's right."

Finally, I pulled out the "I am working on my PhD line" and managed to get "special permission" to leave the library with two library books, in order to walk about 300 meters to ask someone to make a copy of the books for me.

In contrast, at the National Library, the librarian let me sit at her desk to search through periodicals and kept coming back to check on me. I was relaxed, at ease, happy. I wanted to walk right up and shake the hand of every libriarian on duty.

I had to go up a few floors to check into some older periodicals. I was struggling with the old card catalogs when another angelic librarian called out to me, "Muchacha!" I froze for a split second, wondering "Am I doing something wrong?" But then she said (in Spanish), "you know you can put that drawer of cards down on the table to make it easier for you." Aaaahhh, such a fine library. I can't wait to go back. Which is more than I can say for that other place.

The best part is, I did not have to pay 10,000 colones to read something that is contained within the walls of the library!

In other local news, apparently tomorrow is Children's Day and we must apparently be really nice to the kids here (which is not hard because they are clever and cute) and perhaps give them some candy or something. I thought that the United States was the only nation that had fallen victim to so many of what my Mother refers to as "Hallmark Holidays."

When my landlady told me that she was baking a cake for the Kid's Day tomorrow, I asked her if Costa Rica had an Anthropologist's Day coming up anytime soon. She didn't get the joke and responded, "No, but we do have Secretary's Day."

Where did all the leaders go?

We need a president, not a prophet.

I wrote a really nast blog about how poorly Hurricane Katrina has been handled, but it's all been said and thought already. Why add to the anger. But, needless to say, I think we are suffering from a serious leadership vacuum in our nation. Anyone want to step up?

Missing you all and worried about my country from afar,

Lefty