What a difference a day makes

In the past 36 hours I have walked umpteen miles, met a blue-eyed goat, been rescued from the mud by a piece of earth-moving equipment (a man named Huberto was my hero), milked a cow, visited a rock with a huge hole in it where my informants tell me lived the last “Indian” woman in this community some 85 years ago (her name was Tomasa), eaten homemade cheese (and liked it), spent the night in the house of a family I was interviewing who live way up the mountain (they kept me out past dark and I could not walk home because it was too dark and too steep) and conducted several interviews. I am probably leaving something out, but I will let it go at that. Anyway, despite the fact that the rain is worse than ever, I am back in action and the flu is a mere memory.

Tomasa's home was tucked back in beautiful hills I had never visited before. A majestic tree grew atop her rock home. Its roots had inched into a crevice in the rock, cracking open the ceiling of Tomasa's home. The root system covered an entire side of the gigantic rock, cascading down to the earthen floor in search of more nutrients.

I imagined that perhaps that tree began growing about the same time Tomasa's residence was coming to an end - A new presence to keep the rock company. It was a nice thought at least.

My guides for this morning were my hosts from the night before, a mother and her young daughter. We milked a cow and then wandered around the countryside. My guide pointed out where Tomasa cooked (you could see the burn marks on the wall of the rock cave), where she slept (in the corner of the rock house), and even where she liked to entertain company (down by the stream). Tomasa lived with five dogs, who, I am told, protected her and hunted for her. Tomasa lived alone and never married nor had children. When she grew ill as an old woman, people from the nearby community carried her out of the rock in a hand-made stretcher. They took her to Acosta for medical treatment and she never returned.

I don't know what parts of Tomasa's story are true and what parts are false, but I do believe she lived in that rock.

We also saw lots of cool wildlife- mushrooms, a gigantic anthill complex, and teeny tiny frogs.
They sent me on my way with a bottle of fresh cow's milk. Later on today I was gifted a large amount of homemade cheese by a woman who makes cheese everyday to sell and to eat. I was a little afraid at first, as some of the cheese here is downright putrid, but hers was fresh and smooth. I ate some with fresh, warm tortillas and a cup of hot, black coffee.

Not a day for the lactose intolerant but all in all, a great day.