Moving Day

Moving day was yesterday, April 3rd, 2008. Yes, stating the year was absolutely necessary*. We survived the so long-awaited event and moved forward. But it was exhausting for everyone.
Over the years, we have moved many times – from packing everything we own into the car, to sorting out our major international moves. Moving day is always stressful, and having a lot of support doesn’t necessarily make it easier. We were officially repatriated from Costa Rica to New Orleans (retirement) shortly after Hurricane Katrina, and the only workers the moving company could find to help us were two sickly looking college kids and an old man with a limp. We were stronger than any of them and ended up helping to physically move in all the antiques and other furniture.
Our idea was to move all the valuable things to New Orleans and leave the older, less expensive stuff in storage in Costa Rica for the house at El Tigre. However, that’s still a lot of stuff that we’ve collected over the years, and the boxes filled up the container moving truck. No problem! The movers only had to drive the truck from their very own storage warehouse to our house out at El Tigre. A simple, local move – a piece of cake.
The moving company realized that they would not be able to get their container-sized moving truck up the mountain to Finca El Tigre, so they organized pick-up trucks to go back and forth between the container truck, which they parked at U.Paz, and El Tigre. However, those that arrived were definitely not All Terrain Vehicles, nor even 4x4s, so, of course, they couldn’t make it up the hill from the University for Peace. So now the moving guys go back to Ciudad Colon to look for any 4x4 pick-up truck they can find to do the move. There they are, unknown workers wearing company t-shirts, talking it up with the locals in sleepy Ciudad Colon. 4x4 pick-ups urgently needed! They tried everything to bribe any 4x4 truck driver just happening down the road. And, of course, most drivers obliged for the right price. So, before we knew it, our regular, local truck drivers started showing up with their trucks piled high with our stuff. At one point, our builders’ delivery truck showed up with a new, hand-made back door, fresh out of the carpenter’s workshop across town. However, since he just happened to be driving past the moving truck, heading straight for El Tigre, the movers commandeered his nice big 4x4 truck and piled it high with boxes. The driver looked extremely cross, as the moving guys at this end unpacked his truck. I suggested to Janet that perhaps we should give him a tip for his trouble, but she just jutted out her chin and said, “Poof! He didn’t lift a finger except to drive his truck as he always does. Life is such as it is!”
And the day wore on; the truck drivers bickering, the moving guys always thirsty, Janet barking out orders to everyone, “…up to the library... to the vestidor… watch out there… the water glasses are over there…”. And I’m everywhere, checking lists and managing the unpacking. Janet and Marcia had been prepped with lists and instructions, and performed splendidly as the boxes came through into the house. And we soon found ourselves in a routine - from checking off each box as it came off the truck - Gerald’s job - to the rest of us working with the un-packers to settle the contents into the house.
Now, make no mistake about it, stress definitely causes and/or exacerbates pain. That blasted snake gun I tried out a few days ago kicked like a mule and hurt my shoulder! For some reason, I never really noticed the ache until later in the week – on moving day. And by mid-afternoon, I could barely take the pain and had to sit down for a few minutes. I made the mistake of sitting down on the bench next to Gerald, who was busy checking in boxes - the moving guys queuing up in front of him to get checked off. Gerald would not be hurried.
And then I stupidly complained to him again that my shoulder still hurt. At that point, Gerald flashed his eyes at me - “You’re starting to worry me! Are you really hurt or is it just muscle ache?”
Gerald is used to my frequent scrapes and bruises and has little sympathy for me. I had to fess up. It was a mere muscle ache.
“Then shut up and deal with it”, he said irritably, and turned back to the inventory list and the queue.
It was time for a remedy!
I asked Janet what was the strongest analgesic in the house. She responded, Naproxen, 220mg. It would do nicely for me. So I asked for the bottle and swallowed two tablets, and next thing I know, everybody is passing around the bottle of Naproxen. Seems everybody had a headache or something aching somewhere. It wasn’t the physical work - it was the stress of moving 248 boxes from a large container, via a series of strange pick-up trucks/drivers, into the house.
Gerald, of course, would have none of it! Nothing seems to bother him physically, and if it does, he just bears up and deals with it - the proverbial English stiff upper lip - just shoulder your burden and carry on, lad. As to taking remedies, Gerald says: “I (used to) sell drugs, I don’t take them.”
Well, I used to sell drugs too but I’m no martyr. Still, I’ve now observed how stress amplifies pain. This morning, we all woke up feeling fine as usual, so we agreed that the moving day pain was mostly stress related, which, in our case, provoked old aches and pains.
On the bright side, it started raining – a major torrential rain – just minutes after the last truck pulled away. Amazingly, everything had made it safely inside.
It’s now official. It’s raining again at El Tigre. Raining in the Forest…a rain forest…mornings fresh and cool…in silence, sounds of chirping, twittering, chattering, hooting – nature’s symphony – Opus April 4th, 2008. The new leaves budding out…forest canopy now with fresh green texture…lacy guanacastes…earthy scents…cool mist rising, sun overhead…
I am late for breakfast again.
Gerald is busy making departure plans for New Orleans.

*Some people like to joke and equate me with the Widow Winchester, who might die if she ever finished her house construction. My brother once told me that some people talk and other people are talked about, and that I would always be one of those people that other people like to talk about - just a bit too far off the mainstream grid to stay under the radar. “Get used to it”, he said. That was back when I was 12 years old…

Binge Monday

Horses, Volcan and Lucero, graze in pasture below the house.
Today is Monday. And, unfortunately for us, today is Binge Monday. Well known here in Costa Rica, and much better tolerated than it would be pretty much anywhere else in the world - one of the joys of living the Pura Vida a la Tica.
Our horse trainer didn’t show up for work again today – coincidentally, once again on a Monday. He called Armando at 6am and said that his motorcycle was out of sorts, so couldn’t get to El Tigre to ride the horses. This time, Armando decided to call him on it, and insisted on going over to his house to pick him up. So Armando shows up at his house and finds him still drunk and so unsteady on his feet that he couldn’t mount his sofa much less a horse. Another day’s pay docked. Binge Monday! Everybody knows somebody who occasionally doesn’t show up for work because of too much ‘guaro’ (local booze) over the weekend. We hired an excellent woodworker a couple of years ago with the same problem.
Basically, if somebody pulls a Binge Monday, the employer will put up with it if the worker is talented, but not at all in a worthless good-for-nothing - and then there is the whole spectrum in between.
We are well aware of our man’s binge problem and dutifully dock his pay every time he pulls the stunt. We put up with it because he is the best horse-whisperer in our price range on this side of the valley. He never uses spurs or a whip – always has lots of patience and understanding. He trained my super-sprinter Arabian mix, Matchi, to take it easy when we speak to him through the bit. Now he responds quickly and settles down, even though he is still a very young, competitive racer. Before, sometimes, Matchi used to bite down on the bit and just take off. And I had the bumps and scrapes to prove it.
Horseback riders! Learn how to skydive! You learn how to fall and this comes in handy when your stallion takes off on you, biting down hard on the bit and galloping out of control at racing speed – you grab that mane, crouch close and hang on, waiting for your chance to regain control. If he stumbles and you’re going down or if you decide you want to bail off of him, push free and roll when you hit the ground. I learned the technique skydiving but it’s easy to learn. Just takes practice.
Anyway, I don’t have to bail off horses anymore because of our horse trainer.
He also trained our most difficult horse, Lucero. Nobody could ride Lucero. He would plant his two forward feet on the ground and stop. And that was it – he wasn’t going another step forward. And if we pushed him too much – and I’m only talking just coaxing him a wee bit too much with our legs, Lucero would rear up and try to buck us all off. Me, Jose, Armando, Francie…he was becoming dangerous. It was time to call in a professional horse trainer.
Within a few weeks, our man calmed Lucero, only using his voice, soothing him and giving him time to trust humans. Sometimes, when we were out riding together, he would tell me to continue riding Matchi on ahead because he needed a bit more time with Lucero and he quickly became more responsive and even happy about going out for rides. So, excellent progress was made with riding him but Lucero had another, equally dangerous problem.
Somebody once hurt Lucero whilst shoeing him, and to this day, he doesn’t want to see the farrier within 50 feet of him. At first, we tried to hold and calm him while the farrier attempted to work but Lucero would have none of it. He would fight us and, if we didn’t back away, send us all flying through the air. The first farrier recommended Lucero for the matadero (slaughter house)! The second one attempted using sedatives but, guess what? Lucero hates injections too and will send anyone flying who even approaches him with a syringe! Believe me, we tried everything – distracting him with food and sneaking up behind him with the syringe. That worked once. Only once – after that, Lucero’s eyes could just spot that syringe and then there was no hope. I remember the last time we attempted to give Lucero a shot. He’d had a terrible, chronic cough and the vet felt that an injection was really necessary to get him the dose of antibiotic needed. What a day. Three of our guys used ropes and all their strength to try to hold Lucero still just long enough for the shot, but no way! Lucero went crazy on us again – screaming, with his eyes wild with terror, tail swishing, head bobbing - trembling body wet with sweat - and somehow Lucero sent the syringe flying. Our disgusted vet had had enough. He told me that he would not give Lucero any more injections until we built a proper structure to secure him.
So what was our solution to this difficult horse? I took off his shoes, we stopped giving him injections for his chronic cough, and we gave him a vacation. His cough cleared up within days – we have now verified that his cough was essentially stress induced – his stress would flare up old pulmonary scar tissue. After his hooves hardened up nicely without shoes, our horse trainer resumed riding him and he is now my favorite horse – calm, responsive and full of health and energy. He loves to canter but also likes a nice long trot or even a pleasant walk along the forest trail.
The trainer also rides our frisky, white criollo, Solo – who really performs at barrel and needle racing as well as our beautiful baby boy, Volcan. At this point, we could easily survive without a horse trainer, and might have to for financial reasons someday, but I am grateful to him for turning around two difficult horses and making horseback riding much safer for me and the kids.
And who am I to judge anyone on Binge Monday? I remember pulling lots of boozy all-nighters back when we were in our 30’s living in Madrid. One time, we partied all night and drove to the airport next morning to pick up some friends coming in from New York. And then I got dressed and went to work. Couldn’t do that today. Now we’re in bed before 10PM!
Bird Alert: mangos and avocados all fruiting. Grab your binoculars for some good birding.
Lots of Morpho butterflies now! Tigre has Morphos all year but I’m seeing more of them and they are mating! – they pair up, flutter about the forest together, stopping and landing on leaves here and there.. If you want lots of Morphos, plant Machaeriums.
In seed and fruit:
Bumper crop of Ceiba pentandra! All around the massive Ceiba tree, white, fluffy cotton balls – laden with Ceiba seeds- cover the ground like snow. Armando had never seen anything like it in all his years working and living here. As we gathered the cotton, piling it into big bags, dozens of fluffy Ceiba cotton balls drifted lazily down all around us like a magical tropical snow storm. We took pictures of the whole scene but the floating cottonballs in the photos look more like light-filled flying fairies. Hey! Maybe this is how stories get started! Or maybe it’s just lousy photography. In any case, we have enough cotton to last us a lifetime and enough seeds for everyone! Just write me. Remember, Ceiba pentandra (f. Bombacaceae) is a massive, tropical tree that does best planted in a forest near water.
Also in fruit now at Reserva El Tigre: among others, I saw Myrtas, Eugenias, Aguacatillas, Cupanias, Thounidium, Cassias, Sennas, Malphighia, Roupala, Gliricidia species, and Maclura tinctoria (f. Moraceae) – we don’t know where the female is yet but we’re seeing a slew of males – still looking. Also flowering, are a slew of vines and herbaceous plants.
Lonchocarpus species just starting to bud but it’s all over for the Miconias. It rained today, so much more botanical action in store for us down in the forest tomorrow.