Lately, lacking time, I have painted my adventures in large, detail-less strokes in the hope that the photos would speak for me…but laziness no more! (At least for a day). Many things have happened in a month apart from my weekend trips which cannot be told in pictures…I’ve eaten a fried chicken (really—almost an entire chicken) at TC Pollo, and a Whopper (my first ever) at a Burger King Bus. I’ve joined a film discussion group led by my lit professor (Tuesday night we watched Viva Cuba, which you absolutely must see—very cute; like a Latin American version of My Girl except with better cinematography and music and not quite as sad an ending). I have attended a church service of some Pentecostal variety, which I had to slip out of after two and a half hours of singing and shouting (in order to meet Lindy for chicken). I have watched a man mix clay with his feet, and I’ve learned not to look cocaine addicts in the eye. Entonces…let the anecdotal account begin!
Part 1: Geckos
Although I have been in Costa Rica for one month now, it was not until a week or two ago that I saw the first gecko in our house. The little (sometimes bigish) creatures are common and harmless, insect-eaters who, if all goes well, rid the shower of cucarachas. They remind me of their existence every now and then with a little clamor in the ceiling of the library or my bedroom, a sound I can best describe as a kind of chatter, the way squirrels might sound if they were kissing each other from across the room (if you cannot imagine this, I guess you will just have to come to Costa Rica to hear it yourself).
One evening, my housemate Lindsey, a fellow AQ student, Maria, and I were all sitting in the living room on the orange velvet couch when we heard the Gecko Noise. Maria swore she had seen a picture frame on the wall move and told us there was a gecko behind it.
“No,” I said. “They live in the ceiling.”
“No,” said Maria, the paranoid killjoy who insisted that the ancient wooden ladder we climbed up the side of a half-constructed concrete building in the mountains with three Costa Rican boys in the dark wasn’t safe. (It was safe, by the way—I was the first one up and the last one down, no problem, which earned me the nickname “Strong Girl”).
“I dare you to take down that picture frame,” she said. “There’s a gecko behind it.”
“No, there is not,” I said, very knowingly. “I will take it down to show you.”
Inside this frame is a needlepoint creation that says something like “Home Sweet Home” (in English)—I imagine it is one of the gifts given to Eliet by her many guests. I carefully lifted this precious artifact from its nail on the wall, gripping the sides very tightly so as not to break anything if I were to be startled for no reason, since, after all, there are no geckos on the walls in Eliet’s house.
It was 8:30 pm or so, Eliet’s bedtime, and she had already retired to her room at the back of the house, where I am sure she clearly heard our screams.
As soon as I moved the picture, a dark blur darted across the wall and disappeared, probably behind the 3’ x 4’ tin portrait of the Baby Jesus and his shining gold and copper tinted Holy Family. I dropped “Home Sweet Home” on the orange couch and retreated in an adrenaline rush to the kitchen, where we peeked out at the Gecko Wall from behind the lace curtains.
“Take down the Holy Family,” ordered Maria.
“No,” answered Strong Girl the Gecko Tamer.
“I’m sleeping outside,” said Lindsey.
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Part 2: Drug Bus—coming soon to a blog near you… Also, the Zen perspective on tiny ants in my toothbrush…
Until then, happy early birthday to Julian. I took the angel down from the calendar in order to see your picture, but he magically reappeared. I’m sure he is playing “Feliz Cumpleaños” on his harp for you.
To everyone, hope you are having a marvelous time in Michigan! I miss the Big Lake, even though I realize it is frozen over right now, and have decided that the disgustingly salty ocean cannot compare. Love to you all!
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