Just for fun, I wanted to share a glimpse of what’s it like to live in Paradise, 24/7. It’s everything the travel brochures selling a beachy jungle experience promise, and more. Much, much more. And not all of it’s glam, Disney-approved, and sanitized.
So, a few days ago we were awakened at midnight by the unsyncopated beeping of four UPS’s, which we have to combat the regular brownouts. The house was lit up by two LED emergency lights, so we knew for sure it was a power outage. No problem, it was just a matter of time. Tico time. At that hour, the power company would not be repairing the problem until at least sunrise. I mean, who wants to venture into the jungle in the middle of the night with no street lights to illuminate the way, right?
Twelve hours later, problem solved. Electricity was restored. No explanation this time, just power. At least I could shower with hot water and cook breakfast. As I threw on my floral beach dress, I felt a searing pain in my left forearm. The pain was beyond excruciating as I pounded on my arm and ran into the kitchen. When the pain subsided, there was no external evidence of a bite or of a dead insect. Hmmm. Several hours later, though, my arm swelled and reddened with a silver-dollar-sized bubble of tiny blisters itching and burning my skin. We agreed it had to have been a spider bite, although we never did find the culprit.
Later that day, a crew of tree specialists showed up to cut down two 100-foot trees on our property that were sick and dying. Down here you can’t just go chopping down trees willy-nilly without permission. Rumor has it the Municipality has tagged every significant tree with GPS, so it’s not so easy to cheat, if you were so inclined. We did it legally, only to learn that one of the trees was home to a humongous nest of humming-bird-sized hornets. We closed up the house and prayed they’d find a new home far, far away. Okay, problem solved. More like, that problem solved.
Later we heard the crew yelling to each other up on the plantel above the house, only to find out that they had just killed one of the biggest terciopelos (aka fer de lances) we’d ever seen. Six feet or more. Now, we try not to kill anything unless absolutely necessary, except for those nasty vipers, whose toxin can kill you if you don’t get the anti-venom in time. Even with the shot, you could still lose the limb to the flesh-eating toxins where you were bitten.
FYI, we’d seen maybe a dozen or so baby terciopelos on the road in the last month or so and learned that a Mama T can spit out 80 to 90 babies at a time as she’s cruising along. Apparently, the babies know enough to run and hide because as soon as Mama’s done giving birth, she turns around and starts eating the babes who hadn’t gotten the memo to RUN!! Anyway, if they all grew to be as huge as the Granddaddy they killed today, lord help us all! That guy had been hanging out so close to the house that one (or both) of the dogs could’ve easily had a deadly encounter with that bad boy. Another bullet dodged.
The next morning, I went to wash up to start cooking. What?! No water. Since we had just spent a chunk of change to repair the new backup tank for the house, it didn’t make sense. That’s why you buy backup tanks in this neck of the woods. Turns out the tank was empty because the repairman replacing the water filters had forgotten to turn the tank back on when he left. After a few hours of calls and investigation, turns out the main pump for the whole neighborhood had failed and needed to be replaced. Fortunately, they had one left in San Ysidro, just 2 hours away, that could be delivered the next day.
We decided to eat dinner out at the Sushi Wine Bar since we couldn’t cook or clean up. On the way home, K had turned on all of his super-bright, off-road lights on the Jimny. Really cool and functional when driving home in pitch black through the jungle. The cicadas thought so, too, and kamikazied our car, flying into our open windows in a cacophony of sound and fury. I’m embarrassed to admit that I did scream when one of those suckers flew up my skirt. Note to self, keep the windows closed at night during dry season. Apparently, they go away when the rains start because their wings melt.
So, at least we had light to prep for bed that night. No sooner had we drifted off than both dogs went bonkers, barking through the screen at some critter in the tree next to our bedroom. K went out with a flashlight and illuminated a terrified possum trying to catch some Z’s. His beady red eyes and long pink snout were dead giveaways. At least it wasn’t a pizote, right?
The next morning we were awakened just before dawn by the screeching of a pair of hawks who live nearby. One of the hawks was in the tree by our bedroom and apparently had found his breakfast. The mewling and crying of the possum were heartwrenching as the sound quickly moved from the tree down into the jungle below, where it was finally silenced. Once and for all, may he RIP.
We’ve decided we’d rather do without power than water, which is a good thing since the power goes out a lot here. So much so that we’re planning to install a backup generator to pair with our backup water tank. The best-laid plans, right? In spite of and because of it all, we love our life here and respect the limits of our humanity. It’s far less toxic than what’s going on back in the US, that’s for sure.
So remember, it’s a jungle out there, but don’t forget to stop and smell the heliconias along the way!
Pura Vida
🌴🌺🐍🦗🕷🕸🐁
Feb. 17, 2022
BOBBI18.02.2022 06:44
Wow! You and K are brave. You are fighting visible enemies. We are as you say fighting the hidden underbelly of our society. It is pretty awful! Take care.
STEVE17.02.2022 18:49
Oh my! Thank you for posting.
SHARON17.02.2022 17:32
WOW! Everyday a new adventure in such a beautiful place. Le desea que esté tranquilo!!
Judy Richter 