by Rachael Sage

Second-graders show off their artwork at Escuela Guarial. Photos: Rachael Sage.

Oct. 1, 2010 — Life in Costa Rica is more closely linked to the chicken than you could ever imagine, thus my tale begins with roosters.

Contrary to popular belief, roosters don’t solely crow in the morning. They are unconcerned with time and bellow whenever it suits their fancy. Day, night, midnight, dawn, morning — they crow and they crow and they crow. Their crowing often wakes the dogs — who bark and bark and bark — closely followed by the monkeys.

Yes, I said monkeys, and at first, I too was enthralled with the exoticness of living around howler monkeys. But it didn’t take long for me to reevaluate my opinion. Why? Well, for starters, they have the loudest call of any terrestrial mammal. In fact, the only animal that is louder is the blue whale. A tiny, 1-foot-tall monkey has a call that is only bested by the largest animal to ever have lived. It’s hard to believe, but it’s true. After hearing the monkeys day in and day out, it became clear why the “Sounds of Costa Rica” CD I bought before I came here didn’t showcase howler monkeys. Secondly, howler monkeys, like roosters, have no internal clock and are undiscerning as to when they decide to howl or not howl.

View from Poor Man's Paradise, a hotel on the Osa Peninsula.

Thus the cacophony at any time of day or night generally consists of roosters, dogs, monkeys, and then the typical household noises, at untypical hours, of televisions, babies crying, parents scolding and meals cooking. Again, the “Sounds of Costa Rica” sounded nothing like this. And what it feels like? No movie has been able to capture that.

You don’t hear Costa Rica, or see it, or even feel it — you have to live it. Sure, you hear “pura vida” and “tranquilo,” but you don’t really get it until you’re standing in front of the bus driver, frantically rifling through the change in your pocket looking for that last lousy 5 colones, and the person in back of the long line says “Tranquilo!” and you realize no one is in a hurry. Or, you’re jogging on a busy road, on an aggravatingly hot day, amidst a huge traffic jam and someone randomly calls out “Pura vida.”

Or, you’re sitting at a soda — a family-run neighborhood restaurant that serves traditional food and can be housed in a family’s home, at a bus station, or in a downtown shop. You’re there for hours, having only ordered a damn good coffee, and the owner just keeps smiling at you, not expecting or caring if you order anything else. This relaxed demeanor is pervasive and dictates the way Ticos live, work, vacation and raise families. It’s a vast difference from the hustle of the United States, and gives meaning to the phrase “Tico time.” With all the time Ticos save by not worrying about things, they’ve found a highly entertaining way to fill it: welcoming gringo volunteers into their homes. And that’s when our worlds collide.

A rainforest hike and several river crossings takes you to this souvenir shop in the jungle

When it comes to their gringo housemates, a different Tico persona emerges. Everything is still tranquilo, but that doesn’t mean you’re free from scrutiny about it. They think we’re loco and aren’t afraid to tell us. Upon reflection, how can we not seem loco to them? We either come down here as tourists — with our big backpacks, iPods and flip flops, shirtless, drinking beer on the ferries and buses — or we’re like my group of World Teach volunteers, paying money to work. That sounds crazy in any language! But that isn’t to say that sometimes more innocuous things aren’t the objects of their judgment.

For instance, eating fruit in the morning will invoke some of the oddest looks from host moms and families. Seriously, if you don’t eat rice and beans for lunch, dinner and breakfast, you are certainly loco as far as Ticos are concerned. Exercising, just for the sake of exercising, is another oddity. “You’re really just going to go running around town?” their eyes seem to say, as you tie your shoes and head out the door. And even though they think you’re crazy, you do it, because that time alone, back in your own little world, is a welcome reprieve from the magnifying glass that life in Costa Rica can sometimes be. You would think that taking a shower and going to bed with wet hair was the No. 1 cause of premature death by the looks you get when you try that one. Just as wearing sandals, instead of going barefoot, is the cure for every ailment. Never mind that it’s 90 degrees in the shade and the ground isn’t that much cooler.

Evening game of a popular sport.

These and many other Western commonalities are cause for Ticos to question our sanity and talk about us to their friends. And when I say friends, I mean the whole town. So, be prepared to laugh about yourself at the panaderia, in the soda and with your student’s families. Even under all this examination, we become a part of the family — and that’s the ticket to truly authentic Costa Rican experiences.

Whether it is a nighttime mission to a mango farm to steal mangos, or an all-night funeral, or a celebratory pig roast, you’ll be invited. You may find yourself dancing with abuelos, playing bingo with the townsfolk, chasing kids around a soccer field, cleaning and gutting a chicken, or watching a dog give birth. The experiences are only limited by your willingness to say “si.”

So hold on tight, be prepared for anything, and allow yourself to appreciate the lifestyle that embodies pura vida. And, don’t forget to eat that last spoonful of gallo pinto, because that’s the last link to the chicken. Gallo pinto, the national food of choice, derives its name from the fact that, like chickens, the mixture of rice and beans that makes up gallo pinto can come in many different colors. And like the crow of a rooster, gallo pinto is an around-the-clock thing; it can be eaten at any time of day — morning or night.