life

Last night as I was peeing in my bathroom a 5 inch scorpion chased a beetle across the bathroom floor. It wasn't afraid of my torch, even though I shone it on the big black bugger, prepared to throw it if push came to shove. Behind it on the stone sat one of those huge fake scorpions, I'm not sure if it's a spider or an insect but somehow they are archetypically scary to look at. I pulled the mattress onto the deck and slept below the branches, bats swooped in and out of the house hopefully picking up mosquitoes. Giant grasshoppers cast shadows on the curtain. The tiny flowerets of the tree fell lightly on the sheet. This morning when I gingerly had my shower two lizards were fucking in the same spot as the fake scorpion. They were beautifully wrapped facing downwards, clinging to the stone, so graceful, intimate, intricate, perfectly still but beautifully connected. They stayed entwined for the duration of my stay in the bathroom, later I saw the male dashing about along the top of the bathroom wall opening his red frill below his snout. I wonder if he had used it to attract his mate, surely. I've just been to the garden and Hoss chased a 2 foot iguana from the compost pile. Luckily I had the chance to watch it very closely before he saw it. Incredibly beautiful, graceful, regal. With an arch to his brow that 30s movie stars would kill for. His face was a perfect mosaic of greens, washed out blues and creams, his brown eyes had a ring of gold set in them, more a hexagon shape actually. His five fingers were long and wonderfully taloned. He was a dragon, majestic, perfect, stll. When Hoss saw him he opened his mouth and hissed. Below him in the compost pile under a sign which read 'compost only', a golden eyed toad peeped. i wonder what I'll see on my way home.

storm

I’m lying on the deck watching the storms over the pacific. The air is cool, it stopped raining 30 minutes ago and the breeze shakes drops from the branches overhead. The storms are too far out for me to hear the thunder, but big enough to light up the sky so I didn’t need my torch on the way home. The moon isn’t up yet, and she’s waning, it’s nice and dark. My music is playing, I have chocolate within easy reach and my beautiful dog lying beside me. Life is good. In Monteverde I saw these storms almost nightly, they lit my way home along with the fireflies. I’ve missed the fireflies here, there’s nothing quite like that flitting sudden intense light appearing here there and everywhere on a dark road, suddenly up close, next 15 feet away. I wondered why I didn’t see them here, but they’ve appeared this week: they must need the humidity, which explains why they were a nightly event up the mountain. I wonder if I’ll see more insects now. Certainly the mosquitoes have woken up from whatever blessed sleep they had, and they’re hungry. Big, black painful they are, and fast. My legs probably speak volumes in Braille. I wonder how they feel about sucking blood for a living, they hurt, at least ticks while phenomenally ugly don’t hurt. I wonder if mozzers are cursed souls who must suck blood as penance and hate to do it, maybe that’s why they hurt so that their prey will notice and kill them, releasing them from their hell. It seems I have to personify everything today. Hmm, rain, I have to move inside, maybe a cup of tea is in order. I have the most delicious South African tea just now with a name I can’t seem to spell, you know the one, the red one. Excellent. This is the first time I’ve actually experienced rain in the treehouse, it has so far rained in the afternoon when I’m out. It’s not nearly so noisy as it is in a casita. Wonderful!

one of those days

It’s been one of those lovely days, perhaps even perfect? that come along once in a while and are so easy to forget when things aren’t quite so nice. This is the beginning of the rainy season, and it’s as close to spring as I’ve seen: the earth, so brown and dry just last week is carpeted with tiny plants full of vigour and determination. I walk gingerly, trying not to crush the hope of each seed: maybe one day I’ll be a tree. Not that anyone but the human species needs to compare and contrast itself with others. Plants are plants are plants in all their glory, their existence. My dear guanacaste tree has dropped thousands of seeds this season and perhaps hundreds are sprouting all around us, some even in the crux of branches, a half dozen jostle for space between the steps to the bathroom. Three days ago they were just stalks with that beautiful convex bright green seed shell hiding the end. This morning there’s no mistaking them: they have lost the mantle and are uncurling their second set of true leaves, competing for sunlight below their parent plant.

I love living in this tree. I’ve always lived close to nature, in the cob I was living in it, but it was earth, subsoil and while it held me like a mother and cocooned me like a den or a cave, it didn’t live and breath and grow and drink like this beautiful tree. I have such a love affair with this tree. I’m wondering all kinds of things – why does the seed fall so close to the tree, which will survive, should I transplant the ones too close to the roots, how long will the flowers last, where do monkeys give birth (there was a very pregnant mother outside the kindergarten this morning). These questions seem banal but my mind is teeming with as much new growth as the earth. There’s a small tree just beside me who is gradually putting out leaves, growing them from the tip down, they seem to be a tiny bit larger every time I look. This tree will block my ocean view when its leaves are fully grown, I’ve thought of chopping a branch back, but right now the new growth is so perfect I’m more likely to just enjoy the sound of the ocean instead. The tree is full of life: ants, caterpillars, gnats, spiders, butterflies, a dozen different birds, half a dozen types of lizards, howler monkeys, squirrels and bats. It’s a whole community, each living in its place. I lie on the deck and watch the hawks glide about the branches, down below I hear the snuffling of armadillos. I really need to begin a more detailed account of everything I see. What a lesson this tree is giving me, how lucky I am.

So, it was that kind of day. The kind where the coffee is just right at 6:30am sitting outside on the hammock chair looking at the ocean change colour as the sun hits it. Where the earth is pleased that rain fell in the night and is soft and brown and welcoming. Where just the person you want to see stops in at kindergarten just as we are finding the 12th mushroom in the lawn. Where the children are interested and responsive and happy and curious, where there’s spontaneous singing and openness and love and questions about the mother of mother earth. That kind of day. Every teacher’s dream day where it all flows smoothly and there’s an opening into each child. So delicious. A day where through the tropical downpour at lunch one feels a warm mist of rain as one eats really good curried garbanzos. Where one spots a flycatcher building her nest somewhere close by, filling it with the down from those huge furry seeds and bits of coconut matting. Where the rain stops just as it’s time to walk up the hill and the sun comes out and warm moist air rises around one’s ankles. Where the horses are playing in their paddock the white ones looking like unicorns and the bays like Pegasus so proudly they carry their heads, prancing and kicking and rearing with the wet rising in steam from their backs. Where the shower at the foot of the tree isn’t actually cold but refreshing. That kind of day.

the treehouse, aka home

rain

The rains came on Tuesday. After the first the earth smelled sweet, the children and some of the adults danced in it, it was cool, heavy, wet. A different wet from sweat and from the endless showers we take. I’m sitting sheltering from the 5th rain, 2 days later. It’s a light one, not the heavy duty thunderstorm we had yesterday that first knocked the satellite out and then the electricity. Last night as I walked home the earth was breathing out the rain, a mist, a warm mist rose from the ground diffusing the light from my torch and from the moon. Everything was damp, hot, heavy like walking through a greenhouse. The humidity is making us all lethargic and the rain and grey is bringing out the northern European in us all: hot soups and mashed potatoes for lunch. It’s amazing how deep conditioning goes. I wake up to grey skies and my heart sinks, even after all this time away, I wonder if I’ll ever long for the grey. And yet there’s a certain type of grey sky that heralds in autumn and colder dry nights that I love, one with a certain mild crispness to it, is that understandable? Yesterday I awoke to clouds and it lowered my energy. This morning the sky was bright blue and washed clean, beautiful again. Hoss hates the rain, he’ll refuse to walk in it if he can, poor thing, he has a long season ahead of him. Ah, it’s stopping. Life is starting again, there were mushrooms in the grass and we went to look at the creek this morning, so many seeds have sprouted and are racing skywards, in all stages of throwing off their seed jacket. I wonder what they’ll all become.

passover

People here mistrust organized religions, many are trying to overcome orthodox upbringings, certainly all are working on their own spiritual paths. Monday was Passover, this is Easter week. What does that mean, where are we, where am I in connection to it all? I was raised a secular pagan: fairies and spiritual beings surrounded us but were not ritually celebrated. Growing up on the west coast of Scotland one is familiar with the catholic-protestant issue: orange walks were a common summer occurrence. I hated them with the same passion and fury as I hated the fox hunters who came in the autumn and winter. I despised the organized battles between the boys of my school and those of the catholic school in the town 6 miles away. My village was white, and just as bland in its spirituality, I knew no Jews, Moslems, Buddhists, Hindus, or any of the hundreds of other variations of faith until I moved away. We were the only pagans as far as I could tell which meant that my spirituality grew out of my own beliefs and ideas, guided by nothing bar a strong dislike of ‘the church’. As a waldorf teacher I was exposed to cosmic Christianity and began to be less afraid and intolerant of it. I’m always drawn to what lies behind and my nature searches for connection, for what is universal. When Guy invited me to a Passover celebration in pachamama I went. There was fire and smoke and wine and celebrants, dried cranberries and chocolate. There were instruments and singing, playing, dancing. There were people trying to find their own way, coming to terms with their spirituality and those of their families and friends. Guy spoke of Passover as a birth of freedom, as a beginning and asked us to think of our own peoples, of the struggle to be free: culturally, socially, individually, spiritually, emotionally, physically. I sat by the fire looking at the faces watching in them the affects of the flames, the music, the smoke, the evening – it meant something different to all: freedom , and with it responsibility. All sorts of memories, emotions, connotations, associations flit around the circle, were thrown into the fire. Freedom, it’s what we all want. A week ago on Friday we were all of us sat round a bigger fire being asked to throw our doubts, our fears and a piece of ourselves, the good as well as the bad, into the shamanic fire. Again the invitation to be free.
On the walk home up the hill we came across a big snake, easily the biggest I’ve seen, perhaps 8 feet and thick. Hoss was alert and quiet, it lay by the path, easily within striking distance. I held on to Hoss and switched on my torch, it raised up but I think my jumping backwards and squealing frightened it and it slithered off, albeit slowly. Snake is transformation, fertility, power. Freedom? On the full moon after fire. Surely something to think about.

peace

This is Monday April 1st. Somehow, in one way or another I’ve been too occupied to blog. I’m hoping for more time in the day. I wish all my expectations could be so subtle, so small and easily managed.

It’s dark, but the moon in all her beautiful fullness has risen behind me and lights up the sky to the point where you wouldn’t believe there are stars. I’m at a party, Nirav has his birthday today and he’s Djing his own event, the music is very chill, ambient trance and no-one is dancing. There’s a fire and mats and rugs and everyone is milling around talking or sitting staring into the space of the fire. Hoss is playing with a dog I don’t know, running back and forth along the periphery of the firelight. I’m sitting typing on a deck off to one side. I’m tired, I’ve been ‘out’ this weekend and haven’t caught up on missed sleep. I look at these faces, so beautiful lit up by orange glow, and I find myself loving them. Each one is unique and yet there are similarities brought on by shared experience, age, culture. Long dark hair tied back, beards on the men, narrow necks, slim shoulders and hips. Beyond the fireglow palm trees, further the ocean winks at his lover the moon. People move around the fire speaking softly to one another, touching hand to shoulder here, arm to arm there. Their movements are fluid in the fire’s staccato light and as the trance picks up its rhythm, they sway, rock a little, voices lift and fall. Who are they, why are they here, how long will they stay. Sufi comes and talks to me, Sufi the gentle incredibly lithe greek girl with her lilting voice and her soft brown eyes. She tells me about the parties that were here before the river opened up, of the space where the sun rose and set while people danced. The greeks are storytellers and weave their myths into their tales with such harmony I’m struck by the humble musical nature of their speech. So understated, floating and yet steady, true. Nirav is beside me, talking shop with Rassana about the house he wants to build. He looks happy, the two gold hoops in his left ear gleam in the fireglow, there’s a twinkle in those arian, double leon eyes.

I was ‘out’ this weekend. Arya, Lisa, my friend Victoria who’s visiting from the states and I left Pachamama on Friday and traveled an hour south by taxi to Samara. Costa Rica is a tourist destination and always surprises me as such. Perhaps growing up with trips to Europe spoiled me, my expectations for tourist towns are always too high. Samara has a beautiful beach: south facing, white sand, shallow warm water dotted with islands too far away to reach by swimming. The town is small and nondescript with several shops and hotels. By the standards here it’s considered fairly upscale with lots of visitors from the u.s.. It served our purposes: we wanted to eat dairy, wheat, meat, drink caffeine, watch tv, drink alcohol, shop, spend money, have a.c.. It’s incredible how we crave whatever we don’t have. And so I did, I ate bacon, twice. I had pizza with cheese, I drank coffee, I had more alcohol than I needed, I watched tv, I had toast, I had pancakes. And we talked, we talked about it all, everything under the sun. And beyond. We swam in the warm ocean water and in the warm still water of the hotel pool. We went to the gringo bar looking for music, something we could dance too, and finding nothing we went to the tico disco and stood in the spilt beer under the fog machines and the strobe lights and we waited for music. People around us were moving, some people were thumping to the one steady, constant beat. But we couldn’t. Dancing is a meditation, something spiritual, the connection of soul and music. This lacked the spiritual, it had no heart connection, I couldn’t understand the language. We left and sat on the beach, allowing the moon to reawaken us to something we knew. This morning I felt sick, too much indulgence in things I craved but didn’t, don’t need. It was good to come home.'

chocolate

It's possible and not at all ususual for me to enjoy raw cacao beans straight from the pod. It's certainly not uncommon for me to have one of Dharma's ricolate chocolate balls or a cacao shot after lunch. Raw chocolate is a superfood enjoyed by absolutely everyone in this community, often. So why then were Arya and I desperately looking for chocolate last night? Our diet is about 80% raw here, pretty healthy in all respects, which is probably why the ocassional craving for junk jumps us all.
Last night we finally found solace in a new and delicious concoction which forever after will be known as low-vibe paradise. It's hard to convey how difficult it is to get one's hands on junk food. It means actually leaving pachamama and travelling at least 10 miles to the nearest shop (fairly hard without a vehicle), working with real money and then returning post haste without devouring every additive laden morsel on the way.
Hence the excitement last night. We had a jar, or rather a half jar of Nutella (have you ever read the ingredients list? the stuff is actually toxic), half a packet of broken mantequilla biscuits and the dregs of a bag of organic cashews and almonds. We mixed the whole lot together in the jar and with a couple of forks thoroughly enjoyed it. Soooo good. Soooo good. We are now planning to add raisins and maybe even some condensed milk. Wow . . .
But we'll have to wait perhaps til the end of the month before we get the chance. Ah, the anticipation!

sundays

I love sundays. I'm lying on Arya's floor, full of coffee, sunshine and love for the universe. There's an omlette cooking on the stove, the birds are singing, the music's playing, the monkeys are howling, Hoss is snoozing. Brimming full of smiles and that lovely cafeine infused haziness at the back of one's brain. So today, what to do? Ride for sure, hmm, what else? Write a letter, do laundry, prepare kindergarten for the week, work out what we're doing for the bar on tuesday night.
The bar . . . I love working the bar. It's a raw, open air place sheltered below mango and an ancient orange tree, the monkeys are hanging out in the mangos these days picking the half-size unripe fruits. It can be a little dodgy sitting below them, but they come early in the morning, I don't think they enjoy the music. Other than tuesday nights and friday afternoons when alcohol is also served, the bar is totally raw and hi-energy. So far we've had ecstatic dance nights and world music dance parties, the place has been jumping. Right now we have no dj lined up for this week. I could ask Lino but he's been in silence for the last week and might not be ready for a party. He plays 80s stuff, might be time? Nirav will play next week, I don't know what he does, looking forward to it though. He hasn't dj'd here yet, there are so many other djs, and I think he's nervous, there's fairly stiff competition - everyone has a niche though, I wonder what his style is? Maybe I should check it out. Arya and I run the night and work the bar, we're good back there, giving plenty of chat and we always end up with a guy helping out. It's a good night. There's a woman visiting who does 5 rhythms dance, perhaps? We need to keep off the ecstatic for a couple of weeks because there'll be a big trance party for the solstice with Tyohar. Hmm, lost myself in work for a while there. I love dancing and it's been an odd journey to develop the love. I did the whole ballet/tap/modern thing when I was a kid, a little kid, but music wasn't encouraged in the house and so somehow I missed out on dancing for the sake of it. The whole disco / nightclub scene was too full of emotional drama and experimenting for me to dance very much. When I was with Jon he never danced so we didn't go anywhere one could really let go with music. I danced at home with the cats and the windows shut. After Jon I started middle eastern dance and loved it, danced with two troupes. I was taking salsa and merengue classes in Monteverde and dancing at clubs, but it seems that finally here I can really just dance. It has always felt like a meditation but before I had form to move around within, now it's free without need for external support. Finally I can just get into the music, rhythm, the way my body feels. So glorious. So simple and so true. Just the body, the stillness that comes within when the body is in motion, moved by something greater. Bloody lovely.
That's my mate Dhanyam working the bar yesterday morning, isn't he a love? He's going back to Greece at the end of the month for a while, I'll miss him.

photos

down by the river

It seems like I’m spending a fair amount of time at the river. It’s different down there, flat, more open with teak, cotton, citrus, acacia, guanacaste trees. It’s about a kilometer down the hill, steep in places. The river itself is fairly wide full of rocks, a couple of tiny waterfalls and swimming holes. It’s drying up quickly, in another month or so it’ll all but disappear I think. I walked down there with Hoss yesterday morning. I’m losing weight but not getting much exercise so walking to the river is my latest idea: the walk back up is pretty steep, I can really feel it in my legs. Today I rode down on Donkey and we spent the afternoon, Donkey grazing, Hoss and I swimming. We went along the river and I guess we left Pachamama’s land as on a bend in the river we came across a little tin house with a fire blazing on one side. It looked like a cooking fire, the smell of woodsmoke was lovely. Didn’t see much else as two skinny black dogs came running out barking. Hoss put himself between us and the dogs but thankfully made friends. He was bigger but I didn’t fancy his chances against two. It looked like a house from a fairy tale, like a charcoal burners, I’ll have to find out who lives there.

sweatlodge

It’s been a week since Norah left her body. Life for Hoss and I continues, life continues to be quite beautiful. Orion and his family left for Israel for 3 months, we had a children’s sweatlodge to see him off. I’ve never been in a sweatlodge before, so this was a nice introduction. The lodge is down by the river, we piled in the back of a pick-up and with Hoss running behind made our way down the hill, a couple of kids rode down on the horses. It was morning and the light came through the multicoloured blankets draped over the lodge, it wasn’t dark at all but had a really nice cozy feel to it. We started with a little ceremony introducing the children and parents to the tradition and then we began. Everyone entered and took their place, Qayla spoke and invited the fireman to bring in the first rock. It was hot! Glowing red, the incense smelled wonderful on it and at the steam everyone cheered. We sang a song and then the next rock came in. In all we had four rounds, four songs, four rocks. Everyone was dripping sweat, the children were glistening and slippery. We left and slowly made our way to the river. The water was so so cold. We caught snails and tiny fish and dead leaves, rolling around in the water with Hoss. Then ice-cream cake and after more play a blessing circle for Orion where we all took a turn expressing our hopes and wishes for him while he is away. Piled back in the pick-up and then up the hill, back in time for lunch. A nice way to spend a morning.

loss

Last night I buried my beloved cat. She was as glorious and vivacious as ever she was on Wednesday. Thursday morning I thought she had been bitten by something, she was lethargic and sluggish, Thursday night she could barely move and whimpered all night, Friday morning she died not in my arms, not at home, but at the vets. He thinks she had cancer. She was only 9 months old. I had been in Costa Rica for 10 days when Norah followed me. She was a tiny, tiny kitten, maybe 4 weeks old and was sitting meowling under a dirty bush near the center of Santa Elena. I carried her home balancing on my shoulder. Her stomach was swollen and hard and full of worms some of which she threw up that night. But she was so strong and feisty, she survived them and would go for dogs who came near the house. Then Hoss came along and she loved him, they slept together every night, he helped dig the hole we put her in. She was so friendly and would come to a whistle or her name being called, bounding down the path eager to trip us up or attack our ankles. Hoss and she would hunt together, she always let Hoss make the final move which he would invariably blunder and the prey would scuttle off with Norah again in hot pursuit. She loved to have her belly rubbed, she loved to bite one's nose. She was a kitten, full of all the energy, curiosity and love a kitten has and yet the grace and sophistication of a cat. She moved 4 times in her short life, each time adapting with ease and strength to every new surrounding, new challenge. She was friends with every cat she met, she showed great skill in determining which dogs she could approach and rub against. I love her very much and shall miss her intensely.

We buried her on the hill behind the casita, she liked to sit there just by the tree with the good birds in it with a full view of all the paths, close by the lizards and big spiders, where she can hear the sound of the ocean and the rustling of the grass, with nice soft earth to dig in. She was beautiful, Arohi and Michael who had taken her to the vets - a 2 hour journey - while I worked, brought her little body home last night and made her so beautiful: wrapped in a little blanket covered with red hibiscus flowers and surrounded by candles. She looked as though she was sleeping. She was so soft, so peaceful. She returned to the earth at 9:30 under a dark starry sky with the warm wind off the ocean, she loved the wind. I wanted to take so many pictures of her this week but never had my camera. On Thursday night I dreamed that I saw her jump off the edge of the casita and bound into the cashews, I think her spirit was gone to avoid the pain she was in. I shall miss her.

the internet hut

It's a bit of a hike to where we get reception here, at least for me, after lunch in the jungle, it's a bit of a hike, especially hauling a laptop. But it's worth it. The hut sits on the side of a hill, through one window I can see the pacific, through another hibiscus, through another a howler monkey scartching itself. There are two fans blasting cool air on the 5 of us sitting hunched over our screens. All eager to connect with the world, all happy to be away from it.

Yesterday I finally unpacked a little. I put my hammock chair up in the casita, put down some mats, made my little altar space, found my speakers so my music can really resound through the banana and cashews. I swung in my chair until the sun went down listening to Blackalicious and then swung until Venus set about 7:30. She moved from white to red as she dropped down the sky, by the time she had gone my laptop battery was dead and I sat a little longer with the candles until I could hear the ocean behind the crickets. The armadillo was busy and Hoss, for once, didn't bark. I've been teaching here a month now, it's passed so quickly. I've been here for 2 months: time is different. The day swings in slow arches that disappear quicker than spilled water.
On Saturday we are going 'out': a shopping trip to Nicoya, milk, coffee, dog food, straw, perhaps some junk food. It will be interesting to see how the world looks, especially a tico town that doesn't do tourists.

the beach

home sweet casita

sunday bloody nice sunday

Yesterday was a magical day, spent with horses and friends by the river. I went down after breakfast to bring the horses back up to their paddock. Some friends: Kelly, Sahib, Arohi, Lyor, Kavita and Guy had camped down there and were enjoying a very lazy Sunday morning. Morning became lunch, a lunch of coconuts fresh from the tree, some rice and seaweed, wine, papaya and corn roasted in the fire. Quite delicious. We swam in the river, talked and rode the horses. I had never ridden bareback before and was quite nervous, of course I snuck off to try it by myself first. Donkey has a nice broad back and he’s quite short, he’s also well behaved. It was surprisingly easy to get on and after getting my balance we walked around a bit. Then the little bugger decided to run and I was cantering bareback. I was gripping on for dear life though fully expecting I would jump off any second. I was too nervous and found myself inching up his back almost on his neck. I reigned him in and we walked, I was shaking. But I also knew that if it wasn’t for my nerves I would be fine, my body knew what to do it was just my brain that went into panic. We tried again and this time I concentrated on thinking how easy it was and let my body move with the horse. It was fabulous. I love the total motion of cantering, so much nicer than trotting, the rhythm just allows an easy flow. Cantering bareback is so much fun, you feel completely at one with the horse and the movement. We rode around for most of the afternoon and brought the horses back up as the sun was setting. What a day. Last night I dreamed I was a native American galloping across the plain. Oh what a fantasy I’m living!

bread and butter

I made my way home with a tealight in a tumbler tonight. Once again I forgot my torch, or rather, once again I was sure I’d be home at some point during the day and left my torch on the floor. So tonight I stumbled half blinded by the tiny flame half blind in the darkness down the hill across the stream, up the hill and through the bananas to my little casita. There was a party which I was thinking of going to, but Norah appeared at Aria’s and it gave me a bit of an excuse for coming home. I’m glad actually, I’m tired. All I did today was make a path through the kindergarten yard, but I’m tired. Now there’s a big moth on my screen. There was a large praying mantis just by the light in kindergarten. I took a picture, I’ll see how fuzzy it is in the morning.

Aria and I are getting low on bread. It’s a rare commodity around here. The kitchens are wheat free, rather healthy. Last week a couple of ticos appeared in a truck with ‘German Bakery’ written on the side. For some reason they seem to think that German bakers are the best and always call themselves that, maybe that’s why the bakers in Watsonville were always ‘German’. Anyway they drove to the kitchen, and that was their mistake, after some minutes of waiting they were turned away. Aria and I were waiting in the car park and flung ourselves in front of the truck. They opened up the back and it was like an Aladdin’s cave: cream cakes, cheesecake, sticky buns, doughnuts, croissants, bread. It was daylight robbery, but it was good. The cream cakes were topped with fresh strawberries and pineapple, the doughnuts oozed jam, the croissants dripped chocolate. It all tasted divine, whether through the skills of the bakers or through deprivation, no matter. Sheer loveliness. We have about 6 slices of bread left, it’s getting a little stale now, a little dry around the edges. But it’s still bread, still stodge, still white flour, still processed, still delicious.

beltane

It’s Beltane today and a full moon: quite a special day. I’m sitting in the kindergarten enjoying a supper of bread, butter, banana and coconut. The crickets outside seem extra noisy tonight, Hoss is out scanning the perimeter for those bizarre armadillos that simply ignore him thus encouraging him to bark loudly in a futile attempt to engage them in play. Life is good. I just got back from the river, we took the horses down there: Donkey, Peter, Berta, Honeybun and Vishnu. There’s a sweatlodge down there for the full moon. It looks wonderful, the trees are full of large decorated hoops, feathers and dreamcatchers, there are two big teepees and a large lodge right by the river. Drums and a fire lie outside; dogs swim in the water; children lie in hammocks and the horses graze painted with circles and markings. It’s really beautiful, peaceful, even magical. We had a good ride down there, I rode Donkey who’s my favourite, a square little horse who’s the boss, I led Honeybun and Hoss ran beside. Hoss was needing a good run and he really enjoyed it, plunging into the river afterwards then rolling in dried leaves. It feels so good to ride and even better with a dog running beside.

They put molasses on the roads yesterday. Seems a strange idea, but it works. A big lorry comes and spreads this thick, brown, burnt smelling sugar across the road. It holds the dust down and forms a sort of hard surface that should last until the first rain. It happens all over the country at this time of year, it’s so dusty. People sweat and then get coated with fine red dust, we look rather odd, maybe now we’ll get coated with molasses too. It seems strange to me that the sugar doesn’t attract more insects. The horses were trying to lick up the pools which had formed in the holes, why not a million wasps?

I work with a lovely tica woman, Irene. She turned 27 last week and is 6 months pregnant with her first child. She doesn’t speak English. This is good practise for my Spanish though it means that there is a fair amount of miscommunication: children ending up upside down and inside out – that kind of thing. This is my third week of teaching, though my first week of being without a mother in the room. Monday was a disaster: the kids were all stuck to their mothers and crying hysterically. Tuesday we had a half day and they were told to come as princes and princesses, Wednesday was a half day with a trip to the garden, Thursday was the first full day with just Irene and I though we had yoga with Umina, today I made a circus and we went all the way through. I’m pleased this week is over! The transition from parents speaking Hebrew to a teacher speaking English seems to be hard for the kids and it is taking time, but today was the most normal of all, Klil asked repeatedly where her mum was but she didn’t cry and Orion only cried once and that was when the puppet theatre fell on his head. I’m hoping by the end of next week we will have established some sort of rhythm which will carry us.

We found a snakeskin in here this morning, about 2½ feet, must have been shed last night. Snakeskin is transparent so I have no idea what kind it was, but I’m surprised because I thought it took a while to shed, at least a couple of days. But there it was. Quite a beautiful thing, soft, not hard or brittle at all. The kids touched it very nicely, the babies don’t quite understand gentle so it’s now in several pieces and has been returned to the forest. We had a tarantula in here on Monday, it was on the side of a mattress, Irene got rid of it before I could see it. Shame really, I would have liked to have seen one in semi-captivity at least. Tarantulas here are not dangerous and move very slowly, but they can give you one hell of a scare.