Jill Green – Page 12

Nicaragua with Water for People and El Porvenir

p2261266-300x225-6816418 — Hotel Las Mercedes

Immediately upon arriving three hours late in the capital city of Managua, Bob and I get tremors of third world country glitches. The chip installed in my phone doesn’t work, but it’s a nice relief. The representative of our hotel tells us we have no reservations, but we check in anyway. We don’t actually meet up with anyone until the next morning. Everybody’s late. After breakfast Bob and I meet and greet the other two World Water Corps, Water for People volunteers. Elaine, our team leader from Denver, is an EPA employee who lives close to the home office. John is pipe fitter from Wisconsin Rapids, WI. His Midwest accent brings back sentimental memories of my Milwaukee heritage.

p2271301-300x221-2753149 — Dario, Nicaragua

p2261291-300x225-2861431 — Public Admin. Dario

We’re off to our training session with El Porvenir (the future) in the quaint colonial town of Dario, named for the famous Nicaraguan poet Ruben Dario. The group has been working hand-in-hand with WFP in Nicaragua for the last two years, though they have been in existence for more than twenty, bringing water and sanitation to isolated people in the rural campo. We split up, half in the El Porvenir tarp-covered truck and half (Bob and I included) in the tiny air-conditioned car. The meeting gives us an introduction to both groups and their on-going and future projects and our modus operandi, monitoring the water and sanitation systems already in place.

Our day drags on, as Latin American meetings do. Our American counterpart, Elaine has lots to present. She has been trained by the Water for People staff and told to pay great attention to detail since this is the first monitoring survey since WFP joined with El Porvenir. Future donations depend on it. Everything must be translated into Spanish or English and that doubles the time. After numerous breaks for meals, GPS training, computer problems, etc. we are in session for 12 hours! I’m exhausted. Our expert translator, Jimmy begins to lose his voice by the end of the day (rather night). Is this any indication of how long our surveys will last?

p2261285-300x225-9302288 — Training-Fermin, Cesar, Jimmy, Elaine

Elaine asks if she can train me on the PC and Excel before we retire for the night. I had planned to bring my Mac computer, but at the last minute find out the GPS stuff can’t be downloaded to Mac, and being a writer, not an accountant, I’ve never experienced the wonders of Excel. I’m so tired my eyes are crossing, and ask for a good night’s rest. “Can’t we do this in the morning?”

“Well, you know that John and I are going to Wiwili and it’s a seven hour drive. I’d rather do it tonight.”

“I’m an old morning person and my brain is mush. How about 6 or 7 am? So you can still make it to Wiwili before dark.”

But she’s a night person and only in her 30’s. “I can’t make it that early.” She frowns, “how about 8 am?” Agreed.

p2261298-300x225-1847661 — Seeds of Learning

We’re hauled in the back of the truck, like cattle to market, to our hostel for the night, a quaint humble place with a big surprise inside. Named Seeds of Learning, its main raison d’etre is as a children’s library and learning center. Started twenty plus years ago by an old gringo and his Nica wife, it even includes a sewing room with machines to teach the women a viable craft.

We all double up in the rooms and fall exhausted into our dreams of what tomorrow will bring.

Slipping and Sliding

Just a note before introducing my next volunteer experience in Nicaragua with the same group I went to Africa with – Water for People.

pb210995-300x225-1247386 — Edge of our road

While waiting at the airport for the flight to Managua I reminisce on these last few weeks of my busy, fulfilling, sometimes scary, never boring return to Costa Rica, before I leave on the next volunteer adventure. The heat has been overwhelming. Hottest dry season on record, but it hasn’t been dry. This should prepare me for the 100 degree weather we’ll be experiencing in the northern desert areas of Nicaragua, Our road is in the process of reconstruction (always done during dry season), but because it’s been raining almost every other day, the road has become a death trap and I get caught in its web. It reminds me of the ‘olden days’ 15 years ago when we were building our house in such a primitive area there were no electricity, paved roads and few cars.

I’m at the beach with the family looking out at the horizon watching heavy black rain clouds build. My stomach muscles tighten. Better get home before the rain starts, otherwise we won’t make it up the hill. Two minutes of heavy rain on the already graded yet still ungraveled clay road and it becomes a slushy slidy mess. We throw stuff into the two cars and gather up the kids, but it’s taking too long. The cloud gathers black quickly and heads our way. I’m in the lead as the giant droplets splatter the windshield. I turn onto the steep road, engage four wheel drive and gun it. The tires begin gathering mud the steeper the grade, but I’m still moving forward. The tires start spinning as my forward motion slows. I gear down. The car starts slurring sideways, slows, stops, reverses direction. No brakes. With no time to panic I gracefully slide backwards, picking up speed (too bad it’s in reverse). I look into the rearview mirror in time to see the side of the mountain hurtling towards me. Crash! My heart thuds in my chest. “Oh my God!” I sit totally stunned. I could have been dead! One little turn of my wheels and I would have gone off the cliff on the other side of the road.

I climb out into sucking mud to survey the damage and see the family’s car rounding the bend. Thank God they’ve seen me and stopped. The whole back end is contracted like an accordion, but I’m still in shock and feel okay so far. We’ll have to check for the rest of the damage later. They pile out of their car gather the things they need and meet me to start the squishy trek up to the house. Nicole and I take off our shoes which have become heavy with clotted mud and each grab a bag. Baby Luka’s on daddy’s back. Eight-year-old Sebas’s having the time of his life sliding into the ditches, jumping into puddles, covering himself in red clay. He’s delighted, “This is the most fun I’ve had all week.”For every two steps up we slide back one. After an excruciatingly slow slog up the hill we arrive safely home exhausted and covered in mud.

In the morning, after the sun has had a couple of hours to dry things out, Jose and Nicole go down to retrieve the cars and return with both. Though mine is squished enough to make the back doors inoperable it still runs. Life is pretty stressful as I try to get ready for my Nicaragua trip. The next week it rains almost every night. This stops the road crew from putting rock down and me from getting home, Luckily I can stay at Bob’s who’s only a mountain away. With his help we put the squished car into the body shop to be repaired while I’m gone. This morning Bob’s caretaker drives us to the airport and here we sit waiting for our delayed plane to Managua.

pc151137-225x300-7814705 — Over Costa Rica to Nicaragua

Here it comes. Bob and I are off to our next adventure. Tune in.

Life in the Treetops-Part 4

More Bird, Butterfly and Monkey Business

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We could spend hours on our balcony watching the life in the canopy, one that most people will never experience. Thank you Meg Lowman, the pioneer in studying forest canopies all over the world. She was the first to construct platforms and zip-lines to sail her through one of the only unexplored parts of the world – the forest canopy. She lives and works in my hometown of Sarasota, Florida and is one of our celebrity professors from New College. She made me want to visit the upper levels of the earth. Thank you Erica and Matt Hogan of Finca Bellavista for making it happen, and thank my lucky stars for the opportunity.

The last day we descend to travel on some of the extensive trails in and around the mountain. The first, a steep heart-pounder, takes us up to the edge of the waterfall that has been the backdrop to our treetop aerie. Standing atop the massive surge of water is exhilarating yet frightening. “It’s sucking me over!” I yell over the deafening roar.

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“It’s too exciting for me, let’s get out of here. Too bad we can’t fly back to our roost. Like SuperMatt, or the birds.” trumpets B. We follow the trail in sinewy curves down and along the crystal clear Rio Bellavista rippling over rocks. Eden calls. Stripping off our sweaty clothes, we frolic in the cool water.

But soon it’s time to return to the groundfloor of life. This time, while walking back to Base Camp, we get two reprieves. Tico employees continuing to extend the network of trails, greet us with a friendly “Que tal? Necesitan ayuda con su equipaje?”

“Por supuesto!” For sure. We’ll take help with our luggage. They carry it all the way back to camp while we meander back through the jungle, noticing that Erica, true to her word, has already added new signs directing us back. Now that’s service! Anyone interested in more information on this unique and wondrous Shangri-la just check into fincabellavista.net. for site plans, examples of already built tree houses, sample house plans, rentals, rules and regulations and more. Thank you for your comments and keep them coming. Keep posted for our new adventure.

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At the end of February we’ll be setting out with World Water Corp, a branch of the non-profit Water for People (from my African adventure), to a remote area in Central America, El Sauce, Nicaragua. We will be monitoring water systems that have already been put in place to see how they’re functioning. Here we go again. More soon.

Up in a Treehouse – Part 3

pc0810982-225x300-6350946 Finca Bellavista

Under a bruised black sky, excitement has turned to fear trying to stay on the trail to Base Camp for dinner. Finding a flashlit sign saying ‘River Trail’, I hesitate, “Oops. Better go back. Start again.” The flashlight illuminates the sign ‘Sky Trail’ next.

“Damn it. That goes to the zip line,” B.’s irritated. “We can’t take that.” Retrace our steps again. Then, a closed but unlocked gate looms ahead of us. It leads to the river ford. We see the lights of Base Camp, but can’t cross there, either. A storm has turned the ford into a dangerous rage. We’re getting discouraged.

I’m nervous, “maybe we should try to find our way back to the treehouse?’

“Nah, we’ll find it.” Bob snickers, “I’ll lead, you haven’t made a right turn yet.”

“Oh, come on. I’ve gotten at least one,” but he’s got the only flashlight that works. I concede and follow in relief.

We finally find our way and our host Erica apologizes, ”I’m sorry I haven’t had time to put out signs showing the way back.” They obviously don’t have many dinner guests. I reciprocate, “I should’ve kept track of where I was going. The trail was tricky and slippery, I paid more attention to my feet.”

Bob pipes in, “It was too dark to follow anything.”

We sit down to ‘comida tipica’ with Erica and Matt. The most inspiring part of the meal is the conversation. This bright young couple explains their entry into their treetop paradise this way:

Erica had wondered out loud if friends or other people might be interested in building a treehouse there, and “wouldn’t it be cool if we could build ziplines to go back and forth between people’s houses, kind of like the Ewok village in Return of the Jedi?” Finca Bellavista is now an eco-development where people can live out their dreams and their treetop fantasies in a place like no other on earth. “We like to think it’s off the ground, off the grid and out of this world.”

We agree with the first two but hope to God the third isn’t true. We still have to find our way back to Treehouse Mis Ojos. Taking our time and remembering that the signs are “on our side” on the return, we make it home safe and fall into our romantic aerie.

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At dawn’s first light we awake to the booming calls of the howler monkeys marking their breakfast territories, and surprise a white rat scurrying across the outside of the screen. In the kitchen to make coffee we see what its been up to. All the candles, our only source of light, are chewed into little pieces and strewn everywhere. We hadn’t expected to be sharing the inside of our nest.

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After a cursory clean up we take our breakfast on the balcony as the sun glitters diamonds, penetrating the billowing mist above the falls. The birds call good morning flying through the shocking blue iridescence of dozens of morpho butterflies. We’re startled from our reverie by something huge flying through the air. Is it a bird, a plane? No, it’s SuperMatt on his zipline. “Hey, good morning!” he yells landing on a platform nearby. “Just on my morning rounds. I see you found your way home last night.”

“It would have been a lot faster your way.”

“Will you be having any meals at Base Camp today?”

“No thanks, think we’ll finish up what we can find in the cooler.” I pipe up quickly.

B. nods, “Who would want to leave this paradise? Well just hang here in the trees.”

Finca Bellavista-Getting There-Part 2

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It’s my birthday and we’re on our way to the Treehouse with our Finca Bellavista pointer sheet in hand. Lots of instructions, directions and rules. Too many to remember. It begins:

You won’t find billboards or roadside signs that lead you to Finca Bellavista. We are not a full-service spa or a fancy hotel. You won’t find TVs in our cabinas, or electricity. What you will find is a rustic, yet comfortable retreat from the outside world to explore and enjoy on your own. We are in our infancy as a project. Though we keep our location somewhat of a secret from the outside world, we are more than happy to open our doors to you since you found us!

As per directions, we follow the coastal highway south from Dominical to the remote pueblo of Piedras Blancas and turn left at the only restaurant in town, Rancho Guiri Guiri. According to the pointer sheet, it serves the best fried chicken in the southern zone of Costa Rica, and since it’s lunchtime we decide to stop. I take the safe route and order fried chicken. B. checks out the ‘specials’ and takes a chance. “I’d like to try the tepezquintle.” This rodent-like animal has been the hunters’ favorite since homesteading days and here it is on the menu, probably illegally.

“Your horoscope this month must be telling you to take chances.” I laugh.

B. knows he’s made a mistake as soon as the cook serves us, “Whew, that smells really gamy.” And it taste that way too. He takes his medicine like a man and eats most of it. I try one bite and we chalk it up to experience.

pc091117-300x225-6284861 — Finca Bella Vista base camp

Back in the car we finally see the obscure sign for Finca Bellavista, follow the dirt road a few miles to the ‘base camp’ and pull into the only car parking area. There’s a community center with bathhouse, kitchen, dining area and game room surrounded by well-kept gardens and trails. We meet Erica, she shows us around and we gather our belongings for the long trek to our treehouse. Thank goodness we’re in good physical health. The trail is steep, wet, and treacherous, but the destination is worth every step. A handmade sign “Mis Ojos Treehouse”, points to a two-story wooden structure set high up among four giant rainforest trees, with just one more steep ladder-like staircase to heaven.

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After showing us around and giving last minute instructions, Erica leaves us with, “dinner is served at seven back at base camp.”

She’s gone before I realize. “Oh shit. We’re gonna have to walk all the way back there.”

“And in the pitch dark!”

We’ve signed up for meals instead of cooking in the treehouse. A big mistake?

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We don’t want to think about it right now. We sit on the balcony and soak in the exciting new adventure of being an integral part of the majestic jungle hundreds of feet below and above us. “We’re so lucky – or rather you are. You win stuff all the time.”

“You’re right, my son used to be the lucky one. He won almost every time he entered a contest, from dinners for two to Caribbean cruises. Guess it runs in the family.”

But luck isn’t all of it. Whether you believe in horoscopes or not, taking risks and making changes is what makes our lives rich and exciting. Last week we took surfing lessons, my low bid at a silent auction for a dog adoption group. And now here we are at Finca Bella Vista in the treetops of the Costa Rican jungle drinking coffee. In our faces, the insistent sound and sight of the waterfall intertwines with sweet and raucous birdsongs, and fluttering blue iridescent flashes of Morpho butterflies.

Up in a Tree House-Finca Bellavista-Part 1

It’s 2010. Twenty-Ten – don’t you like the sound of that? In honor of the new decade I’m putting out of my mind that it’s been a month since posting a blog. Let’s start anew without resolutions. They just cause stress. And thus begins my recollection of a first in a lifetime experience, up in a tree house.

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You’d think that the rainy season would be the perfect season for the Rain Forest Aid concert on the Osa Peninsula of Costa Rica, but hardly anyone came and most of those have gone home – the ones who could slip and slide their cars out of the parking lot. At the finale, the rain pours down on the soccer field splashing mud up to our asses. Barely audible through the pounding rain I hear, “And now, the big raffle prize! The ultimate tree house experience, a weekend stay at Finca Bellavista goes to …… Jill Green.”

“Wow! I did it.” My persistence has paid off. This obscure concert, its meager attendance dwindled by constant rain, has raised my chances of winning the big prize by a huge percentage. First I had to find the booth with the raffle box in which to stuff my ticket stub. Even the concert (dis)organizers sent me on a wet and wild goose chase. “Bellavista? Never heard of them. Try the bar tent; they oughta know.”

Pushing through the only dry crowd, I ask the bartender.

“Never heard of Bellavista, but try the booths out on the edge of what’s left of the soccer field.”

Finally I hit paydirt – a small box plastered with a Bellavista pamphlet, a smiling young couple behind it. “This must be the place offering the tree house adventure?”

“Yes.”

“I had a hard time finding you guys. Even the organizer, who lives in a tree house, didn’t know there was a tree house vacation raffle.”

“Yea. Pretty unorganized,” the guy introduces himself, “Hi, I’m Matt. You’ve got a good chance of winning.”

“And I’m Erica. Hardly anybody’s found the way over here to stuff their stubs.”

My on-again-beau is by my side when I deliver from the heart, “It’s for two. You wanna go with me?”

“Of course.” His grin becomes a kiss.

“How about when we both return to Costa Rica in the fall?”

“What a perfect place for a rendezvous after an extended separation,” he twinkles.

Tune in next time for the encounter.

Pizza – Slices of Life

pb211007-300x249-8658664 — Sean, Matt, Ruby Kim

pb211015-300x225-7376999 — Sunset from Jazzy's Riverhouse

Jazzy’s River House 27870310, that’s the place in Dominical, Costa Rica where the locals go for great music, food, art instruction, surf lessons, yoga, massage, theater, and friendship. Ruby Kim and Steve have opened their arms to the community for the last ten years. And they’ve added something new. Pizza.

Ruby Kim is like Old Faithful, bubbling and spouting regularly with creative new ideas. Her latest venture came about when she, Steve and friend Eduardo, who’s worked in many a pizza parlor, started the dream process.

Eduardo. “Hey, we could build one of those pizza ovens.”

Ruby K. “Like a kiln.”

Steve. “Let’s do it.”

And they did. Now it sits under a bamboo rancho all set about with Ruby’s designs: palm weavings, rock paths and driftwood benches on the Rio Baru.

pb211004-300x189-5946006 — Oven men Eduardo and Steve

The oven is glaring out at Eduardo and Steve in his pizza apron (the next creative adventure story), waiting for a pizza to be slid off the homemade wooden paddle into its fiery mouth. Friends and neighbors have been invited to bring the fixin’s depending on their pantries and capabilities: sauce, veggies, condiments, meat, cheese dough and firewood. We novices get cooking lessons. No, at my age, I’ve never made a pizza from scratch.

pb211021-300x225-9377276 — Pizza virgin Jill

pb211019-300x225-4512617 — Pizza virgin Nancy

Ruby, with that great smile of hers, takes one look at my platter of eggplant parmigiana, “It’s too heavy. You can’t put all that eggplant in big chunks on the pizza crust, it’ll fall through.” Then to Nancy, another first timer, “A little oil on top, flour on the paddle.”

Nancy. “The closest I’ve been to making pizza is taking them out of the box and into the oven.”

Steve. “Tell ‘em not to forget the cornmeal.”

Eduardo. “Or they’re gonna stick.”

There’s a barter system going among good friends, but Ruby Kim and Steve bear the expense of the extras and they’re not rich.

Nancy. “Put out a tip jar.”

Jill. “You gotta pay for expenses or make a little money, so we can keep coming to these great parties.”

Bob starts right in creating his pizza. He’s a chef already. Charlie mumbles up to the paddle, slaps a glob of dough down and starts kneading. Ruby has to pressure me to let go and sling my pizza dough above my head. I’ll jump off a cliff, but neither am I brave enough to project my pizza off the paddle into the fire. I let Steve and Eduardo, the oven experts, do that.

pb211010-300x230-1075443 — Jungle bunnies

pb211022-300x209-7765014 — Lorena's games

While all this preparation and oven-watching is going on the jungle bred children of all ages are climbing trees and wrestling, laughing, monkeying around on the grass under the easy supervision of smiling Laraina. She only reels them in to color or play quiet games when they become too rowdy.

I get my pizza in the oven first as the test case. The kids are starving by this time. The oven is so hot it takes only two minutes to cook to perfection. And it’s gorgeous toasty, brown and bubbling. Cut up into small pieces we feed the little guys first. My pizza parmigiana is wolfed down by the pack. What a way to get kids to eat eggplant! And they love it. The rest of the varied and wondrous pizzas follow at five minute intervals until everyone is deliciously full of food, drink, camaraderie, sharing, fun and games. Fourteen pizzas in all come out of the oven with the expertise of Eduardo, Steve and Ruby Kim, and at least half of these are made by pizza virgins.

At the next “Sewing Circle” I reminisce, “What a fun, yummy party!”

And Ruby K brainstorms, “This could be Jazzy’s next venture.”

“Right, you could cater pizza dinners.”

“Clients could just enjoy the party, or they could learn how to make pizzas from scratch to dessert.”

“Just figure in your costs and a fair profit. It’s a great idea.”

So, I’m asking all of you Costa Rica Southern Zone tourists and residents alike, do you like this idea? If they build it, will you come???? Please pass this on and comment on my blog costajill.com or Facebook. Look for more Jazzy’s Pizza Party photos in my Facebook album. Please share this blog with your other Costa Rican friends. Or email [email protected].

pb211020-300x225-6540026 — Pizza virgin Janice

pb211002-300x288-6407678 — Nicole, Elizabeth, Nicole and kids