I was greeted by a grand surprise in Boruca on Monday...

Apparently, we won't be building a traditional rancho. I don't yet know why not, but should have some answers this weekend when the program directors arrive. I was a bit frustrated, especially after the build in San Luis ended up being a building for Steve - not the community, as I was told when I originally signed up for the course. Rather than get completely pissed off about it, I am focusing on my Spanish and the other lessons that Costa Rica has to teach. It has been a bit difficult thus far because I really want to learn their traditional building... my mind is in that mode, not really in an anthropology mode, especially when at times there is a definite language barrier with people that don't have the patience to put up with my broken Spanish.

The community is quite interesting and has some striking differences to San Luis. One major difference is the presence of wichirins (cicadas). They make the late afternoons quite noisy, to the point of deafening. I saw two Jesus lizards the other day (they run on water), one of which was the size of an iguana.

The community of Boruca in general is less verbal than San Luis. I have yet to determine whether it is the culture, individuals, or a distrust of white people that feeds much of the roadside silence... it's probably a combination of all of these factors. Even my family has been quite quiet with me. We haven't yet settled into a comfortable communication pattern, though last night I made a breakthrough when I began transcribing lyrics to Buffalo Soldier by Bob Marley, a song that the oldest daughter in the house knows. I helped her with the translation and tried to help her understand the meaning of the song. It was a bit of a flashback... I used that song in my social studies class in Denver.

For work, many people in the community produce art - either the traditional weaving of local cotton dyed with local plants or the production of masks used in their yearly Fiesta de los Diablitos. I enjoy walking through the community watching people on their porches carving wood or working their traditional looms, the design of which predate the arrival of Christopher Colon (Columbus).

The days of work here are much shorter than in San Luis. We only work until 1 PM each day. The first two days, I dug post holes for a latrine shelter (the only rancho-type structure that will be built) and helped the other three volunteers (all from England) finish cupboards for one of the existing ranchos. It was a little different than working in my father's shop... I have a much greater appreciation for his planer, jointer, and radial arm saw after using handtools to prepare the boards for installation. I think that hand planes will lead to the death of the hippie woodworker in me... there isn't much satisfaction in hand planing a board that ripped by a dull chainsaw.

With more inactivity and mindless work, I have had ample time for reflection. I am never sure whether this is a good thing or not... for every "crazy" thought that comes out of my mouth, there are probably hundreds of thoughts that have been edited. When I'm not busy, I have to constantly listen to this chatter... that being said, much of it is usually beneficial and it has been so thus far in Boruca.

With things developing as they have, I am probably going to try to hook up with the Red Feather build in Arizona earlier than expected. I changed my tickets on my way to Boruca to fly there rather than to return directly to Maine. I am going to wait until my conversation with the directors this weekend, but it looks like I will probably join the project during the first week of April.

I am not sure when I will write again... it is a 2-hour, body-punishing bus ride to Buenos Aires, where I can access the Internet. I will keep you updated as I can.

Mucho amo,

Vaughan