Saturday, January 20, 2007
Morning walk
This morning, Hermelinda and I took a walk to the Monteverde cheese factory. It's a little over a mile from the house, maybe more, up several steep, rocky hills. But it was sunny and a little windy (of course) and perfect for a walk.
Hermelinda pointed out where some of her brothers and sisters lived. She and Elena have worked in several of the hotels in Monteverde, so she told me about those as we passed them. We stopped at her son Leslie's house. His three kids speak perfect English. Hermelinda knew pretty much everyone who walked or drove past, so we'd stop and say hello. Then when the person left, she'd fill me in. A man carrying a big duffel bag full of underwear and clothes asks Hermelinda if she'd like him to stop by later. "He buys them in San Jose and sells them here" she tells me. A man on leading a horse carrying what looks like a bag of dry cement passes. "I've known him since I was young. A drinker."
She points out the house of a Spaniard who moved to Monteverde, contracted aids (called SIDA here) and died at the clinic. I see the sight of one of the many accidents she was in (Leslie was driving and, I think, drinking.) She tells me about a woman who hanged herself at one house. About a 15-year-old girl who died in a horseback riding accident. About having to walk home in the dark from some of the hotels where she worked, and worrying about getting robbed. In one case, someone tried to hold her up and she whacked him with her purse. WE stop at a women's art co-op, and chat with the cashier and her daughter. They talk about pensions, though I can't quite make it all out. At the factory, we look at the machines briefly. I was going to buy some Gouda or Edam, but Hermelinda warned me off. Much too expensive she said. This one's the cheapest. It is Monte Rico cheese. Later in town, at the supermarket, I realize the difference in price is about 25 or 30 cents.
We get some coffee ice cream, fresh from the factory and it is incredibly rich with real cream, like a mouthful of thick silk.
On the way home, we stop at her parents house. Hermelinda's parents were very strict and, if I'm understanding correctly, pretty mean. Or at least, old school. Her dad drank, she says. I think I mentioned that she had only a year of school, and she's one of 12 or 13 kids. Anyway, her parents seem very nice, very old. It's funny how age diminishes that power and fear that parents like that can inspire. Her dad can't hear, or speak very well, so I had to shout into his ear. Two of her sisters live in houses next door to the parents house. The sister.. or it may be a brother...either way, the person is living in colorado with his/her spouse. And they are doing well, because they are building a huge addition onto the house. Unlike the addition at Hermelinda's, this one has wooden walls and floors upstairs, and tile downstairs. It's a pool room in the lower level, a kitchen in the middle and bedrooms upstairs. All of this is surrounded by trees, so it feels like being in a treehouse.
I am not sure I understood her - Hermelinda has a strong accent when she gets going and she cuts off the ends of some of her words. But I think she's going to introduce me to her boyfriend, who lives on a farm or a large property. I think he's a caretaker. Anyway, I'm looking forward to that.
Hermelinda pointed out where some of her brothers and sisters lived. She and Elena have worked in several of the hotels in Monteverde, so she told me about those as we passed them. We stopped at her son Leslie's house. His three kids speak perfect English. Hermelinda knew pretty much everyone who walked or drove past, so we'd stop and say hello. Then when the person left, she'd fill me in. A man carrying a big duffel bag full of underwear and clothes asks Hermelinda if she'd like him to stop by later. "He buys them in San Jose and sells them here" she tells me. A man on leading a horse carrying what looks like a bag of dry cement passes. "I've known him since I was young. A drinker."
She points out the house of a Spaniard who moved to Monteverde, contracted aids (called SIDA here) and died at the clinic. I see the sight of one of the many accidents she was in (Leslie was driving and, I think, drinking.) She tells me about a woman who hanged herself at one house. About a 15-year-old girl who died in a horseback riding accident. About having to walk home in the dark from some of the hotels where she worked, and worrying about getting robbed. In one case, someone tried to hold her up and she whacked him with her purse. WE stop at a women's art co-op, and chat with the cashier and her daughter. They talk about pensions, though I can't quite make it all out. At the factory, we look at the machines briefly. I was going to buy some Gouda or Edam, but Hermelinda warned me off. Much too expensive she said. This one's the cheapest. It is Monte Rico cheese. Later in town, at the supermarket, I realize the difference in price is about 25 or 30 cents.
We get some coffee ice cream, fresh from the factory and it is incredibly rich with real cream, like a mouthful of thick silk.
On the way home, we stop at her parents house. Hermelinda's parents were very strict and, if I'm understanding correctly, pretty mean. Or at least, old school. Her dad drank, she says. I think I mentioned that she had only a year of school, and she's one of 12 or 13 kids. Anyway, her parents seem very nice, very old. It's funny how age diminishes that power and fear that parents like that can inspire. Her dad can't hear, or speak very well, so I had to shout into his ear. Two of her sisters live in houses next door to the parents house. The sister.. or it may be a brother...either way, the person is living in colorado with his/her spouse. And they are doing well, because they are building a huge addition onto the house. Unlike the addition at Hermelinda's, this one has wooden walls and floors upstairs, and tile downstairs. It's a pool room in the lower level, a kitchen in the middle and bedrooms upstairs. All of this is surrounded by trees, so it feels like being in a treehouse.
I am not sure I understood her - Hermelinda has a strong accent when she gets going and she cuts off the ends of some of her words. But I think she's going to introduce me to her boyfriend, who lives on a farm or a large property. I think he's a caretaker. Anyway, I'm looking forward to that.
# posted by Anne @ 2:20 PM 
