Construction

I´ve had 5 days of work at the construction site now. We (when I say "we" I mean me and the two Costa Ricans I´m working with, Robert and Juan) are building a little house for Robert´s in-laws (I think that´s the relation. They are the something of his wife, so I´m assuming he said parents). They are currently living next door, and he lives down the hill with his wife and two kids, aged six and eleven, with whom I attempt to chat sometimes. Robert is about my age, happy and smiley and knows about three words of English (about as many as I know Spanish). Juan, the other guy, is older, and seems to be missing quite a few teeth. I suspect he knows a bit more English, but he doesn´t use it. I think he´s the hired help-- as opposed to the free migrant laborer, who doesn´t understand what they are telling me to do, so I look like a complete idiot most of the time. I´ve given up on pretending I know what they are talking about, and just reach for my dictionary if sign language doesn´t work. It am having fun, though.

So far I´ve sifted a lot of dirt, moved dirt around, mixed concrete, moved concrete, poured concrete floors, and, my favorite, sanded conctete walls with-- wait for it-- a piece of concrete. (I think it was about 8 grit. That would be a rough sanding job.) My muscles are a bit on the sore side, but that´s okay. To get to the site, I have to take a local bus (which is an old school bus, of course) about 15 minutes out of town, and then walk for 15 minutes down a ridiculously steep hill. (Yes, I have to walk back up it at the end of the day... today I was a bit late, so basically ran up it in 13 minutes, because if I missed the 3:15 bus, I´d have to wait until 4:45 or walk back to town. My calves are in pretty good shape...)

Robert´s wife and/or father-in-law (who seems to have three teeth total, talks about a mile a minute, and I can´t understand a thing he says, but I love him) appear throughot the day bringing us drinks or snacks. Today they each appeared in the afternoon bearing coffee and cookies. Yesterday I was served hot fried plantains (kinda like bananas). At lunch today, the wife (no idea what her name is) brought me a glass of fresca, which was I think a melon smoothie made with condensed milk. My favorite drink though, would have to be the milky water that was kind of sweet. Oatmeal, I wondered. I asked, the grandpa said something, and the six year old pointed to the chunks in the bottom of the jugs. I checked my dictionary for what oat is, and yes, they were giving me aqua avena-- oatmeal water. It really isn´t that bad, and I kind of look forward to it now. (I still can´t stand to eat real oatmeal though. WAY too slimy.)

I´ve been studying my Spanish a bit, looking through my flashcards. I took out words that I didn´t think I would need, such as to fit, to seem, and to shave (I rarely use that word in English!). I did, however, keep in the word for to fall down, thinking that might come in handy. (It´s caer, by the way, or caigo for I fall down.) It has, three times now. I tripped over the radio cord, a piece of string leveling the floor, and yesterday I slipped on some gravel and ended up sloshing oatmeal water all over my back.

In chatting with Juan and Robert today (when I say chatting, I mean that I think about one sentence for about five minutes, finally attempt to put it together along with a fair bit of sign language and a few checks of the dictionary, then they say it back to me properly and then launch into a response for the next five minutes, about 2% of which I understand), I told them that I had been to Kenya and done some volunteer work there as well. I am pretty sure that they then asked me if people in Kenya eat each other. NO! It´s amazing what stereotypes people have. I told them that the white people I met in Kenya thought the blacks were stupid and tired (that was my translation of lazy). I said I didn´t like it. Robert asked (in Spanish), You don´t like the blacks? No, I don´t like the whites!

Two more days of work. Not sure what exciting tasks or bizarre mis-translations I´ll get up to tomorrow (or what odd things I´ll be fed), but I´m looking forward to it.