The house where I am staying is referrred to as The Old House as it was the first building on the Abercam property only ten years ago.
Tim Abernathy and Wayne Campbell, my hosts, stayed here for two years during the construction of their four villas and their own lodging, located in the heart of the resort above the open air bar.
The Old House is constucted of sturdy rainforest woods. Slats of a dry, heavily knotted cedar-like wood are layed front to back to create walls. The roof is made from black cane, covered on top by recycled polymer shingles, a federal requirement. The floors throughout are tiled with red Spanish clay.
On the walls, Tim and Wayne have hung a collection of yard long African masks, carved from ebony wood. Two are painted green, red and gold. Two are fringed with jute shag hair!
The house is a beautiful hideout when it rains. Dry and secluded and dimly lit.
Latice work and four hatch windows provide ventilation. There is no glass. Screens are layed over the openings.
A pentagonal porch stretches out for fifteen feet over the front of the house. It’s shadowed by orange halliconias, a yarrow-like flower that produced a poisonous blackberry, pineapple bushes, and orchidae. Ferns and moss and regional curiousities like wild cilantro over the ground
There are three hummingbird feeders which provide entertainment. The foremost of which is a small bird who jealously guards one feeder. He perches on a support the gardener built and swoops in to scare away those birds who dare to dip their beak in his artificial flowers.
I was very angry with the house cat last week when, while the bird was perched on something low laying, she pounced and caught him in her mouth. She strolled with him between her teeth for a dozen paces before the bird fought back and finally escaped.
I was sure the bird was mortally wounded.
He was back at his post today. He lost a few feathers and looks battered but is just as feisty and still getting his way.
My “feeder” is the tiny, blue tiled kitchen. I have a pie safe, a refrigerator, a hot plate, two stock pots, a large frying pan, a rice cooker, and a blender.
I have one menacing looking all purpose knife. The Ticos use the word “cuchillio” for everything from a butter knife to a machete. Groceries typically have a spare cuchillio for cutting plantains and other fruits from hanging stalks.
There are several cooking spoons, kitchen sheers and a spatula. Plenty of plates and tableware
Because of the potential for ants and flies, anything that is open must be wrapped in a sealed plastic tub or wrapped the refrigerator. You can not leave food out and you must clean up immediately after every meal. Tico kitchens are clean!
The freezer is mostly filled with ice. The only frozen food universally available here is ice cream. This is prohibitively expensive (about ten dollars for two pints), of modest variety (there are several different takes on vanilla), and of marginal quality.
It is also tough to find 100 percent butter here. Brown eggs are cheap and plentiful but rarely refrigerated. There are very few kinds of cheese and they all taste a bit gluey.
I’ve been making black beans and rice (the national dish), instant potatoes, lentil stew, and bread slice pizzas. In the mornings, I sometimes eat oatmeal. More often than now, I eat fresh fruit cured with limon juice. It’s hard to find proper lemons or limes, but the sour green limon is a worthy substitute.
There some unusual common fruit juices. Orange-carrot is very common. So is pineapple-guava. Fruit punch is typically orange-pineapple-guava-papaya.
For a refresher, I’m enjoying pre-sweetened agua frescas that you mix from a powder in envelopes. Today I’m drinking passionfruit, but I’ve also had hibiscus and soursop flavors. I find I need to drink about 1 liter a day on hot days just to keep hydrated.
