So, I{m eating a delicious tamale procured by Marcos, the kind wrapped in banana leaves, writing this and continuing to learn the art of patience and quedarse bien.
Yesterday I went to watch Marcos play a soccer game with his team, Los Piches (I think a piche is like a duckling, but not sure), in the yellow jerseys - Marcos is in #10, against another Nicoya team, La Familia, in the red jerseys. They played on a beautiful field surrounded by jungle and hills, with women serving up huge plates of chicken and rice for just $3 and cold beers for $2. I watched and took pictures from the shade along the sidelines, in air scented by wild guavas that carpet the ground like yellow plums.
And of course, because it{s Costa Rica, the ball occasionally goes flying into the jungle and has to be retrieved.
Raymond rode over after the game and the 3 of us then rode over to Bar Eli to meet up with Cesar, who arrives later on the back of Bana,s motorcycle. The five us out hang out and listen to Bob Marley, with nothing to do and nowhere to go, just passing time. They greet friends and passers-by from the open bar, we look at the map and talk about our trip to Pavones. I want to dance and realize that, in Costa Rica, pretty much everything is ok as long as you don{t hurt anyone, so I go outside and walk up and down the street grooving quietly to Bob Marley.
Bana leaves and the 4 of us ride to another bar because Marcos is hungry (as usual) and wants ceviche. Marcos gets cranky because Cesar negates his half-dozen bar suggestions and we go instead to a bar Cesar chooses for its proximity to his house, taking Marcos further from his house. The dynamics of their friendship, which is very close, become clearer. Cesar rides on Raymond{s handlebars, his flip-flops dangling off his brown feet. We head down Nicoya{s main street, which is gritty and semi-industrial, with lots of traffic of all modes entering the road from every side. We pass a white horse, unsaddled, grazing by the side of the road, halter trailing through the grass.
It starts raining heavily soon after we get to the second bar and Bana rides up on his bicycle, shirtless. He draws up a chair and wipes his stunning torso down with napkins before putting on his dry shirt. Being with these men is sometimes like being in a Playgirl calendar come alive. They flirt with our pretty waitress, who brushes off the artless advances of Raymond and Bana but bats her lashes at Cesar.
The rain is torrentail and it gets a little chilly in the open bar - we{re all in tshirts and shorts and they boys all start talking about how cold it is, hunching their shoulders and shivering. It{s probably 70 degrees F with a light breeze.
It{s 4:00 and Cesar and Jose have just rolled up with the car. They{re doing a load of laundry and god knows what else. Cesar has just told Marcos that we{ll be there in 20 minutes to get him. That{ll be a miracle.
UPDATE, 4:43: Cesar is still washing clothes and looking at himself in the mirror. Jose is dropping Christian home. Marcos is supposedly ready and waiting at his house. And this is after several mutual verbal agreements that we were positively, definitely leaving this afternoon as soon as Jose{s car was ready. Just sayin´ ...
UPDATE, 6pm: we{re clearly dealing with a very different concept of time, here. Jose is here and teh car is loaded, but Cesar is still gathering his surfing gear. Then we{re going to pick up the long-suffering Marcos, whos been ready since before, then to a friend of Cesar{s to pick up the straps to hold his surfboard on the roof - for now it{s wedged diagonally through the middle of the Toyota Corolla, which is about to contain 4 adults (well, sort of). Then on to MaxiBodega to buy beer and charcoal and THEN, finally, on to Pavones!!
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