So you might think that moving into an equatorial jungle environment would involve way more interaction with insects than one would want, and you might be right about that. But you might be wrong about which ones would be the biggest factor. Packing my bag with deet wipes and lemon eucalyptus essential oil, Zika, Dengue and encephalitis on my mind, the mosquitoes were obviously my main concern. Strangely though, we have used nearly none of these supplies. The big factor here is ants. All kinds of ants: flying ones, little spidery looking ones, red, black, big and small. Our first night I observed some medium sized red ants crawling up and down our bedroom walls as I was getting ready to turn out the lights. I sprayed Deep Woods Off around each leg of the bed, uttered a silent prayer, and got in, hoping to deter any issues for the night. There were none, but the ants continued to walk up and down the walls completely unconcerned about us.
Some days later when the electrician came to see what was wrong with the air conditioning unit above the bed, we discovered the ant’s nest inside of it. They had chewed through the wires rendering the air conditioner useless. As my electrician calmly sprayed Baygon into the unit and bodies fell like red rain into a dead heap on the floor, he told me about a few other kinds of ants here. These red ones are pretty harmless, he explained, but there is a black kind that locals refer to as “la guerra”. If they invade your house, do not try to kill them, he advised me. Just leave. Return in two hours and the La Guerra colony will have exterminated every living bug and gecko in your house. And the ants will be gone marching ahead to the next battleground.
We have learned to recognize the leaf cutter ants, waving their shreds of leaves like wobbly green flags as they follow their line across the road in front of our house. I have heard they use these fresh leaves to grow fungus in their anthills, which is what they actually eat. There has been one defoliation project underway on the road to our house, and we have watched the progress over the last two months. The ants never stop, and we have learned to step lively over their line. Not everyone has, unfortunately, and there are more and more abandoned leaf shreds signifying the untimely death of their bearers under someone’s foot. Once a heavy rain caused some puddling in the midst of their path, and a large disorganized group of them was milling about at the water’s edge, dropping their leaves in confusion and circling. I watched, transfixed, as a few heroes set out to cross the water still carrying their leaves, but eventually were overcome, some dying in the effort.
And on the surfing front, I have passed my first major milestone! I made it out past the breakwater and arrived in the valley of the smooth green swells. Just as I have been told, you fight your way through the purgatory of body slamming whitewater and find a paradise of drifting calm. And a whole community of people you didn’t realize were there glance at you with mild curiosity: What are you doing out here, Greenie?
And all is quiet, resting, and drifting over the waves. For me, anyway; the hard-core are studying the incoming sets, paddling here and there for better position, straining to see what’s coming. The waves all look the same to me, so I just rest on my laurels (I mean, my great honking longboard) and try to stay out of everyone’s way. I usually paddle into a position on the deeper side of everyone, because you know, I only want to catch the really big ones…
I can barely believe the boys are midway through their first trimester, and November is here. Everyone tells us that when the dry season arrives, it is as if by the flip of a switch, and that this has just happened. After three weeks of private Spanish lessons, I am now scrambling for space on the schedule, and surf shops have sprung up in places that had appeared to be abandoned lots. Both in car and on foot we have begun to test the raised ridges of muddy ruts as they harden into fossils of the wet season. The sun shines now nearly every morning, and clear evenings are more often than not salvaged from the afternoon showers.
And of course, there are a lot more places to go out to eat, and many more roadside stands to buy fruit. And lots more English being spoken. Out on the water today I heard two surfers exchanging their departure cities: one had come from Denver, the other from Miami just this morning. Eeegods, I’m not ready for this; will we need reservations and plans now? I have stowed away our boots, dry bags, and umbrellas, all bought in my flurry of panic a week before we came to Nosara. All of it we barely used; the rainy season here is nothing compared to Nantucket’s rainy season, which we have concluded is more severe and lasts for seven months of the year. I am hoping that the busy season here will be similarly less extreme. Here we go…
Kathawala Gap Year 