Joanna Biggar's Blog

Lunch in Sierpe

Along these river banks and even into the swamp channels, we saw scattered houses. Some more like lean-tos  with tin roofs and crooked wooden docks, some more substantial with brilliant paint jobs and splashes of flowers. One, a sort of listing pink box above an embankment where a none-too-friendly looking caymen was lounging sported a sign saying “Casa Cozy Massage… ” and a few other services.  But all types of these houses clustered together at about the mid-point of the sixty-mile river in”400 families” the town of Sierpe. We got off there to have lunch in what is billed as a Tico-Mex restaurant — Mexican with a Costa Rican flavor. To get there we walked from the water front with the requisite rusty-bottomed leaky boats, into the central plaza with well-appointed trees, benches and some play equipment, and one of the round stones of mysterious origin local to the Osa and made by ancient people for reasons nobody knows. We also passed by the schools — one elementary, one high school — which every town and village has and of which the Ticos are justifiably proud. Other landmarks of every town: church, cafes, soccer field.

The Las Vegas Restaurant, where we ate was painted bright yellow inside, had blue trim, red plastic coca cola tables and chairs, a large plant growing in a crooked tin drum, and proverbs in little squares plastered all over the ceiling. My Spanish was hardly up to the task, so I have a tangible goal for improvement. And our tacos and quesidillas were soon interrupted by the sounds of a helicopter which got closer and closer, until it landed on the soccer field next to us. Great excitement and people, especially kids, came out from everywhere to watch the spectacle. Three men got out and walked away somewhere. Somebody suggested maybe this was a drug deal. As far as we knew, it could have been anything.

More interesting revelations followed too. It seems that Carlos had a little girl of about 8 in that town, and obviously a relationship with the girl’s mother. He also has two grown sons in some other town, and who knows what other arrangements. He is very high energy guy who says he’s 61. Meanwhile, when we got back on the boat to boogey back down the river, a pretty young woman, an enchanting little girl of three, and a grandmother all got on with us. That turned out to be Didier’s family, and he looked as if he could still be in school himself.

What clock?

They seemed somewhat interested in the crocodile and large turtles we encountered, but not at all interested in joining us for a swim along the sandy beach where the Sierpe runs into the sea. The water was lovely, if warm, and I wonder if they just all thought we were mad for plunging into it. Certainly, I have to say, the grandmother must have viewed me, her contemporary, as partially deranged.