On that note, for out last night of merengue, instructor Nick, an English gent with a long pony tail, lithe build, and a gift for not only dancing but instructing (he’d hung out for a while with the Buena Vista Social Club in Cuba) informed us after our last night of merengue lessons that there was another dance lesson to follow in a bar in town. He hoped a woman he liked to dance with — a former professional dancer from San Francisco — would show up and they would kick up their heels together. (This had nothing to do with his beautiful wife and kids at home; Thursday nights he danced wherever). The lady in question did not show up, but we had a great time kicking back at the bar with Nick. We followed that up with another stop in town that included beverages, and arrived home later by cab. Like graduate students back in the day, we got no homework done that night.
The Morning After, Never Too Late for Spanish Verbs
We kicked up our heels for a last time too — on horseback. Decided for our last afternoon to do a tour en caballo, arrived at the designated ranch, found three saddled up horses and the requisite dog to greet us. A while later a weathered, wiry-looking ranch-hand showed up, gave us a crooked grin and pointed out the horses we were to mount. For the next couple of hours we followed him down stony paths, through gates of fences and herds of cattle, down open grassy hills with amazing views of waves of mountains falling into valleys and tropical forest, the clouds rolling in, down and over. In many ways it looked like the East Bay hills in spring when cattle are grazing on green grass, but it was steeper, in places drier, and then there was the wind. It came in strong and ferocious at one point when we were on the crest of a ridge and Doug said he felt as if he’d get blown off.
There were other moments when it was distinctly not California, too. Such as when the Doug chased a big armadillo out of the trees and ran right in front of my horse, or when the cowboy pointed out a rat snake, or when we went right into the forest again, with its primordial trees with immense trunks, and leaves big as elephant ears.
It was a hot, cold, rainy, windy, sunny day. In other words, typical, and a perfect way to sum up the weather. Then we had other quick good-byes, too: to a favorite tapas restaurant by the school, to my cheeky Quebecoise friend who was leading French tours at the Butterfly Garden, and to Dr. Johnny. Doug had a minor medical problem and was sent to the local clinic for several visits with Dr. Johnny Deng-Tong. A Costa Rican of Chinese decent who spoke good English, he became one of Doug’s buddies. As did his “nurse-assistant-ambulance driver- and general factotum, Guido.
Dr. Johnny's place
Interestingly, when Doug said farewell to those guys, he announced we’d be back to see them before leaving Costa Rica. So maybe it isn’t farewell after all.
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