Monteverde is beautiful when mist veils its hills of pasture and emerald patches of forest. It is an exercise to walk through, every now and then dashing away from motorcycles that come around the corner. It can also get annoying when a crowd of rowdy students pass by, throwing out Pura Vida to any tico that walks by, or when tourists complain in English, French, or some other most likely West European language. Construction work from 7 am 'till night, the local radio truck that circles the neighborhood about 3 times, ripple the calm fabric of Monteverde, making it raw and not as perfect as people imagine it.
Even from this place I fell in love with, it is sometimes relieving to get out of. Monteverde is a working town whether it be writing essays, hiking forest doing fieldwork, serving tourists, or building another bar, while Tronadora is a sleepy farm town, more like a village. It is two hours away on a bumpy, no, extremely bumpy two hour bus ride. The views are panoramic of dairy farms, and fewer and fewer forest patches as we get further. Then we get to Tilaran, a typical Costa Rican city with a central park and a few squares with stores and bars. I must say, Tilaran has a lot of bars. Around Tilaran and until Tronadora the road is actually paved with asphalt. In half an hour we arrived at Tronadora and took a motorcycle ride until the farm. The farm is grand. A hundred cows roam the green rolling hills, dotted by some trees. And all of these cows give milk, which, when pasteurized, is sold to Dos Pinos dairy company.
In one patch there were even howler monkeys. We walked all the life stages of pigs or chanchos: from pregnant mother to a pig ready to be slaughtered.
Even from this place I fell in love with, it is sometimes relieving to get out of. Monteverde is a working town whether it be writing essays, hiking forest doing fieldwork, serving tourists, or building another bar, while Tronadora is a sleepy farm town, more like a village. It is two hours away on a bumpy, no, extremely bumpy two hour bus ride. The views are panoramic of dairy farms, and fewer and fewer forest patches as we get further. Then we get to Tilaran, a typical Costa Rican city with a central park and a few squares with stores and bars. I must say, Tilaran has a lot of bars. Around Tilaran and until Tronadora the road is actually paved with asphalt. In half an hour we arrived at Tronadora and took a motorcycle ride until the farm. The farm is grand. A hundred cows roam the green rolling hills, dotted by some trees. And all of these cows give milk, which, when pasteurized, is sold to Dos Pinos dairy company.
In one patch there were even howler monkeys. We walked all the life stages of pigs or chanchos: from pregnant mother to a pig ready to be slaughtered.
The Saturday we arrived, a pig was slaughtered. And all of us (two families and I, around 20 people) feasted on chicharones, tortillas, yucca, and pico de gallo. One family from Alajuela was very curious about Russian and Uzbek culture, they asked me so much. Most part of that day I spent talking with them, my Spanish put to test. Later that night was karaoke of wailing ranchero songs. Only one person sang them very well, while others slaughtered the songs to everyone's amusement. Horseback riding on Sunday morning concluded my weekend getaway.
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| Lagun Arenal
Days are slipping away here like sand through fingers...My next blog post might be the last. Right now we are preparing for our finals, finishing independent projects, while also trying to make the best of our time here. You only live once. Nos vemos.
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