After an unavoidable curry wurt in Francfurt where we had a stopover, we breath in the hot stiffling air of the Carribbeans for another stopover. Exit the cold European winter and welcome to the tropical spring! A few hours later, we land in San Jose, Costa Rica's capital city. 

We walk through the city, barely looking around us to a not really beautiful city. At some point, we pass by a Costarican lady. She is not smiling, wearing strict serious clothes and walking straight ahead unflinching. A moment later, as we are stopped in front of a gate taking pictures of a steam locomotive, she, in turn, stops and turns to me. "Are you lost? Where are you going?" I explain we are looking for the bus station. She helps us out with direction, says goodbye and leaves. She wasn't a smiling face but she was helpful and kind. Is this Costarican hospitality? 

A few hours later we arrive in San Isidro del General, at the heart of the country. The air here is lighter. People seem more friendly and relaxed. Is this because it is not anymore the capital city? I don't know but it feels good. Soon a man asks us where we are bound to and helps us out finding the bus station, a place to it and a bank to withdraw cash. We are all set. He informs us with a smile of his surprise to see us here as there are not many turists around here apparently. We are on our way to Cielo Verde, Nurieth and Allan's farm near the Chirripo park.

After some fried chicken and a bus ride, we get down in Los Angeles. Loads of towns around here have either american or argentinian cities' names due to the settlments of people from these countries. Along with us came down a couple of ticos (locals) and we find as well another young girl waiting in front of the small convenient store. The couple happens to be Jorge, Nurieth's brother, and Luzmarie his partner. The young girl, Esther, an american girl who is also going for volunteering at Nurieth's place. No one stops in the middle of nowhere for no reason it seems and Nurieth's place seems the only one around here. Soon after a younger girl arrives, Nurieth's daughter coming back from her school. Another moment and Nurieth appears in her car and we all pile up in there. The road to get to the farm has become a dirt track, we go over a river on a small bridge and observe the landscape. So green here!

We are welcomed by a heap of dogs at the gate - Pandito, Georgina, Toma, Willy, Fortuna - then by the already present volunteers who are hanging around the dinner table at this time of the day. A few moments later, the night is already falling, it is 5pm. We have dinner soon after and are joined afterwards by two additional volunteers who are just coming back from a long day trek through up and down the Chirripo. 44km in one day, they got up at 4:30am and came back at 8pm. They seem slightly winded. At 8:30pm, Thomas and I crawl into our bed and fall asleep instantly.

No jetlag for us. The next days we will wake up at 6am maximum and sleep at 8:30-9pm at the latest.

We both work with Jorge in the neighbouring fields. On the first day however, seeing that there isn't much to do at the farm after Ana finished watering the small vegetable garden, I try to join the outgoing team of Jorge to go work in the fields. I am told by him and Nurieth that this is not work for women. If you know me, you know this is not the thing to say to me. I am internally furious. Once I had explained to an innkeeper Thomas and I's life project. We would like to establish one day a farm-inn, Thomas handling mainly the inn business and me the farm area. "Funny" had replied the man "it is normally the other way around." Farming is still nowawadays a pretty macho field of activity. Another one for women to conquer clearly. Anyhow, I spend my morning brooming the alleys of the farm and cleaning around, trying to occupy myself with what little there is to do, sharing these activities with other girls here while Nurieth and Luzmarie prep the food. I am in a mood.

Within this time, one of the crazy danish trekkers comes back to the farm, face full of dripping blood. Turns out a very small rock fell from pretty high and hit his cap. The cap helped protect his skull really and after cleaning the blood, it is only a scratch. Lucky him. Jorge came back and took some pictures as it was so impressive to see.

The next day Tom helps me to insist to our hosts that I join in on working in the fields. I do not wish to spend the next two weeks a broom in hand, I need to learn more stuff that has to do with farming. The other male volunteers left this morning, Tom is the only one left and all of us remaining are girls. Jorge could use another set of hands even if they are not male hands. We go out.

After this a kind of regular rythm settles in at the finca. Nights are animated by the thrilling sound of the pigs and the barkings of the dogs and punctuated by the roosters starting their concerto around 2am. We get used to it. Short before 6am we get up, grab a coffee and Tom and I leave with Jorge to go and cut some pasto (pasture) for the goats. With a machette, we make up huge bales of pasture and bring them back on our backs. Afterwards we walk back to the fields and continue working on the large pen, future home for the goats. The land is on a steep slope. The sun is hitting us hard and the mosquitos de café (sunflies) are having the time of their lives. I get my hands (the only uncovered part) bitten to a point that they swell to become not unlike those winter gloves one wears to go skiing and they will remain so for near to a month.

We make huecos (holes) in which we insert postres (posts) and then we pack the earth around it with an arrancador (a grand name for a wooden stick with a round end). After a few days, we have gone around the area and we put up the barbed wires and the grid. While we work, Jorge teaches us about what he knows on the techniques that we are using and tells us what he would do with those fields he they were his own. He sees a fruit forest. That is agroforestry in the way he speaks about it. To him it is just common sense of course. He is a solid guy and tells us about his past experiences taking of other people's land or flocks. He would love to have his own land but for this you need money and find investors. When the conversation isn't about the techniques or the work, Jorge teaches us essential vocabulary such as horse shit (stiercol) or cow shit (buñega). Tom starts a little rap music with these two words on a reggaton vibe. Did I mention we are working right there under the sun during long hours? We in turn let him know how this is said in English and because of his very thick accent, teach him "cheese" as well which sounds in his mouth the same as "shit" which could lead to pretty confusing dialogs down the road. We continue learning from each other and having fun. Tom and Jorge get along very well, with this kind of easy-going masculine way of bounding that is created when two men share hard labour together. I also dig, carry and pack the earth and all of it but I am still a woman. Notwithstanding, as the days go by, Jorge seems to accept me more and more. I see my presence next to him has become the norm when he says "No es nada para una gallena fina" or something similar which means something like "it's nothing for a strong person" but mostly the expression is in the feminine form. 

Afternoons are free. We leave for an expedition to the closest village. On our first try, along with Esther, we get lost but end up getting good mental map of the surroundings. It's all dirt tracks and fields with isolated farms along the way, sometimes through jungle patches too and across rivers. At the village, we settle in a bar and while enjoying a batido (smoothy) we surf the internet in search for our next volunteering. We decided to try out Workaway as a website, more user-friendly but we don't get many responses.

Another afternoon, we feel confident enough to try out a new way to get back to the farm after our internet run. It is a longer one but will be a change and goes through the Chirripo park which let's us hope for nice views. 

Tom got it from a chico we met on the road that it is possible to go around this way and back to the farm. Ana and Elissa come with us. They are here longer than us by a week or two. Ana is a relaxed and sun-tanned German girl and Elissa is american also transitioning to agriculture and looking to learn about it, she is spending her time on the farm until her husband joins her to attend their friend's wedding in Costa Rica a few days later. She just arrives from a farm in Panama where she had the chance to learn a lot. While we walk, we discuss our experience of the farm. We all agree things could be better organised. The "girl" volunteers don't have much to do on the farm except some clearning . There isn't a lot of learning opportunities on the farm even though, even for newbies like us after a few days, it is evident the farm has a great potential and there are plenty of little projects that could be lead to make it a very nice permaculture and organic farm. Tom and I work with Jorge so we learn some things but it is always and only the most physical work, there are enough volunteers to organise some rotations to avoid that we all do the same things all the time, but there isn't much organised, that is the point. And so we talk about these last few days and other things. While the conversation rolls on, we walk and walk under the sun, our water runs thin. We reach the entry of the Chirripo park. It is not free but we are not going through and up we just want to walk across the lower part to reach the other side of the valley where our farm is located. We go in. 

Twenty minutes later we are still going up and deeper into the jungle. We start to wonder and worry that we are not going in the right direction. The sun comes down really fast here and we don't have any torch lights with us so it could become tricky in the middle of the mountain. Lucky for us, after a last turn, we reach a crossing. The way to the left is up and deeper into the park, the right one is down and towards Los Angeles, even indicated on a sign ( a rare thing around here!). Happy, we go down the path which is full of rocks and dead leaves. Tricky for Ana who is wearing sandals I think but she makes it thought unharmed and pretty easily actually. The path goes softly up and suddenly we end up on the crest of a hill, on a little path that winds its way in between the pastures on each side with a magnificent view on the whole valley. The air is vibrant and suddently we feel the wind blowing softly on our skins. Coming out of the forest, the sun is back and shining but not at full strength as we are reaching the end of the afternoon. It is the golden hour and the landscape has a romantic soft feeling with its nice curves and its light green under the rays of molten gold. Here and there we see houses nested in the middle of the lushious green and some cows peacefully grazing around. We all have a smile on our faces, the earlier worries forgotten in the midst of the benevolent nature. Feels for me a little like the Pyrenees back in France, a moutaneous yet very green landscape full of life and peace. After a while we reach the farm and have a nice dinner altogether. Another good day ends. 

Another another morning of hard work, we go back to the farm, prep our stuff and take showers. We are off for the weekend to Manuel Antonio, a pacific ocean side town with a famous park. Kindly, Nurieth offers to drop us by car to the bus station. We are just starting to get to know her. To me Nurieth is a strong woman with a strong character. We are living at her place and therefore have to function by her rules. It isn't to the taste of everyone and even us sometimes have difficulties understanding her way to manage this whole little world. However with curiosity and a few questions, Nurieth does not hesitate to explain and teach, she even directs me to some course material of hers for me to learn. She might be this typical costarican way I had noticed when we arrived the first day in the country, a mix of warmth, huge laughs and sullen faces, sometimes commanding or even intimidating. Anyhow, we are here to work and learn what we can so we adapt.

A few hours later we are on our way to Manuel Antonio. Theoretically it is not so far from San Isidro Del General but our bus is stopping at every beach on the way it seems. Notwithstanding a terrible need to pee and the dirt roads making the bus vibrate in an unbearable way, it would have been a nice visit. We still get the chance to notice various atmosphere and a drastic change compared to the inland towns. Here on the coast, tourism is th king and has invaded everywhere. There are signs in English everywhere, bars are followed by hotels and hostels and malls. We don't see much of "normal" houses or shops. The general feeling is a relaxed holiday area with no worries and no questions asked. We arrive in Quepos. A bigger town which seems a good mix between tourism and daily local life. This is the entrance of a crazy place though. Riding the local bus towards our hostel, we discover an uninterrupted series of huge hotels and huge restaurants going all the way down to the beach and into a town called Manuel Antonion exclusively constituted by other huge american restaurants, hotels and bars. It is a very strange experience. After a nice drink on the beach at night, we end up in a saloon full of northern americans, with a live country music band and menus in English. The waiters, locals, don't even bother to speak to us in Spanish and explain us how the happy hour works after taking our order. The food is utterly disappointing but we end up the bellies full of everything but red beans and rice for a change.

On the next day, we decide to go visit the park. We are up really early even after our "late" night - 10pm - last night. Happily we queue to the ticket counter for the park. It's 16$ to get in! We thought we had enough cash with us but it isn't the case with such an expensive fee and notwithstanding the visa sign, we cannot pay by credit card. A bit dismayed, we wonder what to do next. Tom is not happy. Finally he breaks into a run and runs all the way up the hill to the cash machine while I wait and as the sun is getting warmer and warmer by the minute. And in we go. The entrance of the park is easily recognizable, there is an endless stream of tourists and their guides going to it. It looks like multiple affluents ending up in the main river flow leading to the gate. No guide for us, we paid enough. Tom has his zoom lense and I have small binoculars that date back from my first nature holiday when i was much younger. After the gate, we follow a road where we already see the guides and their hives stopping here and there, buzzing around the spotting scope. We approach carefully and listen, point our own devices in the same direction and spot the attraction. On the left, a less crowded path leads towards a waterfall, or so the sign says. No guides there, the waterfall turns out to be dried out for the season. However we meet a nice French couple and we'll walk with them for the rest of the visit. On the way back to the main road, we spot a guide who spotted something. In turn, we spot the sloth on its branch, slothing around. Along the visit, we will see other sloths, various birds, pizzotes and mapachos which are types of racoons and even a deer (the less exotic of the animals by far). There are a number of animals here but the most frequent of all is the tourist swarming on the little paved trails, spreading itself on beach towels on the beautiful beaches framing the park on each side of a little peninsula. This park and its surrounding town seem a little like Disneyland with its star animals, its artificial paths and an acute and very pregnant business acumen 

We leave Manuel Antonio the next day, a little bit rested but not really taken by this little piece of USA. In San Isidro Del General, we breathe a little easier, the air is fresher than on the seaside and the less touristy atmosphere is more relaxing. The last segment of the return will be a 40 minute walk in the dark as we could'nt reach Nurieth by phone but we will be back on time for dinner and have the pleasure to meet the newly arrived volunteers for the following week. We are back in the frigoles and rice land. I remain pretty impressed by the way these two elements are served and arranged to preserve from a taste-boredom attack. They are served cooked in water or fried, separated or mixed, with egg or chicken or fish, with vegetables or not, in a soup or with pasta even. You do end up bored at some point but it takes a much longer time to reach it thanks to the creativity of Nurieth and Luzmarie the main cooks of the farm.

Here we go for another week at the farm!

More Information:

Find them on Facebook HERE

Check out the related technical videos made on-site here below:

Cutting pasture to feed the goats

and

Making biochar to improve soil fertility

Venue article : Finca Cielo Verde HERE