Full Moon in Costa Rica

A jeep, a goat, a full moon and a trip to the shaman’s house

I had hitched a ride from a farmer driving through the countryside of Costa Rica. (As a woman I rarely had any misgivings about hitchhiking except in America). He was driving an open-air jeep and in the back was a dog and a cage with three chickens in it. Standing on the passenger seat was a small goat. After stopping to pick me up the farmer shooed the goat into the back with the dog and the cage of chickens.

In English, I told the farmer that I was going to the next valley over. The farmer nodded his head and began driving. He said nothing. I wasn’t sure if he understood me or not. I grew up just a stone’s throw from the Rio Grande in South Texas but I never learned to speak Spanish. I always regretted this.

To get to that next valley over we had to cross some forested hills. I love the forests of Costa Rica but the roads are not always in the best condition. This particular backcountry road was thankfully asphalt but there were numerous potholes and the farmer did not even try to avoid them. He seemed utterly oblivious to them. It was a rocky ride.

To make matters worse, the dog and the goat were not getting along in the back of the jeep. I kept turned around to look at them. The farmer seemed oblivious.