Albergue El Socorro – swapping cows for low-impact tourism

Our first stop in Costa Rica was Albergue El Socorro, near Volcano Poas. I chose it from my guidebook as, although I had no idea how I was going to get there with no car, 3 bags and a pre-schooler, it sounded totally authentic and a positive example of rural agrotourism and I wanted us to dive right in to Costa Rican life. I’m so glad we took the gamble. Although the journey was no easy ride (taxi from Alajuela to Carrizal, one hour wait at the side of the road (LC made friends and played dolls up a tree with a local girl), packed bus with sleeping child on knee around hairpin corners for an hour then smiling pickup at Nueva Cinchones by the owner’s son in law to go 8km up the most rickety rock filled stumbling road I’ve ever been on) we got there in the end, and thank god LC slept through the most crazy bits.

Run by Jose and his wife Maria Isabel, they give visitors a truly personal and authentic experience and total nature immersion (as well as being great with kids).

Just before a severe earthquake in 2004, the couple started receiving guests – mainly bird spotters and scientists – as a way to supplement their income as dairy farmers and, more importantly, to reduce their number of cows and to restore pastures for cattle grazing back to pristine forest – the natural habitat for the thousands of birds, insects and wildlife of the area.

“Tourism is much more environmentally friendly than having cows, has much less impact,” Josie told me. This really surprised me, as we are always led to believe that humans do more damage than any other animal. But done right, tourism can provide an income for rural populations instead of having to deforest land for agriculture or animal farming or worse.

For three years post-quake, there were no visitors and the farm and its owners struggled, but with love and determination they rebuilt the farm, alongside 4 beautiful, simple wooden cabins.

The Albergue is not cheap, but includes 3 home-cooked meals a day (with LC staying and eating for free) and a half-day tour with Jose each day, with guests deciding what they would like to do and Jose trying his very best to make it happen. For a solo mama, not having to cook, clean or buy groceries was a bloody joy, as was being taken places with a willing pair of extra hands to allow me to get much-craved exercise.

Our first full day, we got up early and went to see the cows being milked. I was pleased to see the calves drinking milk from their mothers, a practice not allowed in the UK, where they are separated at birth. The cows seemed happy and healthy and well looked after – allowed to roam free all day apart from their twice a day milkings. LC was a bit scared of the cows so we didn’t hang around them long, but other families have been more involved in the process.

After an amazing breakfast, we hiked down through the dense green living forest to a gorgeous river where we swam and jumped across stones. I was glad I had bought a second hand toddler Tula carrier as LC was not up for hiking and it meant I could do a proper walk and not get frustrated. Jose was amazing and carried her in it all the way back.

I also requested that we collect the eggs from the hens, so we did that in the afternoon, less chickens than a week before as 20 got snaffled by a roaming coyote.

The next morning, Jose’s grandchildren arrived, allowing LC some time to make new friends. They fed grass to the chickens, swung from banana vines and pretended to be on a boat – all the good stuff childhood should be about, and which I don’t feel LC gets enough of.

We then took the kids on an epic adventure again trekking through the narrow, rooty forest paths to a hidden waterfall which I plunged into and felt ALIVE and POWERFUL – things I haven’t felt for a long time.

Only three nights and two days later, having seen yellow tailed montezumas and small bear/squirrel like caite and birds with blinding flashes of blue and of red and heard mysterious and magical calls, I feel so grateful for the precious and magical time we spent at the Albergue. Thank you for making LC pancakes and giving her watermelon outside mealtimes, for making our little family feel so welcome, for allowing us to become part of your family, for showing us the best of Costa Rica.

How to Run a Toy Swap Shop

I recently went to a pre-Christmas toy swap event and the intention was awesome: for people to bring what kids toys and books and clothes they no longer need and take away what they would like, to stop people buying new stuff for Xmas. There were no rules – bring what you want and take what you want. It was a lovely event, spirits were high, no money was exchanged and people left with as much as they wanted.

The problem was that, by there being no rules, the quality of the items was not great and loads of stuff was left and there was no system to get rid of it. Finally, a few lovely volunteers drove car loads of stuff to the charity shop. But it made me think of how an event like this could really work well. There are a few guides I found online which are really quite good, like this one and this one . These are the rules I think are really important:

Swap Shop Rules

  1. Limit the categories of items to children’s toys and books (and children’s clothes)
  2. Limit the number of items someone can bring. While it’s OK to bring nothing, a maximum number of items helps stop chaos.
  3. All toys should be in good to great condition. Puzzles and games need to have all their pieces. Batteries need to be working, and included. Instruction manuals ideally need to be included too!
  4. Everything not swapped needs to be either taken home by the people who brought the items or taken to a local charity shop by volunteers

Plunger for Squash: Sharing, swapping and exchanging

I crave community. I crave to find again, even in a diluted form, the community spirit so alive and present in the village where I lived in Guatemala, a community you could not escape from, even if you wanted.

One small nod to community that we have here in Glasgow, a whisper of what I need, for around 50 people and I, who live on the four streets around our garden, is a whatsapp group. Here we can talk about the recycling bins not being emptied but also give away the things we do not need, and borrow things we do. I recently borrowed a plunger from my vegan neighbour, and swapped it for a small orange squash. I met him when he answered my plea for help to construct my daughter’s bed. I gave him free beer and some of my sweet potato curry in return.

I have met an Argentinian woman through this group too. One dark night, exhausted and with my little one in her pyjamas, I had no milk for her and so boldly called out for someone to buy me some if they were passing the supermarket. A stranger said she would and brought it round. In return, I said I could offer her free Spanish lessons. No need, she laughed, in Spanish. I have since helped her start a zero-waste beauty product range and helped with her CV.

Last night, I hosted a music evening at my house, ever keen to gather people, to bring people in, in a culture where there is no ‘popping in’. Two neighbours, musicians, performed in my alcove and 8 other neighbours came to hang, to watch, to meet each other. “In 6 years of living here”, said a woman called Sarah, “This is the first time I have met any of my neighbours.”

Feliz Año Nuevo!

2014 was a tough year.  I was in Nicaragua and stubbornly would not give up my 6-month job even though I was crazy lonely, was deserted by my work partner, got robbed in a car, had a bike accident with subsequent stitches on my face and had to travel for 5 hours to find any form of romance (or surf). Coming back to Guatemala, I had to deal with a tragic drowning, crazy team dynamics and chikungunya.

BUT there was light too. Being away from my house and my project in El Paredon, I had fantastic staff – Seth and Kate – who I managed remotely. They made things happen – opening the first library in El Paredon and laying the groundwork for the construction of a new school. We hosted 6 volunteer groups for Surf for Life on my return and have started a bag making project with local women which is going great. And being away made me realise just how much I love this place, El Paredon and how connected I feel with the people who live here and those who are snooping it out as a place to live in the future. People who come to visit come back and a cool little community of outsiders is forming too – people who respect the community, who are not big party-ers and who can live a little rough to find peace.

At the moment I’m living with 6 dogs and three people and it is as ever exhausting, wonderful, challenging and joyful. Three of the dogs are tiny puppies made by Twiggy who Seth and Kate adopted when they lived here.

The people are Ben and Megs who started as interns and have made a massive visual impact on our organisation. Ben has made crazy-good films about the project and revamped our website. Megs has designed sample bag products and made beautiful artwork for the house. Photographer Garrett (check out his website) has just moved in too- who found my place on my air b and b listing and has already been roped in with DIY projects and photographing our products for our etsy shop. And we’ve had cool guys stay and build us a new sofa! So bring on the new year full of optimism, productivity and good health!

Creating under the skin moments for Californian youth in Nicaragua

My job in Nicaragua is to inspire young people from California, those who have never had the chance to travel before. To broaden their minds, help them discover what they are good at and what they care about. To show them that they can make a difference in this world. That they are potential future leaders and change makers.

Just four days into the programme, you can see wheels spinning inside their heads. They talk of school back home, biology grades, skateboards, marching bands. Here is a new world, where their ranking is new and they can reinvent themselves. They reflect. They make paper aeroplanes with six year olds with cat faces in dance costumes. They sweep the sand floor in a small green community, brimming with stories, goats, maize husks littering the garden, shy teenagers doing homework on the edge of their bed where they will sleep with their 3 sisters tonight, watching a crackling telenovela. They sit in classrooms of 45, not enough seats, kid walking in and out of the class with no teacher. They tumble speechless off a bus into the rising smoke of the dump, stray dogs and vultures circling the new load of the van, slowly slowly backing the trash down the cliff, with the day workers king of the castle on its mound searching for bottles to recycle, in hope of gold.

They listen to gel haired youth, speaking with passion in low voices about the corruption, the danger still in them speaking out against this government. And there are small girls with eye make up, the repetitive polka, the distant look in the eye, the pretty one on show. These new kids have donations in a suitcase, brightly coloured pencils and 2 frisbees:  the Nica eyes sparkle and they beg for a go. We pass skinny cows and albino horses who traipse along after trucks carrying loads of coffee and plantain. They sweat inside the cacao processing room, the thin worker speaking softly como no. They arrive at poor communities where the kids are laughing and people look out for each other and these visitors feel so burdened with sadness. I am looking at them, why are you sad? They are not sad, why should you be?

The kids have pre-filled health forms. The biggest illnesses – anxiety and asthma. Sweet girls of sixteen away from home for the first time, stomach cramps of fear. Being thrown in the deep end – teaching English to rowdy teenagers who are used to an open door classroom, jumping in and out. And enchiladas, pollo en crema, rosquillas, papa relleno, queso frito y gallo pinto.

There’s a mirror held up close to your face all day – a self inspection of your best and worst. There is no hiding. Working with just one coworker, I have learnt how controlling I am, how difficult I find it to trust, how easy I find it to jump in and do everything, to take on too much then resent it, to say things then regret it, to want to make everyone happy all the time.

And my strengths – to bring up the energy. To be a compassionate and engaging facilitator drawing on people’s talents and making sure everyone is involved. And to make things happen quickly, creatively, pursuasively.

And when I can, I fly. Knees squashed on the bus to Matagalpa, first step to freedom to the beach. And there I have my fun. I will surf when I want and I will kiss who I want and eat fried fish and dance with who I want. Because I am 38 and I am free.

Jinotega at nine

Jinotega at night

The streets are pale with pink and the basketball court lies empty

A white dog, scruffy, scouring and sniffing

Patters down the slope, the Hospedeje Doucalis gathering its girls

Behind slapping shutters

And men with baseball caps shift their groin as they leave

There is silence now

Nine o clock the city sleeps

Tender buds of coffee shrinking out there on the slopes

The slopes that nest this place

So no one can get in to spread their joy

Here no one shouts out proudly or beats their chest with pain

But squirrel away, on a rocking chair, fiddling with the laces of second hand American shoes

Talking amongst themselves

How hard to feel embraced in this place, how hard

To squeeze coffee from a bean

New kid on the (Nicaraguan) block

I’m in Nicaragua for 6 months. I have a contract setting up service learning programmes for young people from San Francisco. As we speak, these 16 year olds are frantically fundraising for the trip of a lifetime – where they will learn in depth about Nicaragua – how locals live and work, about education, politics, history, culture – and about themselves. They will grow as leaders, as open-minded global citizens, able to understand the challenges of the developing world, the complicated relationship between their country and Latin America, able to think critically and appreciate difference. They will go back to the States with skills to make a difference in their own communities.

So that all sounds great right? And it will be.

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The only issue is that instead of the sunny Dominican Republic, where I applied for this job, with great surf, music and LIFE, I have been placed in Jinotega – known as the city of mists – in Nicaragua. Don’t get me wrong – I love Nicaragua – well I thought I did, when I spent a month on the coast in November, in surf spots with open, passionate people.

But, although I have lived for the last 2 years in rural Guatemala – as almost the only foreigner, with its bugs, its heat, its tiny population – and started a life there from scratch – I am finding it really difficult to feel at home here in this provincial city. Instead of feeling part of the community, I am invisible. Nobody says hello (although a few say ‘goodbye’), Instead of having my own home to relax in and invite my friends to, I spent a few miserable nights in crummy damp hotels and now my Nica colleague is sleeping with her niece in order for me to have a bed in their house. Instead of eating garnachas chatting to my village friends, it is a stodgy pizza slice eaten on my own from a cart in the main square. Instead of hanging out with a beer in a hammock with friends, it is quiet nights on Facebook, desperately seeing who is online to talk to.

My colleague and I have already been to some cool places as research for the job– an iguana farm, a ceramic cooperative, a bustling market, a baseball stadium – but I just feel a bit numb and questioning WHY AM I HERE?

Why are some of us programmed to constantly seek out new adventures, to test our limits, to challenge our comfort zone, to clash against the concept of ‘settling down’ whilst others are happy doing the same job living on the same street all their lives? But us seekers have a magnet to seek out fellow seeker souls and this weekend I’ve taken myself to La Biosfera reserve where the owner Suzana’s own colourful life at least makes me feel I am not the only one that, for whatever reason, has been predestined to live life differently. And clambering barefoot up a stream to a bat cave, dog at my side, this morning, I feel content to be in nature again and to be open to whatever will come next.

And although I am not yet happy here, I feel there is a reason why I’m here and I’ll let you know as soon as I find out why!

How to move a roof

My roof leaked all winter last year. The corrugated iron channel system to collect rain between my two buildings, so favoured here in Guatemala, was just not working. So, in preparation for this winter, I got a loan and decided to redo my roof in the dry season – Jan to March. How naively and optimistically I stepped into what became a major construction project which aged me about 50 years. But in the end, I’ve got one hellova great roof!

Step One: Asking for help

Here in Guatemala you can’t be scared to ask for help. Especially me, living as a chica on her own, I often have to lean over my fence and holler to a passing man or kid to help me lift a sink, climb a coconut tree, bury a rat etc. for me (actually I buried the rat I feel quite proud to say) But the first job, lifting the roof off my existing house, was a BIG JOB. I would need to cash in all the brownie points for this one. Thankfully, all the tourists in Paredon Surf Camp were up for the challenge, in exchange for an ice cream. And at a critical moment (when the roof was half on, half off), 15 strong (tho short) army guys showed up (all with Tshirts that said ‘NAVY’) and helped lift the roof into the street and to the back of my garden, where it would be put on posts to make a chillout hammock area (and maybe eventually another house)

Step Two: Knowing when to call in the professionals

I was determined to contract workers from El Paredon. I got a few quotes and went for a builder who was touted as ‘reliable’ and ‘muy bueno’ and a contractor to do the palm roof who was ‘responsable’ and ‘muy bueno’.

The builder took his time. Lots of time. And as he had to take the boat over from his home, it was up to me to find a step ladder, large pieces of wood to fill columns with concrete and the materials budget doubled as he needed more and more extra things that I had to get. I was working full time running around them. Eddie was a sweet enough guy but, troubled by me, as a woman, asking if he could work a bit faster, he decided not to show up one day.

Meanwhile, I gave the palm roof guy his first $100 to pay his men who were chopping wood in the mangroves. After I didnt hear from him for a couple of days, I phoned his mobile, answered by a crying wife he lamented that he had been drinking for the last 2 days and if it wasnt for her elderly mother who fed her tortillas, she would be dead through starvation by now, as her husband didnt provide for her.

This was not a good start. Especially as I had work starting in Nicaragua at the beginning of March and I needed it all building before I left.

Fortunately, Todd, my guardian angel and a professional contractor building a property further down the coast, stepped in to help. I cancelled my contract with my drunk builder and in less than two weeks, Todd’s team from a nearby village created the roof of my dreams – levelling off the two buildings, creating a wood skeleton and eventually the palm on top! Then we got to painting and it’s now a beautiful (and dry) living space! Phew!!

the finished house!!
the finished house!!

Back in Guatemala

http://moving by waiting from Julia Harriman on Vimeo.

I’ve been back in Guatemala for 2.5 weeks. A lot has happened. And its time for a post.

I have three volunteers living in my house in El Paredon. Chris, from Guatemala City, is figuring out if he wants to make a business down there, so is doing some projects in my garden and round the house so he can live for free while he figures it out. Sandy and Tom, from New Zealand, are backpacking and love the simple life so are keeping the workshop up and running (much to the kids’ delight) in between surfs.

Me, well…I am figuring out a way of living a different kind of life. I love El Paredon but after three months back in the UK, I have decided it’s now time to go bigger. To make more contacts, seek out more opportunities both for La Choza Chula and for me  beyond the big sandbank.

So I’m in research and visit phase – finding projects I find interesting and seek connections which will turn to income streams. Stage one of my plan has just been completed: to spend a week exploring parts of Guatemala I have never visited so I can be more informed on this land I am calling home. One highlight of my little trip was ziplining through the Chicoj coffee farm near Coban (a very authentic and low key tour and fabulous coffee). I also visited an artist’s studio.

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guide Marta ziplining

The next highlight was Lago Lachoa. The video at the beginning of this post  I made there. 

 I braved a 5km walk through jungle to an isolated lodge beside a crystal clear lake, resident to crocodiles and tropical fish. On my first night, I was the only guest, so resident worker Luis and I cooked the simple food I had brought (eggs, tomato, onion) while he warmed up tortillas on the oven top. We swam in the lake before a big tour group came and spoiled the silence on the second night, singing mournful love songs with their mobile phones until 4am.

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Luis heating up the tortillas

Luis is new in post, after the former guy got ill after 28 years working there, in the middle of nowhere, with just the sound of the monkeys and the buzz of the lush forest for company. Luis is finding it hard to adjust to this life, missing his 15 kids and wife, regular meals and buzz of Coban. But he doesn’t have a choice as he needs the work. He works 15 days on, 15 days off, but whilst he’s at the lake he’s either completely alone or with big groups who leave rubbish and use loads of water.

It takes nearly 3 hours to fill the tank of water, which can be used in an hour with 25 people taking showers. I helped him, climbing the stepladder made of metal poles and cranking the pump round and round, a contraption with a rope pulling water up from the ground to a high tank where gravity takes it down.

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pumping the water by hand

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the water pump

 

When it is busy, Luis has to do this twice a day. He also has to change and wash the sheets of up to 40 guests, observe guests when they are swimming so they don’t go out too deep, where crocodiles lurk. Three times a week he walks the 10km round trip to the park entrance to buy tortillas and top up his mobile phone. He’s a good guy and works hard for his money.