God's Country

And the Texan, "Tex" we'll call him just for good measure, and his little son Joshua. Tex's story was simple - simple for him to tell and simple for me to understand. Once a vagabond, a wild man thirsting for an open road, he stumbled upon the rocky dirt trail leading upward into the belly of God. Tex had covered Costa Rica in its near entirety.

"Oh yeah," he bragged to me in his half drunken Texan drawl. "I've covered this entire country."

"We're heading west to Puntarenas for the outbound ferry to Paquera in the Nicoya Peninsula."

"Aaah, beautiful. Oh yeah, beautiful country."

"Have you been to Mal Pais?" I wondered. We were off in the morning to another unknown; maybe Tex had a little advice to ease our hesitations.

"No, sir. Never been there. Heard it's nice."

I thought Tex had just told us he's been everywhere: "Yes, sirree, traveled this country in its entirety."

He continued: "This here place is heaven. This here is God's Country. I found this place and never left. Lived here for six years. Had myself a little house over there on the other side of that hill. Little back yard with a stream running through - water so clean you could drink it out of your hands. That's how I came to know this guy over here. We're friends."

He pointed to Daniel who was joyously playing with his dog's balls. The little white pup just laid there, rain coming down, legs spread wide open loving every second.

"Bee bee bee bee bee," Daniel repeated with each teste tickle. Tanya got a kick out of it - a wickedly drunk Rasta Tico playing with his dog's balls.

"We became instant friends," Tex continued.

"I can see why," I said. They were obviously a match made in heaven. Tex smiled at me. Maybe he just enjoyed my humor. Maybe he just felt at home with a fellow American. Or maybe once again, here at the House of Hammocks on a rocky dirt road leading into God's Country, good ole Tex found himself a new friend.

Daniel stood up from puppy playtime. "Do you want beer?"

Tanya, quicker than I could lift my head to answer for us, responded with an enthusiastic: "Yes!"

"Si. Gracias," I said to Rasta Tico. Only problem is now we had to buy something from him. We couldn't take these pleasures from them - beers, photos, laughs - and not return the gratitude.

Daniel came out of the shack with two cans of Imperial. We cracked them open and sat outside on the deck covered by sheets of tin. The rain bounced off the tin roof like a handful of pennies shaken wildly in a covered soup can.

Rat Tat Tat - bullets ricocheting off the back of a getaway car. But we sat with Tex, and Daniel, and little Joshua, and the two puppies, and thought about the waterfall. We still heard the explosions of water onto rock. Echoing crashes of these waves one after the other. The not so distant thunder rumbling through me - into me. My body still quivered and it wasn't from the chill of my soaking wet tee papier-mâchéd onto my skin. I trembled with excitement from the stunning power of my waterfall experience. This was God's Country.

"I lived here for six years. A little vacation, man. This is where I met his mother," he hugged Joshua. Joshua smiled and raised his hands above his head and wrapped them around his Dad's neck.

He didn't have to tell me that, I already knew. Joshua had his Dad's smile. His Dad's stillness. But his skin was darker - fair for a Tico but could have been confused for a Mexicano up there in Texas. His eyes were darker - nearly all black - I could barely see a pupil inside. Tex on the other hand, his eyes seemed to get brighter blue every time he smiled. A small freckle, shaped like an upside down Florida, crawled out over his right eye. Maybe only weathered from six years of rain, or a sunspot burned into his pupil from the Tico volcano. Tex and his freckle didn't have to tell me about Joshua's Mom. I had already seen her in Daniel's eyes.

"We were walking along the beach one night. There was a full moon. Oh man was it bright - lit up the sky like a spotlight! It was beautiful. The clouds floated over shadowing the glow on the wet sand under our bare feet. We looked down and there were crabs, everywhere, tickling the sand as far as we could see. Scattering around us as we walked towards the rocks under the moonlight. I was like: 'Oh my God! This is magic!' But that's not all. It didn't end right there. There were shooting stars dipping over the horizon. They looked like they were taking nose dives into the ocean, like a hungry seagull eying kelp."

Tex didn't really say that. I added that for poetic justice. Tex was a simple man - but even the simple man understands romance. Even Tex knew his destiny was unfolding right there on a Costa Rican beach before his very own eyes.

"Shooting stars into the crashing sea, but man, the water! The phosphorescence of the water. You looked at the curling waves under the moonlight and the glow reflected off like a mirror. Looked like the moon was inside shining upwards reflecting itself off the blackened sky."

I only listened and smiled. It wouldn't be until a few days later that I would be able to experience the same for myself. But right then and there, at Neptune's House of Hammocks in a rainforest under a tin roof, I knew once again that this place was special and that the rocky road ahead opened wider into the heart of God.

"Yup," Tex nodded, pulling in a drag of his Marlboro. "We always tell Joshua that's where he was conceived. Conceived in Costa Rica, born in Cancun, living in Houston, Texas."

"He's a Tex Mex Tico," I told him. Tex laughed.

"That's exactly what I say, too."

The time had come, what more to do here really. I swallowed the last swig of my Imperial and looked to Daniel.

"O.K. my friend. We'd like to buy a hammock."

"O.k. let's go. I find you nice one."

"You make all here?" I asked in a way I thought he might understand. " Tú, ahhhh, tú mako los hammocks aquí?"

"Sí! Todos! Los Pequeños para sus perros," he laughed. "Y los grandes para tí."

"Ah, sí, bueno!"

We browsed the shack, weaving ourselves in and out of hammocks hanging loosely from the splintered stilts above. Different colors, different sizes. We picked one. Looked nice, not much different than the others, but seemed just about right. And that was it. Ran to the little white Suzuki through the rain and filled the car once again with a memory.

I'm sure every time I sit on that hammock in my backyard I'll think of God's Country. I'll think of Tex, and Joshua, and Daniel, and the puppies. Or I may just feel the rain on my face. Or hear the waterfall pounding through me like a not so distant thunder.