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Published: January 24th 2007
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Staff at Turrialba
Foggy & two other members of Raleigh staff prepare to put up tents... I can’t remember the last time I got up voluntarily at 5am. However this is exactly what happened on the morning of my first day in Turrialba, although this could be because owing to the time difference it was 11 am in the UK. Having woken and seen through the window it was a lovely day I decided to make my way to the office, have a cup of tea and start on episode 1 of this diary. Having been issued keys (what responsibility!) I opened up, strode manfully to my desk, and then jumped out of my skin as the ear-splitting howl of the alarm (which I had neglected to turn off) disturbed the peace and quiet, caused a stampede of the cattle in the field next door, and caused various birds to take to wing but strangely did not wake any of the staff in our house down the road. Once I’d silenced the racket and my heart rate had dropped to more reasonable levels I settled down to the PC and a brew.
Gradually the rest of the staff trickled in and it was time for breakfast. As threatened Ross, proud Scot that he is, made his
How many Graduates does it take to put up a tent?!?
Field Base pre-advance party staff all mucked in to put up the "luxurious" accommodation for the rest of the team. famous porridge, which was very good but quite a bit to handle in temperatures where the mercury was rapidly shooting up the scale. The daily conference followed where each team member gave a brief on what they were going to be up to for the day. I must learn to curb my verbosity as not everyone is interested in the minutiae of accounting and finance and they are as pleased as I that our system is cash based and thus needs no explanation of double-entry bookkeeping.
And so to work. It’s hard to concentrate on bank and cash reconciliations, issuing advances, and paying expenses when the view is of the aforementioned volcano, especially as the light changes by the minute bringing out about 10,000 shades of green and the mist moves languidly but constantly on the hills. I may bore of this, but somehow I doubt it. Eventually, all spreadsheeted out, I managed to escape HQ to go with Nina the Logistics Manager for a run into town to include a meeting with the manager of the local supermarket to discuss ordering procedures, credit terms and payment methods. As many of you will know I had very short notice
Home Sweet Home
The staff bungalow at Turrialba. to come here and my study of Spanish has got not much further than ,no hablo español’ my participation in the meeting was limited to nodding sagely, smiling warmly and the occasional ¡muy bien! Once the meeting was over Nina and I shopped for the following couple of days’ food but were slightly bemused as the shop stock hadn’t just been moved around since Nina’s first trip, but been completely replaced with different products. Similarly the warehouse from which we will order our wholesale goods was like Aladdin’s cave and just about as easy to stock take. We had also been charged with finding some pillows for Mark the Deputy Expedition Leader and had been directed to the Bedding, Motorcycle and Gun shop to find them. Say what one will about Central America, the shops have an eclectic range and sleepy pheasant shooting Hell’s Angels are well catered for. My final excitement for the day was being on cooking duty with Ivan, the (Hard) Case Manager who at home looks after socially excluded youths and has a similar brief here. It’s a while since I’ve cooked for 12, and I’ve never done it on two gas rings for a complete
View from the Office
What I can see from my window. Would you be able to concentrate on cash & bank checks? Note a rare view of the peak of the volcano, and absence of cows! bunch of strangers who I’ve never met before and whose tastes are unknown. Luckily Ivan and I hit on the idea of a sausage casserole and mash, which as it contained no rice or beans and as we laid the table with candles and napkins caused, if not coos of delight at least no projectile vomiting.
I wasn’t quite so prompt to arise the next morning, but was still in the Office by six. The day consisted mainly of more reading into files and learning systems in order to keep the accounts ship-shape. A pleasant diversion in the afternoon (taking advantage of the scorching sun which had broken through the rain) was putting up the tents which the Project Managers will be living in on their arrival. It should be noted that these were antiquated and very battered ex-Army (much like myself and Mark) 12’x12’s with a totally random selection of poles and connectors. The resulting chaos of nine graduates attempting to put up tents (when two of them had done it before, but a long time ago) had to be seen to be believed. At least Bella, the expedition photographer and Public Relations Officer got some good shots of the Staff getting tied up in balls of canvas, a Landrover balanced by the diff box on a large rock after some rather vigorous manoeuvring by one of the drivers and the general hilarity. Just before the rain set in again the luxurious accommodation for the next influx of staff was ready, complete with air conditioning and running water, these latter features provided by the holes in the tent canvasses.
The reward for all this exertion was a night out experiencing the bright lights of Turrialba. After a shower and a change into glad rags we had a beer and played a game of Mark’s devising which was a combination of “I have never”, musical chairs and British bulldog while waiting for our taxis. We dined in a restaurant specialising in local cuisine and I tried casado, a filling combination of half a grilled chicken, rice, chips, beans and salad topped off with a fried egg for the princely sum of $3.50. Our waitress was somewhat bemused by some of our requests: an outbreak of brainteasers had struck and complicated arrangements of matches, cutlery and wine glasses spread from one end of the table to another. Appetites satisfied and minds boggled we set off to try a few bars. The first, Olé Olé, was open air and boasted an amplified version of the Peruvian band from the Fast Show (toot!). Their version of Stairway to Heaven on pan pipes and maracas (toot! rattle!) had to be heard to be believed. Unfortunately service was so slow (we speculated that cacti were being squeezed and fermented fresh for the tequila) the command decision to move on to Charlie’s was made. Charlie’s is a Costa Rican version of Hooters, just with smaller staff uniforms. So overwhelmed by the pulchritude by which he was surrounded Mark pinched Bella’s camera to record the scenes of loveliness. We were also amused by a local girl who had followed us from Olé Olé and demanded to know who the ‘andsome man with us was. To your correspondent and Mark’s chagrin she was referring to Ross, who had recently left in a taxi. Thank goodness as his girlfriend Alejandra is just a touch fierce. Finally it was time to head for home and we paused at a street stall for some excellent kebabs wrapped in tortilla. For the next day we had a trip to San José to look forward to.
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