Inductions and Deployments

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A constant motif of my time here in Costa Rica has been the need for early starts. Participant induction week was to be no exception, with for added variety some very late nights which were spent, sadly, doing lots of admin, having staff meetings and generally being organised rather than carousing with the Venturers. Admittedly as the week drew on and we all became more shattered the evening meetings became shorter and shorter as the Chinese Parliament decided having some kip was more of a priority than getting their two-penn’orth in. This was a relief as management by committee strikes against Mark and my natural instincts, but really grates at 10pm after a 13-hour day. Even Bella, usually full of beans and bright ideas, was restrained with her customary interjections ending in the Neighbours-inflected “….riiite?”.

The reason for being so busy was the sheer number of people now on camp. Having been part of the advance party of nine the place had felt a bit crowded when there were 30 here - now with 127 it was a bit like the Black Hole of Calcutta without the elbow room or tranquillity. The participants had arrived in a fleet of buses and disembarked to rounds of applause from the Staff, all looking a bit shell shocked after their flight, a late arrival in San José, a night on the floor of a school gym, a traditional early start and the ride from the capital. Thankfully when there are so many people at Field Base a group of local cooks come in to prepare meals and so Staff involvement in giving breakfast to the famished Venturers was limited to bringing out laden trays of the fixings of Gallo Pinto (or Speckled Chicken as I have now learnt to translate it - an ironic name as it contains many specks but no chicken to speak of). Sadly we are not culturally sensitive enough to serve it with the traditional Costa Rican accompaniment as described in one of my guidebooks which claims that “males often take a shot of whiskey with breakfast”. From here, again because of pressure of numbers, the Participants were divided into two teams, the Sloths and the Tapirs who would follow a round robin of activities and separate mealtimes and an endless round of administration then began. I found myself running the Bureau de Change in the convivial surroundings of the University of Costa Rica swimming pool (obviously by it rather than in it - the money gets soggy and the ink runs on the travellers’ cheques, which causes questions at the bank about laundered money) and most convivial company of Danielle, South African Logistics Staff and PM extraordinaire who as an accountant and investment banker is far more financially qualified that I. Over the next few days I was to change dollars into several million colones, a task which took several panic runs to the bank and much rifling in Staff’s wallets and down the back of the sofa to get sufficient cash. I know the exchange rate is around 516 colones to the dollar so the wedges of colourful local notes did not add up to that much, but sometimes I wonder if the Participants have been given too much pocket money.

From here training began in earnest. I gave lectures on use of the radio sets which took some time because of the need to translate everything for our Spanish (only) speaking Host Country Participants (HCPs). The ‘terps certainly earned their corn that day as the English-speaking audience found the technical aspects of wiggly-amps and voice procedure hard enough, without having them described in a foreign language although some may argue that any such talk is indeed in foreign. After a practical confirmatory lesson (“no, I don’t think that antenna will work to its optimum levels when tied round your neck/that tractor that’s just about to move off, but a good try anyway”… “if you say ‘over and out’ again I’m going to put that handset somewhere uncomfortable”… “Ok, sod it, you’ve got the idea, let’s go for lunch”) the participants departed for a sports afternoon and I made my way to the bank to wrestle with Costa Rican finance again. Having spent a pleasant hour or two in a queue I went to join in the sports in general and the spirited game of touch 7’s which was going on in particular. Big mistake. I had forgotten the fact that it was topping 30 degrees and that I had at least 10 years in age and a similar head start on the Liffey Water over the other players, all of whom would have incurred a severe handicap in a Fat Blokes tournament for lack of girth, but at the end of the session a draw was declared and the honour of the Flatulent Fairies (see my profile for explanation) upheld. Age and guile do sometimes prevail over youth, innocence and interesting haircuts, although I was totally banjaxed trying to keep up with Participants Sam, predictably a Kiwi, and Rachel, who played for her county last season. A refreshing dip finished the day and I pleaded my senior citizen and blue badge status to avoid playing water polo.

Unfortunately pressures of office work meant I couldn’t take part in the whole of Participant Jungle Camp, although I did volunteer for an early start to walk out via the river crossing site to help out with radio and camp set up on one day. Again it was a fabulous and warm morning wandering through the relative remoteness and peace of the jungle, all the while chatting away with the Tapirs, now formed up in the Alpha-Groups they would be in for the first project phases, who I was lucky enough to accompany. I was, however, a little alarmed by the Participant who shall remain nameless, like some of his exclusively male friends festooned in survival knives (some hanging in places that should they have tripped would have inflicted the unkindest cut of all), who grilled me for some time about where in town he could get a really big and sharp machete. We showed the Venturers the safe way to cross watercourses like old hands even though the skills had been new to some of us only a week ago and didn’t tease them too much about water snakes, crocodiles and piranhas, honest. We did at one moment get a little worried about the loss of one HCP until he was spotted capering around on the opposite bank waving at us with a big smile on his face having decided our method of crossing was a bit soppy and slow. My assistance in the jungle was largely superfluous as the Tapirs got their radios up and running in record time (quality instruction, I maintain!) but it was a great chance to get to know people and show I wasn’t just the pasty-faced office bloke with the cash box and the furrowed brow, although some of the more privileged Venturers do seem to look on the Staff as staff from time to time.

All too soon the Jungle phase was over and it was time for final deployment preparations and another evening of entertainment for all. After the success of the Staff cookery competition we declared an inter group Ready Steady Jungle Cook competition with a Staff dream-team to set the running. Each team was divided into front and back of house with each element to score points, and having fashioned a chef’s hat for myself from my pillow case and a roll of cardboard I found myself again under the watchful eye of Sara in the “kitchen”. Again some cheating, sorry initiative, took place. It wasn’t my fault that I happened to be put in charge of the Staff’s tin of condensed milk, and a tragic accident that said tin happened to fall into a pot of simmering water (from which it would have been unsafe to retrieve it) 3 hours before the competition. Who would have known that the contents would have turned into dulche-de-leche just at the moment a handy bunch of bananas fell into my pocket and Sara was thinking of making banoffee pie using the issued biscuits as a base? I am also indebted to a TA chef I knew a long time ago who had taught me the mystic art of making sweet and sour sauce with some pineapple, corn flour and a bottle of orange Fanta as this went very well with the by now perfected fish cakes. Jorge, a former HCP who has come back as a PM is a dab hand at making bread and this went very well with Sara and PM Rachael’s Minestrone Soup à la Beanfeast. For all the time we were cooking I wondered what had happened to our front-of-house staff especially as I could hear girlish giggling (and that just from Mark-the-Yeti) coming from the staff room. I was more mystified when Mark and the girls appeared wrapped in a blanket with only heads protruding, but all was soon revealed when the first course was to be served, the blanket dropped and we had an entire team of waitresses dressed in uniforms made from the by now ubiquitous black bin liners. Sadly but unsurprisingly the Staff were disqualified despite (or because of) our high marks and a well deserved joint first place awarded to two of the teams of Venturers. It was only later that I discovered that one team had a ringer in the shape of Thomas, a Dutchman who had recently finished catering school and for whom this competition was small beer. The evening finished off with music and dancing and the Venturers really cut loose. I can only assume that this was because of the sheer amount they had spent in the tuck shop - in the absence of alcohol they were absolutely blitzed on E-numbers if the number of empty Coke bottles and discarded chocolate wrappers was to be believed.

Because of the great distances the Alpha Groups had to travel deployment day dawned extra specially early (around 4am unless I am greatly mistaken) and all staff were required to help with vehicle loading, last minute admin and general chivvying. Once the final bus had been seen off we settled down to a coffee before cleaning up. This was rudely disturbed by the return of one of the buses on which was a Venturer who had forgotten their boots. One might question how they had not noticed this as the ground around the Field Base is made up of nasty pointy stones. I would have thought that wandering around on the stones might have concentrated the mind - “Jacket, check. Trousers, check. Hat and Shades, check. Rucksack, check. Now why the hell do my feet hurt?!?” but plainly Rebecca’s yoga lessons had paid off. I did wonder why one bloke was packing a bed of nails rather than his sleeping bag. Clearing the camp was an horrendous task. I had thought that modern youth was all environmentally aware, and the kind of person to volunteer for Raleigh doubly so, but the tent area looked like the evacuation of Saigon, the Dunkirk beaches and the end of the Glastonbury festival all rolled into one. Several bin bags of rubbish and even more of abandoned clothing and equipment (which will make a handy sum for the HCP fund when the lost property is sold back) later the Staff collapsed. Between nine of us we had swept, polished, unblocked lavatories and collected empty bottles, leaving the camp immaculate. We’d earned our big fry up, coffee, siesta and afternoon at the pool.

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Photos

Raleigh Expedition 07B
The Participants and Staff try to hide a pair of Landrovers from Ray and Jeremy.

Briefing the Venturers
Ross, doing his best Daniel Craig as 007 impersonation, explains THE RULES.

International Fairy
Practising for the Inaugural Costa Rica 7's. Note to self - playing Rugby with people more than 10 years younger can damage your health and self esteem.

PMs Announcing Alpha-Group Allocations
Not as cruel as it seems - the selections were not done like picking teams for playground football (wheezy boy with note from Matron not pictured). Note his 'n' hers T-shirts and dissenting PM out of uniform.

Staff Dream Team Chefs
With Jorge, sharing the secrets of bread making and Orange Fanta sweet-and-sour sauce.

Ling - Doctor and Waitress Extraordinaire
What 5 years of Medical School can lead to...

Staff Dream Team Front of House
Not sure about the one on the left - Immac needed I think...