This article is one of a series on life in the campo, or country living in Costa Rica, as my wife and I* experienced it on our visits and after moving to Costa Rica. Each is a sort of time capsule, the stories evolving with us as we have lived more experiences and delved deeper into the culture.

How do you explain that the most interesting thing you did recently was watch the paint dry? We have a saying in the USA, it’s as fun as watching paint dry; well, after our recent experience, I think I am going to have to stop using it. Costa Ricans will not understand.

Most of our household had all packed into the trusty Montero to go visiting on a Sunday. After making the rounds, we started up the long hill back to Ciudad Quesada. As luck would have it, we hit a stop in the traffic flow. No, it was not a tractor hauling sugarcane; they only seem like they’re not moving.

Often in Costa Rica in the campo, they figure no one is in that much of a hurry. If it is easier to block both sides of the road, then they close both sides of the road. This is exactly what happened that day. You can usually tell the tourists, because they are the ones who are frustrated, or at least, confounded.

We happened to be the second vehicle in line, so we actually could talk to the road crew and find out what the holdup was about. (We had at first been hoping that they were fixing a section of the road that fell away during a torrential downpour. No, I think they believe it is fixed in that they had placed a sign saying it is now one lane, so be careful and take turns going through that stretch.) The road crew explained that they were painting stripes on the road and they did not want them to be run over until they dried.

Well, there were quite a number of people who were watching the paint dry. Instead of just standing around, many of them set the emergency brakes and got out and walked down to the little pulperia (store). I have noticed that no matter what else doesn’t function properly on a vehicle here, the emergency brakes almost always work—how else could you join the party? It wasn’t exactly a fiesta, but no one except the tourists were uptight.

Motorcycles were allowed through, and the people on road bikes just peddled on by, which was amazing because the mountain rises steeply for about 2,000 feet. I am amazed at the fitness of the cyclists in Costa Rica. Most of them don’t even get off the bike, but just keep on pedaling. I find it more than a little intimidating to be watching people riding by with old bikes up a slope on which I would barely be able to stay upright on the bike, much less keep forward momentum, and definitely not for miles and miles. I figure I am going to have to affix a small electric motor to my bike to keep up.

Since Ciudad Quesada is not that big a city, everyone knows each other, so watching the paint dry is a great opportunity to run into people you have not seen in months and to discuss such things as the state of the roads, the road crews, and probably, of the emergency brake in the truck just ahead. We were among the rare ones who stayed with our vehicle, not for fear of loose trucks—that would have been a good reason to leave the vehicle—but because the pulperia was downhill from us, and when the traffic was going to start moving, we would have had to run for the Montero, being so near the front of the line. An entire bus emptied out, all walking to the pulperia, since it was in the direction the bus was going to be traveling. I assume that, after the traffic moved, the bus just stopped at the store and loaded everyone back up again.

After about an hour (the road crew said it would be no more than 20 minutes, but we did not believe them), the road was opened up again. We proceeded on our way, hopefully understanding a little more about the place where we now live.

But one thing still eludes understanding: Why did they bother painting the lines in the first place? It isn’t like anyone stays within them!

*We are Fred and Amy Morgan, originally from the US. We bought a dairy farm in Costa Rica to plant trees in its pastures, then later caught a dream of turning all the land we can to permanently protected, sustainably maintained forest once the plantation trees have been harvested for profit. We make most of the wood from the plantations into furniture, flooring, and other wood products.

Up