Girl off the Grid

by Jillian Dodd

  “You sound like you have a lot of experience. Do you know how to garden?” she questions, looking surprised.

  “My parents have a large garden. It started with just two vegetables and they kept adding to it until it consumed a large part of our lawn. So I know just enough to be dangerous.” I laugh, thinking about my parents.

  “I love going to farmers’ markets, but I can’t imagine having my own garden. It seems like a lot of work.”

  “It’s definitely work, but they find it relaxing. Dad says there’s nothing better than getting your hands in the dirt. I haven’t helped in a while, other than to eat it. I travel a lot and live in a small loft in the city. No room for a garden there.”

  “I love living in the city. I don’t know if I would ever want to leave. I suppose I could, but I would want to be close. I just love all the excitement. The restaurants, cafés, shops, and,” she says, her eyes lighting up, “the fashion. What about you? Could you ever leave the city?”

  “Sure. I only live there now because it’s convenient. My parents’ house is in Oxford. It’s a pretty unique home, stuffed full of pieces from their travels. My mum has a huge wall full of just books, and my dad obviously has photos everywhere. It’s very eclectic.” I smile thinking of home. “But anyways, I’m not sure. Sometimes I think having more space would be nice. Having land that is your own to live on and being out in nature would be nice. But with traveling, it doesn’t really make sense right now.”

  “I can understand that,” she says. “Your home sounds amazing. I would love to see it one day. I love stuff like that. Little corners with knickknacks and each piece in the house having its own unique story. It’s so inspiring.”

  “Well, if you’re ever in London, look me up,” I say awkwardly. Any man in his right mind wouldn’t let her leave without a promise to see each other again.

  “This,” Ignacio says, pointing to the pepper, “is a habanero pepper. This pepper is named after La Habana, or Havana, Cuba because it was widely traded there. After the Spanish discovered it, they spread it widely across the globe. Taxonomists in the eighteenth century thought it had originated from China and named it Capsicum Chinese. As this pepper ages, it turns from green to bright red, which is what you’re seeing now.”

  “Can you eat it as is?” Camille asks, studying the pepper.

  “Yes, but I would not recommend it. They are extremely hot. Normally what we do is dry the pepper and then grind it into powder.”

  Camille writes in her notebook as we make our way out of the garden, following a small path down to a row of trees. The ground is covered in leaves crunching under our shoes, and trees engulf us in all directions.

  “This is a cacao tree,” Ingacio says stopping below a tree with clusters of red pods dangling from the branches. “Chocolate comes from the seed of the cacao fruit tree. This tree grows in the tropics, and its Latin name Theobroma Cacao means food of the gods.”

  “Oh, I agree with that,” Vivianne says as Camille high fives her. Women love chocolate.

  “The word chocolate,” Ignacio continues, “comes from the Aztec word xocolatl which was a drink brewed from roasted and ground cacao beans. Until the Spanish arrived, chocolate was not sweetened. In pre-Columbian times, cocoa beans were used as a form of currency. Cocoa pods grow on trees,” he says, pointing them out. “And the ripe pods are harvested and opened to reveal the beans. When they are harvested, a clean cut is made through the stalk so that it doesn’t damage the branch and once the beans are removed, they are then roasted. Gather around closer and I will show you,” he says, grabbing a pod resting below the tree. “This pod is ripe, so I’m able to crack it open just using my hands,” he says as he hits it against a rock. The pod splits, and he tears it open, revealing a white fleshy inside. “This is the outer fruit which you can eat, and then on the inside is the bean.”

  We all take a taste.

  “Interesting,” I say. “It sort of tastes like a flower.”

  Camille, who tries it, looks over at me, smiling in agreement. I love her smile. And I should tell her she’s beautiful right now because, with the sun beaming down on her, she is.

  We lock eyes, and I move toward her, but when I’m halfway there, Jimmy says, “Gross.”

  Then spits out his fruit on my shoes.

  Camille

  We’re in the middle of a natural tree grove that is different than most. Most groves have rows and rows of one type of tree. Like when we used to go to an apple orchard in the fall. But not here. Every few feet there is a different type of fruit tree.

  Leaves completely cover the ground, causing our group to make a noisy approach. Ignacio stops at a large shrub that is overshadowed by larger trees.

  “Here we have the coffee tree,” he says with pride as he points out the red berries dotting the large shrub. “And these are coffee cherries. These red fruits are called cherries or berries and inside them there are two seeds. One is a coffee bean and the other is a peaberry bean. Once the beans are harvested, they are laid out to dry. After drying, the beans go into a machine that separates them from their casing, and then are laid back out in the sun to dry further.”

  “Who knew a coffee bean came from that?” I say to Adam, who is getting a photo of the little cherries.

  “I don’t think many people realize the amount of work that goes into raising and harvesting these crops. The processing alone requires so many steps.”

  It’s an eye opening moment for me. I mean, I almost take coffee for granted. I have an app, and I don’t even have to wait in line anymore. I just press a few buttons and my coffee is waiting for me.

  “I had no idea the amount of work that goes into it,” I say, still just amazed. I really had no idea.

  “After lunch we are going to have a special treat for you,” Ignacio tells us. “Since we process both the coffee and cacao on site, we are going to give you each a taste test of two of our signature drinks, but for now, I have a few more things to show you.”

  He continues to lead us around the grounds, pointing out sugar cane, pineapple plants, and a banana tree. We stop at the pineapple plant which shoots up from the ground, and Ignacio chops a few off of their stems carrying them with him as we continue on.

  “Camille, let’s get a couple photos of you here,” Adam says to me as we’re still in the midst of the fruit trees.

  “Alright. Where do you want me?” I ask as he looks around.

  “Why don’t you just start walking down this row here, and maybe reach up to grab the fruit off the branches.”

  “Okay.” I walk away from him taking in all of the trees. I spot one with oranges on it and slowly reach my hand up to grab one. Adam moves around me taking photos. I pick a couple oranges off the ground, hold them in my hands, and smile for the camera.

  “That’s great,” he says, smiling from behind it. After a few more poses, he tells me he’s gotten enough.

  “Catch,” I say, tossing one of the oranges at him. He catches it easily but gives me a stern look.

  “What?”

  “You could have hit my camera,” he warns. “You have to be more careful.”

  “You just don’t know how to have fun, do you?” I sass. I hate being scolded. Especially by someone who is barely older than me, even if he is right.

  He rolls his eyes, shakes his head, and starts walking off. “Whatever. I’m going to go catch up with the group.”

  “Wait!” I run to catch up to him. “I’m sorry. I know your camera is expensive. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Thank you. And I do know how to have fun. Lots of fun. I have fun all the time,” he says, but I’m not sure which of us he’s trying to convince, so I change the subject.

  “I can’t wait to see all the photos from today. This farm is gorgeous. There’s so much land and such diversity.”

  “It’s hard to believe they are able to do all of this here.”

  “Yeah, it is. There are so many different plants and so much space. I would lose tr
ack of which trees and plants needed tending.”

  We catch up to the group just as Ignacio is leading them into a covered area. “This is one of our processing facilities. We have a few other buildings on site, but I wanted to give you guys a little taste of sugar cane juice.” He walks up to a large machine that has a handle and large wheels, one on top of the other. “If someone would like to hold this piece of sugar cane here,” he says, pointing to the grinding wheel, “I will spin them to produce the juice.”

  Not surprisingly, Jimmy’s hand shoots up into the air first.

  “This might be a little heavy for you,” Ignacio says, holding out a sugar cane. “Can you choose a helper to hold onto the other end?”

  Jimmy’s eyes are bright with excitement. “I pick Camille!”

  “Great,” Ignacio says. “If you two can just hold this up, once I start cranking let go, and it will be sucked through the machine on its own.” I help Jimmy hold up the sugar cane, which sort of looks like bamboo, and within a few seconds it’s being sucked into the grinder. He takes a pitcher from underneath it, strains it, and then pours it into little cups already arranged on a tray.

  “If all of you would like to come over here, you can try some fresh sugar cane juice,” Ignacio says to our group. I grab a cup and drink the liquid, shocked at how sweet it is. Adam seems surprised by the sweetness, too, based on his facial expressions.

  “What did you think?” he asks as he takes a photo of me finishing off the drink.

  “It was really sweet, but good. I think it would grow on me.”

  “Yeah, it was very sweet. Maybe too sweet,” Adam admits as Diego joins us.

  “I usually drink it with a lime wedge,” he tells us. “You’ll have to try it that way. The citrus helps balance out the sweetness.”

  “I bet that would be really good,” Adam says.

  “Diego, this place is amazing. Thank you for bringing us here,” I say.

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. We’ve finished up our tour, so now it’s time for lunch.”

  The group follows Ignacio back outside and up to the main building, and a few minutes later we are seated in their large dining room.

  Ignacio helps a woman bring plates out of the kitchen. “We have prepared for you mixed vegetables over lime rice with a pineapple salsa. And everything on your plate was grown at our farm.”

  Vivianne is sitting to my right at the long rectangular farm house table. “The food is so good,” she says.

  I have been so enthralled with the view from the large windows overlooking the farm, I haven’t tasted it yet. I take a hesitant bite. I’ve never had pineapple salsa, but am pleasantly surprised. “It is really good,” I agree. “I love how the salsa is sweet and spicy.”

  After we finish lunch, Ignacio ushers us out onto a patio that has the same amazing view as the large window I was looking out at lunch.

  “If you would like to get comfortable, I’m going to prepare your drinks and then you can be on your way. I’m sure you must be excited for your zip-lining this afternoon.”

  I walk to the edge of the patio where Jimmy is standing. “Did you have fun today?”

  “Yes. But I didn’t like that fruit he made us try,” he says, scrunching up his nose. “It tasted funny. But I’m excited to go zip-lining. Grandpa says it will be like flying through the air!”

  “I guess it will be,” I say, trying to convince myself. Surely, if a kid his age isn’t scared, I shouldn’t be. But every time I think of being in the air like that, my stomach gets tied up in knots. I can do it, I tell myself, hoping eventually I will believe it.

  I take a seat, leaning my head back and closing my eyes. Everything I’ve been experiencing is new. The ups and downs have been hard, but I’ve pulled through and become stronger for it. I never thought I would camp or hike up a volcano, but I’ve actually enjoyed a lot of the things I thought I would hate. I’m really proud of myself, and it feels good. Maybe I’ll try to do another trip like this next year, something that’s outdoorsy.

  I open my eyes and look over at Adam. He’s leaning back in a chair across from me with his legs propped up on the railing, his focus solely on his sketchbook. Occasionally, he looks out at the horizon. Watching him draw is sort of soothing. He’s so talented. I’m surprised he didn’t want to pursue that as a career. Although, after seeing some of his photos, I get it. Photography is his passion, while drawing is just a hobby.

  Ignacio comes back out onto the patio with a tray of multi-colored glasses, setting two of them in front of me then passing them out to everyone else.

  “The blue glass has the coffee drink,” he says. “The green glass is the chocolate.”

  Diego takes a seat next to me as I try the coffee.

  “I like it. It tastes like regular coffee, but isn’t as strong.”

  “We have a certain way we make coffee in Costa Rica. We boil water and then pour it directly over a strainer that’s held up by a wooden stand which is called a chorreador.”

  “I didn’t realize they made it differently. Let’s try the chocolate.” We both take a sip, surprised by the taste. “What’s in this? It has a kick to it.”

  “A little cinnamon and some cayenne powder, I believe.”

  Ignacio offers us a nice farewell, and our time at the farm comes to an end.

  Which means, we’re going zip-lining.

  Adam

  About forty-five minutes after leaving the farm, we come to a stop at the edge of a tropical forest. Large trees and dense shrubs shoot out from the ground and a bright yellow building sits at the edge of this dense area.

  “Come on in,” Manuel says, directing us to follow him. The inside of the building is sparsely furnished, just a few wooden benches and a couple desks, but the entire back wall is covered with shelves containing bright blue helmets, ropes, and harnesses.

  Diego shakes the hand of a tall, young man who has on a yellow polo with an Arenal Adventures logo on it.

  “Please gather around.” He motions to us. “My name is Andrey, and I will be one of your guides for today’s zip-lining experience. Fernando will also be working with us.” He points to another man wearing a t-shirt and jeans. He’s shorter than Andrey and about ten years older. “We’ll go over safety and rules, then we’ll get you into your harnesses and out on the zip-lines. So first off, please always do as instructed when we are outside. Your safety is our top priority. After we get you into a harness, it will then be hooked onto the cable. When you are standing on the platform ready to take off, you will simply step off the platform. Once you are going, keep your knees tucked up, and before you know it you’ll be over to the other platform, where you just stand up. You’ll get to go on seven different zip-lines, the last one being a special swing.” I notice that even though Andrey is addressing the group, he’s mostly talking directly to Camille. “Now if you can form two lines, we will get you into your harnesses and ready to go.”

  Camille gets in line behind Vivianne and Floyd, with Jimmy behind her. I’m following Earl and Nancy.

  “You excited?” I ask her. “I’m going to hook my camera up so that I can get some great shots over the trees.”

  “Uh, yeah. Sounds great,” she says, not meeting my eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, sensing she’s upset.

  “I’m not sure about this whole zip-lining thing. Maybe I can just watch. I’m not a fan of heights. Actually, I’m not really scared of heights, more of plunging to my death.”

  “It really isn’t that bad. Diego was telling me last night that the cool thing about this is that you hike up to where you’re going to start, so it doesn’t seem that far down with all the trees under you.” I slide my hand across her shoulder, comforting her. “You will be strapped in securely.”

  Andrey steps between us, harness in hand. “Don’t worry,” he says smoothly. “I’ll make sure you stay safe.”

  As he squats down to help her put on her harness, I notice his eyes move slowly down her figure. I c
url my fists into a ball, wanting to punch him, especially when his hand lingers on her leg as he brings the harness up from around her feet. I cringe when she rests her hands on his shoulders for support. Once he finally gets it wrapped around her waist, he pulls on the hooks, checking that it’s tight.

  “You’re ready to go now, beautiful,” Andrey says, flirting with her. And, of course, he had to use the word I didn’t have the guts to say.

  “Thanks.” She blushes, eating the attention up and causing my blood to boil. “I’m not so great with heights.”

  “Ready, Camille?” I ask, standing next to her, trying to end their conversation.

  “Yup!” She smiles up at me. “Let’s do this!” She sounds confident, but I can tell she’s not.

  After everyone’s harnesses are on, we head out of the building.

  “We’ve got a little hike up to our first zip-lining point, but after that you’ll just go from one line to the next,” Fernando announces.

  Walking into the forest, the sun becomes blocked by the trees and everything darkens. Sounds of the living forest surround us, and it’s consuming. Birds dance in the trees and insects buzz past us. We come to a section that’s a little steep, but once we get up it we find our first platform showcasing a lookout spot over the top of the trees.

  “Who wants to go first?” Andrey asks, eyeing Camille.

  “Me!” Jimmy says, jumping up and down.

  “Alright, little man,” Andrey says, while Fernando gets up onto the platform. “I’m going first and will be at the other end waiting for you. Just remember to keep your feet tucked and once you’re over the platform just stand up. If you stop in the middle, just grab onto the cable like this,” he says, flipping his body around, “and pull yourself to my end.”

  He hooks himself onto the cable and zips to the end.

  “Wow, look at him go,” Jimmy says, excitedly tugging on Camille’s shirt.

  I notice Camille doesn’t reply.

  “You’re up, Jimmy,” Fernando says, and in a few moments Jimmy takes off over the trees, screaming the whole way.