The Red Plastic Chair

The Red Plastic Chair

It may be that after a significant traumatic event in our lives, we carry on - kind of unsure how we are doing day by day, step by step. We manage - and sometimes we look like we are doing just fine. And other times we notice that the can opener has been placed in the refrigerator. Or a name or word is forgotten. Or that we feel very vulnerable - close to tears for no apparent reason. I believe these are subtle effects of trauma, even PTSD.

On October 5, the entire country of Costa Rica was hit by its worst disaster in remembered history - Tropical Storm Nate. It sneaked in with heavy, non-stop rain for several days along with some wind. But the real calamity was that its heavy rainfall fell onto earth completely saturated from an almost twice normal rainfall for September. The earth just could not receive another drop. And so the countless drops that fell on the tops of this mountainous land ran down to join others, gathering momentum and might as they changed from rivulets and streams to become

courtesy of The Costa Rica Star

rivers, joining other rivers on their mad rush to the sea. Wherever the water couldn't be contained, there was massive flooding taking trees, livestock, homes, villages, bridges and anything else in its way. Suddenly there were landslides marking the slopes leaving major roads and highways blocked with mounds of liquified clay soil.  A distant photo of Costa Rica's crown jewel of biodiversity, Monteverde looked like the mountain was crying.  

That morning I lost the main part of my front yard along with the retaining wall that failed and all the grass and bougainvilleas and much loved trees. My damage was slight compared to so many others. But the horrific sounds and mounds of mangled steel, concrete and suddenly massacred life tore into my heart and lodged in my mind. For the next countless days and nights I would suffer some sort of PTSD, along with so many others - both Ticos and Gringos. 
 
The country is busy repairing, digging out, rebuilding bridges and roads and electric lines as this country does. With the help of Billy, my Tico neighbor and 'like a son', we cleared my neighbors' access drive below and have made plans for the new gavione retaining wall that will be built when the dry season begins - mid December.

This morning I stepped out to my front porch to enjoy the sunshine and noticed the red plastic chair I had placed the night before. I thought how strange that it looked so good in the morning light.  Back inside I scrolled through all the photos I had taken since the event - curious about where the chair had been throughout the past 24 days..before and after the landslide.

I wondered if the chair was a metaphor for me. 

On the morning of the crash the red plastic chair had been sitting near the edge, next to the bougainvilleas. It had been carried down to find its spot, resting on its back, halfway down the slope. The small red plastic stool was nearby.

Too dangerous to retrieve, I mostly pushed it out of my mind. It was, after all just an old, red plastic chair. 

After the access road below was cleared for my neighbors, Billy brought rolls of black plastic to place over the slope to protect it from further rain; further sliding.   One of the neighbors climbed up to hand the chair up to me. I thanked him and set it aside. After hosing the accumulated mud off its surface, I set it aside on a small patch of grass.

It appeared to silently watch from that place.

On the sidelines.

Billy tied the upper corners of the plastic sheeting to some anchors to hold it in place. It held for a week or so until one of the ties broke. 

Without thinking, I used the red plastic chair as a prop to hold up the edge and insure the continued rain run off.

The red plastic chair had become useful to the project. 

Though I felt relatively sure that the plastic would hold and protect the slope, I didn't feel good sitting out on my rocking chair front porch anymore. I had lost my privacy.  My well meaning neighbors  waved and shouted up to me as they passed below. They had an unencumbered view up to my porch and even into my house. 

About that time, my friend Jill came to visit and made a wonderful suggestion. What about hanging a low 'wall' of shade cloth across the yard? It would shield my view of the remaining wreckage below and the jagged edge of the broken yard. More importantly, it would provide privacy for me and my dogs. 

The following day Billy and I designed and he put the new privacy 'wall' in place while I directed from my rocking chair according to the view I wanted.  I had to be able to clearly view the twin steeples of the San Isidro church in the center plaza downtown.

The red plastic chair was again set aside. But that evening, just before the sun went down, I placed it in the corner of the yard next to the red leaves and infinity deck. And that is where I found it in the morning - with lovely sunshine and dancing shadows.  

It felt almost alive!

 

Tropical Storm Nate, October 2017

Tropical Storm Nate

Thursday, October 5, 2017

My house from above, 2014

For two days the rain drizzled and poured and my view from my front porch ended in a solid white cloud soup. I could see my front yard and the bougainvilleas we had so carefully planted along the edge of the retaining wall.  We were immersed in Tropical Storm Nate - our 42nd of the season. Nate kind of slid in unannounced and at first un named a couple of days ago (October 5) on the heels of persistent rain that just didn’t let up - all through September. So after several days of rain and clouds, the ground was saturated – and the last thing it needed was more rain.  That’s what Nate brought – heavy, sustained rain – all day and night.  I kind of didn’t get it – was down at La Princesa in the evening for dinner with Linda (owner of La Princesa) and Billy’s family – Eliza, Kimberly and Leislani. Yes it was raining, but oh well…    Then, during the night there was heavy wind, which is really unusual.  I got up several times to check on it, close any windows I could, and look out to see if everything looked okay.  I was uneasy.  By 3:30 a.m. I was up with a flashlight wondering about the crack in the newly planted grass – close to the gravel area we’d just finished as the final touch for the front yard. Bordered by bougainvilleas, it was so beautiful. Just in front of the incredible view over the valley of San Isidro de El General.But what about that crack in the grass area that seemed just a little lower than it had been the evening before. In the morning light I worried about it and wondered if the retaining wall looked just a little bit lower on one end.  I decided to wait until the rain let up a bit so I could walk down to see it from below – on my neighbor’s driveway access.  I fixed coffee and was sitting at my computer checking emails and Facebook when suddenly I heard a huge, unidentifiable sound – a roar.  The dogs started barking and because I didn’t have my hearing aid on yet, I looked to them to see the direction that caused their alarm. The front yard.  Opening the front door I simply stood in complete disbelief. Shock, actually.  Over half of the front yard – with the grass, the bougainvilleas, the gravel edging, the carefully tended gardenias and vines and the entire retaining wall was gone. It had all been pushed away and down onto the neighbor’s access driveway. Huge concrete and steel beams that had been anchored to the wall had been ripped out of the earth and were standing semi upright like totem poles. The steel fence along the neighbor’s driveway was mangled beneath the gigantic pile of spongy wet dirt. Even the base of stone filled gaviones had been rolled and pushed across the driveway. An avocado tree dangled at a precarious angle, still clinging to the part of the yard that remained. I simply stood and stared. 

Standing above on what was left of the grass yard - looking down.

The rest of that day - Wednesday was kind of blurry. I called Anita, who came up with Melany to see if it looked like there was more damage above. And then I called Billy who came up to see the damage, talk with my neighbors and begin the process of looking forward a bit to what we would do once the rains stopped. The first thing would have to be to clear the driveway below – and would require a backhoe and a dump truck to carry away the concrete. We’d try to save the stones for later use. At least there was a bit of an immediate plan – and we all had to wait for the rains to let up. It weighed heavily on me that my neighbors were trapped in their house below and that they had no electricity or phone because of my mudslide.

Meanwhile, all of Costa Rica was being hit hard by this storm, the likes of which no one could remember. The combination of a very wet September (over 50% above the normal rainfall) followed by such a slow moving (7 mph) Tropical storm simply drenched the soil all over this mountainous country. Over the day the reports just did not let up – several bridges in the San Isidro area were destroyed or damaged and unusable and trapped many people. Mudslides and landslides were everywhere – two on the road from my place down to Billy’s.  Suddenly no one could travel on the roads. Buses were trapped between mudslides on the Pan Am Highway and power poles crashed leaving large parts of the population without electricity. A dam failed that provided fresh water to most of the San Isidro residents – 35,000 people. The earliest they will get water is in a week. As the day continued there were more reports and the entire country declared a stage 4 emergency. Creeks became rivers and existing rivers overflowed and flooded.   By the days end, six people had died and over 5000 were evacuated to shelters. Airports, main roads and businesses closed. Though this tiny country didn’t make the news in the states, it was the only topic of conversation here.  Even the futbol game that would decide the playoffs was cancelled for Friday and re scheduled for Saturday.  (Though Costa Rica didn’t play well, we tied with Honduras which means we are in the World Cup!)

Though NOAA was predicting two or three more days until  ‘Nate’ moved north into Nicaragua, I tuned in to Windy.com – which was forecasting a different scenario, a more hopeful one. And sure enough, Friday the 6th dawned with sunshine and calm. At first light I reached for

the phone to call Billy, who was simultaneously calling me to say that he had already found a man with a back hoe and dump truck who could come do the work today, though he was a little more expensive than others. I replied ‘Yes – let’s do it now’, knowing that the government would be quick on this dry day to hire all available equipment and workers to clear roads and deal with country wide emergencies. They all arrived at 8:30 and for the next 9 hours worked non-stop.

One of our biggest issues was where to put the debris – that included the huge reinforced beams of concrete and steel ‘deadmen’ that had braced the existing wall by extending back into the yard nearly to my house as well as the steel fence and the six gaviones that failed to hold the base. (A gavione is a steel wire cage of approximately 3’ x 6’ containing tightly packed but loose river rocks).  Mixed in was all the slushy and slimy liquified clay mud along with my beautiful array of bougainvilleas, gardenias, birds of paradise and ginger. The nearest landfill was miles across town – and Billy again came to the rescue. He had just helped another neighbor with a mud clogged drainage pipe so he asked if we could dump the refuse on his land. We were given the permission that would save time and a lot of money.

Throughout the day the work continued and I spent my time answering emails, talking with my concerned sons by FaceTime and Skype and checking with Billy, who became a one person diplomat – taking with my neighbors, the backhoe operator and me. And of course I would be the one who paid for the work.  By the end of the day, the slope was scraped clear, the driveway was open and as day turned to night, the neighbors were putting up their temporary electricity and phone lines until they could get them better situated. Billy said he would go to the hardware store in town in the early morning to purchase plastic sheeting and plastic drain pipe to replace the broken pipe that carried water from my studio roof to the road – again to protect my neighbors below from heavy water runoff. It was done in a couple of hours and finally I was able to relax a bit. 

So how is it now?

With the slope protected by plastic (hopefully) and my neighbors with full access to their houses again, I am relaxing a bit and letting the shock abate before I do anything more.

I now have time to reflect…and plan.

I am thinking back to the many small decisions and mis steps that got me to this place  with a clear view down to my neighbors' driveway from my front door - once again. It wasn't always that way.

March, 2008 - day of purchase.

Back in 2008, when I bought the property – there was a good sized yard that extended from the house out to a steep slope down to my neighbor’s driveway. Then, just a few months before I left the states to move in, Tropical cyclone, Alma came in from the Pacific causing widespread damage throughout Costa Rica. About half of my front yard slid down onto my neighbor’s driveway. I was notified and of course I  sent money to have it removed.  A fence was built at the base of the slope and around the property for security and dog safety.  Plantings along the top of the slope provided some visual privacy from below, but it was difficult to maintain because of dogs clamoring up and down the slope, barking at neighbors and the neighbor dogs.  What to do?

2014 - after Frank's house was finished

In 2014 I finished Frank’s house, soon after he passed in March. Suddenly – the yard looked too constrained and I spoke to my builder Oscar about the yard. That’s when the word ‘level’ came up.  

I inquired about a level yard that extended out to the edge of Frank’s house and he agreed that he could build a level yard with a wall.  My view was a retaining wall  and the word ‘level’ to me meant horizontal, at the same level as the existing yard. His view was a sloping yard that sloped in a consistent or level or even fashion down to the neighbor’s driveway, where there would be a wall built. Translation differences and Tico engineering created the misunderstanding that was compounded by his need to go to Panama for work and leaving the makeshift gaviones to be filled by his son and another worker. Who didn’t. Work. Suddenly I understood that we had two very different views – and I halted it all. I hired others to complete what was begun on the existing base of gaviones. The first wall that was built failed soon after and I scurried to repair by hiring a new guy who had experience with retaining walls. Just then, Oscar returned from Panama and pleaded to repair the wall with ‘deadman’ anchors, a lot of concrete and steel and heavy reinforcement that

The beautiful yard...

would be tied and anchored back into the existing yard. Teetering on the edge of a decision to start over entirely or to allow Oscar to save face – I opted for Oscar. The result looked good and I loved the beauty with the border of bougainvilleas for two years. I especially loved the privacy. Now it has failed and I must start again. This time I am in no mood to do it without good advice and abilities.

From friends and Facebook acquaintances, I have received a lot of advice – and mostly to do with a favorite perennial grass that is known to prevent erosion - vetiver. While erosion control is so important and desirable, it is not my main design preoccupation.  I want my privacy back. I remember well before the wall and the yard – kind of like it is now – with barking dogs, a fence needed at the base, my neighbors below playing and waving from the driveway and how I had gradually retreated into my house for the quiet I craved.  So – we will wait for the dry season, coming up in a couple of months – and this time the retaining wall will be engineered, soils tested etc. This time it will be built to stay put–as much as is possible in a country that is nearly constantly in motion. 

I am remembering back – years ago, when I first met Frank who was visiting me at my house. Frank–a geologist and Canadian Expat with nearly 15 years of living in Costa Rica–simply smiled when I pointed to a crack in the summer season earth. I told him I was a bit concerned about the fact that it stretched across my yard parallel to the edge of the slope. 

His reply:  “Jan, do you not realize that everything on the mountain is very slowly moving towards the sea?”.  My response was “Oh”.

Now I get it. 

Stay tuned...I'll post more of the process....