Pixie in Paradise

(Disclaimer: this post involves description of animal preparation for meat purposes, not ritual. Read with caution).

On Saturday a dear friend took me to one of those big box stores (rhymes with “LostCo”) with grocery items in large quantities. I was very hesitant to embark on that field trip because of the sheer size of the store and its contents as well as the amount of people (and their energy) that would be in the store. The prospect of stepping into a place like that made me so anxious. He seemed intent and gracious enough to show me all of the options available to us in that store, so I took a  deep breath – outside, of course – and stepped in. The store looked just like I remembered it since the last time I’d been in one, ten years ago. I can’t completely fault a store that sells cargo pants by the truckloads on tables at the very front. I don’t give a shit if you’re the fashion police but when you live and travel the way I do, the only way to do it is with pockets all over your buns and legs.

I haven’t done much shopping this way for a while since there aren’t big chain stores in many of the places I lived in Central America. Sadly, there’s a lot of them in the capital city in Costa Rica but absolutely none in Belize. I can’t speak for the other places I traveled, as I was in smaller towns and more remote areas. Even the tourist areas were void of brand names I’d heard of, and I liked that – a lot. The only time I really appreciated a good chain store was when I spent the week in Escazú, Costa Rica, outside San Juan. It was a cold and windy first week in January compared to where I had been living my best life in the Caribbean. Missing the weather, the jungle, ocean and my cat, I found a huge bougie mall. I was merely trying to find a warm beanie cap and scarf but inadvertently left the store almost $200 later with a variety of clothing, all in shades of green. I love all of the items and have zero regrets about any of those purchases. Viva Zara!

We could not be more off topic at this point, if I tried. At the big box store I went nuts, blinded by all of the food items, new to me, that I wanted to try. I have been uncomfortable with keeping a lot of food in my house since returning. There’s so much excess here in our Western culture and I have never forgotten that I was happiest living out of a room or tiny casita, two suitcases and a backpack, and only having one or two shelves assigned to me for use in a refrigerator. That was how I was happiest. Truthfully, it was all of those things but when I had a refrigerator to myself – I sort of hated sharing that appliance with strangers. Other than that, I was never happier in any time of my life. 

We’re still off topic. At the big store last weekend I purchased a lot of items and because they come in a large quantity package it was really overkill. How am I going to eat 30 pounds of spinach before it goes bad? It didn’t quite weigh 30 pounds, but these bags and boxes of produce, cheese, cereals and such, are just gigantic for a household of one small human and a three-legged cat (and Pesto didn’t even get anything). I got dazzled perusing in the coolers and somehow a large netted bag of fresh clams made its way home with me. I know why: I do enjoy eating seafood, but also miss the ocean. Truth be told, I suspect part of me thought the clams were going home to each get named and live in a big salty bowl at my house, rather than the pasta with white wine sauce, lemon and parsley they eventually ended up in.

It actually pains me to write that, if I’m being honest. Here’s the deal: I do eat meat. I’ve tried not eating meat for various reasons and my body so swiftly rejects that notion that I know never to try to be vegan again. Since living abroad I eat a LOT less meat than I used to and much less red meat. I also developed some quirks and I try to never eat pork anymore, and rarely shrimp. Also there isn’t much (gulp) rice in my diet, but we are going to have to unpack that one for a later time. Perhaps it will need an entire chapter since rice is such a huge staple in the Caribbean.

Back to these clams. You have to soak fresh, live clams for 20 minutes in salted water for them to spit out sand and other impurities. During that time you can see their precious little shells open a teeny bit and sometimes bubbles will escape to the surface. They are indeed alive during this stage of preparation. This is not a surprise to me. I grew up on a farm and even though I wasn’t around to see animal slaughter for our food, I came close. When our whole family and my grandparents would occasionally butcher chickens, we sort of did it in an assembly line. I never fully saw what happened around the back of the shed but I suspect my grandma – the feisty one that I take after – was wringing the necks. I must have been around eight or nine years old and my job was always to reach into each butchered and plucked bird carcass and pull out the gizzards. Seriously. But that didn’t really faze me because it was part of my life. Living on a farm I knew where meat came from but that also didn’t stop me from making friends with, and talking to, every animal I met.

When I got to Costa Rica animal magnetism took over me instantly. The first place I lived was so close to the mountains that the howler monkeys sounded loud and thunderous, very close by. It’s the most powerful, enchanting noise I’ve ever heard. I miss it every day, and suspect that I will spend the rest of this lifetime trying to get back to places where I can watch, and be serenaded by, howlers each day.

Other tropical animals appeared instantly: fuzzy, furry, creepy, crawly and many times, poisonous. I’ll never forget sitting at a restaurant on the beach having breakfast and I looked to my right as a huge orange iguana was coming off of the roof and crawling towards me. The orange ones are male and can be a bit aggressive. This guy looked like he meant business so I did not invite him over for a mimosa.

I watched in awe, of all the living creatures during my time in Central America. They were so wildly different than those I’d lived around for most of my life. The land itself there was so nurturing and it felt like she – Madre Tierra – held all of us in equal balance. I still squashed a few mosquitoes because they could be very deadly in what diseases they carried in those regions, but I even have videos of me gently coaxing roaches out of my houses, rather than smashing them. Spiders, lizards and even those poisonous frogs cruised around the interiors of my domiciles. I rescued at least a couple of big beautiful beetles out of the swimming pool and scared a couple of guests one day while conversing with some tiny black birds. I was not aware that two precious guests were hidden behind our gorgeous foliage, sitting outside their room one morning, as I walked in their direction to turn off the nighttime lights. I walked up to a large flowering tree where two tiny birds had landed on the same branch, and proceeded to tell the birds how cute they were and asked them how their day was going. Taking five steps further, I saw the guests, looking a little confused. I laughed so hard and explained that I was talking to a couple of birds beyond their door. They both laughed and smiled and said that was something they both would do too, and that I was “their kind of people.”

Animals hold so much power, though they aren’t all perceived as domesticated or higher thinking beings, as humans might be, but I believe that animals truly hold a bulk of the power and energy. Quite frankly, we’re lucky they haven’t banded together to kick our asses. Non-human animals are so divinely created and purposed – as we are, but I’m in much more awe of them than us. I always have been and even more so now since living in the jungle, and near the ocean of the Caribbean Sea. Pure magic.

This is why I think I found myself scrubbing each clam in my sink and apologizing that I made the decision to “adopt” a bag of them. I thanked them for their beauty and sacrifice, so that I might have sustenance. To be honest I actually think I also thanked them for their service, as if they were about to strap on military parachutes and be dropped onto a battlefield. If only they had a chance of survival like that. Instead, I placed them in a huge pot of boiling water. In the end, some of them opened, some of them didn’t and I felt like this was not a purchase that made me happy. 

I get it: I buy meat and seafood at the store all of the time. It’s packaged up and sometimes frozen, but I don’t feel the need to have a conversation with it. I do, however, give thanks to the spirit in it that was sacrificed to provide the meal in front of me each time. That also started once I moved to Costa Rica. There’s some real enchantment and magic happening in that beautiful part of the globe, connecting humans with the rest of the living world. I can’t wait to get back and fully immerse myself into it, to see what more there is to discover by observing and interacting with the power and beauty that surrounds me there. For now, I just have 20,000 images and videos on my phone of the time spent there, most of which are of the flora and fauna that surrounded me. During that time I did anything from try to perform CPR on a drowned beetle to petting a howler monkey and watching someone assist a sloth crossing the street. For someone who relies so heavily on the healing power of interacting with animals, Central America was exactly what I needed when I needed it. I probably won’t stop eating clams but it may be a while before I try to Michelin-star chef any shellfish in my own kitchen again – let someone else do it!