¨Jimmy Stuff¨

The reader may need to be reminded that all dialogue has, in fact, been roughly translated from ¨Campo¨ Spanish to English.

¨Who the hell is that?¨, I exclaimed.

´That´s ¨Jimmy Stuff¨´, my Host-Dad replied knowingly.

As we were sitting on our front porch, an elderly man carrying a giant garbage bag slung over his shoulder, was ambling towards us, shouting at the sky and berating various trees/birds. He wore knee-high rubber boots, which are very common here, except for the fact that his were astonishingly white instead of the standard black. He also had a chest length white beard and a blue cap with an abnormally long yellow bill.

¨Why do they call him Jimmy Stuff?¨, I asked, a little uneasy.

¨You see that big garbage bag he´s carrying? Its all full of different stuff he´s picked up while walking around the country.¨

¨Whoa, WALKING around the country???

¨Ya, he walks from town to town, living on the food and clothing that people give him. He´s been all over Costa Rica and parts of Panama and Nicaragua, I think¨, he said nonchalantly.

¨Well, where is he from?¨, I inquired.

¨He´s not FROM anywhere. I heard that he had a brother up North, but I think that he died. Regardless, he´s quite crazy.¨

Jimmy Stuff ended up coming up to our house and chatting with us for a while. I couldn´t really understand much of what he was saying, and I don´t think my Host-Dad could either. We ended up just nodding our heads a lot while easing back and forth in our rocking-chairs. At dinner time, my Host-Dad brought Jimmy Stuff a big plate of rice and beans which he ate ravenously, half with his hands, and half with the spoon. Later in the night, my Host-Dad was still talking to Jimmy Stuff as I went to bed.

The next morning, Jimmy Stuff had left our town, but I learned that he had stayed the night in our corral with all of the cattle. Apparently, he sleeps outside everywhere he goes, and never stays more than 3 nights in one place. He never causes any trouble, and I don´t think he would have stayed any longer even if we had asked him to. Not to get all Peace Corps. on you, but this just reinforces the stereotype of how kind and open the Ticos (Costa Ricans) are. I doubt that you could travel around America dressed and speaking crazily, and have people treat you with kindness and hospitality. Not to say that there aren´t some places where they might take you in, but most assuredly not everywhere. Sometimes it feels like I´m living in the United States of the 40´s or 50´s where everyone was a lot more trusting, and life was a lot more simple. At least that is my view of the 50´s from watching reruns of ¨Lassie¨.

On a more hilarious note, I had noticed that my Host-Dad says ¨¡Caramba!¨ a lot in situations where we (you and I) would normally shout our favorite English expletive. A few nights ago, I finally decided to look the word up in the dictionary to find out how foul of a curse it really was. Here is what I found:

¡Caramba! interj Good Gracious!

GOOD GRACIOUS??? I could not believe that as this 6 ´2 giant of a man stabs a pig in the throat with a machete and gets blood splattered all over his face and clothing, he exclaims, ¨Good Gracious!!!¨ Perhaps some things are just better left untranslated. That´s all for now, compañeros. More to come directly...