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¡Idita-Rica!

Thousands of miles apart and connected by a spotty satellite Internet connection in rural Costa Rica, I still obsessively followed this year’s Iditarod. A congratulations goes out to Kotzebue’s John Baker for winning this year’s race in record time. It was great that a musher from Western Alaska crossed underneath the Burled Arch first.

Never during the four years I covered the race for the Anchorage Daily News did I expect to follow it from where I am today – a hot, humid climate where people never use meteorologists to predict weather forecasts or dogs for outdoor recreation. Over lunch one day, I tried to explain the Iditarod to a few of my colleagues at school. I didn’t have my computer, which has Iditarod videos and pictures, so it was difficult for them to truly wrap their heads around Alaska’s biggest winter sporting event.

Most people in our community have never experienced snow or felt temperatures less than 55-60 degrees, so the most commonly-asked question Megon and I receive is, “How cold is Alaska?” Now that I know the Celsius scale, I tell them “In winter, anywhere between ___ and ___,” which is usually followed by a “¡Qué loco!”

All of you in the North will think we’re crazy for thinking this, but looking at all those pictures of Fur Rondy, Iditarod, Tour of Anchorage – and even that blizzard in Chicago – brought good memories and made us miss playing in the snow … just a little.  

A Miracle on Otoya Street

Speaking of dogs ... Our friend down the road who runs the pulpería owns two really sweet dogs named Tremendo (Tremendous) and Gripe (Flu). Tremendo, a brown and white squatty mutt with lots of energy, and Gripe, a large and fluffy malamute who wishes he lived in a cooler climate, are best of friends. They travel everywhere together, sleep next to one another, protect the pulpería together, and greet us with wagging tails every day looking for a belly rub or just a soft pat on the head.

One night after our community class was dismissed, Tremendo made one of the worst decisions a rain forest dog could make – he bit into a toad.

Toads around here aren’t your normal toads. If threatened, toads defend themselves by secreting poisonous milk. If swallowed, a slow and painful death is almost certain.

After we locked everything up for the night at school, which is directly across the street from the pulpería, we saw a small crowd of people hovering over a dog.

We got a closer look and saw it was Tremendo having convulsions. The poison was attacking his nervous system. Megon and I couldn’t bare to watch, so we went home.  Later that night our host brother told us Tremendo was dead. Megon went into our room and bawled. Our little buddy, who would greet us every day, was dead.

Before his owner “fed him to the vultures,” Megon and I went back later that night to pay our respects. Come to find out, he wasn’t all the way dead. His body was still twitching, kind of like a beached salmon. Apparently, his owner tried to save his life with the only cure for poisonous toads: raw egg, milk and lemon juice. The next day Tremendo was a bit dazed and confused (we caught him sitting in some random driveway just staring into space), but alive. Today, he is back to his normal self. We proclaimed it a miracle! 

A Wednesday night walk

Question: What do Megon and Kevin receive as gifts from neighbors when they go for a leisurely walk one Wednesday evening in their quiet neighborhood of Otoya?

Answer: An enormous papaya, two earrings made of the feathers of a rooster named José, four homemade cookies, two glasses of fresh coconut juice, and a wedding invitation.

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