Diary: El Cajón de Grecia, November, 2016

The rainy season usually ends around the middle of November, but this year instead Costa Rica experienced its first hurricane in recorded history. I wrote a poem about it. It’s long – but at the end, you’ll find another translation of a poem by the extraordinary Costa Rican poet Rosibel Morera, followed by a little poem about a scorpion, accompanied by a photo.

Thanksgiving storm

November 14

An area of disturbed weather develops in the southwest Caribbean off the Golfo de Los Mosquitos. Sea surface temperatures are very warm, around 29 – 30°C, about 1°C above average for this time of year.

Rainfall in El Cajón de Grecia: 0.4 mm

November 15

The low pressure area in the Caribe is pulling moisture from the Pacific and dumping it back over the Valle Central.

52.0 mm of rain.

November 16

Again lots of rain: 50.0 mm.

November 17

The area of disturbed weather, meandering erratically, is now dubbed Invest 90L.

But only 4.1 mm of rain.

November 18

Shower and thunderstorm activity in the vicinity of 90L has decreased a bit, though the storm now has plenty of spin.

24.0 mm of rain.

November 19

Invest 90L continues to have plenty of spin in its surrounding envelope, but no low-level center of circulation.

30.8 mm of rain.

Morning light mist
wind-driven veils
a spectrumed arc
trees stand waving
wild appreciation.

November 20

Invest 90L continues its leisurely development. Cold front #5 moves in from the north, favoring an increase in los vientos alisios (trade winds).

20.2 mm of rain.

Humans on the hillside
don seldom-used sweats
shelter behind glass
the dogs chase outside
no mind cold and wet.

November 21

The storm has now become Tropical Depression 16, sitting and spinning over very warm water.

Only 0.4 mm of rain.

All the long week
winds spin cyclonic
sea running warm
the long hot year

November 22

The storm is now named Tropical Storm Otto just short of hurricane threshold. The storm is expected to make landfall on the coast of southern Nicaragua or northern Costa Rica on Thursday. A storm of Otto’s expected strength has never made landfall so far south in the Caribbean, and there is no record of any hurricane or tropical storm striking Costa Rica.

Only 0.1 mm of rain today.

Hundreds of swifts
swirl with clouds
driven deep down
the mountain gorge.

November 23

Otto strengthens to a Category 1 hurricane, the latest hurricane ever to form in the Caribbean. The eyewall then collapses, Otto once again a tropical storm.

Rainfall: 21.9 mm

November 24

Otto has strengthened to a Category 2 storm with top sustained winds of 110 m/h (111 mph is Category 3). At 1:00 pm Otto makes landfall just north of the Costa Rica border and San Juan de Nicaragua (formerly Graytown) as the latest Category 2 Atlantic hurricane ever recorded and as the southernmost hurricane landfall on record for Central America. Otto crosses into Costa Rica at Los Chiles at about 3:30 pm, still at hurricane strength. Around midnight Otto reemerges over the Pacific at tropical storm strength and becomes the first storm on record to carry the same name while moving from the North Atlantic to the Northeast Pacific or vice versa (there have been twelve earlier crossover storms, but the National Hurricane Center has since changed its naming practices).

Impacts of the storm in El Cajón de Grecia are negligable.

Between the landfall of Hurricane Alex in the Azores in January and Otto’s landfall in Central America this week, 2016 sets a new record for the most prolonged calendar-year hurricane season in Atlantic history.

Rainfall: 28.5 mm

Thanksgiving dinner Marcia and Dave’s
light mist falling wind still
table outside covered from wet
Jasmin pours old folks
her young artist dreams.

Aftermath

In Costa Rica, nine people were killed by Otto, five in the Alajuela canton of Upala and four in Bagaces, Guanacaste. Hundreds of communities suffered damage, mostly due to landslides and overflowing rivers.

In Nicaragua, many homes were destroyed but no casualties were reported.

Otto caused four deaths in Panama before the storm made landfall. Days later, five more are still listed as missing.

Birds of the forest
butterflies of the flowers
names unknown
numbers uncounted

El Encuentro

Y yo salí a buscar luciérnagas
alguna maravilla que aún no tuviera nombre
llego y descubro tu soliloquio de risas
conversadas a pasitos de agua por dentro
tu risa de buenaventura
de amaneceres aún inconsultos
que, escondida, enmarañada y huraña
he obligado a venir.

Me permites rondar y auscultar
sin sorpresa, sin murmullo, sin protesta.

No me atrevo a decir
pero apunto el verde hondo de tus tonalidades
la rezuma de tu nombre vegetal
y ese coto de pensamientos
como antenas por las que circulara
un agua eléctrica de los espíritus.

Displicente
recoges los amores que se te profesan
en esa agua de la consumación
de la germinación
de tu espejo de fuentes prismáticas
donde todo refleja
se sostiene
y se anuncia.

The Encounter

And I went out to look for fireflies
some marvel that had yet no name
I stumble across your soliloquy of laughs
gurgles of little waterfalls engladed
your laugh of good luck
of dawns yet to be met
such that, reclusive, messed up and withdrawn
I had to step forth.

You let me prowl around ear to the ground
without surprise, without murmur, without protest.

I dare not say it
but I take note of your deep green tones
the manifestation of your vegetative glory
and that sanctuary of pensies
like antennas through which circulate
an electrical water of the spirits.

Indifferent
you gather the lovers that adore you
in that water of consummation
of germination
of your mirror of prismatic springs
where everything reflects
stands up
and promises to be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Who sings for the scorpion

A Centruroides scorpion
crawls out of the cactus
heads for the front door
dark in armor
telson curled in
pedipalps spread wide.

This scorpion sting hurts
skin tight and burning
but little swelling
nothing systemic
and after a short while
fades to nothing.

Look back far enough
he’s our brother
or sister, can’t tell
more innocent than we
more deserving of love
of romantic ballad.

Who’ll write the song
one to us so ugly
fearsome, menacing
though we’re the ones
that spray him with poison
smash with a boot.