T-minus 17 hrs

til lift off!
I had been studiously avoiding making any friends in Quepos (besides Loren at Aroma) because, who cares anymore? For the past 2 days, when not at the coffeeshop, I´ve reading in a hammock, keeping to myself - until this morning when I couldn´t help myself and made friends with a group of kids (everyone is SO YOUNG here). Just spent a few hours at the beach with them, which was highly preferable to the day I had previosuly planned of reading weeks-old issues of Newsweek by the hostal pool until I had to catch my bus.
Lemme say something about this hostal: I don´t know if it´s really as grimy as I think it is, or if its just 5 weeks of travel talking, but the place is a semi-dump. I picked it because it was SUPER-cheap and looked like it was trying to imitate my Santa Elena pension. I think it´s the notices about bed bugs that are up in the rooms (along the lines of "They exist and are a fact of life. Use the sheets provided to keep from infesting yourself and our beds.") or that fact that I´ve seen more floating poo in the last 2 days than I have in the last 5 weeks put together - actually, go ahead and make it my entire life. There are notices up about the temperamental nature of the plumbing system as well, but when 4 out of 6 toilets are, ahem, soiled and unuseable before noon, I think the problem is slightly bigger than your average place. No other establishment I´ve stayed at had NEARLY the poo problem that this one does. And if you will remember from my earlier, toilet-obsessed blog entries, this is actually pretty important to me. (I´d like to note that my dreamy coffee place has the best bathroom in the entire country, so I can´t blame Quepos as a city. The restroom doesn´t even have a trash can in it. It has a flush-only policy. And great potty deoderizer, nice soap, and a hand drier that could lift a hot air balloon if I turned the thingie the right way.)
I´ll stop now. I´m even grossing myself out.
I´ve been thinking about these last 5 weeks and things I´ve learned about myself, Costa Rica, people, life...
- Vendors here hate making change for large bills, which is unfortunate because when you change money the banks pay you back in the largest bills they can. I tried to pay for 1,150 colones worth of pet food for Baxter Dupree with a 10,000 colon note and the girl literally rolled her eyes and shook her head at me. This would be perhaps the 57th time that had happened to me. What I learned? Break all your bills at the grocery. They have the change. They hate to do it too, but they are fully capable. I can´t count how many times I bought a 50 cent bottle of water or popsicle with what equated to a $20 bill.
- Learning how to surf hurts. I know I´ve talked about this ad nauseum, but what I learned is when you know how to surf you don´t get hurt as much (barring catastrophes beyond your control, like Les´accident). It´s a duh statement, but those last few days of surfing, the most I got was severe water in my ear or broken skin from rock scrapes which are unavoidable. When I realized I wasn´t bruising anymore, it indicated to me that I was actually finally controlling the board instead of letting it control me. That was a pretty cool aha! moment.
- If you´re a single girl traveling, its easiest to make friends with the following: (listed in order of ease) groups of guys, other single girls, single guys, couples, and finally groups of girls. Groups of girls are catty and exclusive - I know, I´m usually one of them. In the future, I hope I remember how lonesome I felt sometimes when I was traveling and will, in turn, reach out to that solo girl if or when I see one.
- I am both cooler and not as cool as I thought. Cooler: I have more patience with insects, set-backs (the crying fit in San Jose notwithstanding), and being dirty (the cold water showers don´t encourage a thorough washing. It´s been 4 days since I washed my hair) than I anticipated. I´m also more comfortable alone than I was the last time I traveled solo, which was my jaunt through Europe 7 years ago. Not as cool: I´m more sensitive to heat than I thought. I´m from Texas for God´s sake, but there was something about the heat in Costa Rica that, unless I was in some sort of direct wind or breeze, I found absolutely unbearable. ALSO. I am FAR more Type A, not only than I´ve ever admitted to being, but than I even suspected myself to be. I don´t mind that I need to have a plan, but I´ve had to come to terms with the fact that I have to keep moving to be happy. The stop and start of bus rides makes me want to pull my hair out and scream. I walk extremely fast, and I hate, HATE slowing down to maneuver through a crowd. If I feel stuck someplace, like I felt sometimes in Barrio Jesus, I have to physically pull myself out of my pain cave and get a change of scenery.
- Costa Rican food sucks. Well, after 2 weeks of typical food, it sucks. It´s bland and heavy. I never thought I would get tired of bread, but I am TIRED of bread. I don´t want to see or smell fried chicken for the rest of this year. I absolutely don´t want to see ketchup and mayo mixed together until the next time I get pommes frites in Amsterdam. Ketchup and mayo together over salad? I really don´t ever want to see that again. Poor abused lettuce.
- Costa Rican drinks are awesome. What a genius country to blend fresh fruit, water, and ice! Its easy and amazingly refreshing!! I LOVE IT.
- Ticos are breath-takingly beautiful. I noticed it more in the central valley since it was more Tico than tourist, but riding the bus surrounded by all that gorgeous, natural, beautiful dark skin and eyes...made me feel like the pasty honky I am.
- There isn´t anything I can´t handle. From surfing to missing buses to suffering through (this is going to sound bad) a futball game by reciting the movie "Heathers" from start to finish in my head, mosquitoes, heat sickness, inadvertently stepping on insects the size of my palm, wearing clothes until they actually beg me for a day off... I can endure and succeed through anything.
I guess that´s what this trip was about, wasn´t it?
Those of you who read along, I hope it was as fun for you to read as it was for me to write. Thanks to everyone for your support and love. I gotta go shower (and MAYBE wash my hair) and catch the bus that brings me (to the airport to wait for 10 hours, to board the plane, to connect in Miami, to catch my flight...) HOME!
Pura Vida!

Couldn´t resist one last picture. Our room and boards in Dominical. Something about it says "Goodnight, John Boy" to me...it´s just me being sentimental.

Sorry Bobo...

No monkeys.
(A quick explanation: Bobo is a character Dayne created who loves monkeys. Loves. In all ways possible.)
I woke up this morning at 430am. Why? A GD rooster directly outside the dorm window cock-a-doodling. First it was every 10 minutes. Then it was every 5. Then every 2. Then I (mentally) cried uncle and got up at 530.
It rained all morning - the crazy thunderclapping, wild lightening kind. In the eye of the storm I dutifully headed to Manuel Antonio. Once I got there, the sky opened up again for another hour or so. It wasn´t the rain that cut my visit to the park short, it was the fact that my flip flops finally broke. I had unwisely left my dorm wearing only my sandles, fully aware that they were on their last legs. I hiked as far as I cold barefoot, but once I got to the rock trail I had to throw in the towel. Thankfully, I was able to kill sometime taking pictures and out of the blue, the rain let up for long enough for me to get a good fat hour of sun on the beach.
Terrified of getting burned (closer to the equator, blah, blah), I headed back to Quepos, back to my beloved movie-showing coffee shop for a few hours on caffeine and suger-fueled writing.
Last night, I made it back there (it´s called Aroma, I finally deciphered) the the evening movie which was The Fountian. The screening room was envy inspiring and the air-conditioning and white chocolate chunk brownie was beyond decadent. Tonight, it´s a Pedro Almodavar movie, so you know I have to catch that! And tomorrow? I catch the late bus (5pm) to the airport! My plan is to sleep there because my plane is so bloody early I´d have to wake up at 3am anyway. For some reason, I´m excited about sleeping in the airport. Its a really nice airport, plus its got the whole deserted mall appeal (anyone seen Night of the Comet or the newer Dawn of the Dead? I picture it like that, but not nearly as fun or exciting. It would be so cool to get to play in a deserted mall though...)

Bye-bye Baxter

It was my last sunset stroll on the beach and who should scare the hell out of me but Baxter!
(Formerly Dupree, a couple who recently checked into surf camp named him Baxter and I had to admit, the name was a much better fit for him, so Baxter it is.)
I was so happy to get to spend my last evening with him! We took a couple more pictures together and I got to feed him the biscuits I was now in the habit of keeping in my pocket. He even stayed with me as I decided to explore this random street that as far as I can tell leads to nowhere. I walked as far as I could before I reached an impossibly huge puddle and had to turn around. It was cute; he shadowed me by about 2 feet the whole way home - I think he was uncomfortable with the unlit stretch of deserted road. The last I saw of Baxter was this morning as I waited for the bus to Quepos. He was down the road about a block, and though I whistled to him he stayed away (ever the elusive stray, he actually never responded to my prior whistles or calls, so this last scene isn´t as sad or poignant as I´m painting it).
A note about the huge puddle blocking the way: Normally it wouldn´t phase me to walk through a deep puddle, but I found out the awesome surf cuts I got on my foot are infected. I had a discussion with my instructor about how dirty or clean LA surf is and he upheld the LA surf is cleaner than Costa Rica surf because of how freezing cold it is. In Costa Rica the water is so warm, all sorts of little ickies live and swim in it...hence my infection. Its gross and it really hurt for a while, but since I started cleaning it religiously and have been out of the ocean for over 24 hrs, it actually feels a little better.
I endured another 4ish hours on a hot bus to get to Quepos. There really isn´t much here, I think its basically a less expensive place to stay for tourists going to Manuel Antonio National Park than the city of Manuel Antonio. I´m back in a shared dorm room with no air-conditioning, but at least I chose a top bunk directly under a huge ceiling fan.
The place has free internet (bonus) which is where I discovered I had been exposed for the brat I am by Mike, the guy who ran the hotel in Dominical. I guess he somehow found my blog, read my snarky remarks, and responded in the comments section. I´m leaving the posts up both out of fairness to him and also as a reminder to myself that there is no such thing as privacy on the internet. I´ve come to think of this blog as personal information meant only for my close friends and family, but of course, in publishing them, technically they are available for the world to see - I just never thought anyone would give a rat´s ass so I assumed I was safe. Since I uphold my opinions as personal, I don´t feel the need to apologize. But obviously I felt the need to explain myself, so I do feel like a jerk.

Bygones.

I was walking around Quepos today and I found the loveliest coffee and sweets shop. It´s run by the sweetest man from the Dakotas. He bakes fresh cookies and brownies every day and every night he shows current movies in a small screening room. I introduced myself and told him to get used to me; although I´m only going to be in town for 2 days, I warned him he would be seeing a lot of me and to prove it I bought myself some goodies and settled in with a used book I had just bought at the neighboring shop. Since I´m literally counting colones trying to stretch them out until I go home in less than 72 hours (!!!!!!!!), I figure reading in a quaint little shop with a nice breeze is about as cheap as it can get.
Tomorrow I put in my time at Manuel Antonio. I hear from everyone I meet that it´s not to be missed, but honestly now that I´m in the home stretch, I´m a little touristed out. It´s all but an obligatory stop really, though I´ve been assured that not only will I see monkeys, I may be sick of the little guys after a day in the park. And since I have yet to see even one in the country...bring ém on!

Just Me and Dupree

So on Day 3 Leslie, Stella and I went back out to the beach in the afternoon to surf the white water. Our friends, Jennifer, Henry and Emily, came by to watch and I noticed this black dog with them. There are a ton of strays all over Costa Rica and Dominical is no different, other than the strays here at least look well fed. The dog stuck with the kids the whole time we were on the beach and even escorted us back to the hotel, 2 blocks away.
The next afternoon, the girls and I headed back to the beach to practice but because there was a lightening storm rolling in, we sat on the beach and just watched the surf for a while. With a huff and a plop, who joins us on the sand but the same black stray. He was all black with some white freckles on his front paws and face and he was disgusting. Dirty, smelly, infested with fleas. When he wasn´t walking around, he couldn´t sit still. He was either scratching, chomping a flea on his back, or licking himself. But there was something about him...he was really endearing. I named him Dupree.
From then on, everytime we would walk through town Dupree would find us and walk with us. No matter how random, Dupree was there. We never encouraged him with food or by petting him, he just loved us. Finally, the day Stella left, Leslie and I went out to catch the sunset and there was Dupree again. He was being almost overprotective as he ushered us home. Once we were back to our room, Dupree made sure we got inside before he plopped down with his now familiar huff on our front step and stayed there for hours. Leslie and I finally caved and fed him.
The next morning Leslie left Dominical, and from then on it was just me and Dupree. He kept me company that morning as I walked around solo for the first time in a week, seriously missing my girls. I went so far as to buy Dupree real pet food, but of course I now haven´t seen him in a day. I walked around last night with dog biscuits in my pocket waiting for him to show, but nada. Tonight is my last night in Dominical and I´m hoping to run into him for one last scratch.
Today I had my last ride-along with the surf camp and it was a great one. The surf was pretty hard at first, and I did something I hadn´t done in the entire week of taking lessons - I panicked. I´ve been yanked underwater more times than I can count, thrown around, hit with my board, spun out of control but I never panicked until today. It wasn´t even a big deal, but I was trying to get around a wave and it was a lot stronger than I anticipated. My board yanked my left shoulder out of socket (it felt like it anyway) and I was shoved underwater in a dead spin. I swam and swam and still couldn´t see the surface light under my eyelids and thats when I started to panic. A second later I was out and fine, but the panicking spooked me so much I walked out to the sand to catch my breath.
I went back out to join the boys and I was pleased that they were pleased to see me back out. And then? I caught a wave. And then? I caught another. And then? I caught one without even trying. (Sometimes they just need to be surfed, I guess.) When I say I caught a wave, I don´t mean to imply that I surfed a wave all the way in - I´m not Stella for God´s sake. I mean, I caught a wave from the outside, stood up, and rode it for 3 or 4 seconds - and I´M VERY HAPPY WITH THAT!! All I wanted was to get better from the outside, and since my time to beat was probably somewhere in the 1 second region, I am over the moon with what I did today!! There was a girl out surfing too, not with our group but close enough to watch, and she said as I stood on my board I was blowing my nose into my hand. Pretty cool, huh?
Mike, the guy who runs the hotel we were in is trying to talk to me. We have an interesting past. When I arrived a week ago, I have never hated anyone more. Ask Leslie and Stella - it was their job to keep us separated. But when Leslie had her accident, he actually came through without being a pain in the ass, condescending, or completely useless. Since then, I´ve tried to treat him with a bit more respect, along with a little flirting (as much as I can stomach without retching), and it is actually sort of civil. He lets me keep using the internet for cheap, so thats cool.
Here´s a few more pictures...

Dupree in all his testical licking glory.



He´s such a heart breaker, it makes me forget I´m a cat person.



A 2 second pause in stratching, he´s actually a pretty handsome dog.

"I´M VERY HAPPY WITH THAT!"

Surfing. Dominicalito. Day 4.
I float out in the ocean beyond the break with my surfing instructor and 2 of my best friends. I lay flat on my board and begin to baby paddle into position. Here comes one. My instructor holds on to the back of my board until she begins to instruct. "Paddle. Paddle, paddle. Paddle, paddle, paddle, paddlepaddlepaddlepaddlePADDLEPADDLEGETUP! UP!" My arms ache, I paddle as fast as I can, feel the water pick me up, try to pop onto my board like I was taught, instead of looking like Kelly Slater I think I may resemble Donkey Kong, but I´m up! And half a second to 2 seconds later I fall. And what do I shout out to my instructor?
"I´m very happy with that!"
Because I am! It´s not a mantra, though it sounds like one. I explained to Jenny, our lead instructor, that I achieved far more than I ever expected given my background. I don´t like deep water. I´m a little terrified of the ocean. Oh, and? I´m not a terribly strong swimmer. Why, oh why, did I ever even consider surf camp, then? It sounded like so much fun, I forgot I was scared.
Day 4 was the day. I had a great day -
though I did rip up my foot really early in the class on my fin.
We had so much fun, Stella, Leslie and I went back out that afternoon to surf more. There was lightening over the water and a storm was rolling in, so we didn´t stay out too long.
Day 5 was our last official lesson and more of the same. I think I got up a couple of times, but never for more than a few seconds, but- I´m very happy with that!
Stella left on Day 6 which sucked. Leslie and I missed her madly! The three of us went out and surfed one last time together at 630a that morning. Our consolation though, was our instructors let us ride along on that day´s lesson. We still had our boards, and the ride, but no instruction. Almost my entire class did the ride-along. I had an okay day, but the surf was really choppy and tough to take. Leslie, Stephanie (natural surfer so I was inclined to be jealous of her, but she was too nice and I ended up liking her and her husband Andres a lot), and I got out of the water for a while and then decided to surf the white water on the inside. Our time was almost up on the beach when Leslie called out to me. I looked back at her and...didn´t get it. Her hand was on her left cheek. She moved her hand. Bright, crazy, horror movie blood was running down her face! I could tell she was dazed and in shock. I yelled at her to take off her leash, I would get her board, she had to get out of the water. While I tried to reign in both her board and mine (um, other surfers on the beach did NOTHING to help me. BOOO.), Les ran back to the van for the towel. By the time I got back to the van, Stephanie and Andres were back from the water and helping. Leslie had seen the gash in the reflection of the van window, so we couldn´t pretend it wasn´t bad. It was bad. The gash was on her left cheekbone and extremely deep. Andres hijacked the surf van and drove us back to town. He dropped us off at what we thought was the doctor´s office. Turns out it was a block or so down, so Les and I walked. The only doctor in town had a patient already, so she and I had to wait. I was terrified. I knew Leslie was hanging on to consciousness by sheer force and all I could think to do was quiz her on different mixed drinks because she used to be a bartender. Not too much later the doctor saw us and 30 minutes later Leslie had 7 stitches on her cheekbone. She was so brave - I was the one who kept almost crying.
Know what else? We still had a full day. Steph and Andres met us at the Doctor´s office (I TOLD you they were so nice!) and after regrouping at the hotel, we had a late lunch. Then Les and I souvenir shopped and caught the most beautiful sunset! We just walked around and hung out with our new friend Dupree (more on him later) until bed.
Leslie left this morning to go back to the states. It´s awfully wierd to be alone again after such a fun week. I decided to stay in Dominical and keep surfing for another few days. I had an awful dilemma trying to figure out where the hell to spend the last 5 days of my trip. Originally I had wanted to go to Montezuma, but apparently I wasn´t really looking at a map when I had that plan. The amount of travel isn´t worth the time I would have once I got there. So Dominical it is - I´m riding along everyday until I leave and I´ve downgraded to another hotel. It´s still got air-conditioning and it´s still on the beach. A girl´s got to have her priorities.

More shopping...

Because I'm a girl and a movie geek, everything in life relates back to one romantic comedy or another. There is a scene in Pretty Woman where Julia Roberts responds to receiving Richard Gere's credit card with a weary, "More shopping..." That is how I felt about surfing on Day 3.
On Day 2 I suffered a pretty terrible sophomore slump, with lots and lots of hits, bruises, swallowed saltwater and no getting up on the board. I have to admit the waves were breaking hard and quick and I waited too long to get past the break. Its all surf speak, but basically I psyched myself out and by the time I got over it the waves were too much for me to handle.
Day 3 came and I was weary to say the least. I wasn´t as physically sore as I thought I would be, but all of us have tons of bruises and small cuts both from the fins on our boards and the rocks on the beach. I decided to go past the break first thing, when the water would be more managable. It took me forever, fighting wave after breaking wave, swimming as hard and fast as I could until I FINALLY DID IT! All at once, I was out in the middle of the ocean! I basically sat out there for the next hour, congratulating myself until one of my instructors noticed I had yet to catch a wave. I half-way caught a little something - enough for me to be pretty pleased with myself, but apparently it was sheer luck because my form was lacking. I spent the next hour back in the inside (read: kiddie waves) with my 2 favorite instructors, where they retaught me the basics I had completely lost the day before and worked with me wave after wave until I ACTUALLY RODE A WAVE ALL THE WAY IN. I even had time to laugh and throw a hang 10 to the other students cheering me on. That´s all it took. I went out again and again, feverishly trying to catch that next wave (these are whitewater waves on "the inside", the fast, shallow waves that advance the beach after the actual Big Girl Waves crash. The big crashing waves are the ones you catch on "the outside" where you typically see surfers sitting on their boards in calm, peaceful water, looking for the next big one.)
Stella and Leslie were, of course, on the outside for most of Day 3 and did beautifully. Whores.
The three of us quickly adapted to our new routine. In bed usually by 830p - yes, really. We would joke about how our 6 year old friend Henry kept later hours than we did. Up around 7a, getting a serious night of sleep; coffee, small breakfast, outside with our surfboards by 745 or 8, fully lotioned and ready to hop in the van. Our surf instructors would drive us to either of 2 beaches: Dominicalito or Playa Hermosa. Swallow water, get new bruises, scrape something, curse, spit and blow snot for the next 2 hours. Maybe catch a wave or two (or more if you´re Stella...show-off). Back to the hotel, where the three of us would give the construction workers on-site a free show as we showered ourselves and our boards outside, and also compared new battle scars. Reapply sunscreen, devour the tropical fruit salad I would cut up every night, and then out to the pool for a few hours of reading and sun. After a while we would be starving or bored enough to go back to the room and nap, or walk around town (10 minute walk max - its a REALLY small town). OR we would grab our boards and head out to the surf in Dominical for a while to practice. By 4 or 5 we would walk to our favorite (really our only - we ate there 4 nights in a row) Thai restaurant, eat for a few hours, buy fruit for the next days fruit salad, and back home before we turned into pumpkins. No where in our routine was there time for make-up, deoderant, underware (beyond our bikinis I mean), or clocks (our joke of the trip "What time do you think it is?").
Here are a couple of pictures:


This is after Day 1 at our favorite restaurant. We all felt incredible! This is the first of many, many, many, huge, colorful bruises Stella got.


After our 2nd lesson our instructors took us to this gorgeous little waterfall, Pozo Azul. Everyone had had such a hard day fighting the surf, we LOVED the fresh cold water of the waterfall. There was also a rope swing I embarrassed myself on. Not really, but I haven´t bellyflopped like that since I was 7 or 8 years old - I crashed into the water so that afterward it felt like Rocky full on punched me in the face and I had sore ribs for days afterward.


Leslie and I in our kitchen preparing for the next morning. It´s probably 7pm and we´re both already in our pjs.


Leslie and I walking into town. My favorite part of this picture, besides the way my pretty skirt swings, are the 2 Ticos checking us out. It cracks me up.

My Favorite $200 Mistake

I left Monteverde with a heavy heart. I sighed. I stared out the bus window and listened to moody music on my iPod. I let a touch of a smile grace my lips as I remembered all the fun times, and know without a doubt that I´d be back, man...
The bus ride was a long and uneventful one, and I found myself getting anxious and excited the closer we got to San Jose. I was going to see Leslie and the next day we´d be on our way to surf camp with Stella!! That was the only thought that made it okay to leave my little cloud forest paradise, and it was a great one! I got to the airport without a hitch and of course realized I hadn´t written down Leslie's flight number but whatever. There was only one door out of the terminal and there was no way I would miss her.
Plan A: meet at the airport and take free hotel shuttle. Leslie´s flight landed at 7pm, after which she would have to go through customs which took me an hour and a half. If we for some reason didn´t find each other by 10pm, we´d move to Plan B: meeting at the Courtyard Marriot where Les had a reservation.
I stood in Departures and looked for Leslie. And looked and waited. And waited and looked. Before I knew it...that´s a lie. Time dragged. It was ages. And I felt every minute of it as I stood against the wall, waiting for Leslie with the linebacker (my big backpack) and the rest of my luggage (my little backpack.) - it was 10:30p and no Leslie. I wander like a zombie towards the taxi line and let myself be cajoled into taking a shuttle. At this point I am so tired, hungry and pissy that I don´t care, though it occurs to me that I should be in a red taxi as they are the only ones that are bonafied transporation. Everything else, including the shuttle I got into, has the possibility of being anything from a money scam to a rapist/kidnapper if its not just a driver taking jobs for money under the table.
I make it alive and unharmed to the Courtyard, and indeed the ride is SUPER expensive. I am used to paying $2.50 for a 5 hour bus ride, so $25 for a 10 minute cab ride qualifies as highway robbery. Again, I am so exhausted by this point - by now its 11pm , after a 5 hour bus ride and over 3 hours on my feet at the airport - that I only care in retrospect.
I get to the front desk. I ask for Leslie. She ísn´t in the system. She has a reservation. No, she doesn´t. Of course she does, I have the confirmation number and its...for tomorrow night.
INTERESTING.
My Costa Rican reverie had me so wrapped in misty clouds and loveliness, that I had the wrong day. I collapsed against the front desk, checked into a room, went upstairs to my air-conditioned, pillow-topped queen mattress with cable TV and high-water pressured hot shower, and cried and cried until I fell asleep.
I woke up feeling better, but still oh, so very stupid. Now I had entire day to kill before I had to do the airport pick-up all over again, since I had no way to get a hold of Leslie to let her know I was already here. So I pouted a little and lounged. The room cost more for one night than an entire week at my Pension Santa Elena, and, dammit, I was going to get my money´s worth. I took the longest, hottest shower I could stomach and then watched a few movies. The subtitling actually helped my Spanish, so you could say I was studying. When I was forced to check out, I found a cute coffee shop with a free outlet for my computer and sat down to an incredible lunch, great coffee, and yummy dessert as I wrote for a few hours. Then I walked around the "complex" where the Courtyard was housed: I cruised the Hooters, Outback Steakhouse, the Jag dealership, etc, gag me, etc, for the 10 minutes I could stand before I headed back to the hotel lobby. I found myself a super comfy couch and another free outlet where I continued to write and then read until I had to leave for the airport again. This time I was armed with Leslie´s flight number and even checked the progress of the flight, so I knew it was running an hour and a half late. I hopped in the free shuttle from the hotel, got to departures, and saw Leslie walk out immediately!
It was so great to see her, and SO SATISFYING that the plan went off without a hitch - yes, I had a day to practice, but really the wasted day i had so lamented that morning had turned out to be super productive, comfortable, and even fun!
The next morning, while Leslie and I had breakfast at my old coffee shop, some crazy blond burst in and started giving me a load of crap! Stella and the surf camp shuttle had arrived early!! Huge hugs, and then Leslie and I scampered back to the room to quickly pack up and check out.
We loaded into the van. Leslie, Stella, me, and 3 other surfers-to-be, Jennifer and her 2 amazingly cute children, Henry, 6, and Emily, 9. We had a great trip down, checked in and spent the rest of the day exploring Dominical. Dominical is this: hot, muggy, muddy, and mosquito-infested. Dominical is also this: Surfer Paradise.
We had our first lesson this afternoon and I am happy to report all three of us got up on our boards! Surfing is both easier and harder than I imagined. We are all exhausted!! Eating my way through Costa Rica via pina empanandas and ice cream cones really hasn´t done me any fitness-favors either. Surfing is TIRING. Of course Henry and Emily were naturals, getting up on the boards on their first try. Thank god they are so cute and sweet, or I might really begrudge them.

Good to the last drop

Santa Elena could not be more home to me - well, it could have a yoga studio and consistently hot water but then I would never return home to the states. I just love it here. When I "planned" my trip, really the main thing I wanted to do was find a little town to just be. A little paradise to explore, live in, and make my own. In my mind's eye I saw a tropical beach paradise, but really it turns out my wonderland is in the rainforest.
There are loads of tours and active things to do around here, but my favorite days have been the ones where I walk around the mountains and town and hang out at the pension.
My first full day here was spent doing just that. I walked around and explored, poking my head into every gallery and art house I found. My walk ultimately brought me to an artists' Co-op where they showcase things made by local female artists using only local materials: Monteverde water, coffee, wax, wood. Any souveniers from me will have come from this co-op. All the money goes back into the program which helps out local artists and their families by giving the women opportunities to learn new trades that they can do from home while they care for their families; and earning their own money helps them become more self-sufficient.
I spent the rest of the afternoon at the pension as a dramatic thunder and lightening storm raged. In a lull, a fellow pensioner and I hit the Ranarium to check out the frogs. Tons. And most of them impossibly cute! The night was a quiet one - I went to bed fairly early only to wake up a few short hours later.
What woke me up? Well, first it was the sounds of an animal scratching from the other side of my wall. And if I wasn't completely awake after a couple of minutes of that, the sound of the animal scurrying under my bed seemed to do the trick. Instinctively, I knew it was small, but not small enough. I used my water bottle against the floor to scare it back into the wall, and then against the wall to hopefully scare it anywhere but my area. Try to sleep after that.
The next morning I pulled my bed away from the wall and saw the hole. Big enough for a rat - a big rat. I kept telling the desk staff (with each of whom, by the way, I am having a love affair. With Andrea its in Spanish instruction, with Ronald its smiles and music, with Ro its art, and with Eduardo its random conversations in metaphysics and life), if it's a mouse, fine. If it's a rat, NOT.
That day I did the big zip-lining thing everyone has to do when you come to Costa Rica or you´re not a real tourist. They call it a canopy tour, but really you fly so quickly above and through the treetops you are too excited to even register that you are seeing the most beautiful natural sights in the world.

(That is Jennifer from Houston riding ahead of me.)
Don´t get me wrong, I absolutely LOVED it! In fact, after the initial excitement I actually wanted to do faster and more daring lines, but where I was doesn´t specialize in extreme stuff. There WAS a Tarzan swing that did nothing less than rock my world though.
After the canopy tour, I had a ticket for an exhibit called the Jewels of the Forest which is the 2nd or 3rd largest insect collection in the world. Richard Whitten(?) has been collecting since he was 6 years old and he is well into his 60s now. Because I thought I had time I stopped for a coffee (its the wierdest thing, I NEVER drink coffee in the states, but I love it in other countries. No cream either.) and then headed for the exhibit. Locked and dark. I went back to reception to see what was up, and it turns out there was an actual tour I missed. So Princess Bianca got her own private personal tour of the Jewels of the Forest from her own private personal guide! It was VERY cool. I highly recommend playing dumb and doing the same, just tip your guide well.
That night when nothing had been done to the hole in my room, I grabbed Blanquita, the stray cat who frequents the pension, and pulled her into my room. She's a doll of a cat, and flea infested though she is, I'd rather she share my room than any rodent. Sure enough, same time, same place, same scratching. But I had Blanquita, who did a bang-up job. She left her warm spot on my bed and disappeared under the bed. A couple of hours later she returned, her job obviously over. The thing was gone for the night. Turns out one of the guys saw her later the next day with a live rat in her mouth. AND that evening I had to sleep catless which was okay because no scratching. I guess she got the one little bastard once and for all. (Don´t get me wrong, I still heard critters scurrying across my roof and between the walls, but at least none of them were digging into my room.)
That night I joined the other guests and half the town at the town bar for an hour. Enough time for 2 dances - the MOST FUN DANCES EVER. I love Salsa and Latin dancing, but there is nothing like doing it with a local. The resident pothead/drug dealer who hangs out at the pension is an excellent dancer come to find out!
The next day I went to the Santa Elena Reserve at the crack of dawn and hiked around for hours. The peace, the air, the smell, the animals, the green...heaven. Later back at the pension, I struck up a conversation with Ran, one of the owners. We talked Austin, travel, etc and before long, he and his sister Shannon invited me to a bbq they were having that evening. It was such a fun time! A mix of locals and ex-pats, amazing food - the best I've had since I got to town...TX barbecue, even in Costa Rica, trumps all dishes! I stayed way longer than I planned, and made it back to the pension just in time to join the desk staff at the club for dancing. The music wasn't as good as the night before, but what dancing I did was still fun and the local guys were always shocked at how well I salsa'd and spoke since I'm a big ol' honky US tourist and all.
I'm in my last few hours here in Santa Elena and its bittersweet. I would desperately love to stay another week at least, but I'm really excited to get to surf camp and vacation with 2 of my favorite people in the world (Hi Les, hi Stelli!)
I leave on the afternoon bus to pick up Leslie from the airport in San Jose, where we will stay overnight and get picked up in the morning by the surf camp shuttle. As excited as I am to see my friends, I am also unreasonably excited about staying the night in Leslie's hotel where I get to have a long hot shower with real towels. I asked Les to bring me face scrub...mmm, exfoliating...
I have had the best time here in Santa Elena and Monteverde. The area is truely magical, breathtaking, and so friendly and relaxing. The Pension Santa Elena is absolutely my Costa Rican home, and I can't wait to return!

You are now entering paradise

So read a small hand-painted sign that was hammered into the ground on the impossibly rocky drive into the rainforest. Truer words were never hammered. But I'll get to that. First to catch up on La Fortuna.
When I last wrote I pondered whether staying in a hostel made me feel young or old. After I caught up online, I retired to my room to journal and whatnot with the 2 other girls in my room getting ready for bed. With a crash, cacophany and smell that could only come from 5 20-something guys, invaded the quiet girly sanctuary we had created. So I did the only thing I could - I left the girly sanctuary and went out with the guys, 2 Aussies, 3 Canucks. All the moments were of the "You had to be there" variety, but I had so much fun and laughed more and harder since I can't remember when! Probably since the last time I went out with a herd of dudes until 3 in the morning.
The next day I did my first tour - horseback riding to the waterfalls of La Fortuna. It was so great!!
The riding was really fun, despite my rebellious, cantankerous horse - he just wanted to eat and HATED being directed. The falls were awe inspiring for 5 minutes.
Then 80 loud American tourists invaded and the beautiful falls became a Schlitterbahn field trip. (I know I am an American tourist too, but I'm quiet and the rest of my group was 2 people from Germany and Austria.) Our guide had wisely picked an out of the way spot further down the river, so after a bit of picture taking we rejoined our guide in the quieter area for a mini-picnic of mango I brought and shared with my tiny group. The hike to and from the falls was super strenuous and I loved it. The other 2 people in my group began to hate me, I think, because I was being somewhat of a cheerleader about the whole thing. They couldn't respond with anything but glares because they were breathing so hard.
After the hike, we got back on our horses and went to this representative indian reservation. I thought it was going to be cheesy, but it ended up being really interesting and informative. The Indian tribe were called Machaua I think. The rep gave me his card, but hell if I can find it in all of my junk. On the ride back, our guide let the horses go into a full on gallop! All I could do was giggle the whole way back. (The working title for this blog entry was going to be Thighmaster - I was SO SORE from holding on for dear life, plus my butt killed from the bruising gallop!)
I spent the rest of the day recovering in a hammock at the pool. The music was still horrific, thank god for my iPod.

The next day, I took a jeep-boat-jeep to Santa Elena (its not as adventurous as it sounds. The "jeeps" were tourist mini-vans. Ah, marketing.) I finally got a pretty picture of Volcan Arenal - no fireworks from it, by the way - from the boat.
The views of the mountains from the actual mountain were drove in on were glorious! Green! Pretty! Lovely! Majestic! I keep trying to find adequate adjectives to describe all this stuff, but really its just so beautiful, it's impossible to do it justice.
We got to Santa Elena in the early afternoon and it was everything I had hoped. This is my absolute favorite place so far. The town is small and lovely (though when the "jeep" pulled up in front of my pension to drop me off, other hotel agents descended like papparazzi on Paris. When I brushed one of them off explaining, Sorry, I already had a reservation, I got a "Whatever." If I hadn't been so flabbergasted, I would have whatevered her back, but whatever. Grr.). The pension I am staying at is owned by a brother/sister team from Austin, and the place drips bohemian Austin (In the front room, the lyrics from Rent's 'La Vie Boheme' are scribbled one the wall in chalk - yes, I found my Costa Rican home). Its a huge house, with rooms converted into dorms, and singles and doubles. They have a large community kitchen, where people have been making all kinds of amazing looking gourmet food. I could barely get it together enough to make some oatmeal this morning, but you can bet I'll be at the grocery store later for fixin's. The staff is super laid-back, friendly, and informative. They know everything, and err on the side of giving back to the community so that when I asked about a twilight tour through the forest, they gave me all my options, but recommended one in the Children's Eternal Rainforest because its non-profit.
The twilight tour was outstanding, and our guide was incredible. The tour starts at sundown and you hike for 2 hours in the dark with flashlights as he points out all the animals, insects, and plants we see. Last night we saw a sloth (moving around in the trees! I have to say it looked like a very hairy 5-year old with claws), 2 scorpions, countless roaches (not too scary, not in my house), a tarantula, an oligo (I think - in the raccoon family, but it looks like a cross between a monkey and a lemur), and 3 birds: two-tailed mannequin, blue-crested mot-mot, and an orange bellied something related to the quetzal (my dad will know.)
One of the guys in the pension gave me his extra free ticket to La Ranararium, so I'm off to chill with frogs. Love it here!

PS. Here is my familia!

Smack that.

I finally made it to La Fortuna!
For those of you keeping track, my original plan was to go to Montezuma and Mal Pais after the stint with my family; however, I was talking to my dad and he recommended Monteverde and Santa Elena as well. That will be where I spend the bulk of my week, but I´ve heard so much about Volcán Arenal that I had to see it for myself.
The thing is, Arenal is an active volcano and at night you can see lava dripping down the thing - that is if the clouds don´t obscure the view. And let´s face it, we´re in the rain forest, during rainy season so...we´ll see.
I had a pretty stupid day that began with my transpo pick-up arriving 15 minutes late making me miss my first bus at 8:40 this morning. Grrrrrrrr.
I was in the transpo minivan on the way to the terminal - I decided I didn´t want to have to hassle with bus connections on a Sunday morning because who knows how often they would run, and what if I missed my bus (i know, isn´t it ironic, don´tcha think?), plus my bag is the size and weight of a Jr. High linebacker - when it dawned on me, that I would in fact NOT be catching the 8:40am bus to La Fortuna. My hyperventilation, hatred, and anxiety gave way to totally zen acceptance. Okay, not COMPLETELY Zen, since I am, well, me, but as close to enlightenment as I could get, as the mantra "Que puedo hacer...(Eh, what can I do)" repeated itself in my head. The truth was I had no agenda other than the one I had carved into my head, so whatever. The fact that we arrived to the bus station 5 minutes after my bus was scheduled to take off, and had the driver not been FIFTEEN minutes late, I would have made it with time to spare, only occured to me a very small number of times as I sat for 2 and a half hours in the shadiest, most run-down bus station in San Jose. Seriously, I think my saving grace was that it was a Sunday morning, and its probably bad juju to rob tourists while the rest of the city is in church. I mean, I would have robbed me. Thank God for church.
AND SO, I caught the 11:30 bus to La Fortuna instead. I lined up obnoxiously early to get on because from my last bus experience, I know that if you score the very last row of seats you have a ton more room the stretch out and nap. I got the seat I wanted, there were all of 15 of us on the bus, and off we went. And then we stopped. And then, off we went. And then we stopped again. And again and again. So it turns out the reason the bus from San Jose to La Fortuna is almost 5 hours long isn´t because La Fortuna is terribly far away, its because the damn bus isn´t a direct bus. It picks up every blessed person on the street, every block or so, just like a normal city bus. Which meant, of course, the the bus was soon bursting with people, and the space I had schemed for was filled with a cranky 3-year old, her mother, and an old guy, riding thigh to thigh with me for over 2 hours. Boooooooooooooo...
2 ups: It wasn´t too hot and the scenery was very, very pretty. Deep breath.
When I FINALLY got to La Fortuna, my relief was immeasurable. I walked my linebacker to the hostel where I´d made a reservation, and Black Eyed Peas were blasting as I walked into the compound filled with hammocks and a big swimming pool. Things were looking up...
I´m in a hostel for the first time in 6 years or so, and I can´t tell if its making me feel young or old. The room holds 8 people - from what I can tell it´s 6 guys, one girl and me. The room smells like travelling boy which was charming for 5 seconds - its only for 2 nights. When I get to Santa Elena, I´ve booked a single so whew!
There is hot water in the morning and evenings, so I took an awesome shower where I got to shave my legs for the first time since I left LA (!!!!!!). The place is actually really cool (except when Black Eyed Peas phases into Shaggy and then Akon) and I booked a tour for the morning where I get to horseback ride to La Catarata de la Fortuna (read: BIG PRETTY waterfall) with a guide. Internet is free, but all Big Brother where I can´t download any pictures. I took some great ones with la familia last night, that I´ll post as soon as I can.
Think good thoughts for me, like minimal snoring, air ventilation, and NO MORE SHAGGY.

Ketchup...

Today is my last day with mi familia, and I´m just trying to get everything repacked and figure out the early morning Sunday bus schedule of the rural central Valley. This afternoon there is an Exposition at The Institute (of what, I don´t know, but I went with Gaby yesterday and it was gorgeous, if you like the whole rain forest vivid color, fresh air thing) for people to show off their wares to potential buyers for the tourist industry. Mi familia makes all kinds of crafts, specifically these pretty and delicate handstitched bags of burlap, and they are hoping for a toe-hold in the big world of commercialism. Regardless, it should be fun - despite the business aspect, it just sounds like a big outdoor party which was unfortunately scheduled during the late afternoon, which is generally the rainiest art of the day.
Since I finally figured out how to add more than one picture, here are a couple I wanted to share.


The crater of Volcàn Poàs...


The HUGE Cahuitan grasshopper...
Okay now imagine that under your foot in the shower.

Speaking of bugs AGAIN, last night I saw mi señor get up casually and start to spasmatically dance - not really, I looked down and there was a huge black thing tearing around like greased lightening to avoid being stomped on. I was hoping and praying it was the huge black spider I saw the other day and not, gulp, a roach. When the dance ended, i looked down and it was, gulp, a roach. Paranoia gripped me, and every sudden move or trick of the light was a roach. My one HUGE fear (blah, blah, blah, they don´t bite, aren´t even that dirty, I DON´T CARE. I HATE roaches!) and here it had infiltrated my sanctuary. And I heard a mosquito in my ear as I slept last night. Nature´s way of literally chasing me out of mi casita and onto my the next (hopefully roach free??) phase of my trip.

A whole new world...

I woke up all better!
It turns out the last girl who stayed with mi familia also went to the Limón province and came back sick. So what? I´m all better and thats all that matters! I even got to practice a full YBB class today before lunch - which is a far cry from yesterday when I had to take a 2 hour nap to recover from my trip into town.


The above is mi casa. That´s all I have for today!

Arrrrgggg!

That´s my pirate sound. Because I´ve been to the Caribbean!
Okay first the rest of my weekend...
Sunday I spent the whole day with mi familia. And their familia. From the time we woke up - oh by the way, I have a story about how we woke up that Sunday morning.
The roosters start doing their thing around 430am, the dogs start their business at 530am and the children start playing and yelling around 630am so I wasn´t sound asleep by any means when a huge commotion shook the roof around 730am. There wasn´t any reaction to the noise from the rest of the house, so part of my mind decided it must be the children outside, despite the fact that the noise had come from above my head and seemingly all around. Then I started to hear some excited loud talk - I made out "gato" and finally got out of bed. A cat had fallen through the roof into Gaby´s bedroom. The reason she hadn´t screamed when it landed on her floor (on its feet, good kitty)? The same thing had happened a couple of months ago in Maga´s room. In fact, Gaby was still in bed as the rest of the family barged into her room to find the biggest feral cat I´ve ever seen, yowling and hissing at us from her bureau. Gaby went so far as to yell at all of us to shut up, get out, and let her sleep!
Mi Señora was able to pick up the cat without it scratching out her eyes before it tore its way out of her grasp and out the front door.
From then on, it was visitors all day: aunts, uncles, baby cousins, Christian´s girlfriend. At times, I ached to get away and take a solitary walk, but at the end of the day - which ended with church, where some of you will be surprised to find out I did NOT sleep nor did my evil heart spontaniously ignite (though the jimmy leg was going at hummingbird speed) - I had a fantastic time. And that one day improved my Spanish exponentially. I had a moment where I replied to Gaby with a word I haven´t heard or used since I was a child, and it came out of thin air (the thin air in my head that is.) Usually I liken my Spanish conversations to the Claw game at arcades - the player directs the claw to slowly and mechanically search for the prize they want within the massive tangle of toys. The claw drops and blindly grasps the nearest treat, delivering it to the child. My Claw is working more efficiently and there is actually an organization to the tangle of toys in my head now.
Monday saw me off to Cahuita! I made my way to the Terminal Caribe in San Jose where I had my first experience with creepy thieves. After I bought my ticket, I went to the bathroom (cleaner than you would think because you have to pay to use them) and discovered one of the outside pockets to my backpack was unzipped all the way - sonsabitches. They got nothing; I never pack anything important there anyway, but I was insulted they would try. I literally had the thing strapped to my back for the last hour and a half - they must have tried the instant before I had gone to the bathroom, I had been putting my ticket in a safe place in my daypack and my back wasn´t to a wall.
Regardless, I was on my way. And so was Megan, the med student I met at Volcan Poas! That was a treat - I was excited to have a partner for the adventure to share the cost of the room and of course take fabulous pictures of me.

The bus was hot and crowded and the trip took over 4 hrs. Raise your hand if you knew that I get claustraphobic and carsick on long bus rides. I was actually okay for the most part - I had a window seat and hanging my head out to have a cool breeze blast my face at 50 kph was key. We arrived in Cahuita and it could not have been more breathtaking!
Gorgeous weather, not a cloud in the sky (rainy season? Pshaw!), peaceful waves, and jungle like crazy. Cahuita has one main road, with 4 or so dirt roads that intersect it. Megan and I walked to outside of town to find a place in Playa Negra, a totally secluded beach about 3 km away.
We found these Cabinas run by the nicest German´s I´ve ever met. They had 2 super friendly dogs, who instantly became our best friends: Nikki and Dog-rug - not sure what her real name was but when she wasn´t jumping around being cute, she laid down like a dog rug, so Dog-rug. We spent the rest of the afternoon at the beach - the water was bathtub temp and calm; that is until the tide started to come in and Mother Nature knocked me across the face with a set of huge waves and a strong riptide. Okay. I get it. I´m just a lowly human.
Jesus!!! I just saw the biggest roach in the internet cafe...gag. heeebiegeeeeeebiessss...
Speaking of huge insects, they had them in Playa Negra. Walking around, Megan and I found a gigantic purple grasshopper. The thing was the diameter of my palm and the underside of its wings shown red when it flew/hopped. Imagine my bloodcurdling scream
when I stepped on his dead brother in the shower a couple of hours later. Yes I ran out naked. No I didn´t pick it up and throw it away. Megan and I were both too squeamish and covered it with the soap dish so at least we wouldn´t step on it again.
The rest of my time in Playa Negra was spent hiking the National Park, laying on the beach and drinking juice because IT WAS SO HOT. Humid, sweltering, mosquito-dense hot. I started to feel not so great in the middle of the second day, but I wrote it off as near-heat stroke.
The following morning I was still feeling sub-par but was excited to get back to Santa Barbara, because at least I could have a real shower and some relief from the heat. By the end of my 4 hr bus ride (most of which I slept through) plus the additional 2 hours it took in catching connecting busses to get home, I was a bag of toys. What I had written off as carsickness and heat stroke, I am now convinced is malaria, since that specific area has the highest malaria risk in Latin America and I got absolutely chewed up and spit out by millions of mosquitos.
I´m on a slow mend - catatonic, weak, aches, and no appetite beyond Frosted Flakes, yogurt and juice - better than I felt yesterday, but if I´m still feeling crappy tomorrow, I may have a Spanish lesson at la farmacia.
I´m going to try and pull it together enough to teach my girls another class tonight - tomorrow if I really can´t swing it. I´m excited because I put together a great mix for them and have really prepared the entire class in Spanish!
Oh and I forgot to mention I saw a sloth in Cahuita, but no monkeys. I have also in my time in Costa Rica seen the aforementioned feral cat (wild enough to qualify I think), a mouse (in the house), and huge disgusting rats in the gutters. And a sting ray. But no monkeys!
Come on monkeys!! Maybe in Monteverde next week...

Cheese and Rice...

Vince Vaughn is also vacationing in Costa Rica. There was a whole article about it in the Tico Times, Costa Rica´s English newspaper. They said he caught a 40lb fish. All I could do was laugh.
I FINALLY got to see something where I wasn´t choking on gas fumes or surrounded by half-dead dogs on the sidewalks. I made it to Volcàn Poàs today!

It was beautiful, and we caught the luckiest break with the weather. It is unheard of to have as clear a day as we had - usually by the time the bus arrives at the National Park, clouds roll in and all views are obstructed by a thick fog. Not today, it was clear, clear, clear and incredible!

I met a couple who spoke English, Tony and Megan. Tony lives here and Megan is visiting from Canada; we became fast friends and they did me the great favor of taking pictures of me with my camera. In the middle of an ¨I´m bored¨ moment yesterday, I planned an impromptu trip to Cahuita, a tiny beach town on the Caribbean side, and I think I talked Megan into joining me. We´ll see - regardless, I´m itching to get to the shore and Í´m SO excited to see the Caribbean. I have to try and explain to my family, it´s not you, it´s me, and I need some space. I´m sure the conversation will be thorough and clear, and they will have no question as to my motivation and intention. Really, all I have to make clear is I´ll be back on Wednesday.
Off to the Caribe!

Brittany! Ew!!

Even out in the sticks, Brittany Spears brilliant vomit-show makes the news. Come on!!
Okay, when I last updated i was in Heredia - really beautiful plaza, the first place I actually truely enjoyed exploring. The Universidad Nacional is in Heredia, so I walked onto campus like the dorky student I look like and immediately found another cleanish bathroom. If you haven´t noticed the theme, finding toilets is of upmost importance to me. I don´t like to hold it.
Like all big universities, the area surrounding UNA is particularly groovy with bohemian eateries, bars, and lots of shops. And shoe stores. I found this cool vegetarian place (thank you Lonely Planet) and had my favorite treat so far. Un copa de yogurt - a gigantically huge ice crean sundae dish full of the fruit of my choice - piña, duh - and plain yogurt with granola and a couple of ginger snaps. Snap is right! It was damn good and totally refreshing after my recent diet of homecooked meals starring lard and carbs. The guys there couldn´t have been nicer and I loved it.
A word about the weather: its been totally nice. Not nearly as hot as I imagined ( I guess technically it is winter and I overlooked that fact as I packed all tank tops and sundresses), yes there are rain showers, and immediately after the showers it´s a sauna, but whatever. I read all the guide books, I figured it out. On my Heredia day however the sky opened up and didn´t let up until well after we all went to bed. Thank god (and Besser´s - Hi G, Mo, Janice and Stuart!! :)) for my umbrella. Regardless I was a drowned rat in thin khanki shorts - I shudder at the see-through factor.
The real adventure was walking home from Santa Barbara. The walk is a straight shot from town along a road with no sidewalk. I can´t remember if I´ve mentioned this yet, but as cars pass, you basically tightrope the edge of the road, lest you fall into the wide ditch on one side (filled with yuck, rotted mango, and whatever) or on-coming traffic on the other (and boy do I ever cuss as I do it.) A little scary, right? Try the tightrope, holding an umbrella, with cars and huge trucks CAREENING DOWNHILL IN THE RAIN. And oh yeah, honking. At you. They were either trying to alert me to their existence - thanks, sir, I see you - or cursing me for making them almost kill me. Regardless, obviously I lived.
After my last shower debacle, I asked mi señora for an official lesson. Yay, I figured out my mistake (TOUCHING METAL) and proceeded to take my first hot shower.
But it wasn´t hot. It was still cold. Freezing. So much so that I began to fantasize about finding a motel-by-the-hour in San Jose (lots of prostitutes, they gotta go somewhere right?) just to shower, when TA-DA! I did something that made it work! And I took a real shower. As Jill (Hi Jill!!) would say, ¨A whole new world...¨
The next day I had planned to do my first real Costa Rica thang. Seeing all these cities is fine, but I´m pretty well over it at this point. Charming or not, a city is a town, is all the same when you get down to it, and I wanted to see some real Costa Rica! I wanted to hike a volcano.
Volcàn Poàs. I was ready, got up early to catch the bus to Alajuela to transfer to Volcàn Poàs. Turns out, there is only one bus per day and it didn´t leave for a few hours (which is actually when the clouds were due to roll in and ruin all the glorious visibility. Me thinks they need to rethink the bus route, but who am i?). Fine - after killing time reading in the park, I returned to the bus station to board. When I tried to pay for my ticket I realized I had left the house with the equivalent of oh, 65 cents, and was SOL. The bus administrator was really bummed - we had formed a fast friendship as I plodded along asking him all sorts of questions in Spanish when I had first arrived. I promised him I would be back Monday. (Turns out, with the monster rains the night before, the road was essentially washed away. Mi señora told me she doubted the bus even made the trip.)
Dying to be anywhere, I hopped the first bus I saw that I could afford. Back to San Jose I went, fiuring I could change cash there, plus there was a museum I was interested in seeing. On my way into town, I spotted a cemetary that had caught my eye on my last trip in. I figured out how to walk there, and made my way once we got to the central terminal. I spent about an hour walking around and taking pictures of the super ornate and beautiful family monuments. One thing though - there was a lot of trash around. More than I though appropriate for what should be a place of respect. So I channeled my Grandpa H and picked up all the junk I could see.
As an aside: My Grandfather H was an amazing person. He and my grandmother helped found an organization called Carpinteria, Beautiful where they live, in which people adopt stretches of road throughout town and are responsible for picking up the trash people carelessly throw on the ground. Even when macular degeneration rendered him nearly blind and age had taken his mobility, he would get on his little grandpa buggy and do his pick up. My grandfather passed away recently, and my grandmother keeps up the family stretch of road, still. When I originally conceived this trip, I had wanted to volunteer for something, anything; as I began to make my plans I wasn´t able to easily find an organization that would let me volunteer without it being part of an expensive Spanish schooling and homestay package, so I figured at the very least, I could honor my grandpa H by taking some initiative doing what I could on my own.
Back to my story: The cemetary trash was totally gross and (sorry Grandma H) I didn´t have gloves (I did have handi-wipes, though). Regardless, it looked better.
Of course, it started to rain, so I walked back to the town center and made my way to change money and then to the museum I wanted to see: Centro Costaricense de Ciencia y Cultura - Galeria Nacional. The reason I was interested? It was in the, now converted, town penitentiary. The walk up the hill - because like all movie prisons, this one is out of the way of the city up an ominous hill - was a doozie, especially since I had logged some serious leg time already with the trek to the cemetary. It was cool, had some neat art inside, was totally free, and in it I met my favorite Tico so far.
An old guard began to quiz me about where I was from after I asked him for help - He was thrilled when I said Los Angeles, because he knew it. He immediately started hassling the two young guys doing some handyman work - You go to high school! Whats the capital of California!! he barked. One kid shrugged. The old guard screamed in agony! And then redirected the question to the other kid, who answered...Washington? The old man now screamed in frustration. NO!! You know nothing!! Then he looked at me and said gleefully, SACRAMENTO!! I howled.
After the museum, I happened to see a line of buses headed toward Heredia with a stop at Paseo de Flores. My family had told me I HAD to see Paseo de Flores, but I couldn´t remember the name of it, the day before in Heredia. I excitedly hopped the bus. I had searched and searched in my guidebooks for Paseo de Flores and couldn´t find anything. Imagine! A true hidden gem, recommended by native Ticos! As the bus made its way to Heredia, I finally saw Paseo de Flores. I got off the bus and couldn´t believe my eyes. It was a mall.
Whatever, I went inside and walked around. Clean bathrooms, ´nuff said. I left and noticed the University was near, so I decided to walk, not wanted to wait and pay for another bus. Why did i do that??
The University LOOKED close, but really it was far. Far, far away FAR. You know how they like to have huge shopping centers on the outskirts of town? Yeah, me too. Having gotten completely off the bus route, I just walked and walked. After an hour-ish, and finally reaching the University only to get lost inside because its more confusing than Paris and almost as big, I found my way to familiar ground. Exhausted, I treated myself to another copa de yogurt. Finally, finally, finally, I made it to the bus back to Santa Barbara...and started to feel a little precious.
So far, this trip I have thrown caution to the wind, eating and drinking whatever is put in front of me. As I started to feel increasingly worse on the ride home, I realized that might not have been the best idea. Still, I made the walk back home from Santa Barbara without dying - though I wanted to - and all of a sudden felt sorry for poor Brittany. Not that sorry, at least she had had a men´s room.
I´ll spare the details, but the episode was short. I´m fine now, as far as I can tell. And I lost a little weight in the process - Oh, spare me, you all think the same way!
Of course, my precious moment had to be the same time that the girls and I had planned to have our Yoga Booty Ballet class. Though I was a little weak, I felt totally fine and taught class as planned. It was a blast - but hard to teach in Spanish! All the women took the class - Gaby, Maga, Karen and even mi Señora!! I held class on the huge patio as dusk turned to night. (Hi Gillian and Teigh - Yay, YBB Internacionál!)
Today, I´m taking it easy, as my knees are kind of killing me. I did laundry this morning which makes me happier than you can imagine. Tonight I´m going with the family to Heredia because Maga is playing clarinet in a concert.
Pura Vida!
B

I´m mobile!

Yay!
I conquered the bus system. As soon as I finished my last entry I confirmed with the guy at the cybernet that there was no straight route to San Jose ' I was right in assuming I had to connect thru Alajuela or Heredia - both around a half hour away. I hopped on the first bus I saw and headed to Alajuela. Alajuela is the largest city after San Jose, though it felt pretty small to me. I fumbled and bumbled around until I discovered the bus i needed to catch only picked up from the central terminal some blocks away. Off I went, found the terminal and hopped on my 2nd bus.
Having learned my lesson about hopping off willy nilly, i rode the bus until the end of the road- San Juan´s central bus area. Its an old Coca Cola factory, near a park which has all kinds of bus ¨stations¨ around it - most not more than a dude with a clipboard. I walked forever, not wanting to pull out the old guidebook, but trying to find the Central Tourist Office in hopes of getting an actual bus schedule. Stubbornly I walked until I thought I found the office - I hadn´t, but inside the air condiioned building with 2 Ticos frantically trying to help me i was able to pull out the book and recognize I had again walked some 15 blocks out of my way. Harumph.
Armed with the intersection in my head (2 and 5, 5 and 2, 2 and 5, 5 and 2) I made it to the office - a bust , but more importantly I found what I believe to be the only public bathroom in the metropolitan area. And it was cleanish!
Made my way to Central Mercado - a Central American Farmer´s Market - becaue I read they had fresh but inexpensive food. That they did, along with lots and lots of raw meat. The smell of blood was pretty overpowering in some parts, gag. I sat down to arroz con pollo - it came out looking like chicken fried rice. Towards the end of my meal my waitress put a bowl of what looked like macaroni salad with ketchup - it was poosible. With every meal so far at home the option for lots and lots of mayo and ketchup was there. Arroz con leche, she explained, su postre. Cool, it was like rice pudding and jelly.
After lunch I made my way back to mi casa - 2 buses, 2 mid'size walks and an hour and a half later I arrived.
I was dying for a shower - i hadn´t had a chance the day before, so that means I hadn´t showered since Sunday morning in LA. I know.
A word about the bathrooms in my house - there are 2. One with a cold water shower and a toilet you have to manually turn the water on for, and the other one. Running toilet, sink (cold water only) and shower with an electric coil to heat the water. The coil is manned by a Frankenstein looking heavy duty switch - not at all intimidating...I didn´t receive a lesson on heating the water, and since I was already naked and too tired to deal with it, i figured I would wing it. You flip the switch for hot water - not a difficult concept. So I stood as near to the running cold shower as I could bear fiddling with stuff and I hit the switch. And then standing under slightly less freezing water, tried to adjust the temp...with its metal knob...a couple of times...before i realized the creepy feeling in my fingers and, yes, up my arm was me, essentially electrocuting myself. I calmly reached for my towel and flipped the switch back up as quickly as I could. Then I took the camping shower my stepmom taught me when I was little (Hi Deb!!!) - pits, crotch, feet. And I sort of wet my hair.
That evening found me studying Spanish while karen watched Spiderman 3, yeah I said it, Spiderman 3 on DVD on the family´s computer. A family friend came over and I was able to catch the majority of the fast paced conversation. Lots of making fun of Miss USA for falling during the Miss Universe pageant and talking about the neighborhood. It was interesting to hear the family´s take on different types of people who live around them- those de los estados unidos, the Guatemalens, and the Nicos, those from Nicaragua. They don´t have the animosity that is written about in guide books, but they certainly notice them. That family friend left, and then the computer monitor blew up. I mention it because it was pretty dramatic, and of course, because we are a load of girls, we screamed, then giggled. Mi señora was pretty annoyed.
After the drama another friend came by and I joined him, Gaby and Maga outside for a card game. They called it Rum but I think it was Gin. We played for a while - i realized trash talk isn´t so much in the talk as it is in your attitude - and had a blast.
By the way, I had arroz con pollo for dinner too - same thing, it looked like chicken friend rice. That must be the way here. And I found out how to eat a mango (they are evrywhere here- gutters, the road, front lawns)- when mi señora offered it I told her how I eat mango in the states (neatly, with a knife and spoon, scooping out the meat) and asked if it was the same here. Of course not and she showed me how- you grab it and bite it, eating the skin. You can either keep eating the skin or peel it off and just eat the meat around the pit. It was great!
A really big rainstorm blew in and cooled everything off. I slept like a pig with an ax thru its head (which consequently, I saw this morning the the mercado in Heredia). After breakfast, 2 sandwiches- one grilled cheese and one spinach omelette, which I actaully choked down because it was more spinach than egg and sort of good if i didn´t think about it and chased it with a bite of grilled cheese, I walked to town and caught the bus to Heredia. I like this town the best so far.
San Jose is like every other metropolitan area- over'crowded, too much traffic, dirty, blah, blah. I do want to go back and check out some of the museums though. Alajuela was fine, but didn´t seem too different. Mini San Jose, with a lot less traffic, though no real personality. Heredia has a university in town and is home to a lot of the old coffee barons. The houses are breathtaking as you ride into town.
Of course they all have stray dog syndrome - dogs listlessly lie around the city, little more than bone and matted hair. Its heartbreaking.
Hm, I´d rather not end on that note. I did some algebra last night, figuring out what everything cost in US Dollars. It was fun. My ride to Alajuela was $.24. My most expensive ride was from San Jose back to Alajuela at a whopping $.65. An hour at the internet cafe was $.58 as were each bottle of water I bought.
Yay!
B

¡bueno!

I made it!
Landed yesterday and Costa Rica is green, green, green. Kermit Green.
Immigration took forever. Shuffle, shuffle, stop, but down the heavy backpack. Pick up the heavy backpack, shuffle, shuffle, stop. and repeat for an hour.
Wonder of wonders i found my checked bag immediately, breezed through customs, and found my driver immediately.
Talk about slamming into Spanish gear without using a clutch. I was able to con my driver into thinking i was completely bilingual until he asked a question I couldn´t find my words for. Regardless, i was able to carry on and understand our conversation pretty well.
My family lives not in Santa Barbara, which is a tiny town most people havent heard of, they live in a teeny suburb of that. Teeny.
I met mi señora and her oldest daughter Gabrielle. We made conversation for a painful 20 minutes before lunch. Mi señora explained lunch would have been ready when i arrived, but they had no water all morning. Okay.
Lunch was so good - vegetable soup, meat, black beans and rice, salad and fruit water that i forget what its called, but tastes amazing. I also met mi señor. He is the strong but silent type to say the least. After lunch I begged to help in the kitchen - they refused so i tried to study spanish for a while, but couldn´t keep my eyes open and quickly settled in for a nap.
I have my own room. Its big enough for 2 beds, a single and a double and a small table. The house itself is over a small grocery store and big enough for the family. Its hard to describe, but its just like grandpa´s house in the Valley - so at least my mom and dad know what I´m talking about. Its lower middle class, lots of stuff everywhere, but comfortable.
After my extremely long nap, I took a walk. Mi señora explained how to get to town - not Santa Barbara, but some other smaller closer town plaza. I found it, and kept walking to another slightly bigger town. There are no names as far as I can tell. On my way home, obviously I got lost. Because it´s not my first day in a new place unless I lose myself on a discovery walk. I probably walked at least a mile out of my way. I knew my wrong turn and was able to backtrack and find my way home easily enough.
I returned home slightly frantic because I was sure I was missing dinner - it was pretty dark because of all the clouds and I knew I had been gone far longer than the hour i had promised. Nope, I was still able to study for an hour (i´ve taken to REALLY studying my spanish now, since nobody in my family speaks any english), and finally after begging again Gaby and mi señora let me help in the kitchen. i got the 5 year old task of helping with the topping to a chicken pot pie, but then Gaby taught me how to make empanadas. I asked if the filling was fruit or vegetable and they answered mas o menos (sort of)...okay. My empanadas turned out AWESOME! And so cute - they are basically a turnover filled with whatever you want.
Dinner was some of the chicken pot pie - Gaby made a huge meal for this men´s group meeting up the street. Its basically an AA meeting, but they don´t call it that they call it Grupo. Its all men, they give their testimonials, and celebrate their sobriety. Mi señora was quick to explain her husband had never had a drug problem, but enjoyed attending Grupo anyway. Anyway, we had some of the huge feast Gaby had prepared - chicken pot pie, salad, and that AWESOME fruit water thing. I have to figure out what its called.
Throughout the afternoon and evening I was introduced to the rest of the children as they cam ehome from school and work. Karen is 13 and understands the most english. She´s a little tomboy, and a doll at helping explain to her mother what I´m saying in my Spanglish. Magaly is 19 and works as a teacher for 1 and 2 year olds. She is the bromista - the joker - very funny, smart ass, that even I understand. She wants to learn english, as does Gaby, so we are promising to help each other. The girls were all excited to find out I teach dance and yoga since they love to dance and have never done yoga. They are anxious to take a class of mine - i explained i brought my iPod and speakers just for that purpose so we´re going to throw together a class, maybe this afternoon. They all want 6 packs - I understood that much.
Christian is the only son and 22. I didn´t get to talk to him too much because by the time he got home we were all watching the Miss Universe pageant. I got a big kick out of it - Mario Lopez was one of the hosts and Maga kept saying, "Hola Maaariooo" to the TV. I got to explain I had a friend (Hi Mer!) who had worked with him - I tried to plod through explaining pilots and television series but it was all lost on them. What they got was I knew someone who knew him.
Next sleep - it was as good as I could ask for in a strange balmy country. I woke up extremely early and was pleased when mi señora let me wash dishes for her. She was a little dismayed because i´m on vacation, but i tried to explain its what i do. I can´t sit around while someone else is working hard. She relented. I fianlly got around to eating breakfast - rice and beans, egg, and toast. I tried to eat the egg, really i did - but I couldn´t choke down more than a few bites. It was the combination of my lifelong haterd of eggs, plus the morning show had laproscopic video footage of a vaginal exam playing. I´m serious. All the while, women phoned in and asked the gynocologist being interviewed about different "problems" they were experiencing. Between that and the eggs, my appetite was pretty small.
Walked to Santa Barbara, finally got to change money, buy some water (no water in my family - im half shriveled) and juice and walk around until the cybernet opened. Now I´m off to try and figure out the bus system. If I can I want to get all the way to San Jose (la la, la la, la la, la la la).
Love to all!

T-minus 1 day

I just figured out how to blog. Its embarrassingly easy. Now I'm faced with the chore of being interesting so I won't be embarrassed to tell people to check this to see how I'm doing. Also, having a blog makes me feel like a cheesedick. (Sorry Mama and Daddy.)

So I leave for Costa Rica tomorrow. I don't really have a plan. Well, my version of not having a plan, which is I've planned where I'll be by the week but not by the day. This is the schedule:
Weeks 1-2 - In Santa Barbara with my homestay family, hopefully learning Spanish, volunteering, and not being terribly uncomfortable living in somebody else's home. I'm a bit of a vagabond in real life anyway, but I usually am inconveniencing close friends, not total strangers.
Week 3 - In the Montazuma/Mal Pais area. I want to find a small, tiny, miniscule, itsy closet with electricity and a toilet to rent for the week. See I have low expectations, so hopefully I'll find SOMETHING. Anything. Not really into hotel living.
Week 4 - Leslie and Stella fly out and meet me in Dominical for Surf Camp. I AM SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS.
Week 5 - Either keep surfing in Dominical, go back to Montezuma to surf, hike, volcano hop, see more monkeys, whatever until I go home July 1...

Everybody keeps asking me if I'm excited - well, yeah, of course. But it's different than the way you would think. This trip feels so natural and normal, like going to school or work, that I can't get worked up like I did when I went to Hawaii or Europe for the first time. I'm sure I'll lose my cool when I see my first monkey though. I can't WAIT to see monkeys!!!!!!!!