September 26: Passed my first semester of Spanish with a glorious 85%! Can I get a Woot Woot and a Toot Toot!
I can now successfully write a resume in both English and Spanish. If this won't land me a job, I have decided to join the chatty homeless man in down town San Jose. A little bit of homework and then a quick run to McDonalds for my favorite ice cream. There is something about eating the world's best ice cream for the world's best price. I escaped the U.S. to immerse myself in another culture. However, there are a few welcomed influences. For instance, I do enjoy the occasional presence of Christian Fish stickers on the back of a honking taxi, the untastfully recorded hip-hop music, 80's classic movies dubbed in Spanish, and always the refreshing McDonald's ice cream cone.
Oh and P.S. - don't use the word 'anal' as an adjective for a person when you are describing an individual to someone whose second language is English and a teenager.
September 27: I had my cooking class this evening: Alfajores and Scones, Oh my!
I was also blessed with multiple Skype dates with my family and friends. I had a moment of home sickness as I craved the physical touch of ones who truly love me and have built this love over the course of my life. I have made many friends here in Costa Rica. Most will remain memorable. Some have the foundation for constructive progression, but there is nothing like the friends I am blessed with at home. There is nothing like their trust, encouragement, belief in me, service, and adventurous spirits. I am so proud of all of you. Every one. I cannot wait to continue our relationship once I return.
After my cuisine class, Molly and I went shopping at Pali super market for some groceries and birthday cake indigence. Molly and I redesigned the Pineapple Up-side Down Cake abstract style. Our delicious creation exceeded the beauty and sugar content of any other cake. A few scenes of "who wants to be a Spanish millionaire" and Keith's impressive talents was enough to end the day in happiness.
But my happiness was interrupted by the giant cockroach that protruded from my backpack. I chased that little turd around my room, Raid in hand. I was surprised by the courage I had to defeat the monster with a single weapon - a bio hazardous plume of Raid. Satisfaction was reached when the little monster dramatically flipped himself over and cringed his twitchy legs around his lifeless body.
September 28: Note to self: never do anything stupid on a class field trip. Why? Because you might just be the laughing stock in front of the following class as the example of "what not to do." Needless to say the example was humorous and the topic important, but I will always think twice about my spontaneous splurges.
Lunch was accompanied by a treacherous storm that had me jumping in my chair, snorting beans, and occasionally adding a scream of terror to my arroz con pollo. The electricity was fickle and the thunder core shackingly strong.
Futbol tonight. I have officially dubbed myself the worst soccer in world. Top worst embarrassing moments of my existence happened when I casually caught the ball in my hands in mid-play. Oh and it gets worse. I didn't catch the ball once, but twice. Yes, twice! How is someone so uncoordinatedly naive to the reactions of my body. To answer your question, I was not the goalie.
Sweaty and shameful I ran home for Molly's host mother's birthday. We ate dinner, I gave a toast in broken Spanish, started a dance party in the living room, and indulged in our delicious pineapple up-side cake!
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Septiembre 22-25
September 22: Thursday night Latin American Dance class was incredibly entertaining. There is something humorous about twenty white kids doing the Cha-Cha in the entrance of the public library. But it gets better.....
After class, me and a few other friends met at the local skate rink. Molly, Spencer, Caitlyn, Danica, Jade and I glided our way into the walls, the floor, the rails, and each other. My roller skating skills attracted a few obsessive skaters. A fifty year old man taught me how to boogy in my skates. He also decided that I was talented enough to dart through the rest of the roller rink population at an accelerated speed and flare. He took my hand and led me through the masses while fluently spinning and whispering sweet nothings in my ear. Funny how an old man can be humorous when playing the moves, but if he would have been in his prime I would have ran in embarrassment.
The adventure peaked as Richard and Kenny moved their tardy butts in to join us. Neither one knew how to skate so Molly and I took the liberty to enlighten them. Richard was fully uncoordinated and Kenny resembled a scoliosis victim, but both were determined.
September 23: The next adventure begins.
After school Molly, Danica, Caitlyn, Jade, Natalie and I trudge through San Jose to our Caribbean bus terminal. A dirty five hours later we arrive in Puerto Viejo, Limon. The city reeks of Marijuana and Rasta. The entire town was fixated with black, green, yellow and red: Bob Marley would be at home in this little surfer nook. Our cabs were paid for by our awesome hostel, Rocking J's. The owner, J, many years ago smoked a joint, jumped in the ocean, and thought "I am going to build a hostel here." J went home to the States, and earned enough to purchase the facility, and still jumps in the ocean higher than a kite.
We purchased delightfully colored hammocks for a whopping $6 a night. Rocking J's is known for its friendly atmosphere for travelers of all color and size. We were greeted by a institution of hippies and art. There were free art supplies that were available to any person with a creative twinge to release. Molly and I were gifted a designated area to let our artsie- fartsie juices flow. Molly did her memorable Ka-Blam series and I did a replica of the Boise Grove hotel's glass river on Front Street. Costa Rica, Boise Welcomes you!
After settling in and indulging in some fine canned tuna, we set off for the Hot Box town. There is no shame among the reefer culture. Sheltered child that I am was unaware of the existence or smells protruding from the popular drug; until this weekend. I am now aware of what it smells like and looks like due to the masses surrounding me at the restaurant table next to me, the beach, in the neighboring hammock, and on concert stage. Don't worry, for all of those curious: my high school drug training was successful. I retreated to my sheltered childhood reactions and avoided the paraphernalia.
We went to a few dancing destinations. Ragae was liquidating through our veins. I was ready to dred my hair and burn to a crisp under the Caribbean sun.
September 24: Waking up to the warmth of the sun on your skin and surf boards reflecting the breeze above you is a truly amazing way to awaken. This morning we rented beach cruisers for our five kilometer trip to Manzanillo Beach. We rented our cruisers for $5 and our snorkeling gear for $3! The bicycle ride was beautiful. We trekked up hills and through the jungle. We saw turtles, hand sized spiders, howler monkeys, and a sloth. I finally got to see a sloth. What a glorious sighting it was as we watched with intensity as the little guy made a glorified poop at the bottom of a tree and meandered on back up.
The coral reef in Manzanillo was breathtaking. Literally. I choked on gallons of sea water. My talent does not lie under the sea. I had always day dreamed about being the little mermaid. Today, when my dreams could have become reality, I failed miserably. I couldn't sing an award winning musical nor did my little fishy friends communicate back.
Later that evening, we enjoyed an amazing dinner at Rocking J's. There was a large storm coming over the horizon. Bringing a light show and light shower, the storm was a great addition to our dancing on the beach. On the walk home, there was a motorcyclist who decided to drive close enough to us to hit me. Yes, hit me. I have no idea what would cause a craving to intensely to drive by a group of people and smack them. The human race amazes me at times.
I haven't been rocked to sleep in years. My evening was peaked as I sifted in my hammock in a room full of fellow travelors under a tin roof that sang me to sleep under the pitter patter of the rain.
September 25: Molly and I woke up early to finish our artwork legacy. I am currently the designer of Locker number "Camping #3." We finished our time in Puerto Viejo with a little fun under the sun and coconut throwing. One of our newly made friends, Carlos Thissen from Germany, was found on Playa Negra chucking coconuts up into the tree for a shower of coconut juice awaiting our tongues below. Hot and sticky we made our way home ready for our next adventure.
After class, me and a few other friends met at the local skate rink. Molly, Spencer, Caitlyn, Danica, Jade and I glided our way into the walls, the floor, the rails, and each other. My roller skating skills attracted a few obsessive skaters. A fifty year old man taught me how to boogy in my skates. He also decided that I was talented enough to dart through the rest of the roller rink population at an accelerated speed and flare. He took my hand and led me through the masses while fluently spinning and whispering sweet nothings in my ear. Funny how an old man can be humorous when playing the moves, but if he would have been in his prime I would have ran in embarrassment.
The adventure peaked as Richard and Kenny moved their tardy butts in to join us. Neither one knew how to skate so Molly and I took the liberty to enlighten them. Richard was fully uncoordinated and Kenny resembled a scoliosis victim, but both were determined.
September 23: The next adventure begins.
After school Molly, Danica, Caitlyn, Jade, Natalie and I trudge through San Jose to our Caribbean bus terminal. A dirty five hours later we arrive in Puerto Viejo, Limon. The city reeks of Marijuana and Rasta. The entire town was fixated with black, green, yellow and red: Bob Marley would be at home in this little surfer nook. Our cabs were paid for by our awesome hostel, Rocking J's. The owner, J, many years ago smoked a joint, jumped in the ocean, and thought "I am going to build a hostel here." J went home to the States, and earned enough to purchase the facility, and still jumps in the ocean higher than a kite.
We purchased delightfully colored hammocks for a whopping $6 a night. Rocking J's is known for its friendly atmosphere for travelers of all color and size. We were greeted by a institution of hippies and art. There were free art supplies that were available to any person with a creative twinge to release. Molly and I were gifted a designated area to let our artsie- fartsie juices flow. Molly did her memorable Ka-Blam series and I did a replica of the Boise Grove hotel's glass river on Front Street. Costa Rica, Boise Welcomes you!
After settling in and indulging in some fine canned tuna, we set off for the Hot Box town. There is no shame among the reefer culture. Sheltered child that I am was unaware of the existence or smells protruding from the popular drug; until this weekend. I am now aware of what it smells like and looks like due to the masses surrounding me at the restaurant table next to me, the beach, in the neighboring hammock, and on concert stage. Don't worry, for all of those curious: my high school drug training was successful. I retreated to my sheltered childhood reactions and avoided the paraphernalia.
We went to a few dancing destinations. Ragae was liquidating through our veins. I was ready to dred my hair and burn to a crisp under the Caribbean sun.
September 24: Waking up to the warmth of the sun on your skin and surf boards reflecting the breeze above you is a truly amazing way to awaken. This morning we rented beach cruisers for our five kilometer trip to Manzanillo Beach. We rented our cruisers for $5 and our snorkeling gear for $3! The bicycle ride was beautiful. We trekked up hills and through the jungle. We saw turtles, hand sized spiders, howler monkeys, and a sloth. I finally got to see a sloth. What a glorious sighting it was as we watched with intensity as the little guy made a glorified poop at the bottom of a tree and meandered on back up.
The coral reef in Manzanillo was breathtaking. Literally. I choked on gallons of sea water. My talent does not lie under the sea. I had always day dreamed about being the little mermaid. Today, when my dreams could have become reality, I failed miserably. I couldn't sing an award winning musical nor did my little fishy friends communicate back.
Later that evening, we enjoyed an amazing dinner at Rocking J's. There was a large storm coming over the horizon. Bringing a light show and light shower, the storm was a great addition to our dancing on the beach. On the walk home, there was a motorcyclist who decided to drive close enough to us to hit me. Yes, hit me. I have no idea what would cause a craving to intensely to drive by a group of people and smack them. The human race amazes me at times.
I haven't been rocked to sleep in years. My evening was peaked as I sifted in my hammock in a room full of fellow travelors under a tin roof that sang me to sleep under the pitter patter of the rain.
September 25: Molly and I woke up early to finish our artwork legacy. I am currently the designer of Locker number "Camping #3." We finished our time in Puerto Viejo with a little fun under the sun and coconut throwing. One of our newly made friends, Carlos Thissen from Germany, was found on Playa Negra chucking coconuts up into the tree for a shower of coconut juice awaiting our tongues below. Hot and sticky we made our way home ready for our next adventure.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Septiembre 19-21
September 19: Monday.... Monday. Humph. I am not a fan of Mondays.
Somewhere among the abyss of never ending study session, I recieved poor news. This weekend we had a date set with a tico friend that fell through. We were suppose to travel to his cabin in Limon for some hiking and possibly horseback riding. A had a small fit where I rampaged through my room in self pity. However, I know better than to think this would affect my limp disappointment. So.... I painted a masterpiece weekend in my dark secluded room instead.
My masterpiece still includes the providence of Limon; however there are a few new exciting activities. Okay, hold on to your seats, because if you get as excited as I am than you might throw your arms up and do a little dance that looks like the YMCA's retarded cousin. Molly, Natalie, Jade, possibly Spencer, and I will be going to Puerto Viejo and Manzanillo for Costa Rica's finest snorkeling! We are staying in a hostel that offers glorified hammocks to rest our little sunburnt heads.
September 20: More studying.
Today there was such a whopping huge storm that it flooded huge rocks into the streets. I could have turned my street into a ghetto version of a Boise River and floated all the way down! Thankfully the rain ceased right as I headed to my cuisine class. (trumpet solo with my lips)
In my cuisine class Kelsey and I made our own noodles, braided bread, marinara, and pesto sauce. I felt so accomplish after mixing, rolling, and cutting my own noodles. Packaged noods will never give me full satisfaction again. I quite possibly consumed enough carbs to sustain a marathon along with three cloves of garlic that will seep through my pores for days to come.
After blowing my diet completely, I decided to give into my one sweet tooth vice. I mozzied down to Macy Macy Don Don's for the worlds best ice cream in a waffle cone! McDonalds in Costa Rica is a high class treat for the middle class family. There are clean tables, decorations, and smiling employees. Who knew!?
Another great addition to my day, I was over at Molly's house to study and hang out with her brothers. I have ran into multiple instances where I have had to threaten to wash Kenny's mouth out with soap. Kenny neglects to respect the English cuss words by believing that they have a less than powerful meaning because most people are unaware of their translation. Again, Kenny's potty mouth broke my concentration of studying. He was speaking with Molly's host mother. I was appalled and voiced my dislike. In response, Kenny, with his sly smile decided to prove to me that his mother really is naive to what words flabber from his lips.
Kenny (in spanish): Mom, "say bull ****".
Olga (in slurred english): Bool Sheeet
Me (in whatever): AAAAhhh, Kenny, No!
Olga (confused spanish): Kenny what did I say?
Kenny: uninterupted laughter
Me (in poor Spanish): you said .... "bull ****"
Olga (flabergasted Spanish): ????
Who knows what she said. All I know is that it was rapid and scornfully directed at her son. Mission accomplished.
September 21: National day of hugs. Dia de abrazos.
I went into class confident and left finished with my first semester of Spanish! Yes, finished. We took one whole semester of Spanish in a month. Talk about crash course.
Now for futbol and movie night!
Somewhere among the abyss of never ending study session, I recieved poor news. This weekend we had a date set with a tico friend that fell through. We were suppose to travel to his cabin in Limon for some hiking and possibly horseback riding. A had a small fit where I rampaged through my room in self pity. However, I know better than to think this would affect my limp disappointment. So.... I painted a masterpiece weekend in my dark secluded room instead.
My masterpiece still includes the providence of Limon; however there are a few new exciting activities. Okay, hold on to your seats, because if you get as excited as I am than you might throw your arms up and do a little dance that looks like the YMCA's retarded cousin. Molly, Natalie, Jade, possibly Spencer, and I will be going to Puerto Viejo and Manzanillo for Costa Rica's finest snorkeling! We are staying in a hostel that offers glorified hammocks to rest our little sunburnt heads.
September 20: More studying.
Today there was such a whopping huge storm that it flooded huge rocks into the streets. I could have turned my street into a ghetto version of a Boise River and floated all the way down! Thankfully the rain ceased right as I headed to my cuisine class. (trumpet solo with my lips)
In my cuisine class Kelsey and I made our own noodles, braided bread, marinara, and pesto sauce. I felt so accomplish after mixing, rolling, and cutting my own noodles. Packaged noods will never give me full satisfaction again. I quite possibly consumed enough carbs to sustain a marathon along with three cloves of garlic that will seep through my pores for days to come.
After blowing my diet completely, I decided to give into my one sweet tooth vice. I mozzied down to Macy Macy Don Don's for the worlds best ice cream in a waffle cone! McDonalds in Costa Rica is a high class treat for the middle class family. There are clean tables, decorations, and smiling employees. Who knew!?
Another great addition to my day, I was over at Molly's house to study and hang out with her brothers. I have ran into multiple instances where I have had to threaten to wash Kenny's mouth out with soap. Kenny neglects to respect the English cuss words by believing that they have a less than powerful meaning because most people are unaware of their translation. Again, Kenny's potty mouth broke my concentration of studying. He was speaking with Molly's host mother. I was appalled and voiced my dislike. In response, Kenny, with his sly smile decided to prove to me that his mother really is naive to what words flabber from his lips.
Kenny (in spanish): Mom, "say bull ****".
Olga (in slurred english): Bool Sheeet
Me (in whatever): AAAAhhh, Kenny, No!
Olga (confused spanish): Kenny what did I say?
Kenny: uninterupted laughter
Me (in poor Spanish): you said .... "bull ****"
Olga (flabergasted Spanish): ????
Who knows what she said. All I know is that it was rapid and scornfully directed at her son. Mission accomplished.
September 21: National day of hugs. Dia de abrazos.
I went into class confident and left finished with my first semester of Spanish! Yes, finished. We took one whole semester of Spanish in a month. Talk about crash course.
Now for futbol and movie night!
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Septiembre 12-18
September 12-13 Nothing extraordinary happened that I can remember. Mostly our days were filled with recuperation from the amazing weekend. I was ending my sickness, and Molly was only begining. What are friends for right?
September 12: Monday night was our Tico vs. Gringo / Tica vs. Gringa game. I am proud to give a shout out at the amazing talent the USAC students had! Gringas won! Gringos were not quite as lucky, but boy did they put up an amazing fight!
September 13: Tuesday evening I made a fabulous dinner in my cuisine class. We made "pastel de pollo" which translates to chicken cake. Though it looked like a beautiful braided pastry, inside was a delicious surprise of shredded chicken, corn, tomatoes, onions, garlic, and more decadent goodies. I received my first exam back with a B. Not amazing, but acceptable and fair.
September 14: Wednesday was the eve of independence. If I understood correctly, Costa Rica gained their independence from Spain in 1821. I believe this is also when they decided to back up their decision of peace with eliminating their Army. On the eve of Tico Independence, everyone gathers in the central park for a fiesta. Everyone and their grandma buys, makes, steals, or has a lantern that they illuminate the park with. There are lanterns that resemble chandeliers, houses, buildings, hello kitty, spiderman. Molly and mine, resembled a white-trash tuppa-ware from the dollar store wrapped in scrap lace and confetti stars. Molly and I were so intrigued by the idea of creating the best lanterns, but we were sourly interrupted by our futbol agenda. We high-tailed it to the indoor arena. I was volunteered as the goalie for the evening. I have to remind you that my goalie skills have not improved since my PAL soccer childhood; nor will they in the future. I successfully dodged most of the balls just in time for them to pass into the net. However, there was an occasion or two where I stood firm and allowed the ball to ricochet off my face, arms, feet, stomach, oh yes, and my chest.....
After one loss, one win, and one goal for 'muah'; we ran uphill all the way home. We collected our lanterns and wandered down the streets of Heredia to join in the celebration. What is better than one independence day celebrations filled with fireworks and carnival food? Two independence day celebrations filled with fireworks and carnival food! I enjoyed both my American and Latin American festivals. I bought myself another wonderful churro filled with oozing dulce de leche. When our lanterns overflowed with failure rather than the expected illumination, we decided to get a beer and discuss the amazingness Costa Rica has to offer.
September 15: Happy Fourth of July! oh wait. Happy September 15th!!! My mama-tica and I walked to our front row seats on the curb for the parade. We sat through four hours of unsynchronized children in their school's marching band.We also saw clowns on stilts, a bicycling dog, costumes, cheerleaders, and mimes! Molly and I purchased snowcones drenched in orange syrup and creamy frosting. Also hidden within this diabetic nightmare was powdered milk! Delicious only when molested by the raze of the sun and nothing else matters but the feeling of hand shaved ice from some sketchy carnie!
Wondering where our mischievous tico brothers were, we headed home. Finding two drunk teens in a parent-less home was not quite what I expected to find. Unfortunately, this story is not the greatest, but I am deciding to tell you regardless due to the impressive following story. This way, you might fully understand the greatness of our evening.
Taking a while to realize how dangerously drunk one of Richard's "friends" was, I made the ultimate decision to take him home. Taking a while to realize that no one was helping me carry friend #1 home. I struggled against his dead weight, but I was able to ask if the yellow house was his. After affirming that the yellow house was his, friend #1 blackout and hit the street faster than I could respond. Taking a while to realize how far 10 feet from a house truly is when you are carrying a full grown man, I pounded on the gate. I called out in my terrible Spanish and then in English hoping someone would understand the language of 'damsel in distress'. The family came out to assist me in returning their puking son to their home. Taking a while to realize I had already made my way to friend #1's house, my other friends run to the yellow house...... To my surprise, I had taken fried #1 to the wrong yellow house.
In a cluster cuss of laughing and insanity, we collected friend #1 up to take back to Richard's house. Kenny and myself stayed at the house to babysit the unconscious drunk while everyone else collected courage to take the emotionally unstable #2. May I just vent for a second. There is a matter of intelligence needed for consuming alcohol. I felt the need to create a program where all individuals needed to pass a semester long course to gain permission and a license to consume. We do this for fishing, hunting, driving, and many other privileges. Why the freak is the consumption of alcohol not in this list?
The situation gets better. While babysitting, friend #1's mother comes to the house. I let her and had the obligation of explaining why her son was covered in puke and sleeping with his eyes open. Apparently she already knew a similar version of my story because the neighborhood watch program gossiped its way to his mother. Even better, she summons her husband to pick them up to the hospital at the same time Richard's parents return from the day at the beach. Tired and naive to the situation.
To wrap up the difficult afternoon, Molly and I were able to witness a first class Spanish chew out. Molly's mama-tica so kindly slowed down her Spanish in order to direct her discipline for all of us. Thank goodness for Kenny who gathered enough strength to interrupt his mother to inform her that Molly and I had no participation in the party beyond cleaning up the aftermath.
Frustrated, glum, and shaken by the afternoon we decided to consume our emotions with some ice cream. Uncertain how to finish our Independence day celebration, Kenny advised us to walk to Mercedes. Mercedes is a small portion of Heredia about forty minutes walk up hill. Kenny mentioned clowns, festivals, music; everything needed to lift spirits. We arrived disappointed to a deserted town.
Giving up our chances at break, we decided to sit at the bus stop for home - in silent frustration. We lifted our heads to the sound of shear terror. There was a young boy running with all his might down the hill just in front of the bus stop. Following the boy was a creature so terrifying the Ticos use it for late night festivals.
Pardon me for a second while I try to explain what this creature looks like. I am uncertain of the name, but the creature stands about ten or more feet high. The best image I can present to you is a giant Pez dispenser with distorted faces with exaggerated expressions. The costume is a large cylinder shaped costume that rests over a man who is only visible from the knees down. The faces sometimes resemble people; this perticular creature resembled Bob Dole.
Back to the situation. The creature follows the child at increasing speed around the corner. The situation was like a bad car wreck. You know you probably shouldn't be staring, but you cannot muster up the strength to stop. We look at one another and begin following the mad chase.
Our chase takes us over a hill where we find the entire town of Mercedes walking down the street with more of these creatures. Opra, George Bush, Simbad, the Devil and other giant Pez creatures tower over me as I mingle down the road. The parade finished at the park where the real party began. The purpose of the creatures was for children entertainment. The children smack the creature for attention and the creature returns the favor by chasing or thumping the children with the distorted head. Richard knew one of the boys inside the Pez creature and found it hilarious when he advised it to chase me down the street. It was like a reoccurring nightmare for me. Being chased down the street, unable to outrun the unknown creature. Umbrella as my only weapon, I beat back the creature in desperation.
Richard then asked the Pez creature if it would shed its skin so that Molly could be consumed by my worst nightmare. Molly ascended into the costume only to become the life of the festival - chasing children down the dark streets and dancing with the local brass band. Words cannot explain.
After finally ridding ourselves of the ridiculous costume, Mercedes began its slow pace to bed. We loitered just a tad longer so that we could talk with some local ticos. Rough housing brought Molly and I together in a great KABAM! Bloody nose. Laughter. Bloody nose.
We made our way home on the near deserted midnight bus home. Bloody. Tired. Satisfied.
September 16: School was a cruel decision after a holiday. Homework and Skyped most of the day. The evening brought fun and new traditions. I got myself ready for my Host brother and his wife's Baby Shower. I also was so nicely asked to get my mama-tica ready. I did Olga's hair, I also dressed her. You can never go wrong with a slimming black outfit and red high heels. She was sexy, and I told her so.
Her daughter picked us up and drove us to a country club in Monte Cruz. We were shamefully late. Baby showers are more like rehearsal dinners for weddings. There was men, women, children, friends, family, and me. Everyone brought presents, and each one was unwrapped and presented individually. There were games of intelligence and embarrassment. There was butlers to wait on our tables. Classy and delicious.
The party went from six until midnight. These people know how to throw a party. I called Molly to beg to not hang out. Surprisingly, she didn't mind because her night was filled with just as much excitement. Molly had a very kind, old EXERCIST at her house all night. Holy cow, Emily Rose, what a night!
September 17: More homework. Olga and I made a little excursion to the market for groceries. The people were filled with curiosity as I made my way around their supermarket. Olga hired a pirate taxi to drag us up the hill, thank the Lord!
Molly and I were able to have a good conversation in Spanish with her parents. I understand most of what they were telling us. My favorite part was Molly's mama tica advising us on what she wanted for her birthday. I understood one thing. Stripper.
We laughed the whole way to downtown Heredia for some errands. We were stopped by two ticos who spotted us miles away. They are taking American culture classes and assigned interviews with Gringos. They had been searching for a Gringo all day, and instead got two! We took them for ice cream and allowed them to record our interview. I think that its funny, in the United States, we would have shrugged them off like stray dogs. Here, there is no obligations, no place to be. Pura Vida!
After making two new friends, we went home for another movie night and homework date.
September 18: Alarm goes off at 4:50 am. I get dressed and make myself left over spaghetti. Molly and I head to the central park to meet our non existent adventure buddies. Note to self: don't rely on friends to wake up early for an adventure after a night of partying.
Molly and I leave the part alone. We made our way to the bus station. Second note to self: don't rely on Richard or any other Tico's directions. We couldn't find our bus to the Barva Volcano if our life depended on it. We sought directions from twenty different ticos who all gave us a different answers that led us on a wild goose chase over the entire downtown Heredia. We took the walk of shame passed all the ticos who had given us directions as we went home. No bus. No adventure. Yet.
I went home and moped around the house listening to one of my favorite bands. Nothing says your from Idaho when you sit on your porch in your poka-dot PJs listening to Mumford and Sons. I decided to wander over to Molly's to study. Perfect timing. The Baca family was about to leave for an adventure to Cartago and asked me to join. We piled in the car and drove to the famous "Basilica de Nuestra Senora de los Angeles Church. There were a few interesting traditions or choices that I didn't quite understand. One was the people going into the church first stopped to buy legal (and some illegal) lottery tickets in bulk. Then we entered the church to find everyone crawling down the isles of pews on their knees. I was able to take some good pictures inside, but stumbled upon an odd item. On my way out to the holy water that you can buy by the bottle, I found a table of electronic candles that are "Only $100 colones!" You can apparently pay for your prayers now! Hot diggity!
There was a small museum that was under the church. I enjoyed the story about the origin of the church. In summary, there was a young girl hundreds of years ago who found a doll (La Negrita - The Black Virgin) that disapeared over night after putting her in a jewelry box. The young girl continued to find the doll resting on a rock in the forest every follow morning. The girl in desperation for answers gave the doll to the Priest. He also had the same disappearing trouble. Returning each time to the same rock, the Priest figured this was a sign of Holy ground and the doll happened to be the Virgin Mary. So they decided to build a beautiful church around this rock that you can still see today - with the doll perched on top.
Following the visit to the church we went to a local restaurant for some casados! I had friend fish, rice, beans, platanos, and pina juice. It was delicious. We drove through beautiful coffee plantations on our way to a church that has withstood over four hundred years. It was beautiful. Kenny and I meandered through an abandoned building behind. It was surprisingly tranquil amongst the eeriness. Speaking of eery, we drove to a dam on the way back home. The dam was quite possibly the highest point I have ever stood over. To me, it seemed like miles above the river. As vertigo settled in, the passing cars rumbled by us causing the entire bridge structure to quiver.
We had the two gringas hanging their heads out the window (cameras included), we have the mother and father listening to their newly bought Gospel CDs, then we have the little brother playing his naughty english pop songs as loud as the cell phones speakers will reach in hopes of covering his mothers gospel sing-a-longs. Some times I love stereotypes.
September 12: Monday night was our Tico vs. Gringo / Tica vs. Gringa game. I am proud to give a shout out at the amazing talent the USAC students had! Gringas won! Gringos were not quite as lucky, but boy did they put up an amazing fight!
September 13: Tuesday evening I made a fabulous dinner in my cuisine class. We made "pastel de pollo" which translates to chicken cake. Though it looked like a beautiful braided pastry, inside was a delicious surprise of shredded chicken, corn, tomatoes, onions, garlic, and more decadent goodies. I received my first exam back with a B. Not amazing, but acceptable and fair.
September 14: Wednesday was the eve of independence. If I understood correctly, Costa Rica gained their independence from Spain in 1821. I believe this is also when they decided to back up their decision of peace with eliminating their Army. On the eve of Tico Independence, everyone gathers in the central park for a fiesta. Everyone and their grandma buys, makes, steals, or has a lantern that they illuminate the park with. There are lanterns that resemble chandeliers, houses, buildings, hello kitty, spiderman. Molly and mine, resembled a white-trash tuppa-ware from the dollar store wrapped in scrap lace and confetti stars. Molly and I were so intrigued by the idea of creating the best lanterns, but we were sourly interrupted by our futbol agenda. We high-tailed it to the indoor arena. I was volunteered as the goalie for the evening. I have to remind you that my goalie skills have not improved since my PAL soccer childhood; nor will they in the future. I successfully dodged most of the balls just in time for them to pass into the net. However, there was an occasion or two where I stood firm and allowed the ball to ricochet off my face, arms, feet, stomach, oh yes, and my chest.....
After one loss, one win, and one goal for 'muah'; we ran uphill all the way home. We collected our lanterns and wandered down the streets of Heredia to join in the celebration. What is better than one independence day celebrations filled with fireworks and carnival food? Two independence day celebrations filled with fireworks and carnival food! I enjoyed both my American and Latin American festivals. I bought myself another wonderful churro filled with oozing dulce de leche. When our lanterns overflowed with failure rather than the expected illumination, we decided to get a beer and discuss the amazingness Costa Rica has to offer.
September 15: Happy Fourth of July! oh wait. Happy September 15th!!! My mama-tica and I walked to our front row seats on the curb for the parade. We sat through four hours of unsynchronized children in their school's marching band.We also saw clowns on stilts, a bicycling dog, costumes, cheerleaders, and mimes! Molly and I purchased snowcones drenched in orange syrup and creamy frosting. Also hidden within this diabetic nightmare was powdered milk! Delicious only when molested by the raze of the sun and nothing else matters but the feeling of hand shaved ice from some sketchy carnie!
Wondering where our mischievous tico brothers were, we headed home. Finding two drunk teens in a parent-less home was not quite what I expected to find. Unfortunately, this story is not the greatest, but I am deciding to tell you regardless due to the impressive following story. This way, you might fully understand the greatness of our evening.
Taking a while to realize how dangerously drunk one of Richard's "friends" was, I made the ultimate decision to take him home. Taking a while to realize that no one was helping me carry friend #1 home. I struggled against his dead weight, but I was able to ask if the yellow house was his. After affirming that the yellow house was his, friend #1 blackout and hit the street faster than I could respond. Taking a while to realize how far 10 feet from a house truly is when you are carrying a full grown man, I pounded on the gate. I called out in my terrible Spanish and then in English hoping someone would understand the language of 'damsel in distress'. The family came out to assist me in returning their puking son to their home. Taking a while to realize I had already made my way to friend #1's house, my other friends run to the yellow house...... To my surprise, I had taken fried #1 to the wrong yellow house.
In a cluster cuss of laughing and insanity, we collected friend #1 up to take back to Richard's house. Kenny and myself stayed at the house to babysit the unconscious drunk while everyone else collected courage to take the emotionally unstable #2. May I just vent for a second. There is a matter of intelligence needed for consuming alcohol. I felt the need to create a program where all individuals needed to pass a semester long course to gain permission and a license to consume. We do this for fishing, hunting, driving, and many other privileges. Why the freak is the consumption of alcohol not in this list?
The situation gets better. While babysitting, friend #1's mother comes to the house. I let her and had the obligation of explaining why her son was covered in puke and sleeping with his eyes open. Apparently she already knew a similar version of my story because the neighborhood watch program gossiped its way to his mother. Even better, she summons her husband to pick them up to the hospital at the same time Richard's parents return from the day at the beach. Tired and naive to the situation.
To wrap up the difficult afternoon, Molly and I were able to witness a first class Spanish chew out. Molly's mama-tica so kindly slowed down her Spanish in order to direct her discipline for all of us. Thank goodness for Kenny who gathered enough strength to interrupt his mother to inform her that Molly and I had no participation in the party beyond cleaning up the aftermath.
Frustrated, glum, and shaken by the afternoon we decided to consume our emotions with some ice cream. Uncertain how to finish our Independence day celebration, Kenny advised us to walk to Mercedes. Mercedes is a small portion of Heredia about forty minutes walk up hill. Kenny mentioned clowns, festivals, music; everything needed to lift spirits. We arrived disappointed to a deserted town.
Giving up our chances at break, we decided to sit at the bus stop for home - in silent frustration. We lifted our heads to the sound of shear terror. There was a young boy running with all his might down the hill just in front of the bus stop. Following the boy was a creature so terrifying the Ticos use it for late night festivals.
Pardon me for a second while I try to explain what this creature looks like. I am uncertain of the name, but the creature stands about ten or more feet high. The best image I can present to you is a giant Pez dispenser with distorted faces with exaggerated expressions. The costume is a large cylinder shaped costume that rests over a man who is only visible from the knees down. The faces sometimes resemble people; this perticular creature resembled Bob Dole.
Back to the situation. The creature follows the child at increasing speed around the corner. The situation was like a bad car wreck. You know you probably shouldn't be staring, but you cannot muster up the strength to stop. We look at one another and begin following the mad chase.
Our chase takes us over a hill where we find the entire town of Mercedes walking down the street with more of these creatures. Opra, George Bush, Simbad, the Devil and other giant Pez creatures tower over me as I mingle down the road. The parade finished at the park where the real party began. The purpose of the creatures was for children entertainment. The children smack the creature for attention and the creature returns the favor by chasing or thumping the children with the distorted head. Richard knew one of the boys inside the Pez creature and found it hilarious when he advised it to chase me down the street. It was like a reoccurring nightmare for me. Being chased down the street, unable to outrun the unknown creature. Umbrella as my only weapon, I beat back the creature in desperation.
Richard then asked the Pez creature if it would shed its skin so that Molly could be consumed by my worst nightmare. Molly ascended into the costume only to become the life of the festival - chasing children down the dark streets and dancing with the local brass band. Words cannot explain.
After finally ridding ourselves of the ridiculous costume, Mercedes began its slow pace to bed. We loitered just a tad longer so that we could talk with some local ticos. Rough housing brought Molly and I together in a great KABAM! Bloody nose. Laughter. Bloody nose.
We made our way home on the near deserted midnight bus home. Bloody. Tired. Satisfied.
September 16: School was a cruel decision after a holiday. Homework and Skyped most of the day. The evening brought fun and new traditions. I got myself ready for my Host brother and his wife's Baby Shower. I also was so nicely asked to get my mama-tica ready. I did Olga's hair, I also dressed her. You can never go wrong with a slimming black outfit and red high heels. She was sexy, and I told her so.
Her daughter picked us up and drove us to a country club in Monte Cruz. We were shamefully late. Baby showers are more like rehearsal dinners for weddings. There was men, women, children, friends, family, and me. Everyone brought presents, and each one was unwrapped and presented individually. There were games of intelligence and embarrassment. There was butlers to wait on our tables. Classy and delicious.
The party went from six until midnight. These people know how to throw a party. I called Molly to beg to not hang out. Surprisingly, she didn't mind because her night was filled with just as much excitement. Molly had a very kind, old EXERCIST at her house all night. Holy cow, Emily Rose, what a night!
September 17: More homework. Olga and I made a little excursion to the market for groceries. The people were filled with curiosity as I made my way around their supermarket. Olga hired a pirate taxi to drag us up the hill, thank the Lord!
Molly and I were able to have a good conversation in Spanish with her parents. I understand most of what they were telling us. My favorite part was Molly's mama tica advising us on what she wanted for her birthday. I understood one thing. Stripper.
We laughed the whole way to downtown Heredia for some errands. We were stopped by two ticos who spotted us miles away. They are taking American culture classes and assigned interviews with Gringos. They had been searching for a Gringo all day, and instead got two! We took them for ice cream and allowed them to record our interview. I think that its funny, in the United States, we would have shrugged them off like stray dogs. Here, there is no obligations, no place to be. Pura Vida!
After making two new friends, we went home for another movie night and homework date.
September 18: Alarm goes off at 4:50 am. I get dressed and make myself left over spaghetti. Molly and I head to the central park to meet our non existent adventure buddies. Note to self: don't rely on friends to wake up early for an adventure after a night of partying.
Molly and I leave the part alone. We made our way to the bus station. Second note to self: don't rely on Richard or any other Tico's directions. We couldn't find our bus to the Barva Volcano if our life depended on it. We sought directions from twenty different ticos who all gave us a different answers that led us on a wild goose chase over the entire downtown Heredia. We took the walk of shame passed all the ticos who had given us directions as we went home. No bus. No adventure. Yet.
I went home and moped around the house listening to one of my favorite bands. Nothing says your from Idaho when you sit on your porch in your poka-dot PJs listening to Mumford and Sons. I decided to wander over to Molly's to study. Perfect timing. The Baca family was about to leave for an adventure to Cartago and asked me to join. We piled in the car and drove to the famous "Basilica de Nuestra Senora de los Angeles Church. There were a few interesting traditions or choices that I didn't quite understand. One was the people going into the church first stopped to buy legal (and some illegal) lottery tickets in bulk. Then we entered the church to find everyone crawling down the isles of pews on their knees. I was able to take some good pictures inside, but stumbled upon an odd item. On my way out to the holy water that you can buy by the bottle, I found a table of electronic candles that are "Only $100 colones!" You can apparently pay for your prayers now! Hot diggity!
There was a small museum that was under the church. I enjoyed the story about the origin of the church. In summary, there was a young girl hundreds of years ago who found a doll (La Negrita - The Black Virgin) that disapeared over night after putting her in a jewelry box. The young girl continued to find the doll resting on a rock in the forest every follow morning. The girl in desperation for answers gave the doll to the Priest. He also had the same disappearing trouble. Returning each time to the same rock, the Priest figured this was a sign of Holy ground and the doll happened to be the Virgin Mary. So they decided to build a beautiful church around this rock that you can still see today - with the doll perched on top.
Following the visit to the church we went to a local restaurant for some casados! I had friend fish, rice, beans, platanos, and pina juice. It was delicious. We drove through beautiful coffee plantations on our way to a church that has withstood over four hundred years. It was beautiful. Kenny and I meandered through an abandoned building behind. It was surprisingly tranquil amongst the eeriness. Speaking of eery, we drove to a dam on the way back home. The dam was quite possibly the highest point I have ever stood over. To me, it seemed like miles above the river. As vertigo settled in, the passing cars rumbled by us causing the entire bridge structure to quiver.
We had the two gringas hanging their heads out the window (cameras included), we have the mother and father listening to their newly bought Gospel CDs, then we have the little brother playing his naughty english pop songs as loud as the cell phones speakers will reach in hopes of covering his mothers gospel sing-a-longs. Some times I love stereotypes.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Septiembre 9 - 11th
September 9th: Skype date with boyfriend brought twitterpation and impatients to see my loved ones again. I was able to have a relaxation lame-sauce morning where all provided was snotty tissues and facebook. Something good can come out of a uneventful habbit - a good example is this morning. I facebook stalked enough of other people and myself that I happened to be on at just the right time. The beautiful Deesa messaged me in desperation to find two more mates to fill her hotel room in La Fortuna. I then passed the messaged to Molly to confirm. I accepted, packed, and did a victory dance in a matter of ten minutes! Adventure On! Thundercats GO!
Molly and I made a quick detour to the grocery story that saved us over fifty dollars in tourism priced food this weekend. After a little bargain shopping, we returned to my house to get sexyfied. We went out tonight for some booty shaken salsa. There was some unfortunate tico dancing, but for the most part, the evening was a success. I topped the night off with the sweetest tico who acted like a gentlemen among a pool of douchebag rump grabbing boys. This boy taught me a few moves then politely asked if he could kiss me. Don't worry, I told him no. I told him that I have a fantastic "novia." With huge questionable eyes he looked at me in surprise. These eyes told me I said something wrong..... I certainly did. Novia in Spanish is girlfriend. Horror took over flattery quickly as I had to rapidly correct my ridiculous Spanish. Returning home smiling and sweaty brought a late evening of two in the morning......
September 10: ..... And a four in the morning alarm. Two hours of sleep brought a lack of motivation. Running late, Molly and I ran down our hill to the bus stop just in time to meet our bus. What a bunch of Gringas. A beautiful ride to the top of the cloud forest brought us the La Fortuna, home of the active volcano Arenal. In a hypoglycemic rampage, the seven girls and I made our way to the ticket office. We bought our tickets after answering every question possible for man to ask about our bus, just to be sure. I held back to talk to the office assistant about local areas that were on the poor man side of a budget. I didn't have the money for luxurios tours and eateries. Luis the owner pulled out a map for me and showed me a watering hole that the locals hang with a waterfall and rope swing. He also pulled out his list of tours hoping to get some business on the day of low economical tide. He motioned to the most expensive and obvious best tour tour available. I reminded him of the poor mans' budget. He smiled and offered it to me and at half the price of $30. I smiled and told him to make it $25. We agreed on $27.50. I booked a tour from three to nine that included hike through the tropical forest, waterfall cliff diving, view of Arenal, tree frogs, sloths, tucans, swinging bridges, hot springs, night hike, transpirtation, and he even through in some forest knowledge and mud fighting!
Business degree, a good smile, and some negotiation can get you far in life.
Luis picked us and five Puertorricanos up for our adventure. We rocked out to Black-Eyed-Peas and talked of "couch surfing" with Luis in the front seat. He offered us a bed at his house for when Molly and I back pack through Costa Rica in December. He also mentioned taking us to a huge Lagoon at the top of a mountain next to the Arenal Volcano. This lagoon is in the nose of what looks like an Indian man laying down. Neat!
Sure enough, we go everything promised to us and more. All except for my sloth. I am still naive to the existence of these fabulous creatures. Luis made a mud pool for war paint and mud fighting that followed with a crisp bath in a beautiful thirty foot waterfall. Oh and the entrance into the pool is by jumping from a rock off to the side of the waterfall. You know that moment when the present takes you back to childhood? Well lets just say that I was Pocahontas for about 5 minutes in a Costa Rican rain forest. Covered in mud and flinging myself off high altitudes into crisp water was a reoccurring dream come true. I swam under the waterfall to find a moist little cave, then proceeded to face plant into the water and rocks; finding it necessary to be saved by one of the Puerto Rican men awaiting my embarrassing tragedy. Thank you Manuel.
The tour brought many useful facts to reality in the tropical forest. I can identify many new plants and species. There is a plant that explodes all over you when you decide to pick it up. There is also a plant that can act as a mosquito repellent, worry stone, toilet paper, and unnecessary clutter in a backpack. Sorry Molly. I saw plants used for medicine and Mentholatum, the marijuana frog, briefly spotted a Tucan, and avocado, guava, banana, and papaya trees.The plants are so majestically colorful that I feel like I am in the movie "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory" and I cannot eat all the candy surrounding me. It was frustratingly beautiful.
Our tour brought us to a freaking magical hot springs. The difference between the hot springs here and home is that home has circulating pools of hippie juices and boiling water and Costa Rica has whole RIVERS of hot, clear, perfect water! The hot springs ran under a bridge. The area under the bridge poured into a large pool that you scooted off a small waterfall into. The ground is concreted, making a perfect newly founded slip-n-slide for bored college students for myself. Bucket List cross off number one: Skinny Dipping.
Wet, happy, and starving we made our way back to the hotel to get ready for round two of our tour. This was not included in the promised tour from before, but because Molly and I are so easy to get along we made friends with our tour guide. He was able to get us beautiful dinners at a local Tico restaurant and into an even more local dance club! Salsa dancing for everyone!!!!! There is nothing dancing with a room full of Latin American people in Latin America. I wanted to try a cocktail this evening. I felt that a beautifully garnished fruity something would make my fish even more delicious! Niave to the alcohol culture I was uncertain what to get. Also uncertain about whether my friend chose to pick the drink because it sounded good or if because the desire to make me say "I would like a sex on the beach" to a man who probably didn't understand my English or Spanish attempt to order was too tempting. Needless to say it was embarrassing, but delicious! I felt like a kid at the seven eleven gas station on a hot summer day sipping down my weight in tropical slushy.
September 11: Morning came early at seven after a night out of dancing my gringo little sandals off until three. Breakfast brought enough peanut butter to put me in a better mood. Luis promised me a trip to his friends cabin if we didn't see a sloth the day before. We hoped into the car with his friend, Jan, for an unofficial tour through the rain forest and rain. I am reminding you again for the sake that it will also get you this far in life: a good smile and kindness will get you far in life. He showed us everything in the forest besides a sloth. I was disappointed, but not incredibly so. It adds to the suspense of awaiting my first sloth spotting. Jan so kindly dropped off at the watering hole. Molly and I complained that we didn't want to get wet again so we wouldn't swim. Our minds were changed the moment we headed down the cliff to the most glorious waterfall. The pool was nine meters deep and crystal clear with a hint of aqua blue. We indulged in some rope swinging action, cliff diving, pocahantas day dreams, and found our Puerto Rican friends again. Molly and I added to our list of stupid ideas we have lived through when we went off the twenty foot rope swing..... together. Friends Forever. Hopefully "forever" will be a long time away, regardless of our decision making.
Molly and I made a quick detour to the grocery story that saved us over fifty dollars in tourism priced food this weekend. After a little bargain shopping, we returned to my house to get sexyfied. We went out tonight for some booty shaken salsa. There was some unfortunate tico dancing, but for the most part, the evening was a success. I topped the night off with the sweetest tico who acted like a gentlemen among a pool of douchebag rump grabbing boys. This boy taught me a few moves then politely asked if he could kiss me. Don't worry, I told him no. I told him that I have a fantastic "novia." With huge questionable eyes he looked at me in surprise. These eyes told me I said something wrong..... I certainly did. Novia in Spanish is girlfriend. Horror took over flattery quickly as I had to rapidly correct my ridiculous Spanish. Returning home smiling and sweaty brought a late evening of two in the morning......
September 10: ..... And a four in the morning alarm. Two hours of sleep brought a lack of motivation. Running late, Molly and I ran down our hill to the bus stop just in time to meet our bus. What a bunch of Gringas. A beautiful ride to the top of the cloud forest brought us the La Fortuna, home of the active volcano Arenal. In a hypoglycemic rampage, the seven girls and I made our way to the ticket office. We bought our tickets after answering every question possible for man to ask about our bus, just to be sure. I held back to talk to the office assistant about local areas that were on the poor man side of a budget. I didn't have the money for luxurios tours and eateries. Luis the owner pulled out a map for me and showed me a watering hole that the locals hang with a waterfall and rope swing. He also pulled out his list of tours hoping to get some business on the day of low economical tide. He motioned to the most expensive and obvious best tour tour available. I reminded him of the poor mans' budget. He smiled and offered it to me and at half the price of $30. I smiled and told him to make it $25. We agreed on $27.50. I booked a tour from three to nine that included hike through the tropical forest, waterfall cliff diving, view of Arenal, tree frogs, sloths, tucans, swinging bridges, hot springs, night hike, transpirtation, and he even through in some forest knowledge and mud fighting!
Business degree, a good smile, and some negotiation can get you far in life.
Luis picked us and five Puertorricanos up for our adventure. We rocked out to Black-Eyed-Peas and talked of "couch surfing" with Luis in the front seat. He offered us a bed at his house for when Molly and I back pack through Costa Rica in December. He also mentioned taking us to a huge Lagoon at the top of a mountain next to the Arenal Volcano. This lagoon is in the nose of what looks like an Indian man laying down. Neat!
Sure enough, we go everything promised to us and more. All except for my sloth. I am still naive to the existence of these fabulous creatures. Luis made a mud pool for war paint and mud fighting that followed with a crisp bath in a beautiful thirty foot waterfall. Oh and the entrance into the pool is by jumping from a rock off to the side of the waterfall. You know that moment when the present takes you back to childhood? Well lets just say that I was Pocahontas for about 5 minutes in a Costa Rican rain forest. Covered in mud and flinging myself off high altitudes into crisp water was a reoccurring dream come true. I swam under the waterfall to find a moist little cave, then proceeded to face plant into the water and rocks; finding it necessary to be saved by one of the Puerto Rican men awaiting my embarrassing tragedy. Thank you Manuel.
The tour brought many useful facts to reality in the tropical forest. I can identify many new plants and species. There is a plant that explodes all over you when you decide to pick it up. There is also a plant that can act as a mosquito repellent, worry stone, toilet paper, and unnecessary clutter in a backpack. Sorry Molly. I saw plants used for medicine and Mentholatum, the marijuana frog, briefly spotted a Tucan, and avocado, guava, banana, and papaya trees.The plants are so majestically colorful that I feel like I am in the movie "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory" and I cannot eat all the candy surrounding me. It was frustratingly beautiful.
Our tour brought us to a freaking magical hot springs. The difference between the hot springs here and home is that home has circulating pools of hippie juices and boiling water and Costa Rica has whole RIVERS of hot, clear, perfect water! The hot springs ran under a bridge. The area under the bridge poured into a large pool that you scooted off a small waterfall into. The ground is concreted, making a perfect newly founded slip-n-slide for bored college students for myself. Bucket List cross off number one: Skinny Dipping.
Wet, happy, and starving we made our way back to the hotel to get ready for round two of our tour. This was not included in the promised tour from before, but because Molly and I are so easy to get along we made friends with our tour guide. He was able to get us beautiful dinners at a local Tico restaurant and into an even more local dance club! Salsa dancing for everyone!!!!! There is nothing dancing with a room full of Latin American people in Latin America. I wanted to try a cocktail this evening. I felt that a beautifully garnished fruity something would make my fish even more delicious! Niave to the alcohol culture I was uncertain what to get. Also uncertain about whether my friend chose to pick the drink because it sounded good or if because the desire to make me say "I would like a sex on the beach" to a man who probably didn't understand my English or Spanish attempt to order was too tempting. Needless to say it was embarrassing, but delicious! I felt like a kid at the seven eleven gas station on a hot summer day sipping down my weight in tropical slushy.
September 11: Morning came early at seven after a night out of dancing my gringo little sandals off until three. Breakfast brought enough peanut butter to put me in a better mood. Luis promised me a trip to his friends cabin if we didn't see a sloth the day before. We hoped into the car with his friend, Jan, for an unofficial tour through the rain forest and rain. I am reminding you again for the sake that it will also get you this far in life: a good smile and kindness will get you far in life. He showed us everything in the forest besides a sloth. I was disappointed, but not incredibly so. It adds to the suspense of awaiting my first sloth spotting. Jan so kindly dropped off at the watering hole. Molly and I complained that we didn't want to get wet again so we wouldn't swim. Our minds were changed the moment we headed down the cliff to the most glorious waterfall. The pool was nine meters deep and crystal clear with a hint of aqua blue. We indulged in some rope swinging action, cliff diving, pocahantas day dreams, and found our Puerto Rican friends again. Molly and I added to our list of stupid ideas we have lived through when we went off the twenty foot rope swing..... together. Friends Forever. Hopefully "forever" will be a long time away, regardless of our decision making.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Septiembre 6 - 9
September 6th: Stranger ina strange land .... has a cold. I woke up unable to communicate with my mama tica, not because of my terrible Spanish, but because I had no voice. She lovingly understood and made we the worlds best tea filled with honey and juiced orange. May I quote that I love pest control here. The "hormigas/amigas" get into everything. To solve this problem, my mama tica puts the bottle of honey in a cup of water and drowns any little bugger who has a sweet tooth. Brilliant.
The rest of my day was devoted to studying. I studied, slept, studied, slept, and ate somewhere in this cycle. After I couldn't take it any more, I wandered over to Molly's house and had a quick study break to McDonald's for the worlds best ghetto ice cream. McDonald's in Costa Rica reached a whole new level of class when they served my sixty cent ice cream in a waffle cone. Yes, a waffle cone. Can life get any better? I submit that it cannot!
After some quick lactose lusting, we made our way back to continue studying. I recruited Richard to be my tutor in hopes that he would be able to desipher between "Hay - used in reference to a unknown location" and "Estar - used in reference for a known location." Sounds easy right? Wrong! Every instance where I thought I got the difference, WHAM!, the homework through me a curve ball and used the other one. In frustration because I couldn't comprehend and Richard couldn't translate - side note for all of you, it is quite adorable when Richard can no longer speak English when he reaches this point of frustration - Richard found a solution. He grasped my wrist and began scribbling something on my fare forearm. Upside down and sloppily written was "Estar = location and Hay = whatever!" Love it. Smiling, I had to wash my notes off my arm; due to fact my professor would find this more likely as cheating rather than a funny joke.
September 7th: First Test. I believe the exam went in my favor, but I have been wrong before. Stay tuned for grade updates.
I do believe that I have become addicted to the cruel habit of caffeine. I have come to the conclusion that it was not my lack of liking for U.S. coffee, but rather the feeling of paying far too much and that feeling making me despise it. Here the coffee is sweet AND inexpensive, creating the perfect environment for enjoyment.
In the evening, Richard, Kenny, Andres (Richards' buddy), Molly and I made our way to the field of shame. Quick shout out to Richard.... who played with great speed and efforts. He truly put my goalie skills to shame. It seems this skills have not improved since my P.A.L. soccer days as a chubby child.
Following two winnings with no help on my part, we decided to go to The Green Lantern and indulge in the worlds best mixed popcorn.
September 8th: My dance class was cancelled today so that we could go to San Jose for "Hora Festival de Choreographors" at the Costa Rican National Theater. Molly and I were so twitterpated that we decided we needed to do some shopping for appropriate apparel for the classy occasion. We went into store after store and came out satisfied out of few. Unfortunately the culture here does not seek out flattering styles for tall, bodacious bodies like mine. Good news: When all said and done, I was able to find a comfortable outfit that flattered my curves. Bad news: when all said and done, Molly shows up in a matching outfit. Don't ask how we didn't notice that we bought almost identical outfits when shopping together..... but we did. We still looked hot!
Before the show, a few of us went to San Jose's oldest restaurant and bar for drinks and love from the local cat. It is almost impossible to describe the production that we witnessed. I will try my very best..... If Tim Burton was to make a ballet, this might have been it. There was four performances. The first was called "are we on the same page." It was a couple fighting, twitching, and running around like a eight year old twin boys. It rather reminded me of an episode of Molly and John John's relentless wrestles in Hannah's living room. The second performance was what I believe to be an interpretation of "Costa Rican bus ride". There was acid trips, puking, siting, fidgeting, and a toilet within the act. The third was of a woman who looked like Edward-Scissor-Hands doing Albert's dance from Hitch. Finally, the fourth was my favorite. Filled with beautiful, mostly gay, topless men in loincloths; this performance was jaw dropping-ly odd. They did acrobatics and dancing with plastic banners hung from the ceiling. I understand that you are probably having a hard time imagining this. Do not worry, you are just as confused as I am, and I was there to witness the phenomenon.
The rest of my day was devoted to studying. I studied, slept, studied, slept, and ate somewhere in this cycle. After I couldn't take it any more, I wandered over to Molly's house and had a quick study break to McDonald's for the worlds best ghetto ice cream. McDonald's in Costa Rica reached a whole new level of class when they served my sixty cent ice cream in a waffle cone. Yes, a waffle cone. Can life get any better? I submit that it cannot!
After some quick lactose lusting, we made our way back to continue studying. I recruited Richard to be my tutor in hopes that he would be able to desipher between "Hay - used in reference to a unknown location" and "Estar - used in reference for a known location." Sounds easy right? Wrong! Every instance where I thought I got the difference, WHAM!, the homework through me a curve ball and used the other one. In frustration because I couldn't comprehend and Richard couldn't translate - side note for all of you, it is quite adorable when Richard can no longer speak English when he reaches this point of frustration - Richard found a solution. He grasped my wrist and began scribbling something on my fare forearm. Upside down and sloppily written was "Estar = location and Hay = whatever!" Love it. Smiling, I had to wash my notes off my arm; due to fact my professor would find this more likely as cheating rather than a funny joke.
September 7th: First Test. I believe the exam went in my favor, but I have been wrong before. Stay tuned for grade updates.
I do believe that I have become addicted to the cruel habit of caffeine. I have come to the conclusion that it was not my lack of liking for U.S. coffee, but rather the feeling of paying far too much and that feeling making me despise it. Here the coffee is sweet AND inexpensive, creating the perfect environment for enjoyment.
In the evening, Richard, Kenny, Andres (Richards' buddy), Molly and I made our way to the field of shame. Quick shout out to Richard.... who played with great speed and efforts. He truly put my goalie skills to shame. It seems this skills have not improved since my P.A.L. soccer days as a chubby child.
Following two winnings with no help on my part, we decided to go to The Green Lantern and indulge in the worlds best mixed popcorn.
September 8th: My dance class was cancelled today so that we could go to San Jose for "Hora Festival de Choreographors" at the Costa Rican National Theater. Molly and I were so twitterpated that we decided we needed to do some shopping for appropriate apparel for the classy occasion. We went into store after store and came out satisfied out of few. Unfortunately the culture here does not seek out flattering styles for tall, bodacious bodies like mine. Good news: When all said and done, I was able to find a comfortable outfit that flattered my curves. Bad news: when all said and done, Molly shows up in a matching outfit. Don't ask how we didn't notice that we bought almost identical outfits when shopping together..... but we did. We still looked hot!
Before the show, a few of us went to San Jose's oldest restaurant and bar for drinks and love from the local cat. It is almost impossible to describe the production that we witnessed. I will try my very best..... If Tim Burton was to make a ballet, this might have been it. There was four performances. The first was called "are we on the same page." It was a couple fighting, twitching, and running around like a eight year old twin boys. It rather reminded me of an episode of Molly and John John's relentless wrestles in Hannah's living room. The second performance was what I believe to be an interpretation of "Costa Rican bus ride". There was acid trips, puking, siting, fidgeting, and a toilet within the act. The third was of a woman who looked like Edward-Scissor-Hands doing Albert's dance from Hitch. Finally, the fourth was my favorite. Filled with beautiful, mostly gay, topless men in loincloths; this performance was jaw dropping-ly odd. They did acrobatics and dancing with plastic banners hung from the ceiling. I understand that you are probably having a hard time imagining this. Do not worry, you are just as confused as I am, and I was there to witness the phenomenon.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Agosto 28- Septembre 5
I apologize for the extended absence of my stories. My apology is sincere, but only by a small dose because this technological absence was the cause of more adventures and wayfare. I wish I could tell you that I was working very hard on my homework, and in a sense, I was. However, in a classical "homework" way, I have neglected my necessary obligations. My homework was fulfilled in the fashion of: I was talking in Spanish (to the best of my limited ability) thus gaining a better vocabulary and phrase library. The obligated homework gave me a lack of motivation. Though I finished in time to turn in to the lovely, professor Lilia, I only put in the minimal amount of work. Do not fret, my grades will stand powerful. Let me assure you. The assurance will come from the intense amount of enjoyment Lilia gets from my sassy statements in class.
My abstract version of homework has been fulfilled by hanging out with the local Ticos. I have indulged in back to back study sessions with Molly, Richard, and Kenny, which happened to last a very small amount of time. Our study sessions usually evolved into poker parties using kidney beans for currency, junk food overdosing, and pirated movies (actually from the "hastings" of Costa Rica) dubbed in Spanish. Lets just say that Harrison Ford sounds much better with a Latino flare.
To add to my studying, I decided to take a field trip. A quick shout out to all my teachers from my past, koodos to you for successfully planning trips in which we were not forced to hitchhike, loose a member, or miss our mode of transportation. I have no idea how you do it.
September 1: My field trip involved my three amigos: Molly, Spencer West, and Natalie Crisafi. We wanted to venture to the land of Tortugas to see them nesting or hatching. This has been on my Bucket List for years, and I finally had the resources and country to fulfill my life quest. To be honest, because we all know that I am, our trip most definitely started earlier than expected. Let me elaborate. We intended to go to San Jose to purchase our tickets in advance like advised. Our mistake was asking Richard to take us. I need to explain to you who have not traveled to Costa Rica or to other countries out of the United States. Americans are very greedy with our time. We are early, on time, or no later than 15 minutes late. Here, there is such thing as "Tico Time." Tico Time is whenever the heck they feel like showing up. Because of the unavoidable culture, we did not get our tickets at noon. So, we went to San Jose at night. Number one on the "not to do in the USAC gringo guide" that we disobeyed. Number two was employing a pirate taxi to get to the third bus station that was not ours. Number three was walking around San Jose at night to find our hidden destination. The list will continue later in the adventure.
Ticket Update: Closed. Yes, closed. In our cluster cuss of a journey to the bus stop we missed the open ticket window by 12 minutes. So we were forced to leave early from our class on Friday to hustle buns down to get our noon o'clock tickets.
September 2: Ticket Update: Full. Yes, Full. We resorted to the next bus two hours away. We ate yummy, unidentifiable food at a restaurant called SNAX. Following was our six hour bus ride. Can I rant for two seconds of your time and say that I have extreme motion sickness that was severely intensified for the duration of the six hour bus ride. The intensity was climaxed when the bus hustled at a good 50-60 mph through construction and the typhoon that struck. There was enough water to supply us Idahoans for a year in a matter of an hour. The sky was restless as continuous thunder and lightning never ceased. We hydroplaned for a significant amount of seconds to be beyond concerning and passed anywhere from one to five cars/trucks at at time! Motion Sickness Extravaganza.
We arrive in Nicoya three hours passed the last bus to Nosara. So we employ a taxi with two Canadian lovers. We fit the lovers, the four of us, Spencer's two cousins (David and Elizabeth), plus the driver, in our 7 passenger vehicle. The taxi dropped us off in a little town Samara where we were able to find a $10 hostel to lay our heads in questionable sanitation for the night. The night ended with Violation number four: leaving our belongingsalone in a tree so that we could streak down the deserted beach. Don't worry, mom, it was only girls and the boys were not present. Regardless, Spencer's flip-flops were stolen. We collected the rest of our belongings that the dumb dumb didn't take (like our clothes, wallets, keys, and cameras). Emphasis on the dumb dumb. We made our way back to the hostel watching the lightning illuminate the night sky across the oceans horizon. Beautiful.
September 3: The morning came bright and early. We swam in the ocean and played on the beach. We luckily checked the bus schedule just in time to hose down, pack our things and cram into yet again, another taxi. Tico Time brought out bus an hour late. We hopped on with the other million other travelers. We were forced to stand/ spoon with each other due to the beyond maximum occupancy held within the barely functional bus.
We got off the bus at "cinco puntos", walked down the cute little gravel path, and found our glorious hostel by the name of "Almost Paradise." Perfect! I had bargained ahead of time to get a discount room for us. How a hostel works is by head. You pay for yourself to have one bed in a dorm with as many other travelers join you in the bunks surrounding yours. Want to hear the best news? We were the only travelers checked into Almost Paradise! We had our own room, balcony, and hotel to ourselves; for the price of uncomfortable, squishy admission. The Hostel was on the top of the hill above the beach, blessing us with a fantastic view for hundreds of miles of ocean. We had not a care in the world as we walked, swam, and rock climbed on the beach. We found enough sea shells to use as currency for hours of poker.
Back to reality. We needed tickets in advance to get back on the only bus leaving Nosara on Sundays. So we asked Stephan, the German man from Berlin who hosted Almost Paradise, how to get to Nosara since we were about three KM away. This is the best part. We took his advice, headed down the mountain, and stuck out our Virgin little thumbs. You are correct, we hitch-hiked our butts all over Nosara the entire weekend. Before you freakout, mom, this is a cultural thing. Everyone does it. The only people who can get across the flooded roads are big ATVs and Land Rovers. Since we didn't have possession of either, we had to fall into the cultural experience. We got out tickets hitch-hiking with a cute little couple who escaped the normalicy of the U.S. and a farmer on the way home. Then we hitch-hiked to dinner with a regae jewelry maker who promised to take us to see the turtles nesting. We enjoyed delicious fish, margaritas, and free bats at the local restaurant called Tico Ranchero. Yes, I said bats. They fly in and out and around you as you shovel the fantastically fresh "from this morning" fish in your watering mouth. Delicious.
Following dinner, was a untranslatable conversation in Spanglish with the waitress in hopes of getting directions to the turtles. Come to find out, the turtles lay behind the flooded river that ceased my dream about to come true. Hurt and frustrated, Molly summoned me over to the bar to find a sack of ..... eggs? Eggs! Turtle eggs, in fact. The locals were taking shots of alcohol, Tabasco, and turtle eggs! I freaked! Not only were they eating them, but they really existed! I asked the man who brought them where he found them and if he could get us there. All in my limited Spanish. I was frustrated because I couldn't communicate properly and because the entire bar was laughing uncontrollably because of my lack of Spanish talent. The best part was that the man spoke English. All that effort for nada. I slammed my head on the bar both in frustration and humiliation. Humiliation that I didn't know Spanish and that I was the only one who didn't know that he spoke it. Leon was his name. He told us to meet him outside out Hostel at 5 am tomorrow morning so he could take us. Sadly, Leon probably had too much to drink that night and forgot because he broke my heart and stood me up. No turtles.
I fell asleep in my broken hammock to the sound of Howler Monkeys and lightning in the distance across the ocean horizon. Happiness.
September 4: No turtles. However, we were content with our:
Great German breakfast.
Great beach photography.
Great mangos the size of my head.
Not so great motion sickness.
Home safely.
My abstract version of homework has been fulfilled by hanging out with the local Ticos. I have indulged in back to back study sessions with Molly, Richard, and Kenny, which happened to last a very small amount of time. Our study sessions usually evolved into poker parties using kidney beans for currency, junk food overdosing, and pirated movies (actually from the "hastings" of Costa Rica) dubbed in Spanish. Lets just say that Harrison Ford sounds much better with a Latino flare.
To add to my studying, I decided to take a field trip. A quick shout out to all my teachers from my past, koodos to you for successfully planning trips in which we were not forced to hitchhike, loose a member, or miss our mode of transportation. I have no idea how you do it.
September 1: My field trip involved my three amigos: Molly, Spencer West, and Natalie Crisafi. We wanted to venture to the land of Tortugas to see them nesting or hatching. This has been on my Bucket List for years, and I finally had the resources and country to fulfill my life quest. To be honest, because we all know that I am, our trip most definitely started earlier than expected. Let me elaborate. We intended to go to San Jose to purchase our tickets in advance like advised. Our mistake was asking Richard to take us. I need to explain to you who have not traveled to Costa Rica or to other countries out of the United States. Americans are very greedy with our time. We are early, on time, or no later than 15 minutes late. Here, there is such thing as "Tico Time." Tico Time is whenever the heck they feel like showing up. Because of the unavoidable culture, we did not get our tickets at noon. So, we went to San Jose at night. Number one on the "not to do in the USAC gringo guide" that we disobeyed. Number two was employing a pirate taxi to get to the third bus station that was not ours. Number three was walking around San Jose at night to find our hidden destination. The list will continue later in the adventure.
Ticket Update: Closed. Yes, closed. In our cluster cuss of a journey to the bus stop we missed the open ticket window by 12 minutes. So we were forced to leave early from our class on Friday to hustle buns down to get our noon o'clock tickets.
September 2: Ticket Update: Full. Yes, Full. We resorted to the next bus two hours away. We ate yummy, unidentifiable food at a restaurant called SNAX. Following was our six hour bus ride. Can I rant for two seconds of your time and say that I have extreme motion sickness that was severely intensified for the duration of the six hour bus ride. The intensity was climaxed when the bus hustled at a good 50-60 mph through construction and the typhoon that struck. There was enough water to supply us Idahoans for a year in a matter of an hour. The sky was restless as continuous thunder and lightning never ceased. We hydroplaned for a significant amount of seconds to be beyond concerning and passed anywhere from one to five cars/trucks at at time! Motion Sickness Extravaganza.
We arrive in Nicoya three hours passed the last bus to Nosara. So we employ a taxi with two Canadian lovers. We fit the lovers, the four of us, Spencer's two cousins (David and Elizabeth), plus the driver, in our 7 passenger vehicle. The taxi dropped us off in a little town Samara where we were able to find a $10 hostel to lay our heads in questionable sanitation for the night. The night ended with Violation number four: leaving our belongingsalone in a tree so that we could streak down the deserted beach. Don't worry, mom, it was only girls and the boys were not present. Regardless, Spencer's flip-flops were stolen. We collected the rest of our belongings that the dumb dumb didn't take (like our clothes, wallets, keys, and cameras). Emphasis on the dumb dumb. We made our way back to the hostel watching the lightning illuminate the night sky across the oceans horizon. Beautiful.
September 3: The morning came bright and early. We swam in the ocean and played on the beach. We luckily checked the bus schedule just in time to hose down, pack our things and cram into yet again, another taxi. Tico Time brought out bus an hour late. We hopped on with the other million other travelers. We were forced to stand/ spoon with each other due to the beyond maximum occupancy held within the barely functional bus.
We got off the bus at "cinco puntos", walked down the cute little gravel path, and found our glorious hostel by the name of "Almost Paradise." Perfect! I had bargained ahead of time to get a discount room for us. How a hostel works is by head. You pay for yourself to have one bed in a dorm with as many other travelers join you in the bunks surrounding yours. Want to hear the best news? We were the only travelers checked into Almost Paradise! We had our own room, balcony, and hotel to ourselves; for the price of uncomfortable, squishy admission. The Hostel was on the top of the hill above the beach, blessing us with a fantastic view for hundreds of miles of ocean. We had not a care in the world as we walked, swam, and rock climbed on the beach. We found enough sea shells to use as currency for hours of poker.
Back to reality. We needed tickets in advance to get back on the only bus leaving Nosara on Sundays. So we asked Stephan, the German man from Berlin who hosted Almost Paradise, how to get to Nosara since we were about three KM away. This is the best part. We took his advice, headed down the mountain, and stuck out our Virgin little thumbs. You are correct, we hitch-hiked our butts all over Nosara the entire weekend. Before you freakout, mom, this is a cultural thing. Everyone does it. The only people who can get across the flooded roads are big ATVs and Land Rovers. Since we didn't have possession of either, we had to fall into the cultural experience. We got out tickets hitch-hiking with a cute little couple who escaped the normalicy of the U.S. and a farmer on the way home. Then we hitch-hiked to dinner with a regae jewelry maker who promised to take us to see the turtles nesting. We enjoyed delicious fish, margaritas, and free bats at the local restaurant called Tico Ranchero. Yes, I said bats. They fly in and out and around you as you shovel the fantastically fresh "from this morning" fish in your watering mouth. Delicious.
Following dinner, was a untranslatable conversation in Spanglish with the waitress in hopes of getting directions to the turtles. Come to find out, the turtles lay behind the flooded river that ceased my dream about to come true. Hurt and frustrated, Molly summoned me over to the bar to find a sack of ..... eggs? Eggs! Turtle eggs, in fact. The locals were taking shots of alcohol, Tabasco, and turtle eggs! I freaked! Not only were they eating them, but they really existed! I asked the man who brought them where he found them and if he could get us there. All in my limited Spanish. I was frustrated because I couldn't communicate properly and because the entire bar was laughing uncontrollably because of my lack of Spanish talent. The best part was that the man spoke English. All that effort for nada. I slammed my head on the bar both in frustration and humiliation. Humiliation that I didn't know Spanish and that I was the only one who didn't know that he spoke it. Leon was his name. He told us to meet him outside out Hostel at 5 am tomorrow morning so he could take us. Sadly, Leon probably had too much to drink that night and forgot because he broke my heart and stood me up. No turtles.
I fell asleep in my broken hammock to the sound of Howler Monkeys and lightning in the distance across the ocean horizon. Happiness.
September 4: No turtles. However, we were content with our:
Great German breakfast.
Great beach photography.
Great mangos the size of my head.
Not so great motion sickness.
Home safely.
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