In Nature You Are Never Alone

Living in Costa Rica has given me the chance to have some of the world's most beautiful nature at my fingertips even though I live in the city. In the past three weeks, I have been back and forth to the beach on both the Pacific and Caribbean sides.

The drive is gorgeous both ways, breathtaking scenery the entire way until you hit the sand. The nature in this country is nothing short of amazing. It is a reminder of how remarkable the universe is.

Living far from home can be challenging at times. San José can be a particularly tough place to live at times too, especially during the rainy season. There's a lot of traveling on a muggy, smelly, wet, overcrowded bus to get to a client who cancels at the last minute anyway. All of this can incite loneliness.

I try to find the daily blessings and discover humor in little things throughout the day in order to stay positive. However, a trip out into nature helps lift the spirit as well.

This is the only saving grace of living in San José: the access there is to so many of the natural wonders of Central America. I have been lucky to get to see many of those. Coast to coast this past weekend was truly amazing, tiring but amazing.

It's nice to pause and take it all in as the moments are whizzing by me here.

Being quiet in nature reminds you that you are not alone.

I happened upon this quote today on Dictionary.com, http://quotes.dictionary.com/ ; it speaks for itself,

"The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature. As long as this exists, and it certainly always will, I know that then there will always be comfort for every sorrow, whatever the circumstances may be. And I firmly believe that nature brings solace in all troubles." ~Anne Frank

Anne Frank (1929–1945), German-Jewish refugee, diarist. The Diary of a Young Girl, entry for Feb. 23, 1944 (1947, trans. 1952).

Be Who You Are

Today is National Coming Out Day. Haven't heard of it? I hadn't either until I logged on to my Facebook account earlier today. It's a little sad how much I learn about the world these days through Facebook. Nevertheless, I learned it and thank you Facebook for helping.

I've never been much of an activist. I wasn't swayed by the glamour even in college when it was really cutting edge and artsy to go to rallies and marches and be "political." Instead, you probably could have found me on my couch drawing up the final preparations for a killer keg party I was hosting that night (they were legendary).

What can I say? I'm an apathetic American who's always had, and therefore never had to fight to have basic rights.

For this, though, I will fight.

I will fight because I could not imagine my life without my friends and family. The support and love they give to me make my days go. I could not imagine my loved ones to be anything but who they are, whether that be gay, straight, funny, boring, or any other "defining" characteristic.

I will fight for Billy Lucas, 15 years old, Asher Brown, 13, and Seth Walsh, 13 because they were somebody's loved one. From what I've read, they gave love and support to friends and family around them. Being gay wasn't who they were, but being made fun of for being gay is what killed them.

Nobody should be ridiculed for who they are or what they are. Nobody should be made to feel so badly about themselves that their only option out is suicide.

Just as, on the contrary, it would be great to live in a world where people weren't so afraid of what's different from them. Nobody should be so scared of another person that they feel like the only option is to bully them until they kill themself.

Why are we instilling such fear in our children?

A world without bullies would be a nice place to live. Unfortunately, we have to settle for the world in which we live.

Bullies and fear will always exist. It is part of human nature. However, it is also our responsibility as humans to control our fear. We need to learn for ourselves and to teach our children that fear is okay and natural, but that it cannot control life.

Bullies are the people who let fear rule their existence.

The other reality is that junior high and high school are hard places to be as a kid figuring out where you belong in the world. Each and every kid in that period of life is trying to find their place in the world.

Everyone is trying so hard to be "normal" that they don't even realize that different is normal.

It's not an easy concept to figure out. However, if you do and you make it through that time of your life, you will find the place where you belong. You will see how there's room in the world for everyone, sadly though, the bigots and the bullies too.

To tell the truth, I'm a little sorry I didn't catch on quicker. I'll admit I was intimidated by the Human Rights Campaign and words like "fight" and "ally." They seemed too heavy. As I said earlier, I'm apathetic to issues, plus, I've never had a problem with LGBT. I didn't think I needed to get involved. As who I am though I realized, I am involved.

It is okay to be who you are.

Being who you are is worth fighting for.

--

For more information:

Human Rights Campaign

http://www.hrc.org/

Here Comes the Sun

Today is the start of day 5 sans rain in San José.

In fact, it's the fourth day in a row that I'm waking up to sunshine out my window.

I feel like a bear coming out of hibernation. I've been able to do so much and feel so good and smile all day long this week.

Don't get me wrong, I like rain. I also realize I live in a country filled with rainforest. I knew it was going to rain. I even knew it was going to rain a lot. Last week though, it rained for 5 days straight. It maybe didn't rain for a total of 37 minutes.

I always heard about people in gray climates getting depressed and having higher rates of suicide. I get it now. I realize how hard it is to keep your spirits up when you're not only not seeing the sun, you're not even seeing a cloud. You're just wet. All the time.

The rain was so oppressive that you didn't want to do anything, including write a blog post. I have so many topics I want to write about and I've written so many posts in my head that just never made it to the computer. They will. I promise. Just not today. Right now I need to shut off the computer and get out in the sunshine while it lasts!

R and R in Bocas

San Jose is at the height of the rainiest rainy season they've seen in years. Usually, I feel well-equipped and ready to deal with it; forcing myself to see the sunny side of the street, if you will.

Last week though, I hit a breaking point and decided I needed, for the sake of my own mental sanity, to get out of town.

So, I headed to Bocas del Toro, Panama. In Bocas, I found exactly the weekend I needed. There's something about island culture that forces you to slow down and take a deep breath.

The weather was just so-so. It rained a bit but, nevertheless, it was a weekend that exceeded expectations. It was a weekend that could be used as the definition for Rest and Recreation.

It was difficult to get on the boat to come home today. However, I'm back with a renewed energy to pour into surviving the wets. They're a second-cousin to the blues.

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This is not a fail

I promise this project has not been abandoned.

I've been on an unexpected hiatus due to my lack of internet connection, my slow landlord, and my extremely busy social calendar.

Unfortunately, there is no solution to the second problem, however the first and third are now solved.

The posts will be rolling in from here on out.

Snoozefest

I'm addicted to the snooze button.

I went to bed last night at 10:30 pm. Before that, I had read the paper in bed for an hour. I had an active and productive Sunday. I hadn't even gone out Saturday night. I had a restful, practically bucolic, weekend.

However, for some reason this morning, when I heard the harps sounding my Monday morning wake-up call, I still snoozed for two hours post angelic harps.

It all began at 7:30 am. Again I remind you, I settled in around 10:30 pm. Even with a little tossing and turning, I easily got at least a solid 8 hours of sleep.

I was fully awake at 7:30 when the alarm went off, I could've easily gotten up, prepared for my day, enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, sipped my coffee, gotten dressed in a calm, ordered fashion, but no.

I waited until 9:20 when I only got out of bed because I realized it was garbage day. And let me tell you, when I realized it was garbage day, I sprung out of bed and raced around the house gathering trash as if the next garbage day fell in 2011.

After getting all the trash to the curb on time, I proceeded on with my chaotic morning routine of speeding from room to room, trying to shove some breakfast in my mouth, slam some coffee, put on my face lacquer, and locate matching socks.

In spite of my systematic and controlled morning routine, I showed up only 30 minutes late to train the new teacher who herself had showed up 15 minutes early. Therefore, you do the math, that makes me basically on time.

Mouse 1, Annie 0

After a day, the cheese had not been touched and I was seriously thinking that my mouse was turning its nose up at my taste in cheese. I'll admit, I was a little offended.

This made for mixed emotions today when I saw the trap empty of both mouse and cheese. I was pleased to see that my mouse also appreciates the spicy Gouda I so much enjoy, but very disappointed that he outsmarted me somehow.

This time he just gets straight up Tico cheese. Provecho.

Mouse Hunt

I have a mouse in my house.

I first saw it about two weeks ago. He was trying to eat through the plastic cap on my bottle of vegetable oil. Gross. I threw the oil out and decided that I would not eat at home for a while, thus starving the mouse out of my house. After not seeing my little friend for almost a week I had decided I was mouse free.

Not so.

On Friday night as I was packing for a trip to the Caribbean, I spotted the mouse in my living room. He was crawling around trying to get onto my bookshelves. I have no food on my shelves so I'm not sure what he was after, maybe he wanted to read the latest Chelsea Handler novel?

Anyway, I chased him back into the kitchen where he narrowly escaped my rubber rain boot as he effortlessly slipped under the fridge.

I was frustrated but couldn't do anything about it since I was getting up to catch a bus at 6 am on Saturday. My only line of defense was to leave the house spotless and again hope I would starve him out of my house and into my neighbor's. To me, this seemed like a brilliant plan.

Wrong.

I got back yesterday and found mouse droppings in the kitchen. So today, sorry animal lovers, I decided it's time to pull out all the stops.

I went to Gonzalo, my landlord who we normally lovingly refer to as Manana due to his slow response time. This time, however, Gonzo surprised me. He came back within minutes with a very Medieval looking mousetrap. I supplied the cheese, and, after tasting it, Gonzalo set the trap.

And now, we wait.

To be continued

Sorry for no posts...off to the Caribbean to watch turtles lay eggs..

To Be Continued.

Procrastination Station

I spent all day yesterday procrastinating the task of cleaning my house.

Okay really, I procrastinated that task all week last week.

I found every other mundane task on my to do list and got it done. I was creating projects for myself rather than doing the one I knew I needed to do.

I found really bad TV shows that were just too enthralling to walk away from. I had to watch The Bourne Ultimatum when I found it on TNT, with commercials even, because I've only seen it a handful of times before. I had to reorganize and control my friend settings on Facebook and clean out my junk mail inbox. I also went through my own pictures on Facebook about 74 times to ensure I remember all the fun times and that nothing inappropriate is tagged. This week, I couldn't just create lesson plans, I had to research every aspect of them and decide if they would be successful in my classes. I found articles and books that I've been meaning to read for months that all of the sudden had an immediate sense of urgency to my life.

Finally, before bed last night I broke down and within 15 minutes the whole house was spick-and-span.

The most amazing thing is had any one of those activities mentioned above been the task at hand, I probably would've cleaned my house as a way to procrastinate getting it done.

My parents messed up when I was born because I really believe my true middle name should've been "Procrastination."

Now I'm just stuck in Procrastination Station.

Red Bull gives you what?

Red Bull is not okay for me.

I turn into a hyper, babbling, looney tunes alien when I drink Red Bull.

I blame my good friend Kate Heilmann* for the fact that I even know this. Kate was part of the despedida época a few weeks back. That was when all of my friends decided to leave Costa Rica at once.

Well, we had several great going away parties for Kate about a month ago. Thanks to Kate's indecisiveness, easily swayed attitude, and ability to write off plane ticket change fees though, we had a few more days for another chance to squeeze in a few more despedidas.

After staying out a tad bit late on Friday night, we were moving slowly on a rainy Saturday in San José. The farthest we made it from home was to stop in to say hello to Patricia, our Madre Tica around the corner, and then hit up the local AM/PM for some snacks.

It was a little like we were having a wake. Throughout the day different people passed in and stayed for a few minutes to pay their respects to Kate before she departed. It was easy on us, we didn't have to go anywhere.

It was tiring to be the hostess though. I was really trying hard to ensure everyone's snack needs were met and there was a chair cleared off for them to sit on. I was pooped by the end of the day.

Kate however still somehow convinced me to make another go at it for her final night. Since, much like Kate, I am also indecisive and easily swayed, she didn't have to work to hard.

We bought a bottle of wine and headed over to say goodbye to Patricia, our Madre Tica. We conveniently headed over at dinner time and acted pleasantly surprised when we were offered lasagna. I feigned that I could only eat a little because I was already a little llena from a late lunch- which Kate promptly very vocally called me out on. I was just trying to play it cool.

It was a fun night of story telling and reminiscing, lots of recuerdos were remembered and made. We shared stories and memories of all the good friends that have passed though Patty's house. Patricia could write a book with the endless stories of the crazy gringuitos she has played Madre Tica to. She was getting so fired up from the stories and may have even whacked Christian a couple of times in the passionate throes of storytelling.

Innocent so far but now the Red Bull comes into play.

With bellies full and aching from laughing, we left Patricia and headed to Bar Morazan by Parque Morazan where we were meeting up with friends. On the way we stopped at a gas station to use the ATM and Kate suggested I buy a Red Bull to perk up. I don't drink Red Bull, but for some reason in moments like this if someone suggests it to me, it sounds like a good idea.

I slowly sipped my can of Red Bull with my pinkie out in the back of the taxi en camino. By the time we got to the bar, I realized I had made a mistake and was beginning to see the signs of the talkative monster I become when I drink Red Bull. I talked without coming up for air for the next 12 hours.

Then, I dove face first into the bed and crashed hard for two hours before being told it was time to start Kate's final despedida.

Post crash, Kate reminded me that she had seen this alien come out once before on the only other occasion that she had seen me drink Red Bull. Thank you Kate for reminding me when Nick Poché* forced me to drink Red Bull in Manuel Antonio over New Year's.

Así es la vida!

*Names have been changed to protect the identities of parties involved.

Tough Life

Getting back into the swing of things was really difficult considering the laborious nature of my job.

I worked three hours this week.

I spent more money getting to work in taxis because I was running late than I got paid. Well, probably just half of this week's salary went to those taxistas. The other half went to post-work, wind-down, de-stress beers. I mean, I at least have to play the part of working woman, right?

One would think that with only one class to teach starting at noon, I might be able to leave the house on time. It was quite the opposite however. The less I have to do, the less I do.

Here's a snapshot of one of my workdays this week. I am awakened by the neighborhood children and my crazy landlord playing in the streets at 7 am. Then I roll over and continue sleeping until I get out of bed around 9. Then it's on to Facebook and G-chat. I usually set a time limit for myself to restrain my Facebook stalking, but I don't usually stick to limits well in general. Facebook usually cuts into shower time which pushes back the whole morning.

By 11 am I usually realize that I am supposed to be leaving the house within 15 minutes and I force myself off Facebook and into the shower. By then, I've resigned to the fact that I won't be taking the bus to work.

I walk into class right on time at 12 on the dot usually. Class is over by 1:30 and then the real danger sets in. I have to walk through the mall to get to the bus stop. This means I am buying something, either a new pair of shoes or at least an overpriced lunch. Then I catch the bus and make my way back to my neighborhood.

I get off the bus in my neighborhood at the corner where my friend Nena runs a cafe. This is my next stop. I sit and have a coffee on the terrace and Nena sits and chats with me between customers.

I make it home just in time for the afternoon rain which leaves no other option but to enjoy a little siesta time. After that, it's out for dinner and drinks to keep my social life alive and well.

Now do you understand my tough life?

Vacation All I Ever Wanted

Thank you to my loyal followers for allowing me a vacation.

There might be no better place on earth than Chicago in the summer when the weather is nice.

There was so much fun to be had and I tried to have it all. I was left limping a couple of days from walking around the city so much in cute but terrible for your feet flat sandals. I squeezed in so much to my ten days in Chicago that now I want a vacation to recover.

Sadly though, there is no rest for the weary. I have to get back to my grueling schedule of 25 hours per week in this tropical paradise. Life is so hard, sometimes I just think there aren't enough hours in the day.

I have lots of stories and pictures of my culture shock, daily adventures, rapprochement dinners, and just general gallivanting coming soon.

Happy Father's Day

I have four sisters. My dad has five daughters. No sons.

“Oh, your poor dad,” is that what you’re thinking? Normally that’s the first thing someone says when I disclose this tidbit about my life. As a kid I never understood it. I didn’t think my dad ever felt poor. I never felt like I was depriving my father of some part of his life.

As I grew up I began to understand the sentiment that those people were trying to convey, but I still didn’t agree with it. My sisters and I are fun, funny, smart, athletic and sure, complicated, moody, and difficult at times but nothing that should make you feel sorry for my father. Or at least nothing that should make you feel any more sorry for my father than my mother.

Parenting can’t be easy. I don’t know for sure because I’m not a mom, but I’ve heard people say that it can be quite a complicated task. I know there are probably times in the life of every parent where they fantasize about a life without kids. I know there have probably been many times when my dad wondered what he did to deserve such rotten kids, but I also know those times are far outnumbered with moments of pride, happiness, satisfaction, peace, and love.

Parenting isn’t just about teaching though; it’s also about learning. I know that my dad has learned a lot from having five strong, talented, and unique daughters. Through the years we’ve kept him on his toes and haven’t allowed too many dull moments to pass. He’s kept up with all the punches we’ve thrown his way.

I know in the past I’ve left my dad stunned and perplexed by my extreme shifts of emotions and at times he has practically drowned in my tears. Somehow though, my dad has always been able to remind me that life shouldn’t be taken so seriously because no decision we make is irreversible.

Now that is “Pura Vida.”

Happy Father’s Day.

Neighborhood Noises

A new bark has been added to the cacophony of noise in my neighborhood. For the past three days I have listened to this poor dog barking all day long. I’ve actually stopped noticing it; only when it takes a brief break to refuel for another 5 hour stint do I notice its absence.

It has become part of the blanket of normal sounds in the background along with planes overhead (yes, I’m close to the airport), a constant whir of weed whackers (not sure why lawn mowers haven’t made it to CR), and the loud chugging of engines from my landlord’s collection of restored “classics.” Those are just a few of my favorites.

Honking is another section of my neighborhood symphony. There are all kinds of honks here and most of them are long and loud. Some are super high pitched, some sound like an old train engine, some have fancy tunes they play. They are all obnoxious.

People honk here to say any great number of things. Usually on my street it’s, “I’m outside, open the gate so I can park!” However, if the person on the inside doesn’t get the job done in two seconds another reminder is released into my air space. And another two seconds later, and another two seconds after that too.

In high school, when I would go pick up a friend I would be afraid to honk in their driveway because my parents hated when my friends honked in mine. My mom would say something sharp with her tongue about the rudeness of honking and disturbing neighbors or something like that. Nowadays, teens can just text each other from the road when they're getting close so parents don't even have to know what their kids are doing let alone worry about the neighbors.

Here nobody worries about the neighbors, no matter what time of day. It’s just, “Pura vida, I’m sure they’ll get back to sleep in spite of my abhorrent 5 am horn sounding.”

This poor dog is still going at it. My former housemate from my homestay used to talk about drugging the dogs in our neighborhood that were left to bark all day. At first, I thought she was being cruel, but then I realized what she was talking about was way more humane than the owners who just leave their dogs alone outside to bark all day long out of loneliness, confusion, fright, who knows what. Plus, it will give my eardrums some peace.

So, I guess maybe it’s time to break out the arsenic.

Blackhawks Win

Today is the kind of day that I wish I were in Chicago. The Blackhawks paraded through downtown celebrating the Stanley Cup victory. The Cubs are playing the Sox at Wrigley. It's Old Town Art Fest weekend.

I watched the live feed over the internet of the Blackhawks victory parade today. They said about two million people were out in the streets. You could feel the energy of the crowd and the vitality of the city pumping through the images.

Chicago deserves a championship like that. All Chicagoans were united as Blackhawks fans this morning and now turn rivals again at Wrigley. Go Cubbies!!!

I love Chicago in the summer. There really is just no place like it on earth.

I'm off to the Caribbean coast though now to forget what I miss about Chicago!

BP Oil Spill of 2010

I am disgusted, saddened, angered, and extremely worried about this oil spill. What are the long term effects going to be? How was this possible?

I don't care who is to blame. Who is going to fix it? What can I do to help?

Most importantly, how can we stop being so dependent on oil?

Burger King Delivery

I had another Costa Rican first tonight. For the first time since arriving in Costa Rica over a year ago, I ordered Burger King to be delivered to the house. I was so ashamed at the thought but, the more I thought about it, the more I wanted it.

My friend Lauren came over to play cards and I asked her if she would judge me for ordering a BK solo order to the house and surprisingly she loved the idea and wanted in. Turns out, I had no guilt ordering in BK for two. There was just something shameful in my head about Burger King coming on a motorcycle for one person.

Also, it can be really hard to order food here. It has to be really worth the extra effort. Obviously the phone call itself can be hard because of the rapid fire questions being thrown at you in Spanish, but the hard part is actually in the address. Well, the lack of address that is. There are no addresses in Costa Rica. Let me say that again.

There are no addresses in Costa Rica.

To tell a taxi or delivery driver or even a friend how to get to my house I have to say from the Bridge 100 meters West, 300 meters South, 25 East, white house, black gate. That is my address. And it doesn’t even matter that I just put it online for the whole world to see, you can’t even find it when you’re looking for it.

People on both sides of the argument go crazy about the address system, the critics and the loyal defenders. Honestly, most of the time I don’t mind the lack of address. I like knowing the city by landmarks. Usually the direction system works how it’s supposed to.

It's hard, though, when streets are on an angle, as is the case in my neighborhood. This causes a lot of disagreement about which way is South and which way is West. Many times I’ve asked taxi drivers while I’m in the cab for confirmation of my version of my address and the answers I get are always different. I’ve even asked my landlords and neighbors who have lived in the neighborhood for 20+ years and they say, “Oh yeah, that sounds alright.” Nobody really knows.

When ordering food however, the lack of address means I have to wait with my door open and as soon as I hear a moto racing around the neighborhood frantically blowing its horn I have to run outside, out the gate, and down to the corner to flag them down before they whiz by completely. Those time when they whip through the neighborhood really suck because I have to wait another five minutes as they start through the whole neighborhood again, flying up and down the streets beeping their obnoxious little horns the entire time.

The horn blowing makes it a shameful act again as I wait on the street corner in my pajamas in front of all the neighbors checking out who's being summoned by the fast food delivery man.

The worst part is that after getting over the shame, navigating my Spanish through the ordering process, and flagging down the delivery moto, I ate too much and am now in a food coma.

My College Weekend

It’s amazing how all the world over college towns are the same. On Friday, I had a meeting for work at my new office which is on the same side of town as the Universidad de Costa Rica. After the meeting, I headed out with my new co-workers to enjoy the beautiful non-rainy day. This is especially of note because it’s rainy season here and even if it’s a pretty morning there’s almost always a guarantee of afternoon rain. However, Friday it never rained at all so people were out in full force to live it up much like the first spring day in Chicago.

It was 3 in the afternoon and we went down to la famosa Calle de la Armargura, a street that could be picked up and plopped down in Madison or Boulder and look like it is still in the right place. Armargura is lined with bars on both sides of the street blaring music in attempts to lure you into one watering hole over another.

Our drinking den of choice was Caccio’s, which like any good college bar should, specializes in pizza and beer. The beer comes in giant steins that, unbelievably, they are constantly running out of (did anyone tell them they that people who go there do so to drink beer?). The big draw though is the small, street side terrace where you can sit and people watch for hours while Lady Gaga drowns out any chance for intelligent conversation. The people watching was good though as college kids look the same here as they do everywhere else. They’re trying so hard to be unique individuals who look nothing like the millions of students who have gone before them. Oops, perhaps that’s a little too bitter old lady; hopefully the youngsters didn’t get a whiff of that as I sat on the terrace trying to blend with the cool kids ten years my junior.

Well, the night continued on, probably much longer than it should have. It’s especially embarrassing when friends join the party at a decent hour smelling freshly showered and sober. Although, I’d like to think otherwise, I’m pretty sure the six hours of drinking were clearly displayed in our appearance by that point. When I woke up on Saturday morning with my contacts still in and a full face of makeup still on I had my suspicions that it wasn’t a pretty ending.

But kicking off the weekend college style was just what I needed to ensure the rest of the weekend would be spent laying around the house being lazy. Just as I was starting to feel guilty for acting like a teenager I got an email from my sister who is 18 months my senior and she too had her Friday night makeup on until she went to bed on Saturday. I guess I have at least 18 more months until I should feel too old for weekends like this.

Lavatory Lowdown

Okay here’s an update on my little toilet problem for those of you sitting on the edge of your seats. I was actually feeling a little badly about my post on good old Mañana and his slow response time since he actually showed up later that same day to fix my toilet. I thought to myself, "Golly, gee, maybe that wasn't very nice of me to so publicly complain." Then on Thursday night, the toilet broke again and I realized Gonzalo didn't really fix it, he just gave it one of his Gonzo refurbishments.

Mind you, on Thursday night when the toilet broke it was once again at the end of an evening of despedida drinks. A small group of friends came over to have "el zarpe" after Kate's Despedida. El Zarpe is a term said in Costa Rica for the last drink, or two or three last drinks of the night. Right away my friend Christian offered to jump in and fix it, but I was determined to do it on my own. I'm a single, strong, independent woman living on my own. I need to be able to fix my own toilet. Well, after ten minutes of digging around in the back of the toilet trying to reconnect the chain I gave up. Feeling defeated, but wanting my toilet to work, I let my friend Shayne take over, who also was convinced he could get the job done. He worked on it for another ten minutes but also to no avail, which truthfully made me feel good because then I was less of a failure. Finally, Christian convinced us he was the man for the job. I knew he would be the one to fix it all along as he is one crafty Tico, but the Gringos of the group wanted to at least give it the old college try. Sure enough, Christian immediately figured out how Gonzalo had rigged the chain and after a few minutes success, though Christian warned that it would happen again unless new parts were assigned to the toilet.

Sure enough, on Friday when I got home after another long night out on the town, toilet broke again. (Hmm, do drunk people flush harder than sober people? Food for thought.)

Luckily on Saturday, I caught Mañana as he was attempting to plant yet another plant in our already overgrown garden and yanked him inside. This time he did the job right. So, really it just took ten days for me to have a proper working toilet.

Mañana, Mañana, Mañana.

I'm on my way

Apparently it’s still despedida season here in Costa Rica and I'm not exactly happy about that because it means I have to say goodbye to some of my best friends. Tear.

Last night, we headed over to La Cantina, the lobby bar of the Best Western across the street- yes, sometimes we hang out in hotel lobby bars for fun here. We were there to toast Kate who will be leaving the country after a short stint of making mango jellies on a farm in Nicaragua. It was a karaoke night at La Cantina, which gets pretty intense over in that hotel bar. Students, friends, co-workers were all present. People were rolling in and out all night and there was no shortage of good conversation. Even Kate, who normally has at least three awkward social panic attacks per night was at ease in this crowd. Around 9:30 love interest number one, “Lino,” called to report he was going to make an appearance. This was exciting news to me, although the party had a good turnout even without him. Obviously, there was no shortage of people who were ready to say good riddance to Kate. Well, by 11 Lino still hadn’t showed and it was clear he wasn’t going to.

My question is this, why even call in the first place and say you’re coming? How about just don’t come, don’t call? Apparently it’s a very Tico thing to do, but that’s a lame excuse. I had a very good old friend in Chicago who used to do this to me too. Once, she even asked me to wait outside a party for her so she could find the house because she was getting in a cab. Luckily, I told her I wouldn’t wait outside otherwise I’d still be standing on the North Avenue looking up and down for that taxi. Another time she told an entire table of us to wait to order dinner because she was en camino to the restaurant. Luckily again, we were the wiser. Here I am again, wise to this same tired game. Needless to say, Lino has now become Nada.

Mañana

Claire is my roommate. Well, she was my roommate until just a few days ago. Sad. Claire and I were good roommates, teammates actually. Together we could accomplish a lot. Claire was good at some things, I was good at some things. We were a complementary couple. This was important as our apartment wasn’t new. Things broke a lot and it was cramped for storage space. We had to take turns taking care of the house. One of the things Claire was good at was fixing the flushing chain thing on the thing that attaches to the thing on the back of the toilet. Of course, one of the last things that happened before Claire left the house was that the thing that attaches to thing broke again. But this time it really broke, unfixable without a new part broke. That was Wednesday. Today is Monday. I’ll admit I was a waste of space on Thursday after a great going away party for Claire Wednesday night and waking up with her at 5:30 am to get her off to the airport. I went back to bed, slept in, got up, did the dishes and cleaned the house. I did teach for two whole hours in the afternoon too. So, Thursday it was my fault the toilet wasn’t fixed because I didn’t tell my landlord Gonzalo.

Sidenote on my landlord: Gonzalo is probably one of the nicest people in the universe, however not the quickest responding landlord. In fact, our neighbors call him “Mañana” to highlight his response of “Tomorrow,” he throws out to everything.

Well, back to the story. So, I looked for Mañana on Friday to no avail. Then finally on Saturday I saw him in the street, grabbed him and dragged him inside to show him my broken toilet. He seemed to be relieved by the fact that I could flush it even if it meant I had to put my hand in the tank to manually pull up the thing since the other thing was no longer attached to the thing. This time he didn’t throw out the standard, “mañana,” he normally does. No, this time he answered with a swift day after tomorrow. Well, what do you know here I am, the day after mañana still sticking my hand in the tank to flush. My hands are raw from washing them as if I’m scrubbing in for surgery after every flush. I’m now taking bets on when Gonzo will come by and fix the toilet. I think by Thursday.

Now that is pura vida.

La Vida Loca

Here goes nothing. I’ve been thinking about starting a blog for a long time now but there was always something standing in my way. Well, actually, who am I kidding? The biggest problem was forcing myself to get over the idea that blogging is just a self-indulgent way to convince friends that I’m leading a really exotic life in Central America. Oh yeah also, as I once said in a job interview, I'm kind of lazy sometimes.

Well now laziness aside, I guess it's time to start talking up this exotic and exciting life I'm living. It is, after all, the life I gave up on my "real life" for, or at least that's how my good friend Liz Bearce put it. I do feel blessed and fortunate to be living the life I'm living, although it’s hardly the exotic and exciting tropical life most people think of when I say I'm living in Costa Rica.

San José does have its charms, but as far as the daily grind is concerned it's a dirty, crowded, dangerous Central American capital city. I find something oddly enchanting about it however.

Maybe it’s the coverless manholes that I fear one day I will drop into for the rest of eternity or the thrill of crossing the street without being killed, I’m not sure. In fact, I was thinking the other day as I strolled down the side of the highway to get to the gym how I wouldn't take anyone I know on that walk voluntarily.

The walk to the gym involves crossing a four-lane highway at a point where there's a blind curve, entrance and exit ramps, and the previously mentioned coverless manholes camouflaged in the tall grass along the median. Maybe I should stop now before I really give my mother a heart attack.

I do look both ways before I cross the road. And it is a nice ego boost to get the honks, whistles and catcalls from the passing motos, cars (including police cars filled with policemen), and trucks. Ah, I am living the life.