The greatest oak was once a little nut who held its ground. ~Author Unknown
Apparently bribery and harassment do work. What the British Embassy told me would take at least 2 weeks only took 2 days. My good pal Simon called me this afternoon to let me know that my passport was on its way, and would arrive tomorrow morning.
He also gave me advice on what to say to the airline to get them to change my ticket for free (which I had already successfully accomplished) because "it is not as if you missed your flight because you were pissed (English word for drunk) at the bar." Sounds like Simon has had some problems with traveling too... but that comment made me like him more.
I wonder if Simon still calls his Mum when he has travel dilemmas? Whether he does or not, I promise you she is nowhere near as good as mine.
Oh and now not only will my passport be valid again, but my passport picture is WAY cuter than Katie's.
Thanks to all who supported me through my tears (read: Skeemers (aka Mom), Dadders (self explanatory) and Doodle (aka Katie). I can't wait to get there and get some pictures up on this blog.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Trying to get to paradise....
“If you think you have it tough – read history books.” - Bill Maher
My last post was about my over-packing tendencies. However, I am ashamed to report, over-packing isn't the only problem I have previously had when traveling. My Mother has gotten more than one tearful call from me while I was at an airport or a bus terminal...(though in my defense, these calls were so long ago, they were made from PAY PHONES... I don't think she has gotten a tearful call about travel dramas since college).
There have been tearful calls about relatively simple things like missed flights and lost or forgotten tickets (this was long before e-tickets). And more complicated things, like ending up at a bus terminal in the wrong town. Each time I have called her, she has successfully calmed me down and bailed me out of the situation, whether it was by problem solving, buying me a new ticket or just giving me the love only a Mother can give.
Post college, I will admit, I have called her many times crying, in need of that Motherly love, but those calls were not about travel related issues…. well that was until Thursday of last week.
My day started at the INS office at 7:30 a.m. For those of you who don't know, I am a British citizen, and have a "green card" allowing me to permanently live and work in the U.S. (I put "green card" in quotes, because not only is the card not green ... it is more of a pinkish-cream... there is NOTHING green anywhere on the card. I really feel like they should change the name of this card, it is a total misrepresentation, which I find very bothersome).
Anyway, I lost my “pinkish-cream card” sometime back, and have been trying to get a new “pinkish-cream card” for months. This has required numerous appointments at the INS office, which, as you can imagine, are relatively painful. Until my new card arrives, the only proof I have of my legal right to live and work in this country is a stamp on the inside of my passport. I have needed this stamp and passport at every INS appointment.
My final appointment (keep your fingers crossed) at the INS office was Thursday. I had fortunately spoken to an amazing immigration officer who was very kind to me, and managed to do in 1 appointment what no one else seemed to be able to do in 10 appointments combined. So, I was feeling great, I knew my “pinkish-cream card” was going to arrive at my parent’s house within 2 weeks, and they were going to bring it down to Costa Rica when they came to visit at the end of April. Aside from the zit on the side of my nose that will be on my “pinkish-cream card” picture for the next 10 years, all was good, I was going to be able to re-enter the U.S. at the end of August with little to no problem.
It was around 10:30 in the morning when I finished my INS business, and what I thought might take me all day only took 3 hours, so I had the rest of the day to spare. I decided I was going to swing by my friend Katie’s office, go to lunch with her, get a mani-pedi and head back to my house to get some last minute things done before my trip. That was until I was informed that my current passport was not going to get me into Costa Rica.
Here is the deal… apparently to get into Costa Rica, your passport has to be valid for 6 months AFTER the date in which you are leaving the country …which means my passport had to be good until March of 2009. Which it was not. Now, I know some of you are going to say “of course it did” or “I knew that”…Where were all of you 6 months ago when I started planning this trip?
But here is the thing, even if I had known, it would have been very difficult for me to send my passport off for renewal any sooner as I had to have it for every INS appointment I went to.
So, I went to Katie’s office which is just a couple blocks from the INS office and told her about my quandary. She tried to make me feel better about my situation by showing me her passport with what might be the least flattering picture ever. While I appreciated her effort, her passport was valid, mine was not. We went online to look up a bunch of information and I decided to make some phone calls to see what I could do about my little situation.
My first call was, of course, to my Mother (as I said before, she has solved all of my other traveling dilemmas) who suggested that I call the British Embassy in SF. Which I did. Kelly, the woman I reached at the BE, told me that the only office that issues passports is the BE in DC, and basically there was nothing she could do. As you can imagine that answer didn’t sit well with me. She said she would try to get some additional information for me and would call me back shortly.
So, Katie and I went to lunch to try to figure out a plan. Katie’s suggestion was that I get on the plane, fly to CR, and bring a couple $100 bills to bribe the immigration officer if necessary. See, this is why I go to my Mom for this sort of advice; my Mom’s advice is usually very practical. Katie’s advice, on the other hand, might get me thrown into a Costa Rican jail. Katie and I spent some additional time playing the “what if” game to determine what lengths I would go to in order to get into Costa Rica. My Father will be pleased to hear that financial bribery was as far as I would go. Katie called BS on that.
After a delightful lunch I received a call back from Kelly with bad news. She didn’t think there was anything I could do, and suggested I push my trip back 3 weeks to a month and apply for a new passport. Kelly doesn’t know that I don’t give up that easily.
So, I decided to call the Costa Rican Consulate’s Office in search of an answer I would like more. Sadly they were not able to provide this magical answer. They informed me that not only will the Costa Rican immigration officers not let me into the country (I didn’t tell them that I was going to try to use my womanly powers and some freshly printed Benjamin’s), but also that they are doubtful the airline will even let me on the plane. What? How am I supposed to flirt with the Costa Rican immigration agent if I can’t get to Costa Rica? I called the airline, and, not surprisingly, the Consulate’s Office was right, they wouldn’t let me board the plane.
Let the tears begin.
So what do I do (in between sobs)? Call my Mother of course, and we came up with a plan (and by we, I mean my Mother came up with the plan and I said “great idea”). We decided I was going to take a red-eye flight to DC on Sunday night to arrive at the BE Monday morning by 8:30 a.m. when they open. I was going to beg and plead with them to issue me a new passport that day, and then fly to Costa Rica. Genius.
So, I called Kelly back to confirm that this plan would work. Kelly, who I began to refer to as “the dark cloud” claimed that my application wouldn’t be processed any faster if I showed up in person than if I just mailed them the forms. I was not convinced. Past experience has shown me that a low cut shirt will get you a long way with the right person, usually the “right person” is the bartender and “a long way” is free wine all night, but I was sure “the girls” were good for more than just a free glass of wine. When I tell her this (that I am not convinced my plan won’t work, not that I am not afraid to use “the girls” to help me out when needed…that would be inappropriate), it finally occurred to her that unless she provided me with some sort of assistance, I was not going to stop calling her. I am sure this was a frightening realization for her.
At that point she told me that if I can got my documents sent overnight to arrive at the DC office first thing on Friday morning that she would email her colleagues and request that they process my forms quickly with the hopes that I could have my new passport back by Monday in time for my red-eye flight on Monday night. I thanked her profusely, and called and ordered her flowers. Yes, more bribery. Look, Katie’s plan had merit… I just had to tone it down a little. I was pretty confident that sending flowers to an employee of the BE wouldn’t get me thrown in a Costa Rican jail. Though at this point I wanted to be in Costa Rica so badly that jail seemed like an acceptable option.
Kelly called me Friday afternoon while I was trying on workout pants at Lululemon (while that isn’t specifically relevant to the story, if you have not tried these pants, you must, they are amazing. Terribly overpriced, but amazing.) to tell me that while my package was delivered at 7:18 that morning, the mail room didn’t process the paperwork, my application had only just been given to an agent and it wouldn’t be processed that day. This meant there was no possible way I was leaving for Costa Rica on my Monday night flight.
Let the tears continue.
However, Kelly did give me the name and phone number of the person who would be processing my application on Monday so that I could call him and get updates from him. While this seems like a very nice thing to do, we all know the reason she gave me his number was because she hoped that I would stop calling her and call him instead. So far that plan hasn’t worked out for her.
I have called Simon twice today and have not yet received a call back. I am hopeful that this means he is so busy processing my application and creating a new passport for me, that he doesn’t possibly have time to call me back. I also called Kelly and left her a message. I haven’t heard back from her either. At this point they are probably having a conference call about revoking my passport all together.
So, as of now, I have changed my flight to Thursday morning. This gives Simon 2 days to get me my passport. If everyone could spend the day with their fingers crossed for me, that would be helpful.
I will keep you posted…. The good news is that this has given me time to repack my suitcase one last time, as I am quiet sure it is currently too heavy to carry down the stairs.
My last post was about my over-packing tendencies. However, I am ashamed to report, over-packing isn't the only problem I have previously had when traveling. My Mother has gotten more than one tearful call from me while I was at an airport or a bus terminal...(though in my defense, these calls were so long ago, they were made from PAY PHONES... I don't think she has gotten a tearful call about travel dramas since college).
There have been tearful calls about relatively simple things like missed flights and lost or forgotten tickets (this was long before e-tickets). And more complicated things, like ending up at a bus terminal in the wrong town. Each time I have called her, she has successfully calmed me down and bailed me out of the situation, whether it was by problem solving, buying me a new ticket or just giving me the love only a Mother can give.
Post college, I will admit, I have called her many times crying, in need of that Motherly love, but those calls were not about travel related issues…. well that was until Thursday of last week.
My day started at the INS office at 7:30 a.m. For those of you who don't know, I am a British citizen, and have a "green card" allowing me to permanently live and work in the U.S. (I put "green card" in quotes, because not only is the card not green ... it is more of a pinkish-cream... there is NOTHING green anywhere on the card. I really feel like they should change the name of this card, it is a total misrepresentation, which I find very bothersome).
Anyway, I lost my “pinkish-cream card” sometime back, and have been trying to get a new “pinkish-cream card” for months. This has required numerous appointments at the INS office, which, as you can imagine, are relatively painful. Until my new card arrives, the only proof I have of my legal right to live and work in this country is a stamp on the inside of my passport. I have needed this stamp and passport at every INS appointment.
My final appointment (keep your fingers crossed) at the INS office was Thursday. I had fortunately spoken to an amazing immigration officer who was very kind to me, and managed to do in 1 appointment what no one else seemed to be able to do in 10 appointments combined. So, I was feeling great, I knew my “pinkish-cream card” was going to arrive at my parent’s house within 2 weeks, and they were going to bring it down to Costa Rica when they came to visit at the end of April. Aside from the zit on the side of my nose that will be on my “pinkish-cream card” picture for the next 10 years, all was good, I was going to be able to re-enter the U.S. at the end of August with little to no problem.
It was around 10:30 in the morning when I finished my INS business, and what I thought might take me all day only took 3 hours, so I had the rest of the day to spare. I decided I was going to swing by my friend Katie’s office, go to lunch with her, get a mani-pedi and head back to my house to get some last minute things done before my trip. That was until I was informed that my current passport was not going to get me into Costa Rica.
Here is the deal… apparently to get into Costa Rica, your passport has to be valid for 6 months AFTER the date in which you are leaving the country …which means my passport had to be good until March of 2009. Which it was not. Now, I know some of you are going to say “of course it did” or “I knew that”…Where were all of you 6 months ago when I started planning this trip?
But here is the thing, even if I had known, it would have been very difficult for me to send my passport off for renewal any sooner as I had to have it for every INS appointment I went to.
So, I went to Katie’s office which is just a couple blocks from the INS office and told her about my quandary. She tried to make me feel better about my situation by showing me her passport with what might be the least flattering picture ever. While I appreciated her effort, her passport was valid, mine was not. We went online to look up a bunch of information and I decided to make some phone calls to see what I could do about my little situation.
My first call was, of course, to my Mother (as I said before, she has solved all of my other traveling dilemmas) who suggested that I call the British Embassy in SF. Which I did. Kelly, the woman I reached at the BE, told me that the only office that issues passports is the BE in DC, and basically there was nothing she could do. As you can imagine that answer didn’t sit well with me. She said she would try to get some additional information for me and would call me back shortly.
So, Katie and I went to lunch to try to figure out a plan. Katie’s suggestion was that I get on the plane, fly to CR, and bring a couple $100 bills to bribe the immigration officer if necessary. See, this is why I go to my Mom for this sort of advice; my Mom’s advice is usually very practical. Katie’s advice, on the other hand, might get me thrown into a Costa Rican jail. Katie and I spent some additional time playing the “what if” game to determine what lengths I would go to in order to get into Costa Rica. My Father will be pleased to hear that financial bribery was as far as I would go. Katie called BS on that.
After a delightful lunch I received a call back from Kelly with bad news. She didn’t think there was anything I could do, and suggested I push my trip back 3 weeks to a month and apply for a new passport. Kelly doesn’t know that I don’t give up that easily.
So, I decided to call the Costa Rican Consulate’s Office in search of an answer I would like more. Sadly they were not able to provide this magical answer. They informed me that not only will the Costa Rican immigration officers not let me into the country (I didn’t tell them that I was going to try to use my womanly powers and some freshly printed Benjamin’s), but also that they are doubtful the airline will even let me on the plane. What? How am I supposed to flirt with the Costa Rican immigration agent if I can’t get to Costa Rica? I called the airline, and, not surprisingly, the Consulate’s Office was right, they wouldn’t let me board the plane.
Let the tears begin.
So what do I do (in between sobs)? Call my Mother of course, and we came up with a plan (and by we, I mean my Mother came up with the plan and I said “great idea”). We decided I was going to take a red-eye flight to DC on Sunday night to arrive at the BE Monday morning by 8:30 a.m. when they open. I was going to beg and plead with them to issue me a new passport that day, and then fly to Costa Rica. Genius.
So, I called Kelly back to confirm that this plan would work. Kelly, who I began to refer to as “the dark cloud” claimed that my application wouldn’t be processed any faster if I showed up in person than if I just mailed them the forms. I was not convinced. Past experience has shown me that a low cut shirt will get you a long way with the right person, usually the “right person” is the bartender and “a long way” is free wine all night, but I was sure “the girls” were good for more than just a free glass of wine. When I tell her this (that I am not convinced my plan won’t work, not that I am not afraid to use “the girls” to help me out when needed…that would be inappropriate), it finally occurred to her that unless she provided me with some sort of assistance, I was not going to stop calling her. I am sure this was a frightening realization for her.
At that point she told me that if I can got my documents sent overnight to arrive at the DC office first thing on Friday morning that she would email her colleagues and request that they process my forms quickly with the hopes that I could have my new passport back by Monday in time for my red-eye flight on Monday night. I thanked her profusely, and called and ordered her flowers. Yes, more bribery. Look, Katie’s plan had merit… I just had to tone it down a little. I was pretty confident that sending flowers to an employee of the BE wouldn’t get me thrown in a Costa Rican jail. Though at this point I wanted to be in Costa Rica so badly that jail seemed like an acceptable option.
Kelly called me Friday afternoon while I was trying on workout pants at Lululemon (while that isn’t specifically relevant to the story, if you have not tried these pants, you must, they are amazing. Terribly overpriced, but amazing.) to tell me that while my package was delivered at 7:18 that morning, the mail room didn’t process the paperwork, my application had only just been given to an agent and it wouldn’t be processed that day. This meant there was no possible way I was leaving for Costa Rica on my Monday night flight.
Let the tears continue.
However, Kelly did give me the name and phone number of the person who would be processing my application on Monday so that I could call him and get updates from him. While this seems like a very nice thing to do, we all know the reason she gave me his number was because she hoped that I would stop calling her and call him instead. So far that plan hasn’t worked out for her.
I have called Simon twice today and have not yet received a call back. I am hopeful that this means he is so busy processing my application and creating a new passport for me, that he doesn’t possibly have time to call me back. I also called Kelly and left her a message. I haven’t heard back from her either. At this point they are probably having a conference call about revoking my passport all together.
So, as of now, I have changed my flight to Thursday morning. This gives Simon 2 days to get me my passport. If everyone could spend the day with their fingers crossed for me, that would be helpful.
I will keep you posted…. The good news is that this has given me time to repack my suitcase one last time, as I am quiet sure it is currently too heavy to carry down the stairs.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
What's a girl to wear?
Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not.- Ralph Waldo Emerson
Ok, we are down to 13 days. There are moments where I feel like I have gotten so much done and could leave tomorrow…and other moments where I feel a panic that I haven’t gotten enough done and will never be ready. Though truth be told, most of those moments involve wardrobe planning. I have a hard enough time planning my outfits for a week long trip, let alone a 5 month move. I am sure the above quote by Emerson is not referring to beautiful clothes, but that is the thing about quotes, you can interpret them any way you choose. I like to make sure when I travel that I carry the beautiful with me (clothes that is).
My family would tell you that I have the opposite problem from my Mom when traveling (please see my blog dated November 25th in regards to her old underwear)… I over pack… no I mean really over pack. Case in point: I was in 10th grade and my family was going on our biennial trip to England to visit family. If my memory serves me correctly, we were going for 2 weeks; though I should point out that we weren’t going to be with any group of people for more than 3 days. So theoretically, I could have packed 4 outfits and no one (outside of my immediate family) would have known I wore the same outfit more than once. However, that is not how my mind works… I mean surely we were taking pictures during that time, God forbid I am photographed in the same outfit twice.
So we get to the airport and the “enforcers” at the British Airways terminal told me that my carry on bag was too heavy and I was going to have to “check it” (keep in mind I had already “checked” a regular suitcase). So there I am in the airport emptying out my carry-on bag (read: mid sized suitcase) to determine what in the bag I was actually going to use during the flight, and what was in there for the sole reason that it wouldn’t fit in my already overstuffed “checked” suitcase. To my Mother’s horror, along with many other things, I unpacked 13 pairs of shoes. Yes I said 13, 13 pairs of shoes for a two week trip…don’t laugh; someone might have taken a full length picture that included my feet!
I should also point out that I was in 10th grade during the 80’s, so in that pile of 13 pairs of shoes were most certainly white pumps and hot pink pumps. I was a woman of fashion you know.
The story above is one of many. It is a pattern of behavior for me, I always over pack… and if you talk to any guy who has ever had the fortune of traveling with me, they would tell you that I expect them to carry my over packed suitcase. I am a southern girl after all. And if I am going to grant you the privilege of sleeping in a bed next to me while we are on vacation, the least you can do is carry my suitcase.
Anyway, back to my current packing situation. What does a girl who packs 13 pairs of shoes for a two week trip pack for 5 months? I think the answer would scare you. I started pre-packing last weekend by pulling out my summer clothes to sort them into “yes,” “no” and “maybe” piles. In my initial run through there was hardly anything in the “no” pile… and more in the “yes” pile than would fit into my two large suitcases (which left me wondering what a girl who lives in SF is doing with so many summer clothes… but that is not the point here). My next step was to try on everything in my “yes” pile to see if I still liked it, how it fit, and if possibly it would move into the “maybe” or the “no” pile. I mean I do, after all, need to leave space in my suitcase for the floatie I bought for the pool… don’t laugh, it has a drink holder, and I can not be totally sure that the floaties in Costa Rica have drink holders. Just trying to be prepared.
Back to my packing dilemma, I am trying on everything in my “yes” pile… which has some VERY cute items in it… while simultaneously trying to remind myself that Costa Rica is a very casual country, I am living at the beach and will most likely be in shorts, a tank top and flip flops every day. With that mind set, I started trying to really justify everything I was packing that was not in the above mentioned “every day wear.” Pretty successfully I might add, until I tried on one of my favorite skirts. It is a white skirt with large print black flowers, and every time I wear it I get lots of compliments (and more importantly feel great) which should clearly make it a “yes.” However, it is kind of a dressy skirt so I had to remind myself (for the 100th time) that I will be living at the beach in a laid back country. Begrudgingly I took off the skirt and went to throw it into the “no” pile when I suddenly thought “What if I get invited to a wedding in Costa Rica, what would I wear? That skirt would be perfect!”
I know, I have issues.
Luckily about 5 minutes into this psychotic episode I forced myself to realize that I am crazy, and that I had somehow allowed my mind to leap from moving to a country where I don’t know a soul, to needing fancy skirts to wear to weddings. Don’t judge me, I started off this entry by telling you that I over pack.
However, you should be proud… I did put that skirt in the “no” pile… but only after I made a phone call that resulted in my friend promising to send me the skirt if, in fact, I was invited to a wedding. He feels pretty confident that he won’t be running to fedex, however, I am pretty sure he now regrets volunteering to store my clothes at his house.
Gotta go, I have packing to do.
Ok, we are down to 13 days. There are moments where I feel like I have gotten so much done and could leave tomorrow…and other moments where I feel a panic that I haven’t gotten enough done and will never be ready. Though truth be told, most of those moments involve wardrobe planning. I have a hard enough time planning my outfits for a week long trip, let alone a 5 month move. I am sure the above quote by Emerson is not referring to beautiful clothes, but that is the thing about quotes, you can interpret them any way you choose. I like to make sure when I travel that I carry the beautiful with me (clothes that is).
My family would tell you that I have the opposite problem from my Mom when traveling (please see my blog dated November 25th in regards to her old underwear)… I over pack… no I mean really over pack. Case in point: I was in 10th grade and my family was going on our biennial trip to England to visit family. If my memory serves me correctly, we were going for 2 weeks; though I should point out that we weren’t going to be with any group of people for more than 3 days. So theoretically, I could have packed 4 outfits and no one (outside of my immediate family) would have known I wore the same outfit more than once. However, that is not how my mind works… I mean surely we were taking pictures during that time, God forbid I am photographed in the same outfit twice.
So we get to the airport and the “enforcers” at the British Airways terminal told me that my carry on bag was too heavy and I was going to have to “check it” (keep in mind I had already “checked” a regular suitcase). So there I am in the airport emptying out my carry-on bag (read: mid sized suitcase) to determine what in the bag I was actually going to use during the flight, and what was in there for the sole reason that it wouldn’t fit in my already overstuffed “checked” suitcase. To my Mother’s horror, along with many other things, I unpacked 13 pairs of shoes. Yes I said 13, 13 pairs of shoes for a two week trip…don’t laugh; someone might have taken a full length picture that included my feet!
I should also point out that I was in 10th grade during the 80’s, so in that pile of 13 pairs of shoes were most certainly white pumps and hot pink pumps. I was a woman of fashion you know.
The story above is one of many. It is a pattern of behavior for me, I always over pack… and if you talk to any guy who has ever had the fortune of traveling with me, they would tell you that I expect them to carry my over packed suitcase. I am a southern girl after all. And if I am going to grant you the privilege of sleeping in a bed next to me while we are on vacation, the least you can do is carry my suitcase.
Anyway, back to my current packing situation. What does a girl who packs 13 pairs of shoes for a two week trip pack for 5 months? I think the answer would scare you. I started pre-packing last weekend by pulling out my summer clothes to sort them into “yes,” “no” and “maybe” piles. In my initial run through there was hardly anything in the “no” pile… and more in the “yes” pile than would fit into my two large suitcases (which left me wondering what a girl who lives in SF is doing with so many summer clothes… but that is not the point here). My next step was to try on everything in my “yes” pile to see if I still liked it, how it fit, and if possibly it would move into the “maybe” or the “no” pile. I mean I do, after all, need to leave space in my suitcase for the floatie I bought for the pool… don’t laugh, it has a drink holder, and I can not be totally sure that the floaties in Costa Rica have drink holders. Just trying to be prepared.
Back to my packing dilemma, I am trying on everything in my “yes” pile… which has some VERY cute items in it… while simultaneously trying to remind myself that Costa Rica is a very casual country, I am living at the beach and will most likely be in shorts, a tank top and flip flops every day. With that mind set, I started trying to really justify everything I was packing that was not in the above mentioned “every day wear.” Pretty successfully I might add, until I tried on one of my favorite skirts. It is a white skirt with large print black flowers, and every time I wear it I get lots of compliments (and more importantly feel great) which should clearly make it a “yes.” However, it is kind of a dressy skirt so I had to remind myself (for the 100th time) that I will be living at the beach in a laid back country. Begrudgingly I took off the skirt and went to throw it into the “no” pile when I suddenly thought “What if I get invited to a wedding in Costa Rica, what would I wear? That skirt would be perfect!”
I know, I have issues.
Luckily about 5 minutes into this psychotic episode I forced myself to realize that I am crazy, and that I had somehow allowed my mind to leap from moving to a country where I don’t know a soul, to needing fancy skirts to wear to weddings. Don’t judge me, I started off this entry by telling you that I over pack.
However, you should be proud… I did put that skirt in the “no” pile… but only after I made a phone call that resulted in my friend promising to send me the skirt if, in fact, I was invited to a wedding. He feels pretty confident that he won’t be running to fedex, however, I am pretty sure he now regrets volunteering to store my clothes at his house.
Gotta go, I have packing to do.
Monday, March 3, 2008
28 days and counting....
"Life is either a daring adventure or it is nothing." - Helen Keller
Holy crap... it is really happening, I am getting on a plane in 28 days to move to a country where
1. I have never been
2. I don't know a soul
3. I don’t speak the language
All of a sudden this seems insane, I mean have I lost my mind? What the hell am I thinking? I am leaving my favorite city in the world, where I have great friends, a great place to live, a great job and where I SPEAK THE LANGUAGE!!!
However, in my attempt to be slightly more prepared, I have been listening to Spanish cd’s in my car when I am driving (which frankly is not that often bc I work from home now)… and in the second lesson, right after the alphabet, they taught me to say “cauliflower.” WTF? I don’t use that word in the US, why in the world would I need to know it in Costa Rica? My Spanish teacher isn’t even sure they have cauliflower in Costa Rica! And these were supposed to be the “number one selling language cd’s” … boy I can see why.
Luckily in the third lesson they were teaching the art of conversation and question asking, and the question/conversation went like this (and no I am not making this up):
“¿Es agua?” (Is it water?)
To which the other person replied
“No es vino.” (No it is wine.)
Ok, so I find that MUCH more helpful than learning “coliflor” (cauliflower); but if I am going to a country where the people can’t tell the difference between water and wine that is grossly problematic.
Maybe that is why I am freaking out… I am moving from a place where wine country is a short 30 minute drive from my house to a place where potentially they can’t tell the difference between water and wine. I should have done a little more research.
Really though, the time is quickly approaching and I can’t believe that what was a “wild hair” idea 6 months ago when I quit my job is now coming to fruition.
And while I am nervous, I am also ready and excited and trying to prepare myself for the adventure ahead. I will be living on a property with 15 “bungalows” (the ex-pat word for small A-framed house) and will live in 3 out of the 15 bungalows during my time there.
I have posted pictures of the property on the next blog entry… it looks so beautiful, I can’t wait to be there…there are literally monkeys and sloths in the trees surrounding my house.
I am sure some of you instantly thought “Wonder how long it will be until she gets shit on by a monkey?” What good friends you are.
I have also included a link to a website operated by one of my landlords. When you see the tv, you will realize why I planned to be back in the states by the start of football season.
http://www.casamonococo.com/
Ok, I have to get back to temporarily packing up my life here in San Francisco. I promise to blog every week until I leave (March 31st), and once I get there I will be blogging frequently, so check in on me, I will work hard to keep you entertained.
Holy crap... it is really happening, I am getting on a plane in 28 days to move to a country where
1. I have never been
2. I don't know a soul
3. I don’t speak the language
All of a sudden this seems insane, I mean have I lost my mind? What the hell am I thinking? I am leaving my favorite city in the world, where I have great friends, a great place to live, a great job and where I SPEAK THE LANGUAGE!!!
However, in my attempt to be slightly more prepared, I have been listening to Spanish cd’s in my car when I am driving (which frankly is not that often bc I work from home now)… and in the second lesson, right after the alphabet, they taught me to say “cauliflower.” WTF? I don’t use that word in the US, why in the world would I need to know it in Costa Rica? My Spanish teacher isn’t even sure they have cauliflower in Costa Rica! And these were supposed to be the “number one selling language cd’s” … boy I can see why.
Luckily in the third lesson they were teaching the art of conversation and question asking, and the question/conversation went like this (and no I am not making this up):
“¿Es agua?” (Is it water?)
To which the other person replied
“No es vino.” (No it is wine.)
Ok, so I find that MUCH more helpful than learning “coliflor” (cauliflower); but if I am going to a country where the people can’t tell the difference between water and wine that is grossly problematic.
Maybe that is why I am freaking out… I am moving from a place where wine country is a short 30 minute drive from my house to a place where potentially they can’t tell the difference between water and wine. I should have done a little more research.
Really though, the time is quickly approaching and I can’t believe that what was a “wild hair” idea 6 months ago when I quit my job is now coming to fruition.
And while I am nervous, I am also ready and excited and trying to prepare myself for the adventure ahead. I will be living on a property with 15 “bungalows” (the ex-pat word for small A-framed house) and will live in 3 out of the 15 bungalows during my time there.
I have posted pictures of the property on the next blog entry… it looks so beautiful, I can’t wait to be there…there are literally monkeys and sloths in the trees surrounding my house.
I am sure some of you instantly thought “Wonder how long it will be until she gets shit on by a monkey?” What good friends you are.
I have also included a link to a website operated by one of my landlords. When you see the tv, you will realize why I planned to be back in the states by the start of football season.
http://www.casamonococo.com/
Ok, I have to get back to temporarily packing up my life here in San Francisco. I promise to blog every week until I leave (March 31st), and once I get there I will be blogging frequently, so check in on me, I will work hard to keep you entertained.
Pictures of my place and my pals
Here is the walkway from the street up to the property. 
Here is the pool where I will spend a lot of my time... esp. bc it is wireless equipped. Nothing like working remotely!
Here is my good friend "Manny the Monkey"... I hear that he likes shiny things like keys and sunglasses, so they say to cover those things when you get in the pool otherwise the monkeys will jump down from the trees and steal them. All I can picture is a bunch of monkeys running around wearing sunglasses and a key belt.
And here is my other good friend "Sal the Sloth." I wonder how many drinks it will take before I actually start attempting to have conversations with them.... I wonder if they speak English... or drunkin', I mean broken, Spanish for that matter.
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