When in Rome… I mean when in Costa Rica…

“I make it a policy to try never to make a complete idiot of myself twice in the same way. After all, there’s always all kinds of new ways to make a complete idiot of myself. Why repeat the old ones?” – Margot Dalton

One of my “coping” methods for living in a country where I don’t know anyone or speak the language is to watch other people around me and do what they are doing. However, I have discovered this will not work in all situations. For example, there is no way in hell I would have picked up Sally the sloth to carry her across the road if she happened to have been on a date with Sal.

One of the other things I learned about sloths, but didn’t post, is that they are flea infested. No, thank you. I will leave the carrying of the sloths to the Ticans… they seem to be handling the situation just fine. And frankly, Sally needs to set her standards higher anyway. I personally would not want to go on a date with anyone who would risk my life like that. Then again, maybe Sal was just trying to impress her... “Look Sally, I can cross this dangerous road without being killed.” Clearly Sal has played one too many games of frogger.

Alright, back to my coping method…this method does often work … I used it at the farmer’s market and had an overall successful time there. I used it at the grocery store, the bank and to catch a cab… all successes. However, sometimes this method just makes me look like an idiot. It’s a game of odds really.

Take yesterday for example, one of my “neighbors” (I’ll call her Jackie) had a migraine and asked me to stop by the pharmacy and pick up some Tylenol with codeine for her during my trip to town. Jackie is from Canada and Canadian over-the-counter medications are much more potent than in the US, so she is used to the “good stuff;” therefore my offer of Advil was not sufficient. Thus I agreed to go; I figured it was good experience for me to go to the farmacia anyway.

Additionally, while Jackie is very, very nice, she is also a little “interesting” (case in point, she can often be found strolling the property in a bright purple velour dress and the only make-up she wears is very thick blue eyeliner on her bottom eye lids), and frankly when she starts talking to me, I will agree to do just about anything to get our conversation to move along a little faster. Jackie is vacationing here by herself and has come here for the past 6 or 7 years, so she is full of “advice.” Some of her “advice” is very helpful, other "advice"… well not so much.

For example, the other day at the pool (while I was clearly trying to read my book) she told me all about sloths (She didn’t know I had bonded with Sal the day before nor that I went online to read all about him for my “evening entertainment.” Surprisingly, sloths and wine make for a great time on a Saturday night.) and warned me not to let them wrap their long claws around me, as they are very strong and sharp and might cut me. Really? Of all the sloth advice out there, that is the best you've got?

While I will say that I am not particularly afraid of sloths…as I am certain I could “out-run” them by simply taking two “scissor steps” forward (Simon Says, anyone?), I don’t make it a practice of holding hands with wild animals. Therefore, while well intended, the advice was pretty useless.

Jackie claimed that this migraine was a “prediction of rain,” as her migraines are generally due to change in barometric pressure or something (don’t remember exactly what she said as I was only half listening, she sure talked a lot for someone who had a migraine). So she advised me to bring my umbrella and “prepare for rain.” While I am not discounting the possibility of her migraines being weather induced, I would like to point out we are living in THE F’ING RAIN FOREST, predicting rain is not that much of an accomplishment.

Ok, back to the farmacia… it is located across the street from the bus station next to “Super Mas” (overpriced grocery store). When I walked up to the glass door of the farmacia, I realized that farmacias in Costa Rica aren’t anything like the Walgreens back home. The farmacia sells only medications, and everything is behind the counter, so you must ask the clerk (I use the term clerk because I am 99.99% sure that neither of the people working were licensed pharmacists) to get you what you need.

Upon realizing this, I start to feel a little stressed because when I envisioned this excursion in my mind, it involved me walking in, choosing what I wanted, giving them thousands of colones and walking out. I didn’t picture any conversation above and beyond me saying “Gracias” and the clerk saying “Con mucho gusto.” Turns out that wasn’t in the cards, a conversation was going to be required.

And while my Spanish cd’s had taught me “Usted es medico?” (Are you a doctor?), my fantasies about using that phrase involved a bar overlooking the ocean, drinks with umbrellas and a gorgeous late 30-something gentleman (whose as it turns out, is a doctor). Clearly that was not going to be the scenario here.

But, I had committed to getting her some medication, so I walked up to the glass door and attempted to pull it open, no luck. I then realized that there were no lights on inside, so I looked all over the door and shop front to try to find a sign stating their hours of operation. While I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to read the words on the sign, numbers are luckily the same in English and Spanish, so I thought I stood a chance of getting the information I needed using my deductive reasoning skills (aka number recognition, maybe Sesame Street would prove to be useful after all).

While I couldn’t find any such sign (once again Sesame Street, of no value to me), I noticed that there was a woman inside making a purchase, which was an indication to me that they were open, despite the fact that the lights were off (which as it turned out was due to the fact that it is HOT AS HELL here and they were trying to help keep the place cool). Also, it was the middle of the day so they should have been open; as I am sure the fake pharmacists don’t start their work day nearly as early as the Madonna loving construction workers.

So I pulled on the door again, nada. Then it dawned on me that there might be some sort of process where in only one person enters the pharmacy at a time. This made some sense to me; I mean in the US we have all the HIPPA regulations, maybe this was an extreme version of that. Maybe the woman in front of me was in need of some sort of medication to cure an STD, which I think justifies a private conversation. While you may think I am jumping to conclusions here, I would like to point out that on my first day in Quepos I picked up the one page tourist map of Quepos and Manuel Antonio which highlights every restaurant, tour place etc. Amongst the advertisements along the edge of the map was an ad for

Centro Medico, Dr. Carlos Salas
“Primary care physician with open access. Let me deal with your complaint.”

The “treatable” complaint list included:

minor surgery (in-grown toenail removal I assume), sun burn, dengue (disease from mosquitoes, remind me to buy bug spray), dehydration (I can see how this would be possible), travelers diarrhea (guess he is not interested in treating the locals' crap), food poisoning, constipation, swimmers ear, sinusitis, fever, ear wash, sexually transmitted diseases

When you are living in a place that lists the treatment of STD’s right next to “ear wash” and beside an advertisement for the “Canopy Safari,” it doesn’t seem too outlandish to me that one would have to wait outside the pharmacy for the other person to exit. So I stood there for probably a minute, being patient, hoping someone else would walk up to confirm I was doing the right thing… when a woman, who was standing next door (and apparently watching me), casually came over and pushed the door open for me. Oh.

When I pulled the door and it didn’t open, it never occurred to me to try to push the door open. Yes, I know, doors both push and pull in the US, but come on, I was simply trying to be respectful of the woman in front of me with the STD. And if I seemed too anxious to enter the pharmacy, then people might think I had an STD. I am new to town; I can’t risk gaining that sort of reputation.

And the truth is, while I was trying to be respectful of her STD treatment, and figure out how Costa Rican farmacias worked, I will admit I was a little distracted by the overriding thought in my mind which was “I can't believe she got an STD, how does anyone have sex in this heat?” Which was quickly followed by the conclusion that it must have been in the shower.

Water conservation at its best.