Just know, if I die, it has been worth it

"It is worth dying to find out what life is." - T.S. Eliot

Ok Mother, don’t read this blog… and ladies of the quilt guild, my Mother will be better off if she knows nothing about this blog, so please, just tell her you didn’t see it.

I have told y’all what a great time I am having here and how much I am enjoying each new experience. However, if I make it out of here without dying in some sort of transportation accident it will be a gosh darn miracle.

You have already heard about the buses, that are frightening at best… and about the dangers of walking along the road… I haven’t yet told you about the cabs (which are possibly the least scary form of transportation around) or about riding with the Ticos.

I have mentioned previously how fantastic my teacher Mitzi is, she is one of the most kind spirited people I have ever met. Really, I feel like she is a gift to me here and she has given me so much more than I could ever tell you. I have continued to have one-on-one instruction with her for the last three weeks, and have enjoyed it thoroughly. Mitzi and I have really become close; we share in each other’s lives and just enjoy our time together.

Mitzi also knows that I am a little stressed about my Spanish acquisition. I just want to learn the language so badly, and as most of you know I am a Type A personality with low patience. I had totally unrealistic expectations coming here as I, for some crazy reason, thought that I would be fluent in Spanish after 4-6 weeks of classes. Um, not so much. Mitzi has tried to tell me “poco a poco” (little by little) but learning a new language is f’ing hard! However, if I can continue to live through these kinds of experiences, I might just be conversational by the time I leave.

Mitzi has been telling me I need to practice my Spanish more, and she is right… but I get really nervous about speaking in Spanish to anyone I don’t know. I am worried that what I say won’t make sense or that I will embarrass myself, so I do not embrace the situation. However as my sister Rachel pointed out today, I don’t make sense and frequently embarrass myself in English too, so maybe I should just go for it.

Mitzi is trying to help me over come my fears and on Tuesday night invited me to come out for the evening with her and her husband. I, of course, accepted the invitation and asked her where we were going. She said she didn’t know, her husband, German (Herman), would take us somewhere for some food and drinks. Fantastic this is my kind of Spanish lesson!

Mitzi told me they would pick me up at 6:30 and were at my house at 6:00. I can’t seem to figure out Tico time, it is either really late or a little early… and there seems to be no real form of accurate predictability to it. Anyway, we got in the car with German and headed out for the evening. I asked where we were going and Mitzi just kinda shrugged her shoulders and asked if I was nervous.

There were little things about our method of transportation that would cause my Mother concern (though luckily she will never know about them bc I am sure she followed my directions to stop reading earlier). For example, anytime we came to a stop, the car would stall… and I am pretty sure that instead of using the foot pedal for the break, German was using the emergency break to slow down and stop. While downtown this seems to be ok, on the hills around here I will admit it is a little concerning. I tried to tell myself that he was using the foot break and just pulling up on the hand break as an extra safety precaution… but really, I was just lying to myself. And as it turned out, that would end up being the least of my concerns on the drive.

Mitzi and German took me to a place outside of Quepos, which required us to cross a 1 lane bridge (the only way in or out of town). I haven’t mentioned this bridge previously as I am pretty convinced that no one would come to visit me if they knew that crossing this bridge was a requirement to do so. Crossing this bridge is possibly less safe than riding the bus, which I didn’t think was possible.

Really, my whole life here has become about choosing the least dangerous/scary method of transportation. If I could just figure out how to jump through the trees like the monkeys, my life expectancy would increase significantly.

Let me try to describe this bridge to you, but I first need you to remember I am living in a 3rd world country, so imagine it to be far worse than my inadequate description. It is a 1 lane rickety little bridge with wood planks as the only thing between you and the water below. I should also mention that there are quite a few planks missing, leaving gaps that could potentially be large enough for a tire to fall through. When I arrived in Costa Rica and Diane drove me across the bridge I was scared to death, but told myself that I only had to cross that bridge one more time, when I was leaving the country. That was before I became friends with the Ticos who live outside of Quepos. There is good news to report on the bridge front however, they are building a new two lane bridge that is made of cement and appears to be very stable, so by the time Greg and Katie get here, things may be more safe.. but sorry to say the rest of you are probably screwed.

Anyway, I told you this bridge is a 1 lane bridge, so there are “right of way rules” (I use that terminology very loosely) which from my understanding go something like this… if you are heading north on any bridge in Costa Rica, you have the right of way, if you are heading south, you have to wait until all the cars in the opposite direction have gone over the bridge before you can. As you can imagine, this can cause a considerable amount of wait time, and also explains why the drive from San Jose to Quepos can take 2 hours, or 4 hours. Maybe that also helps to explain Tico time.

When we approached the bridge we were heading north, so theoretically we should have had the right of way, however there were cars already coming in the opposite direction, so we had to wait. Once cars driving south have the opportunity to cross the bridge, they try to do so as fast as possible as to not allow any cars heading north to jump in. This, in turn, causes the people heading north to get a little frustrated and aggressive… which can (and did) result in a game of chicken… at night, in a car that stalls, on a tiny little rickety 1 lane bridge, with wood planks (missing). I have come to realize it is possible that as a result of living in Costa Rica I will “find God” as I spend about 85% of my travel time here praying.

Once we were across the bridge, in one piece, and I finally opened my eyes, I found that we were driving down a long straight road… with the car lights off. I am sure there was a very good reason for this (possibly an attempt to prevent the car from stalling while going 50 miles an hour) but it was not particularly comforting. We drove this way for quite some time while I sat in the backseat trying to decide which was more dangerous; driving with the lights off (“German knows these roads very well,” I told myself) or the engine stalling while driving 50 miles an hour (pretty sure the emergency break was not reliable enough to save us in that situation). I should also mention here that people on these roads are not very patient; “ride up” on each other’s tail and pass each other with no regard for oncoming traffic.

We then turned right onto a dark dirt road (strangely enough, right after a sign that said “Las Vegas”) causing us to both slow down and turn the car lights on. Thank God. But now we were faced with a new set of problematic circumstances as driving on these dirt roads stirs up an unbelievable amount of dirt
1. it is almost impossible to prevent dirt from getting into your contacts under these circumstances… though frankly, my inability to see was probably a blessing
2. it literally looked like a dirt storm in front of us which actually made our driving conditions worse than they were when we were driving down the road at 50 miles an hour with no lights on (but probably safer than the game of chicken we had played 15 minutes before).

We drove along these “back woods” dirt roads for quite some time, and I had absolutely no idea where we were. There were huge African Palms on both sides of the road, and every road literally looked the same. As I told you before, there are no street names/signs in Costa Rica and I have no idea how you give directions to a place like this. I also have no idea how you find your way out; which started to make me a little worried.

I couldn’t figure out where the hell we could be going that was this far back in the African Palms or this far off the main road… and started to wonder if Mitzi and German were possibly taking me somewhere to kill me. I started to think back to when I asked Mitzi where we were going and she shrugged her shoulders and asked if I was nervous. Maybe she asked if I was nervous because there was a good reason for me to be (I mean a good reason in addition to the obvious ones: playing chicken on a 1 lane bridge and driving at a high rate of speed with no lights or breaks).

So I started overanalyzing the situation (I use the word “overanalyzing” as code for “having crazy irrational thoughts in my mind.”) and realized she and German were up front speaking more quietly than normal. I was trying to listen for the word “muerto” (dead), as I had not yet been taught the word for "kill" (matar)… which led me to think that maybe there was a reason for that, maybe it was because Mitzi wouldn’t want me to recognize that word when the time came. And at one point Mitzi held up a set of keys to show German she had them. What were the keys for, a secret dungeon underground somewhere? Come on, I had just read the story about the father in Austria… this kind of stuff happens! I looked around the car to make sure there weren’t any plastic trash bags or large metal objects and didn’t see any, making me feel a little less stressed.

Until I had my next thought:

What if this was some sort of “Survivor Spanish Lesson?” What if part of the program was to drop you off in the middle of BFE to see how long it took you to get home? Mitzi had, after all, just said to me that I needed to be put in situations where I was forced to use my Spanish, was this her idea of total Spanish immersion? I started looking out the window to locate any houses or buildings where I might be able to find someone to help me, but all I saw were African Palms. I started to feel a little panicked, I don’t have a cell phone, and there is no such thing as 911 here, how in the world would I get help? I pictured myself sitting down under an African Palm, crying and praying for daylight so I could try to find my way out of this forest. I then realized that I only had on a skirt and a tank top, not enough protective clothing to get me through the night, you would not believe the size of the bugs here! How does one survive a night in such conditions? I should have spent much more time watching the Discovery Chanel before I came as I am sure it would have provided me with some very valuable lessons. Damn that “Rock of Love II,” it was just a waste of time, Brett and the whores were never stranded in the forest… a lot of good watching that show did me.

Look people, I know I am crazy, this is not new information for anyone… (well maybe the ladies of the quilt guild, but come on, they know my Mother, even if this is new information, it can not be much of a surprise) but these are really the sort of thoughts that go through my mind in situations like this, and when these thoughts occur, I start playing the “I’d rather” game in my head, as I did that night.

Would I rather sleep next to an African Palm for the night, or keep walking until I found a house?

Would I rather be eaten by a jaguar or bitten by a deadly snake?

After a few more “rounds” of this game I decided one thing for sure: I would rather they kill me than leave me alone out there to fend for myself.

Just about the time that I came to accept my fate; I came back to reality and realized we were turning into the parking lot of a small bar. I have never been so happy to see neon lights in all my life. We walked into the little local bar, which in many ways was just like any local bar back in the states.: there was an old drunk man sitting at the bar who had been there for way too long, a guy (who clearly had an inflated ego) singing karaoke, a group of girls in low cut shirts huddled together laughing and a group of guys watching said girls trying to determine when to go in for the kill. German and Mitzi knew a lot of people in the bar, as there were a lot of teachers in attendance who German works with… turns out teaching is the number one cause of alcoholism in every country.

We sat down at the bar, ordered a couple drinks and some food and had a delightful time chatting with the locals. I was so relieved that Mitzi’s idea of forcing me to use my Spanish included talking to nice people she knew and drinking beer, no wonder I love this woman so much. And I will tell you, after a couple of beers, my Spanish improves significantly… or at least that is what the Latino men tell me when trying to get me to dance. So we spent the evening drinking beers, eating food I had never seen before (some sort of ribs, though not sure about the animal of origin and yucca, both delicious) listening to Spanish songs via karaoke and dancing. It was a great evening, with plenty of fun and plenty of Spanish.

On a side note, the following day I “googled” yucca, as I wanted to see what it looked like in its original plant form so that I could buy some at the farmers’ market. I made the mistake of typing in the work “yuka”… which as it turns out is the name of an Asian porn star, who didn’t look at all like anything I have seen at the farmers’ market. Ok dirty boys, go ahead and google, but come back as I have more stories to tell you about Friday night.

I was invited out again for Friday night, as it turns out, I was a hit; seems as though, despite my limited vocabulary, I am funny in Spanish too. German came to pick me up (an hour and 45 minutes early this time) and took me to their house for dinner. I met Mitzi’s in-laws and German’s Grandfather, who all live together. Everyone was very sweet and Mitzi’s sons are just the nicest kids. While I was not worried on this drive about the possibility of him killing me or leaving me to fend for myself, there were still some interesting events that occurred on the way to Parrita.

First of all, from what I understood, an electrical pole fell somewhere in Quepos during the day (and while no one said, I am sure a bus had something to do with it) so getting out of Quepos was a challenge due to heavy traffic. It was also raining, and the windshield wipers on the car don’t work automatically, but work sometimes when German pushed the lever down. Also, the windows fogged up to a point where we really couldn’t see in front of us, which I decided wasn’t such a big deal as we were driving with our lights off anyway, what was there to see? However, the strangest part of the drive was at one point, when we were stopped, a man suddenly jumped into the backseat of the car. This man did not appear scary in any way so I didn’t feel panicked (funny how a stranger jumping into the car doesn’t make me nervous, but I have thoughts that Mitzi, one of the nicest people I have ever met, might be taking me to kill me) however there was no conversation prior to him jumping in, so I am not really sure what transpired or how he knew we would be offering him a ride. Turns out, he knew German and lived relatively close by, so German gave him a ride, which is certainly fine by me… I just still don’t understand how it came to be.

We had a nice dinner with Mitzi’s family (Really y’all, I am becoming a huge fan of rice and beans… I just need to figure out how to make them myself, can’t be too hard right? Make some rice and open a can? That is my kind of cooking.) and then headed out for round two of karaoke and dancing. We went to a different bar, this one was enormous (and reassuringly right off of a main road), where families sat around tables eating dinner and having drinks. There was also a huge screen for karaoke, and the microphone was passed around from table to table for people to take a break from eating to sing.

I thought it was supposed to be the Japanese who loved karaoke so much? Let me tell you, the Ticos have dominated the market.

Some of my new favorite things about hanging out with the Ticos

1. When you go to the local Tico bars, a group of 4 people can drink and eat for less than $30.
2. People in Costa Rica love to hear themselves sing.
3. Consequently, almost every local bar has karaoke and the karaoke videos play on large screens for everyone to sing along. These videos don’t just consist of the words to the songs as they do in the US, there are music videos playing in the background… all of which contain next-to-naked women. Apparently all you need to make a music video in Spanish is a beach and an almost naked woman. Maybe Heidi Montog should try her singing career in Latin America – she might have better results.


P.S. I tried to upload some pictures from each of these nights, but the internet connection is terrible and won’t allow me to do so. However, I will try to upload some tomorrow night, so check back to this posting for pictures.