So I´m sitting in an Internet cafe in San Isidro, Costa Rica. Gringos surround me, all desperately trying to reach their white homelands before going back into the brown Latin world outside this air-conditioned world.
Not that I´m not one of those gringos. George Lopez (or was it Carlos Mencia?) said in his stand-up act that while you´re in the states, you´re all jefe, I´m a badass Mexican I´ll shoot you before I go on to pick the fields, yeah bitch yeah. But when you go to Mexico itself, you´re all Oh my GAWD. Do people LIVE in those houses? They´re, like, total SHACKS?
Forgive the italicization. I´m on a Spanish keyboard, and I can´t find the quotation marks.
So I´m down here volunteering. I´ve lost a ridiculous amount of weight. Most of it disowned me after I pushed my body up a mountain that, Ian claims, is much tougher than some famous mountain whose name, whichs starts with a k, I can´t recall right now. Most of my pictures, which have taken up four cameras so far, are fairly boring, all nature and crap -- but Ian´s taken a few shots of this near-death gringo, and he´ll send them to me when I´m back in the States, come September.
I´ve never met hornier white woman than I have here. The tourists are all here for one, two nights, and they want to get as much of the native culture in as they can. [/pun] And a ridiculous number seem to be high school teachers -- one in particular, a beautiful redhead from San Francisco who I met right here in this Internet cafe, told me she was leading a group of high school students in an immersion project, shortly before she asked, quite literally, to get a look in under my pants.
Go me.
Then she ran away laughing, but that´s a different story.
The insects are evil. I mean, Noah´s Drizzle apparently missed Central America. We´ve got mutated cocker spaniels with wings who´ve sucked out far too much blood for me to still be healthy. My legs look like I´ve gotten a monstrous case of chickenpox.
Hmm. Be grateful, Hatrack. My next-computer neighbor´s walking out the door right now, and by rights I SHOULD be asking her to lunch right now.
In any case, concerning insects, EIGHT have flown into my eyes so far. Several got STUCK there. I´ve had an ant colony crawl up my leg, and not go away until I ran several miles back to the shower so I could frantically slap at them while hopping on one leg and screaming like a little girl. I´ve had bites millimeters away from lil´ Eddie, and I´m starting to have nightmares about nips in and up my anus, and how to kill any insects brave enough to explore too far. On the plus side, it was with a whine about the said insects that prompted a conversation between Megan and myself, so even the evil little bastards did me a good service.
My work, which also plays a role in my existence down here, is backbreaking. Essentially, I cart trees up the mountain (the evil, evil mountain) and dig holes for them among the chest-high grass (the evil, evil grass) where pasture used to be, or, god forbid, in the jungle (where the said evil, evil undead insects multiply themselves thousandfold).
Oh yes. A warning -- I´ve bought six bottles of Jungle Juice, which is 95% DEET. It´s utterly useless, except for a singularly useful talent of running into your eyes when you´re 8000 feet up and have no water within miles to clear them with. It´s also helped me discover my hidden talent of screaming like a little girl, which is sure to come in handy later in my life, in such situations as prison or playing a role model for my future children.
All in all, though, the experience isn´t bad. For example, once, I never understood why people complaining about humidity and envied LA´s ´dry heat.´ Also, back in LA, I once wished for rain. (Tropical storms run through Costa Rica every day at 2.) I´m sure it would be quite romantic, but I´ve yet to get any steady girlfriend up here. And, frankly, I´m afraid to -- the women down here are far too attractive to be their age (they´re all fourteen, apparently; you have no idea how much guilt runs through my head every time I picture any Tika who looks 25 or younger naked).
Also, I AM getting a body back at a ridiculous rate. By the end of two months, I should be lean and hard. (No, you may not make a dick joke out of this.) Expect pictures soon -- all my pictures are of nature, since I never take my camera anywhere but out to work with me, but Ian´s taken a few pictures of my exhausted gringo ass. They´ll be on Foobonic come September. And remember, just because I LOOK near-death doesn´t mean I am. In many of the cases, I´m actually dead, and Ian had to prop up the gringo and take his cheeks back to make a smile.
There are some ridiculously competent people up here. Down here. Wherever I am. Alvarro´s a stout Tiko, and jesus he puts me to shame. He has a fetish for moving ridiculously large rocks. I must take pictures of these rocks for you to understand. Also, because of my size, he´s decided I should work with him in moving them.
I´ve tried running from him, but the man´s armed with giant crowbars. Also, I saw The Hulk before I left -- if Alvarro could do that to military choppers, I don´t want to imagine what he could do to me.
There´s also Joey, my under-boss. And his beautiful (everyone here is beautiful) wife Giovanni. And Erik, an buff, tanned Asian dude who´s also, yes, ridiculously competent. And Sandra, his wife. And Ulani (You-Lan-Ee, however you spell it) who plays maid every week, and has the biggest pair of breasts I´ve seen on the mountain. And just ridiculous amounts of other people, but I don´t have the strength in my fingers to type them all.
Corey, my whiteASS roommate, just got invited to spend three days on the beach with twins.
Evil, evil Corey.
My bus leaves in an hour, and I need to pick up a machete for myself. I could use Ian´s, but I want one for myself.
I have an hour to meet someone who isn´t fourteen. I don´t think I´ll bother, since it´ll take some time to find someone and a room and god knows what else, and despite my former girlfriends´ claims, I WON´T be able to have sex in a matter of seconds. And there´s no real point in making a friend, since they´re all gone in a day or two.
It´s amazing. Unlike in the States, where sex comes first then blood-sucking comes later in a relationship, here, I can have both at once.
Evil, evil insects.
Mexico´s kicking ass in the soccer thing, at least. Ha ha ha. I almost got lynched in the Uran when I cheered against Costa Rica. Erik still owes me a fight.
I can´t imagine how disjointed this must be, but I´m not exactly in the prime of my writing skills right now. Otherwise, I´d be bitching out OSC for his latest, ridiculous War Watch column. Restricting bigoted or unConstitutional laws is what the Supreme Court is FOR, genius. Or does the Constitution insist that sodomy must be persecuted?
Gah.
Beautiful people surround me. I wonder if they´ve passed the second grade yet, and just how punishing the laws here are against molestation. There is a BEAUTIFUL woman to my right, and she is... She is fifteen. Hmm. I wonder how strictly laws are enforced around here.
As a joke, my brother packed a bag of condoms, unbeknownst to me. They´re all two sizes too small for me, and I think he knew it. Even worse, I have NO idea where to buy condoms up here.
Not that I need them THAT much. Still a reasonably unattractive man.
I think I´ll find a pizza joint around here. Maybe cart a few back up with me. The bus is a horrible ride. Evil, evil bus.
If there wasn´t so much jungle around here, I´d say the neighborhood´s ´ghetto.´ Very primitive. Did I mention I keep my used toilet paper in a plastic bag by the toilet?
I will never bless plumbing as much as I will when I get back. Keep the seat warm for me, America.
(edited first to add to the title, then to remove the addition)
[ August 26, 2003, 02:33 PM: Message edited by: Lalo ]
Posted by T. Analog Kid (Member # 381) on :
you've got my curiousity up... please e-mail me at paco1@norrath.net. (Tried to privately e-mail you, but your profile said "not today, grasshopper").
Posted by saxon75 (Member # 4589) on :
Heh, I remember the first time I went to Costa Rica. I was about 17, my little brother was 15 or 16. We were having dinner at this place in Tambor called Scruffy's (alas, the most awesome fish meals ever were not enough to keep this place in business). This little Tica, she must have been about 12, decided that my brother was the cutest thing ever and laid claim to him. For the rest of the evening, whenever a woman (especially a young, attractive gringa) would walk into the restaurant, she would yell at him in Spanish, telling him not to look at her. He got quite the cornered look in his eye, I can tell you.
But I totally hear you on the bugs and the plumbing, man.
Posted by Caleb Varns (Member # 946) on :
Hey, Lalo. Glad to hear that you're doing okay. Not glad to hear you scream like a girl.
I'll bet you're jealous of this big bottle of Gold Bond... oops, accidentally threw it away! How American of me.
I'm also curious as to the nature of your "mission?". Is this a peace corps thing? Or did you just wake up one day and say "I'm going to go to Costa Rica and plant some trees on an evil evil mountain!"
Posted by mackillian (Member # 586) on :
jailbait, eddie. jailbait.
Posted by ak (Member # 90) on :
It's great to hear from you, Eduardo! <laughs> In great form, I see. And I had such hopes you were actually going to grow up a gentleman! Sheesh, where did I get that idea?
Very cool, what you're doing in the rainforest. Wow, I heard deet actually kept the bugs off. Apparently one of those tricks they play on the jungle newbies, huh? Hope you don't end up getting some nasty virus from them. Or from ... ahem ... anywhere else. Do be extra careful about that, okay? We don't want to lose our Daed cause who else would scathe our ears with such talk besides you? Huh? Not Frisco! All he does is post nekkid pix.
Take care, enjoy your trip, and come home to us safely, okay? We miss you!
[ July 29, 2003, 01:30 PM: Message edited by: ak ]
Posted by Irami Osei-Frimpong (Member # 2229) on :
Eddie, that was an incredibly entertaining post. It was a little bereft of spiritual development, but the energy and diction were superb. Have fun and keep your wits about you.
quote:I´ve had bites millimeters away from lil´ Eddie, and I´m starting to have nightmares about nips in and up my anus, and how to kill any insects brave enough to explore too far.
Imagery doesn't get better than that.
[ July 29, 2003, 01:43 PM: Message edited by: Irami Osei-Frimpong ]
Posted by ak (Member # 90) on :
Eduardo, think about this. Gentlemen have a much larger pool of potential lovers, since if you learn to act nicely you will revolt fewer women with your behavior. See? I wouldn't ask you to do something for no reason!
And do please stay away from the little girls. It's really not at all a kind thing to do, regardless of the local laws and constabulary.
[ July 29, 2003, 04:17 PM: Message edited by: ak ]
Posted by Irami Osei-Frimpong (Member # 2229) on :
quote:Gentlemen have a much larger pool of potential lovers, since if you learn to act nicely you will revolt fewer women with your behavior.
ak,
I don't think this is a game of numbers. I'd be suspicious of any woman who couldn't appreciate Eddie's obvious charms.
Eddie, do be mindful of little girls, though. As many of them as there are running around willy-nilly, once again, this isn't a game of numbers.
[ July 29, 2003, 07:16 PM: Message edited by: Irami Osei-Frimpong ]
Posted by Jeni (Member # 1454) on :
I agree with Irami, that was an incredibly entertaining post. I don't even mind the raw language too much. (Okay, I'm actually completely used to it from you, I was just shocked to see so much of it in a Hatrack post.)
What is DEET?
Caleb: It's a private volunteer project created to preserve and reforest a deforested section of Costa Rica. Eddie's been looking to volunteer abroad for a while now, but a lot of the programs are actually very costly.
I don't think Eddie's about to jump after all these girls. He just likes to talk about it an awful lot.
[ July 30, 2003, 01:28 AM: Message edited by: Jeni ]
Posted by LadyDove (Member # 3000) on :
Eddie- This is incredibly cool and you sound great!
Do you have a mailing address down there? If so, can I have it?
Posted by ak (Member # 90) on :
I've been trying to teach Daed to be a gentleman for years now! <laughs> I don't think he minds at all, do you Lalo? He knows I love him and just try to kick his behind to be better than he is all the time.
Shhh, Irami, don't tell Eddie it's not about numbers. I'm trying to trick him into becoming a gentleman that way.
[ July 30, 2003, 08:50 AM: Message edited by: ak ]
Posted by Lalo (Member # 3772) on :
quote:you've got my curiousity up... please e-mail me at paco1@norrath.net. (Tried to privately e-mail you, but your profile said "not today, grasshopper").
Analog, the e-mail's on its way. What was it you wanted to ask about?
quote:This little Tica, she must have been about 12, decided that my brother was the cutest thing ever and laid claim to him.
Dude, back me up on this. Aren't all these pre-teens just ridiculously attractive? Some look like they're twenty. Some look like they're twenty, but better. If I stay here much longer, I'll get a guilt complex every time I look at a prospective Tika.
quote:I'll bet you're jealous of this big bottle of Gold Bond... oops, accidentally threw it away! How American of me.
I'm also curious as to the nature of your "mission?". Is this a peace corps thing? Or did you just wake up one day and say "I'm going to go to Costa Rica and plant some trees on an evil evil mountain!"
Watch, Caleb. Just watch. Today, they have our gardens and nurseries. Tomorrow, Washington!
And this is, as Jeni said, a replacement for Ghana. I couldn't afford the damn plane tickets ($2500), so I moved on to Latin America. Still cost me just under a grand, but what's the point of having money if you can't go broke as soon as you have it?
quote:jailbait, eddie. jailbait.
Yes, Mac. Yes, they are. Beautiful, curvy jailbait.
quote:It's great to hear from you, Eduardo! <laughs> In great form, I see. And I had such hopes you were actually going to grow up a gentleman! Sheesh, where did I get that idea?
Very cool, what you're doing in the rainforest. Wow, I heard deet actually kept the bugs off. Apparently one of those tricks they play on the jungle newbies, huh? Hope you don't end up getting some nasty virus from them. Or from ... ahem ... anywhere else. Do be extra careful about that, okay? We don't want to lose our Daed cause who else would scathe our ears with such talk besides you? Huh? Not Frisco! All he does is post nekkid pix.
Take care, enjoy your trip, and come home to us safely, okay? We miss you!
No worries, Anne Kate -- I'm not getting laid THAT often. And I have the bag of undersized condoms to make sex as uncomfortable as possible.
And yeah, jesus, who gave you the idea I was a gentleman?
quote:Eddie, that was an incredibly entertaining post. It was a little bereft of spiritual development, but the energy and diction were superb. Have fun and keep your wits about you.
quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I´ve had bites millimeters away from lil´ Eddie, and I´m starting to have nightmares about nips in and up my anus, and how to kill any insects brave enough to explore too far. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Imagery doesn't get better than that.
Aw... I think that's the first time I've ever been flattered about the image of lil' Eddie... Irami, you're SO sweet...
quote:Eduardo, think about this. Gentlemen have a much larger pool of potential lovers, since if you learn to act nicely you will revolt fewer women with your behavior. See? I wouldn't ask you to do something for no reason!
Oh, the hell we do. Trust me on this, go outside, talk to any random guy, and work an offer of sex into the conversation. He'll do whatever you want him to. Try doing the same with a woman, and you get slapped. Larger pool my ass.
quote:And do please stay away from the little girls. It's really not at all a kind thing to do, regardless of the local laws and constabulary.
I'm not a child molester yet, except in my imagination. Give me some credit.
quote:I don't think this is a game of numbers. I'd be suspicious of any woman who couldn't appreciate Eddie's obvious charms.
Wow, Irami. So far, you've complimented my penis and my "obvious charms," and told me I don't need to keep notching my bed's posts. Is this a hint? I hear once I go black, I don't come back.
But enough of dirty talk.
I miss civilization. I miss porno, and decent beer, and traffic. I miss black and Asian women desperately -- everyone down here's either a native or a rich white tourist. I miss reading about the latest way Bush has ****ed up the world, or going out with friends to the movies.
But on the plus side, I think my high-strung, hyper American self is finally starting to relax. Even if the rest of Costa Rica's getting tense through osmosis, I'm finally learning how to mellow out. Mellowing's a big thing around here -- I've been to two, three stoner parties already, and my friends light up that many times per day. I generally stay away from pot (if only because my self-control's strained enough with good food and alcohol), but what these guys have isn't all that awful. And my philosophy with pot's much the same as it is with alcohol -- don't try to get yourself high, just let the pretty girl drink or smoke enough until she's ready to sleep with you.
At one of those stoner parties, no girls. Big flop.
Corey and I are hosting three gringas up at the casa tonight. One of them's one of the twins Corey went to go see at the beach -- of the other two, at least one, Corey's friend swears, is a hot blonde. Looking forward to it, or would if I had an ounce of charm left in me; it's been so damn long since I've spoken English that I've all but forgotten the subtleties of the language. May as well drag the blonde up the narrowass staircase by her hair. Though, for once, I'm hoping I don't have to do much tonight -- yesterday, I carried twenty-five trees up Death March (the most fitting name I could come up with for the ridiculously steep two-mile stretch of land that must've been imported from a Nazi concentration camp), which is as difficult as it sounds.
I took about four, five days off to read George R. R. Martin's A Song Of Fire And Ice. About 3,000 pages all told, and all of them excellent. I'm really looking forward to the next installment, though Martin may be taking a Hobb turn -- I am NOT happy with this magical rejuvenation bullshit that seems to happen more and more frequently.
Gah. When I leave on the 2:00 bus, I'll have to wait three hours in the Roca Dura (a ripoff of the Hard Rock cafe, yes) until the girls arrive. It's a forty minute walk up to the casa from there, and it's just not worth the hassle to go up only to come back down.
Vonnegut's awful. Sorry, but I just read Slaughterhouse Five for the first time -- maybe it's that I'm not sophisticated enough to understand it, but as far as satire goes, it's ridiculously weak. I can understand the characterization of Weary, and his contrast with the scouts of what war's truly like. I can understand the Englishmen. But how the hell did this get classified as high literature?
Maybe it's one of those things I have to read twice. But I much prefer Moby Dick to this garbage. Then again, I've never cared much for Kubrick's Apocalpse Now or Lewis Carroll -- it's very possible that I just don't have the patience for these weak avante-garde approaches to writing.
Richard, a local immigrant, recently lent me a Herman Hesse book, Siddhartha. I've heard good things about it, but have yet to try it out. Will do so as I sip this godawful Heiniken beer in the Roca Dura and wait for the gringa guests.
Ian's sent me a picture of myself at the peak of that evil, evil mountain. I look ****ing terrible, but those who want to see it are welcome to it. And yes, I like to pretend I don't look like that when I smile.
Ladydove, I wish I had a mailing address. If I could, I'd have a friend ship those China Mieville books ae was talking about, along with a mattress that was thicker than most sheets of paper. But Costa Rican mail works strangely -- apparently, they say that they're two blocks away from the church, in the green house. Or five blocks away, in the uppermost apartment of a two-story (ha! like anything around here had two stories) white house. Seeing as I'm a two-hour bus ride from the church...
Y'know, I wish I could understand what the people are saying, speaking out of giant speakers mounted on cars...
I've never really fully realized my whiteness before, but jesus what a slap in the face. I am NOT Mexican. I'm barely alive, compared to these animated, cheerful, brown dancers. Even the gringos who've moved here, like Lobo or Erik or Richard, they all look like they're twenty. Lobo's actually thirty-some, same as Erik, and Richard's gotta be around forty. Giovanni and Sandra are twenty, but you know they'll look that beautiful until they're forty.
I really wish I had something intelligent to say, some revelation or story, but I'm barely paying attention to what my fingers are typing anymore. I feel so amazingly ugly -- the computer to my left, in the time that I've been here, has had no fewer than three stunningly beautiful women. My face feels saggy, I'm constantly aware of my belly (which has all but disappeared; the jeans I wore down here, which used to fit fine, now wear like clown pants), and these goddamn insects have sucked out too much blood -- I now have only enough for either my eyes or my tongue, and every time I see a beautiful woman (which, may I remind you, is every three feet) my eyes won't be refused the pleasure.
And the dancing. Oh, the dancing. The cripples here can salsa better than I can. I don't think I've ever been more embarrassed.
I've also all but stopped eating. And when I do, since only pasta can preserve up here, I feel sick from eating such heavy food. I generally swallow a spoonful or three of peanut butter after a strenuous workout, but it's starting to seem unnecessary. The same forces that keep everyone here beautiful are keeping my stomach satisfied. And I can't eat from boredom, since we have no food and I'm constantly doing work (except for the past few days, when I was reading, when I noticed a sizable increase in my waistline. Jeans still better made for circus).
Met a beautiful Dutch woman recently, from Copenhagen, wherever the hell that is. Wherever the hell Dutch people are from. It's been so long since I've spoken English that I asked her up to the casa, instead of to see the waterfalls or pet a tree or anything but the obvious. Granted, I was more than a little influenced by her rubbing the inside of her thigh up and down my shin, independent of the bus' jolting, but it just goes to show you how unsubtle I've become.
I fear for the hot blonde gringa.
Turns out she (hot Dutch girl) was climbing Chirripo, which meant she had to get off in the village before mine. Sigh. I loved her accent.
Corey the gringo's apparently in big demand. He just got back from three days spent with twins on the beach, and on the way back he met a hot little French-Canadian number. Then he hooked the three gringas for tonight. I must find some way to keep up.
So that's all for today, and I expect it's all that'll exist for the next two months or so, women and trees.
Oh yes. There are cows. The bus today was even slower than usual because a cow had gotten loose and was busy running away from the bus -- but, being a cow, it ran directly in front of it. And being a cow, its top speed was just a little faster than a wind-up toy. How do you tip these things, exactly?
Posted by ak (Member # 90) on :
I think the gentleman thing was just my hope, Eduardito, since I've been trying so hard to raise you up better all these years. Do consider it, though. I'm sure your sparkling wit will work just as well in decent talk as it does when you roast everyone's ears off, and it's true that more women go for gentlemen, so there's a little bonus for you to think about. Posted by Morbo (Member # 5309) on :
In answer to thread title: what about Jehovah's Witnesses? Or televangelists? Posted by fugu13 (Member # 2859) on :
Morbo: it's not polite to insult Jehovah's Witnesses. IIRC, we have some here on Hatrack.
Feel free to insult Televangelists (those ones who talk about all the numbers lining up and run around on stage telling people how their God is ensuring their financial future, at least).
Posted by Morbo (Member # 5309) on :
Point taken. to all Witnesses.
Posted by Lalo (Member # 3772) on :
Wow. It's only been two days since I was last here in the Internet cafe, but it seems so much longer.
My thighs are chafed beyond belief -- a little higher up, and I'd have that prison sensation. Yesterday I walked just a ridiculous amount. On the plus side, that hike helped me lose weight, so...
Where to start. Friday, I guess. I went back to the Roca Dura and sat down to read some Hesse. Then Patooky (Alvarro) calls me over and I go drinking with him and his buddies -- I understand about every third word, but that's okay, since conversations with Alvarro tend to go into wheeeEEEEEEEEEYAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!! after a few seconds or so.
He's named me his amigo ruda, or something along those lines. The gringas, who speak Spanish, couldn't quite translate it but told me it means I'm his brute. I can only assume it means I'm the only one Alvarro has to roughhouse with.
Poor me.
Did I mention the mother****er moves gigantic rocks for a living?
So we wind up getting slightly hammered, the five of us, consuming about thirty beers between us. We're all looking forward to the gringas arriving, but nobody more than the Tikos -- they find gringas as attractive as gringos find Tikas, apparently. I'm more than willing to trade all your white bony asses for these beautiful, curvy Latinas -- and if I ever get the chance to, don't think I won't.
Anyway, every time we see a taxi arrive, all the Tikos go and stick their head out of every window in the Roca Dura (we saw about three, which is an insanely high amount of traffic for San Gerardo de Rivas). We also saw a tree fall down for no apparent reason, across the soccer field. In the third taxi, the gringas step out with every Tiko in the bar watching through the windows, and stand in the rain looking frightened. Corey and I go down to greet them, and somehow we all wind up in the bar, the gringas, me, Corey, Alvarro, and a buddy of Alvarro's I was drinking with, whom I call DNA because I've no idea how to pronounce his similar-sounding name.
So we're all crowded around a table, drinking our asses off. This goes on for about four, five hours -- I drank only about fifteen beers, plus god knows how many shots of cheap Costa Rican vodka, but that's quite a bit for the gringas, as experienced as they were with alcohol. Ally, one of the twins Corey went to see, wound up stumbling around and falling over chairs. Theresa and Susana seemed okay, much to my surprise -- Susana's a frail little creature, and I expected her to pass out after five.
Eventually, Erik shows up and we drink with him. Around 11 (I've been drinking since 3, 4; the gringas had been drinking from about 6) we decide to stagger up the mountain. One of the Tikos had a truck, and room to spare, but he tried to blackmail us for 2000 colones ($5) for the ride up. Being drunk, I told him to screw himself in the best Spanish I could manage, and stumbled up the mountain with DNA and Susana. The rest stayed behind to haggle with the driver -- they wound up back in the bar for another hour or so.
So I'm a bit drunk, but given my size and gene pool, the worst it got was a little world-swaying, and that ended after about five minutes of walking. Susana was a champion -- if she was ever truly drunk, she hid it well. We wound up at the casa after a pretty sobering walk, and lay on the bed in the candlelight talking moodily. I'm not sure where it would have wound up, but Erik and the others wound up bursting on the scene about an hour later. The car they hired had broken down about fifteen times in three hundred feet, but they were too stupid-drunk to figure out that they needed to walk. Erik was apparently worried about me, and was muttering that if I tried anything with Susana (who had a boyfriend), he'd kill me. This was apparently his motivation to come up the mountain, so it might have been inappropriate for me to make sex sounds with Susana as soon as I heard them staggering toward the casa.
Didn't end up punching Erik, though.
They brought bottles of rum and beer with them, and we all wind up getting a little more drunk. Corey and Ally immediately depart to spend the night in the casita, with firm instructions that we weren't to disturb them. Erik, Diego (dude who works in the Roca Dura, looks like a relation of Luis, the owner of the bar), Susana, Theresa, and I all wind up upstairs, huddled in different beds, myself giving Theresa a fairly heavy-duty full-leg massage whilst Erik sat atop Susana and, apparently unaware of her, went on to drunkenly preach about various things. We wound up arguing about the World Bank and the collapse of the Argentinian economy -- Erik was determined it was the removal of McDonalds' from Argentina that incited action by the WB against Argentina, and wouldn't leave it alone. We wound up on the subject of me sleeping with Susana, and he told me he would've killed me if we'd actually had sex. He told this to my nipple, since we were standing next to each other. He then looks up at me and insists I'm just a big teddy bear, and we (we being Erik, me, and Diego -- I'm not sure how Diego got in there) wind up in a group hug.
The night progresses from there. Corey slept with Ally, Erik went back home to Sandra, and Diego and Susana never hooked up.
Next morning, I'm up bright and early, for no apparent reason. Reading dry British humor (Oscar Wilde -- only this place can force that crap down my throat, largely because there's nothing else to do) and listening to CDs, eventually Diego, DNA, and I all wind up sitting outside and laughing about how hung over the gringas must be.
Eventually, Alvarro shows up on his motorcycle, scaring the hell out of DNA's horse (did I mention he rode a horse to the casa?), and bearing beer and rum. It was a bit early for me to be drinking, and besides, they were insisting on a later party in the valley of Los Angeles, which was supposed to be going off all night.
Everyone winds up drunk anyway. We all head off to a waterfall, where Alvarro strips down to a thong (and where I curse myself for not bringing a camera) and he and Diego go for a swim. The rest of us milled around the water, getting our ankles wet and generally freaking out about how horribly cold the water was.
When we head back (we decided to when it started to rain), DNA let me take his horse. It was one of the most frightening and strangely arousing experiences I've ever had -- I couldn't figure out how to stop the damn thing, so it just kept jolting and trotting its way down to DNA's house while I clutched at the saddle and yammered at the horse to turn around.
Reins, by the way, are the most useless things I've ever seen. And WHY aren't there seatbelts in saddles?
I eventually got it to turn around, though I had to take its nose to its shoulder to do so, but then it wouldn't go back up. So I had to dismount and march, barefoot, about three, five miles over rockyass ground (and a dead cow -- have I mentioned the dead cow?) yanking the damn thing behind me.
I later limped into the casa, where we milled around, drinking (someone brought their very own marijuana plant, and the others smoked the entire thing; I've never had a particular attraction to drugs (don't hold this episode against me) so I hung around the porch with Susana), until someone decided to go to the hot springs. So we walk down to the Uran, and from there get a lift to the entrance of a 45 minute hike straight up another mountain (stopping for beer along the way). We eventually get there and have a choice between what turned out to be two lukewarm, concrete, shallow pools -- one was full of screaming Tiko children, and the other had two couples having sex in the water.
We decided on the sex, where we might actually ENJOY the screaming.
But when I slung out my disposable camera (I brought it along! Yay!) they'd already been interrupted, so you have a picture of disgruntled Tikos awaiting you.
We swam around. DNA decided to start a splash fight with me, so eventually I swam over to him, picked him up, and dunked him. Cramped my leg in the process, and I think I might've hurt him a little. I'm far too used to horseplay with my giant brother. In any case, we later decided we weren't doing anything productive, so we made our way down the hill. Corey was high as a cloud the entire time, and was goofy as hell, slipping and tripping and giggling his way down.
They needed to get to San Isidro so they could get to San Jose to pick up Ally's older sister, so I walked them about a fourth, an eighth of the way back. When I found out a bus was coming to pick them up, I turned around and walked an insane distance at a double march, just to see if I could. I ran into Alvarro and Marcus on the way back, Alvarro on his motorbike and Marcus in his pickup on his way to the Los Angeles party, and they tried to cajole me to go up to the LA party. I was damn tired, so I made excuses and ran off.
Insane hike. I mean, it wasn´t as bad as the mountain hike, but it was bad. Saw Ulani on the way up, when I passed the Uran, then I went to see Erik. The poor dude was in a major hangover, busy sighing and barfing and trying to sleep. I played with Cashmere, his kid, to let Erik have a little privacy, until Sandra came home with, yes, Ulani!
Damn, she's beautiful. If she was white, she'd be fat, but as a Tika, her curves are unbelievable. I wish I spoke her language. If anyone tries to make a joke about me using the universal language to communicate with her (or worse yet, the universal tongue) I'll hunt him down.
Too tired to chat much, so once I saw the situation was under control, I staggered back to the casa, bearing groceries. I put them in the kitchen, stripped, then went upstairs to know no more until the next morning.
I woke up just in time to catch the bus out to San Isidro, so I could write this. I don't expect I'll be able to write for another week at best -- but I'm gonna be goddamn lonely up there, with only Sandra and Erik to keep me company. Must find some way to tell Ulani I want to spend the month with her.
But, gah. I don't expect I'll be doing much more partying like that -- it's all just too damn far away for me to stagger back drunk. Ian left me work to do, so tomorrow I expect I'll carry maybe fifty trees up Death March and find places to plant them.
I'd appreciate more penis-admiration posts in this thread, if you don't mind. I like to feel I can still interact with Hatrack in SOME way, even if I can't commit myself to an argument.
Posted by Lalo (Member # 3772) on :
Okay, so I've gone and edited the title. The lengths I'm driven to in order to get Hatrack to satisfy my ego...
Posted by Kama (Member # 3022) on :
Just so you know, Copenhagen is in Denmark. people from Denmark are Dannish. Dutch people come from the Netherlands (Holland).
Posted by LadyDove (Member # 3000) on :
Eddie- You're a nut! Can you get mail/packages at your internet cafe?
Posted by mackillian (Member # 586) on :
Yup, I miss Eddie. Posted by Godric (Member # 4587) on :
This is my new favorite thread ever...
Posted by Icarus (Member # 3162) on :
Funny, in the Dominican Republic I used the little spray version of OFF, which is 100% DEET (unlike the aerosol version which is not) and it always worked well for me.
You're doing a whole lot mroe partying than I ever had the chance to in DR. I hope you find your trip rewarding in all the ways you wanted it to be.
Posted by TomDavidson (Member # 124) on :
You know, when Eddie left for Central America to help people and make a difference, I somehow didn't imagine it being like a reality TV show.
Posted by Lalo (Member # 3772) on :
Okay, so I'm on my way to the Mejicana, a whorehouse. But you misunderstand the picture.
Sandra and Erik, apparently, aren't married. They're getting married sometime in the near future, so we -- we being Erik's friends -- have a God-given responsibility to see him drunk and in bed with at least three whores. Bachelor party tradition.
Of course, this is a Central American whorehouse, which means even walking in there I'll be wearing triple condoms (as if they weren't small enough one by one) and at least one cork in my ass. I'm not all that sure what to expect, having never actively solicited prostitution. See? I'm not just saving the rain forest (with YOUR POWERS COMBINED...) and giving Tom a dose of reality Internet, I'm having an educational experience. Like, how to live with herpes or how to panic when the cork in my ass comes loose (or goes too far).
I fully expect to be drunk tonight, which sucks, since I have to walk up TWO different mountains tonight in order to get home. If I have enough money, I might just buy a hotel room. With luck, I won't get drunk enough to buy one of these sure-to-be skankyass whores. Though Erik's prospects don't look good.
And while we're on the subject of bitches, I have a dog! Lobo picked him up off the street and I offered to take him in -- him, I suppose, though I originally thought him to be female. He's not a very impressive male. I'm calling him Blizzard, largely because when I first saw him walk, he looked either blind or diseased. "Bliseased" sounded too exotic, and "Blizzy" too British, so "Blizzard" it is. Though we can tell Twinky it's just a tribute to his preference in computer gaming. The dog shits everywhere, which is disgusting. He pisses like an eyedropper, so it's not that bad, but he's managed to cover every other square inch of the casa. Not good. If he wasn't so damned cute, I'd look for some way to get rid of him.
First night he spent with me (last night) I gave him cereal, milk, and bread. He easily ate twice his body volume, and his belly's unbelievably huge right now -- huge contrast to my initial impression of him, a skeleton with fur. He's starting to treat me as a parent figure, I think -- also not good, since I'm leaving in a month. Not to mention, he doesn't look all that far past weaning, and since we sleep together (he whines like the bitch he is if he can't run into me and collapse for a few hours. Then he gets playful and bites me. How adorable.) I don't want him getting any idea on what to suckle on while I'm asleep.
Maybe it wouldn't be all that bad, but he IS teething.
I've done very little for the past few days but read The Bigass Book Of Amber by Roger Zelazny. It's decent, but jesus -- he and Brust HAVE to be related. Either that, or one's virtually plagiarizing the other's style in a big way. The only real difference between their versions of their favorite (and same type of) character is that Brust tends to get a little more cornily dramatic with his, and seems to have a better sense of humor.
Corey came back last night around midnight. I was already in bed, whapping the dog to get it to stop stalking my nipple, but I found out he was here this morning. Corey's taking off again tonight, though I think he's going to the whorehouse with us. Who could skip such an educational opportunity? My inner Socrates (not to mention my inner old English teacher, Mr. Caldwell) would beat me if I did that, and I'm sure Corey's inner educational father figure would do the same.
I've no idea how long ago I wrote the last post. For that matter, I'm not all that sure what's been going on in the meantime between then and now. Tomorrow, I have to go with Patooky to, yes, move more big rocks and form a bridge for the Stream From Hell. Tonight, after getting drunk and hopefully not catching a venereal disease, I'll be staggering up to mountainsides.
Uphill both ways, and this may be the first time that annoying phrase has been used in earnest.
I've been lent The Forest People by someone I don't remember -- it comes highly recommended, but I REALLY gotta get the barbed wire fences down before Ian comes back. Not to mention marking the jungle trail. Dammit, I have to go back to the insects. They're probably sharpening their stings gleefully as I type.
I'll write more later, if I can. I gotta be at a bar in ten to meet Lobo, Erik, Corey, and whoever else they run into -- I think I'll be fifteen minutes late or so. I'm strangely tired, and I know I look it.
Oh! I FINALLY realized what this place reminds me of. Anyone else ever play Diablo II? Remember the third level, the one where you go after Mephisto or Mephistopheles, or whatever the Lord of Hate was called? This is EXACTLY like that. Rainy, foggy, rain forest. The only real differences are that the natives here aren't as scantily dressed as the natives in the game (children cry) and that giant fireball-breathing frogs generally prefer to leap out of trees than swamps to attack you. I'm starting to think of my little adventure here as Diablalo II.
My muscles are atrophying. Though I haven't worked out for almost a year now, my pecs are virtually GONE. I wonder if this is a side effect of my fat melting away, that it shows me how very thinly muscled I am. Then I push away that thought and resume my denial of the the reality of the situation. Actually, come to think of it, those big rocks might help me out some. We moved the giant rock in the middle of the road (did I mention Corey, Erik, and Alvarro got a rock out to the middle of the road and couldn't move it any farther?) one roll further today. God knows why we're moving it. I certainly don't.
Ugh. Haven't seen Ulani in days. But it's not like I could do anything anyway -- today, as I was riding in the back of the pickup (that experience is SO cool -- who needs sex, I can feel like I'm flying! On the back of a pickup truck! More like a chariot experience than anything else, but it's ridiculously fun) we stopped and picked up a mother-daughter duo, both fairly attractive. Mother was giving me crazy-eyes of lust, or so my male ego demands that I believe, but still the daughter was meeting my eyes and smiling -- AND I COULDN'T SAY ANYTHING. The ONLY useful phrase I know in Spanish is "dame cabeza," and it was far too early in our relationship for me to give orders like that. It's infuriating, everyone here is so ridiculously hot, and I can't communicate my lust to them, beyond looking vaguely creepy and grunting.
Like I said. I'll have lost whatever small virtue I ever had at verbal communication by the time I return to the States. Sandy, watch out, I'm likely to knock you over the head and drag you by your hair the instant we go out for coffee.
I wouldn't suggest cutting your hair short as a defense against this, either. My communication skills are shot, but I still have a very vivid imagination. Just ask those images of these guiltily young Tikas floating around in my head.
Hmm. It's five, I'd better wrap this up. My life is starting to revolve around my opportunities to escape to San Isidro (and thus, Hatrack). I must make a friend who I don't need to communicate with beyond grunting. Damn Ulani for not tossing herself on a bed and spreading her legs in response to my unspoken lust.
Eh. I'm on my way to see skanks who DO do that, and I'm not looking forward to it. That much. But my education must prevail over personal qualms!
But I do NOT feel like getting drunk tonight.
As if I had a choice. It's a bachelor party. Still, I'll limit it to a few beers -- I'd much prefer to wake up in a dumpster with a fishnet-wearing goat than with someone I could buy off for $5. With the goat, I'd at LEAST have to give it some vegetables.
Which reminds me, still haven't taken a picture of the Satanic billy goat. Must do that before I leave. Hope it hasn't been eaten yet.
Though, come to think of it, if eating Satan's Pet requires an excorcism, it might be worth it.
I'll still need pictures. In fact, I think I have a camera in my backpack -- I'll play geeky tourist and take pictures of the skanks for you, Hatrack, and we can all have an educational experience together! Trust me, I hope my own education will have the same amount of hands-on learning that yours will.
Posted by Lalo (Member # 3772) on :
The Internet cafe may be able to get mail for me -- I'll have to ask Lobo about that. But right now, I'm twenty minutes late to the bar. Get back to you soon!
Posted by mackillian (Member # 586) on :
Posted by TomDavidson (Member # 124) on :
It's official. We should now require permits for character-building experiences.
Posted by mackillian (Member # 586) on :
You have to admit that it's a kick to read about, though.
Posted by Lalo (Member # 3772) on :
Okay, Hatrack. Be grateful. Broke away from the bar to type this -- largely because Paul, a middle-aged white man with everything that implies, won't stop touching me and insisting that I must get laid as often as I want.
So, yeah. Bar. They have Corona! God, I've been drinking this Pilsen crap so long I've forgotten what mediocre beer tastes like -- I'm only on my third or fourth, though. Nothing heavy. We've chatted with three beautiful Tikas, who took off earlier in the night (much to Paul's dismay, who lept up and grabbed the one in the black shirt's arm) and sat there fantasizing about what to do with Erik. It involves duct tape, at the least. So we're working up our courage via alcohol to go hit on another couple Tikas at a near table, but right at that moment Sandra walks in with the most beautiful creature I've ever seen, and sits herself (Sandra) on Erik's lap. Unfortunately, John, at my left, tells me the beautiful creature's been with someone for seven years. Doesn't stop us (me and BC, not me and John) (well, me and John too -- very handsome dude) from smiling at each other, but I doubt either of us was being more than polite -- in actuality, I was busy feeling bitter, and she was busy being perved on by Paul. Still is, to the best of my knowledge.
Oh yes. Cast of characters, Lobo is Joey is my Under-Boss of Doom. Great guy, unbelievable charisma. John's his best buddy from Colorado, lives on the beach, he's quiet where Joey's loud, but he's charming and handsome and sigh. Paul we met in the bar, he's, as I said above, a middle-aged white dude who's cliche to a fault. Reddened skin from the sun, large golden ring on his finger, bright Hawaiian shirt, etc. Generous though, he's already bought me two of my Coronas. Several rounds for the group. Erik, we've met -- essentially capable Asian dude, buff, handsome, and on par with Joey when it comes to charisma. Sandra's his beautiful wife. The beautiful creature is Sandra's friend and breaker of my heart -- I MUST find out her name so I can pine after her properly. Corey's the white hippie from Ithaca.
Not my night for chicks. Too tired, too bloated. When I say bloated, I mean it -- I had some pasta earlier in the night, since it was about $1.30, and I don't mix well with spaghetti. If I make love to anyone tonight, I'd better be on top; otherwise, I'm in serious danger of a continuous whoopie cushion effect. Not much chance of that (that being lovemaking; the whoopie cushion effect will probably happen even without sex. On the plus side, I may gag the dog.) happening, though, what with my slumping back and expanding belly. It's not gonna be fun work with Patooky tomorrow, moving those damnable big rocks.
Sigh. Three STUNNING creatures are walking riht outside my window. I wonder if they're seventeen or older yet.
Anyway, back to Sandra. I have a man's intuition that she, like Erik, was cruising to get laid tonight, before her marriage -- she's certainly dressed for it. Must take a picture, especially of the gorgeous creature she's with. Or she knew we would force Erik into sex tonight, and went to the only real bar in town to stop us from forcing him into it.
Though we aren't about to let that stop us from visiting the Mejicana.
So then the gringas, from the previous night, show up. I'm avoiding them, since it might be a bit awkward. Sweet girls, for the most part, but too naive and conceited for my taste. Not to mention, they can hardly compete with the unbelievable beauty of the Tikas. And at 7:20 I broke away and headed for here, to type in one final post for the evening, and possibly the week. Hope you appreciated it. I'm not gonna make it all the way up the mountain tonight, I know it... Hope the insects leave enough of me for identification come morning...
Posted by Lalo (Member # 3772) on :
Oh yes. TEN insects in the eyes thus far. Four have gotten stuck there.
I won't even mention what a wonderland of red bumps my legs have become.
Posted by saxon75 (Member # 4589) on :
Dude, why are you drinking Pilsen? Imperial is much better.
Posted by Lalo (Member # 3772) on :
So what the hell am I doing back in San Isidro, I ask? I've got tons of work to do, Tikas to leer at, and Ian's coming back in a week.
But my life's slowly starting to revolve around my getaways to Hatrack, my only glimpse back into my comfortable gringo home. I miss you people. Thank god you came with me to Costa Rica.
But, hey, back to Thursday night and the bar. After typing that last post, I wandered back and discovered Erik, Lobo, and John had already taken off for the whorehouse. No pictures! So after staying and downing another couple beers with the gringas and Corey, I wandered around for a little while, feeling dangerous as hell -- I got directions from a corner prostitute as to where the Mejicana was, and stalked off in that direction.
Okay, so you should know that when I get a little tipsy, I tend to get moody. Never angry, per se, but all-too-often sulky and bitter. And when I'm in the middle of a city, big and grungy (I'd been working that day, moving, yes, big rocks) and violent-looking, I felt foolishly dangerous. As in, grr, here I am, come and attack me.
It's a stupidass attitude to get into. Machetes are far too abundant here. Fortunately, I didn't run into any gangs -- I may have been drunk enough to start a fight, and I would NOT have been on the winning side.
But yeah, I wander around feeling sulky for a while until I figure out, hey, the Mejicana's too damn far and I'm broke anyway. So I head back and drink a little more with the gringas until the others return.
Now, you should know, I saw Sandra earlier that night, near tears. We talked, and it turned out Erik -- already drunk; he's a very capable man, but his physiology just doesn't allow him to hold his liquor -- had taken her aside earlier that evening and told her she was bad for him, that she needed to clear the hell out and leave him alone.
It was with her face in mind that I stop Erik downstairs while the other two go up to drink. I'd promised her I wouldn't tell anyone about our talk, or how upset she was, but that wasn't going to stop me from reaming him out about it. So we start arguing, and I start out all self-righteous about how he should treat his wife with more respect (based on the "public" knowledge among us that he'd sent her away) and how he was damn lucky to have a beautiful, sweet woman who was madly in love with him and how dare he screw that up by visiting some skanks? He responded by saying that it WAS his bachelor party, she had no place there, and who the hell am I to question him? What experience do I have with his relationship, with Sandra and Erik themselves?
Erik's a remarkable lucid drunk when he gets angry. And I am not.
I couldn't continue the argument without betraying Sandra's trust, so I apologize and kiss his ass for the next few minutes. He's still, understandably, angry about my butting in, so he continues rubbing it in as we argue for the next half hour or so, demanding and receiving apologies for my assholeness.
We had a little bonding, but it was mainly him insulting me and believing he could make it better by demeaning himself in the meantime. Not fun. Fortunately, he's taken off until tonight or tomorrow, so I haven't had to deal with him -- with any luck, he was too drunk to remember anything of it.
So we head back inside, and by this point my head's practically on my chest. I was tired the entire day before, but after the stalking around and arguing, I was ready to collapse on the bar. We sit around and drink some more (Erik and Lobo sending out frosty vibes; presumably, Erik told Lobo about my assholeness) and eventually we stumble out after a huge hassle with the bill and Paul winds up paying for the others. He would've paid for me, too, but I'd already settled my bill -- what a huge pain in the ass, considering I didn't have enough colones to cover the bill, and they didn't like American money (which I had with me, god knows why).
We find a taxi, eventually. John, at this point, is mute and swaying across the street. Erik's playing cool with me, and Lobo was way the hell ahead for no reason. I was, of course, feeling morose and tired. We find a taxi, and in it, John goes PSYCHO.
Now, this dude's a great guy. When sober, in one day, I'd grown to like and respect him a great deal -- we'd talked politics, the Guatamala massacre, religion, and even argued about which Tika was the hottest we'd ever seen -- I vouched for Carolina, the beautiful creature Sandra had brought with her; John preferred another nameless Tika in the bar, whose face was too round for my liking. But when he gets drunk, he gets DRUNK. It started out as raving -- do you know where we are? Do you KNOW where we ARE? HA! I... You're CRAZY man, just... Jesus, do you KNOW where we ARE?
After Erik got out, it moved into wrestling. Lobo cheered him on, damn him (Joey) to hell. John is freakishly strong when he gets angry, and it was all I could do to hold him down. The guy was going for my throat! I cajoled him and tried to convince him that Lobo was the enemy, look at that hair, how could you trust anyone who has hair like that? And besides, dude, I'm your buddy, remember? We agreed that Carolina was just the most beautiful woman we'd ever seen?
We hadn't agreed on that, but he didn't realize it. I had to cite her five times in that ride to calm him down -- the mention of her name made him all weepy and nostalgic for her.
Eventually, we get to the truck (we couldn't take it to town, since it has no license plates). John wouldn't let me out of the car, he kept grabbing at my shirt and dragging me back. I didn't want to tear the shirt, so I had to let him. Eventually, I had to cajole him to calmness, then violently shoved him out his door.
Too bad it didn't work. He gets all wild-eyed and crazy then, and grabs me, throttles me. I had to wrestle him to the seat again, and one last time cited Carolina -- he got misty enough that I could dive out my door (I would've been out sooner, but those cars are SO damn tiny) and to freedom. Lobo helps John out of the car; John, without me to grab, had gotten all dazed and introverted like he had been in the bar, and Joey guided him into the truck. I hop in the back, since I love riding chariot-style, and for the hell of it, whip off my shirt and my shorts. I'm riding along in naught but my boxers, but damn it was fun.
And you do NOT know the meaning of fun until you're being driven along a winding, rocky mountain trail by a drunk speeding along at sixty miles an hour and who waits until the last second to take a curve. I have no idea how many times I almost died that night. But I'm still fairly buzzed, so I frequently take my hands off the truck and lean along the cab's roof, pretending I'm flying.
God, how many beers did I HAVE that night...
So we arrive at Lobo's, me in my boxers and frozen nipples, and John in his drunken stupor. Lobo's drunk as sin too, but he at least hides it well. He pulls out a couple hammocks for us to sleep in, since I was in no shape for climbing the mountain, and John goes psycho again until he got the big one.
So I freeze my ass off all night in a tiny white hammock that's not much more than a stretched-out sock. Mud beneath me, wind passing through me, and a madman snoring beside me. Not the best night.
I wake up in the morning frozen and sore, and with a mild hangover. John's toasted -- after spending most of the morning in his hammock, he's led away by Lobo and I never see him again. Lobo seems okay, but winds up back in bed later in the morning (then again, if I had a wife as beautiful as Giovanni, I'd spend all my time in bed, too). I steal John's hammock, since John's presumably off somewhere putting a gun in his mouth, and spend the morning resting peacefully to the sound of the babbling brook, the chirping birds, and Chico's power sander.
Eventually, I work myself into staggering up the mountain. Ugh. When I wound up at the Uran, Ulani hails me, but I'm too spent to go up and talk to her. I stumble into the Uran and buy some food for the casa, and leave after checking myself out in the mirror to see what Ulani saw. I'm pleasantly surprised. Though I'm not pretty by any means of the imagination, at least I'm not shit-faced, and all that sweat made my shirt cling to my body in a way that was almost comely. Not bad, all things considered. I went looking for Ulani, but couldn't find her at the Uran -- saw her later, talking with friends, but I responded to her "hola" and continued on my way. Can't speak Spanish, tired of nodding my head and smiling like an idiot at every conversation I've been in for the past month, and I'm just about ready to collapse in any case.
I head back, and Blizzard's frantically happy to see me. Not much more to say (or that I remember) but I wind up in bed for a couple hours, Blizzard peacefully gnawing at my arm while I slept the sleep of the dead.
I wake in a few hours, and remember that I'd promised Alvarro to build a bridge across a river today. It's already 3:00, the rainy time, but I had to go see if he was still there. Blizzard wouldn't be left behind, and he wasn't strong enough to walk the entire way, so I wound up carrying him up Death March and to the stream.
Alvarro had somehow moved a giantass rock to be a bridge for half the stream. I made a makeshift base of small rocks on the other side, ready to support larger rocks when I put them on -- today, I plan, when I return on the 2:00 bus. Spent a couple hours doing that, then wander back and fall asleep with Blizzard. He wakes a couple times in the night and chews on me (once, annoyed, I pick him up and put him on my other side, not realizing I was on the end of the bed. Blizzard falls about three feet, and I end up getting attacked with more vengeance than usual for a few more hours. But I wake up early, since I'd gone to bed around 6, and decide to head down to San Isidro to type all this. Turns out Blizzard had pissed three times on the bed. I'm not going to be the one to tell Ian, though I AM buying some Pine-Sol today. Must do something about sleeping arrangements -- too many dogs, not enough bitches.
Posted by Lalo (Member # 3772) on :
And ugh. Pilsen and Imperial are both fairly awful, and down here, they're interchangable. I'll keep your advice in mind the next time I'm in the Roca Dura, though, and hope the placebo effect kicks in.
Posted by mackillian (Member # 586) on :
*pat pat*
Posted by Lalo (Member # 3772) on :
Oh yes. On the plus side, I DO have a picture of the beautiful creature Carolina, beside a glowering Erik. She had come out during the argument, and I didn't want her to leave without getting her picture -- I mean it, this girl PERSONIFIES beauty.
Posted by mackillian (Member # 586) on :
Dang you. I can't laugh out loud here in the library. This sure is fun reading material, though.
Posted by Godric (Member # 4587) on :
It reminds me of Hemingway-meets-French-Dilettante-meets-Casanova memoirs set in Latin America. Brilliant stuff, I say! Brilliant!
Posted by FlyingCow (Member # 2150) on :
Really, Lalo, you should think about compiling you reflections on the experience and getting it published. It's quite good - and your humor and timing are excellent.
Posted by Jeni (Member # 1454) on :
Oh, my.
That's all I really have to say.
Though I'll have a thing or two to say to you if you do these things with Ian around. Posted by Lalo (Member # 3772) on :
Not much has happened since the last time I wrote -- Saturday, damn, I can't remember events that far back.
I don't remember Sunday or Monday, which means they were either boring or really, really good. Tuesday I was waiting around for Lobo, who'd told me he'd be there when he left an irate note on Monday complaining about the dog shit (that's what happened Monday! I was tree-planting and Lobo stopped by!). I waited around all day, and hailed a couple hikers who were rugged enough to bring their rented car up to the casa before going up, rather than hiking from San Gerardo de Rivas. They were a father-son duo from San Francisco, though I didn't know it by that point.
So I just sit around, waiting for Lobo, when they come back. It's about 2:00 by this point, and we chat some more, when a heavy-duty storm starts. I mean, the thunder here shakes the house. I LOVE it. But yeah, so Lobo shows up finally with a truck full of sand, and I help him shovel it down to where we're building a bathroom for the casita. Mauricio helps me out with that, then I head over to help Lobo move some lumber. After the work's done, I go back and invite Tom and Jackson, the father and son hikers, to stay the night. They agree, we go out to dinner to the Uran, go to sleep, yadda yadda. Great guys. Tom brought up a point regarding homosexual marriage that I hadn't thought of -- when churches do marriage, it's a union, it's a moral thing. When the GOVERNMENT does marriage, it's a contract -- and contracts can be made between a man and a woman, a man and a man, or a woman and a woman. Since when do we start limiting contractual agreements to certain genders?
But yeah, so, they take off early in the morning to return their car to San Jose. I go back to bed (by this point, much to Blizzard's displeasure, the little bastard's sleeping OUTSIDE) and dream the dream.
I don't think I've had a dream this vivid in a long time. I won't go into details, but in it, I fell in love with a woman who loved me in return. Our love was passionate, and our kisses so sweet I could taste them. This wasn't a 72-virgins-dream, or a wet dream -- it was, dare I say it, true love. I still remember the brush of her lips across my ear when she whispered to me, or the thrill of holding her and feeling her hold me in return.
It's beyond my words to describe. I haven't felt that way about anyone (with the constant exception of Tom and Moose) in a long time. If ever. I've had puppy-love romances in my past, but nothing that equated to the utter, total abandon with which I loved the girl of my dreams. And what's truly depressing is that I think such a passion MAY be a dream -- in almost every relationship I've been in, I've kept the Ironic Curtain between her and me, or kept her at an arm's length. Hell, for my past few relationships, it's been purely physical. It's not that I can't be romantic -- I actually ENJOY putting the flowers on the bed, giving the hot oil massage, sending flowers, all that crap. But more often than not, it's just a fun thing to do, entertaining setting the romantic setting, even more entertaining enjoying it later on. But the last woman whose beauty and intellect and smile I've all loved? I don't think it's ever happened.
Except with Tom. (This is an intentional snub to Moose.)
But, gah. I think I'm lonely, guys. I don't know if it's because I've been isolated from gringos for so long, or because I've been isolated from everyone for even longer. I don't know. I know I want a sweeping, magical romance that ends with a pumpkin carriage and sweet kisses, but I also know it's just a schoolgirl fantasy. Which, yes, goes well with my schoolgirl crush on Ulani and my amazing ability to scream like a little girl when my leg's busy feeding an ant colony. But jesus, it'd be nice to fall in love with someone. If I liked mankind a bit more, I could really see it happening.
Not that I'd ever cheat on you, Tom. Moose means nothing to me. (Moose -- call me!)
But. Eh. Life goes on. I'll meet someone, or I won't. Speaking of going on with life and romance, I spent the next day building a hot tub with Alvarro, Lobo, and Erik.
I don't BELIEVE I ever settled for playing with mud when I was a kid -- don't ever let them know cement exists if you want peace of mind. It's so great. Since Patooky was there, we moved big rocks out of tradition, and slapped them together with cement. It's quite pretty thus far, if I dare say so myself. They're finishing it up today as I write this, but I had to come to town today to congratulate my brother on his amazing ability of living to his current birthday without damaging himself, despite his IQ.
That's pretty much my week. Lying around, feeling moody about my heartache, and building hot tubs. Ian's coming back on the eighteenth, and bringing his entire family -- being Ian, he wasn't exactly subtle about telling me to clear the hell out of his house and live in a hotel when they all arrive.
I hear his daughters are ugly, anyway. Neener.
I just may take my last week off, and enjoy a stay in Dominical or some other beach. Tikas in bikinis -- it's the nearest I'll ever get to Heaven.
Oh yes, one last note. Being paranoid about Costa Rica when I first packed, I just discovered a roll of toilet paper I brought along. And -- don't you dare tell anyone, or I swear, I'll hunt you down -- it's quilted two-ply. Swear to god, I broke out singing "How Sweet It Is To Be Loved By You" the first time I used it. One of the first things I'm going to do when I get back to the states is use a whole roll of triple-ply ALL FOR MYSELF.
Don't even think you can get in on this.
Posted by Ralphie (Member # 1565) on :
Despite my better judgement, I actually miss you, too. (You did say you missed me, right?)
And Moose won't feel snubbed. I do, but Moose won't.
Posted by Papa Moose (Member # 1992) on :
I won't? Ok then. I won't.
<Goes to look up Lalo's number, then realizes there's only one listing for "Eddie Whiteshoes" and it's not in South America, so prepares to pine away until Lalo's return. *sigh*>
<Thinks about calling Tom instead, but don't worry, Lalo, he means nothing to me.>
Posted by Lalo (Member # 3772) on :
Silly. My number's always been in my profile. When you call, say you're feeling horny -- that's the code to get me on the line. Then we can chat all night.
And Ralphie, dude. Missing you goes without saying. And without me.
Ha! But really, I'm coming to visit you in December, aren't I? And hell, you know I'm online, yet you're not on AIM or in the chat room.
Come to think of it, neither is Moose.
I'm calling Tom. Maybe HE knows how to treat me like a lady...
Posted by saxon75 (Member # 4589) on :
I hear you on the toilet paper, man. The entire bathroom experience in Costa Rica leaves much to be desired.
Posted by Lalo (Member # 3772) on :
August 14 was the last time I posted. So there've been, what, three days between then and now -- crap. I can account for two.
Saturday, Lobo grabs my stuff and hauls it down to the Roca Dura. I don't really remember what happened Saturday -- probably more work on the hot tub, we've been working on it all week. But yeah, so, Lobo comes back up and DNA, Patooky, Lobo, and I all head out to the bar in Canaan, near where Lobo lives. Big place, it's just a small bar, a HUGE room, and at the far end a pool table and a foosball game.
It was Mother's Day, apparently, so Lobo goes off to gather flowers for Giovanni. I'd no idea where DNA was. I see the foosball and challenge Alvarro to a match, and he's winning 2-0 when DNA comes in from outside and said some girls saw me ride up on the pickup truck and want to meet me.
I look myself up and down. I'm big, grungy, and I'd shaved that morning (I HATE shaving, and avoid it as often as possible -- I always look like I'm twelve immediately afterward). "¿Por que?" I ask. Neither Alvarro or DNA know either.
Bastards.
So I head outside, Patooky and DNA marching at my sides like guards taking me to my execution, and sure enough, there are four chicks sitting there on the grass, smiling prettily enough to knock over a bus. "Hola," I say. I get a chorus of four very pretty "holas." I introduce myself, they do the same -- Bianca was kinda quiet on my far right, next to her was some girl whose name I don't remember (though her eyes were practically locked on me), next to her was Jessica, and on the far right was a chick DNA introduced as his sister. Off Limits, I call her.
So after that, I stand there feeling awkward. It's very hard to make conversation with four very pretty women -- especially when they're all busy dazzling you. Instead I turn and see a group of sullen boys standing behind me, very carefully not looking at the girls or myself.
Heh heh heh. Neener.
That inspires me to talk, so we make conversation for a few minutes and part amicably. I go back into the bar and instantly score two goals on Alvarro. He ends up winning the game 5-2, but hell, the girls wanted ME. I'm the better player.
So we (we being the four of us) wind up drinking some more, and decide on a pool game. I've always been shitty at pool and tell them so, so they put me with Patooky, who's apparently the shit at pool. I go first and sink six balls straight.
I think Lobo believes I'm a hustler.
I end up playing slightly better than Lobo and about on par with DNA. Patooky's a madman with the ball. With about every hit, the white ball'd go zooming out of the table -- but not before sending another ball careening into a pit. He's VERY good.
I go back to the Roca Dura and find out Lobo's done some handshaking for me. I couldn't afford $8 a night, which is what the Uran Ulysses (as opposed to the puperia Ulysses) wanted, and I'd told Lobo that. So Luis cuts me a deal -- I stay for ten days or more, and the room's mine for 1500 colones a night. That's about $3.75, just $.75 more a day than I was paying Ian. And the company is SO much better. I find out my room's about a 5-by-10 space with a queen-sized bed squeezed into it (god alone knows how), but it's all I need. I don't feel like socializing, so I go off to bed.
Sunday, I wake up in the Roca Dura to the sounds of Luis showing a reasonably cute gringa around. We smile at each other, turns out she picked a room fairly close to my own. But still, she was clearly busy at the time -- and with nothing to do, what the hell, I go up to mark the Rio Sendero. And what a hellish little adventure that was. Rain and insects and just general unpleasantness -- nothing more to say about it, really. Except that I couldn't finish the job, sigh. I'll have to go back up fairly soon, maybe tomorrow.
But yeah, so, on the way back down I stop in the Uran and see the cute gringa I'd seen poking around the Roca Dura in the morning. So I stop by, and listen to Ulysses go on about Chirripo to this girl, who's nodding intelligently and interrupting occasionally in fluent Spanish. I feel half the fool for not being able to do anything but stand there and gaze at her, so I go to the bathroom just for the sake of doing something productive. When I get back, Ulysses lets me pay for the PowerAde I'd been drinking, and I strike up a conversation with the gringa. Turns out she's from way northern California, her name's Maria, and by her body language, she digs me (you know what I'm talking about -- she presses close to you for a handshake, she hangs on to your hand after it's over, she does that cute head-tilt thing attractive women do instinctively, all that). So I say goodbye, and she promises to find me later in the Roca Dura.
I have a big smile on my face walking down the mountain.
After that, I figure, I haven't had the chance to shower or brush my teeth in a couple days, so may as well hit up the hellish bathroom of the Roca Dura. Dear god. There's no hot water. So I stand back against the wall and occasionally dash into the stream of EVIL EVIL freezingass water, and run my hands over my body as the water, quite literally, takes my breath away. Then I dance back out, press against the wall, and squeal for a few minutes until I can work up the courage to do it again.
I do believe I was a woman by the time I left that shower. Poor lil' Eddie. I just know he'll take revenge on me the next time I have sex.
But yeah, I'm more or less clean, or at least too numb to feel dirt on my body. So I go back to my room and change into some wet clothes (the drier, dryer? sucks) and head upstairs, intending to reread Martin's A Song Of Fire And Ice series when I hear my name called out before I get the chance to sit down.
And lo and behold! DNA! With two chicks and some dude! So I go over and become uncomfortable, since I don't speak Spanish. Still, the chick I was sitting next to (Rochelle) was cute and loved talking to me. The other girl, Ingrid, was talking/flirting with the dude (Jose) and she wasn't that attractive anyway, so I divided my time between looking confused for DNA and looking confused for Rochelle when she repeated DNA's questions in slower, special-ed Spanish. It was nice, we were all getting really friendly, when Ulani shows up! And damn. Have I mentioned her breasts? She was wearing a thin, skin-tight white shirt that showed you pretty much every outline of her body. Her bra couldn't quite contain her twins, so I spent the next couple hours speaking to Ulani's breasts whenever I addressed her.
But yeah. So now I'm talking with Rochelle and Ingrid, Ulani's talking with DNA, and Jose's kinda melted into the background when MORE beautiful women show up. First a girl in a skintight (when reading about Tikas, assume everything's skintight) red shirt, followed by a rather attractive young 'un, who couldn't have been more than fourteen or fifteen (though she dressed like she was cruising for dick). Rochelle leans closer and spends the next few minutes explaining that the girl in red is a mamapinga -- someone's bitch. I never did find out whose.
Turns out the girl in red is Roxanna, Victor's daughter. She's very attractive, actually -- if I didn't work with Victor so closely and see so many of his rather unfortunate facial features in her (I dig the dude, but let's face it, he's an ugly mother****er), I might have tried something. Also, if I hadn't been told she was already property. But hell. I never talked to her little friend.
Those two were followed by a ridiculously attractive blonde, who I later figured out was called Iris (she pronounces it Ee-Rees, which just confused the hell out of me initially). This girl's dressed to kill. Her denim miniskirt's so short that I see panties every time she sits down, and her top's barely there. Plus, hell, she's interested in me. Actually, everyone was, which leads me to the more interesting part of the story now that the cast of characters has been called.
So DNA's drunk as hell right now (he'd apparently been drinking for hours -- I'd had two already, but that doesn't mean much). And the girls are going nuts, giggling and whispering and touching at me -- GOD, there's no greater torture than not being able to talk to these women. So somehow, they get interested in the size of my penis, and I spend a rather embarrassing half hour trying to explain the concept of an inch (I didn't know what it was in centimeters, I still don't know, and I hope never to know). DNA's making it horrible -- he holds his index fingers a foot apart and looks a question at me. When I laugh and say no, he makes it TWO feet apart.
Bastard.
Then Joey, my savior, shows up and translates. "Dude! How long's your dick?" So I tell him, he translates, and the girls "ooh!" Which is flattering, but I'm not all that sure that Lobo gave them the right measurements. After he told them, he turns to me, winks, and tells me he's workin' it for me.
I love that man.
So Ulani goes kinda nuts after this. I think it may have been her who posed the original dick question. DNA insists she's really, really into me, but hell if I know what to do with that information -- the girl actually intimidates me, she's so (not to resort to a sterotype) damn feisty. I can barely speak to the other girls, and that's only through much patience that, to be honest, Ulani doesn't really possess. Plus, what the hell, I could always track her down at the Uran. And I've never met these other women before. But yeah, Ulani was a bit frenetic that night. As soon as she heard lil' Eddie's size, she runs off and gets a banana, much to the other girls' amusement. Also, throughout the rest of the night, she makes handjob motions in my general direction.
Go Eddie!
But yeah, the night progresses from there. Gringos must be in big demand there -- I don't think I've EVER had so many gorgeous women demanding me. It's very flattering. I know I looked good that night -- I went downstairs to check, every so often -- but it was nothing special. But hey, I'm not complaining. I spent the night in great conversation, even with my slight handicap of not being able to speak Spanish. Plus, at one point in that night, I sincerely believe if I stood up, took any one of their hands, and led them downstairs, I would've had my way.
It's SUCH a great feeling.
But hey! It's me. Only I could have wound up not getting laid that night. I decided on Iris, since she was drop-dead gorgeous. So was Roxanna, despite the presence of her father in her, and Ulani in her own, curvy way, but Iris was more of a classic beauty. So somehow my CD player gets dragged out and we end up listening to music, my hand inside her thigh, our face together, all that romantic stuff. I work on getting the girls drunk, etc. Eventually everyone trickles away, Ulani up the mountain, Rochelle to wherever the hell she lives, etc., until it's just me, Ingrid, Roxanna, and Iris sitting at a table. (A SHITLOAD happened in the meantime, what with a bunch of Tikos (read: Tikos means both male and female) coming in, party up at Erik's, I hear a party happened in Los Angeles, etc., but it's not all that important. And I don't remember much of it anyway.)
Then Diego comes over. I love the dude, I really do, but he just can't hold his liquor. He starts out by proposing a home movie of a four-way between us (Roxanna had taken off during one of my bathroom breaks). Dude had my back, I gotta say that. He didn't have to include me -- granted, the girls were more interested in me than in him, but at least he isn't a selfish drunk.
I, of course, waited to see the girls' reactions to this. When Iris looked shocked and kind of amused, I told Diego it was good (was in, thanks anyway, but it's good). This does not translate well into Spanish. When I told Diego "es bueno," Iris turns to me looking shocked as all hell. I spent the next few minutes carefully explaining the nuances of English slang to her.
After that, Diego proposes that the three of us (Ingrid, Iris, and myself) have sex while he just watches.
I DEFINITELY waited to carefully gauge the girls' responses before I responded.
But sigh. Same thing. Diego apparently decides it's my fault that his advances aren't working, and goes solo, asking Iris to have sex. When he made grabs at her thighs and breasts, I finally intervened, took Iris in my arms, and told Diego she was with me. I've never seen a woman more grateful. Diego's a good guy, even when drunk, and knows an "off-limits" sign when he sees one, so next it's Ingrid that gets the grabby come-on. I told her to slap him (without him seeing me), but apparently she and Diego were too close friends for her to do that. I eventually came to her rescue by telling Diego BOTH girls were mine, but the dude finally realized he shouldn't listen to me -- I already had the hot one, so by rights, the other girl was his.
I just love territorial romance.
Diego eventually realizes that he's not getting lucky with either of them that night, and wanders off with his friends. Never saw where to. Still, his existence gave me an excuse to put Iris in my lap (I have no idea how many women were there over the course of the night, but most of them were busy being amazed at their daring; with Iris, it was more romantic). Ingrid takes off eventually when a friend insists on being walked home. This is all after hours and hours of good conversation and just a ridiculous amount of flirting -- maybe five, six hours of it? I figure, hey, finally, I have Iris to myself!
Then a dude I met earlier that night comes over to Iris and me. He's one of Victor's sons, and I remember confusing his name, which starts with an A, with Alvarro. He's a friendly enough dude, all smiles. His friends, like Richard and Jose and a couple others, were even complimenting me earlier on in the evening on hooking all those women. But it turns out he and Iris are novios -- boyfriend/girlfriend.
You people have to start wearing signs. I mean it, I gave up GOD knows how many other women that night to gamble on Iris, I bought her beer, and she flirts outrageously with me -- and she's off limits! Bastards! When I become king, every hot woman with a boyfriend has to wear a little dog tag with his picture on it. Of course, when I become king, every Tika in the world will be mine anyway.
You'll see. You'll all see.
So there I am, heartbroken. What a waste of a night. I drank eight beers for nothing. I got Iris drunk and warmed up, and all for nothing. Sigh. Then I see Roxanna leaving, but by that point I'm too discouraged to go after her, despite A-----'s urgings. But I can take a hint. I leave the two to their privacy -- A-----'s a decent guy, and he may as well enjoy what I prepared. I KNOW the dude got lucky that night.
I see Maria sitting alone, introvert that she is. What the hell. I head over and strike up a conversation, but she's just ridiculously shy and does that thing where she's bent over her book (a book by Janet Finch, whoever she is -- I think Maria may have found the book there) and looks up only with her eyes and speaks really quietly. I think she was scarred by Diego's hitting on her. And to be fair, though I wasn't drunk, I DID have plenty of alcohol on my breath. But I eventually realize if the girl's too shy for conversation, she's too shy to be led downstairs, so I do the classy thing and ask her if she would prefer privacy. Of course she, very apologetically, would.
Disheartened, I head downstairs and strip to my UnderArmour and jeans. Then I wander on over to the common area in the Roca Dura, just a couple chairs and a crappy television, and hey! A boy! A young, gringo, blonde-haired boy I'd never seen before. He's watching a blurry, runny television which brokenly shows a man running through a city to the sound of an eighties soundtrack. I ask him in crappy Spanish if he'd like me to do something about the reception. He answers me, very snottily, "I'm from Florida. You don't have to speak Spanish."
I liked him immediately.
He's Kai, Francine's kid. We wound up talking a bit -- when I asked him why he's lying here when hot Karen's right next door, he answers me, again quite snottily, that "dude, she's my sister. Half sister."
So Francine and Luis are married. News to me -- I'd thought they were only dating. (For the uninformed masses, Kai is, to my knowlege, Francine's only kid from a different marriage. Luis has had three kids, also from a different marriage(s?): Diego, Karen, and a rather unfortunate girl named Andrea, who's more or less the Roca Dura's maid-bitch. Too bad, she's friendly enough.) I wind up leaving him to the runny television, and head back upstairs in my skintight black UnderArmour to get a Gatorade, when I run into Iris and A----- again.
I think she dug the UnderArmour. May be that I'll have a shot with her later. Let us pray.
Went to bed. Left the door unlocked just in case anyone should be drunk or brave enough to try anything. Slept like the dead until I woke up at 1:30 for no particular reason. I wandered down the hallway naked to use the bathroom, and wondered how Maria would react to a surprise visit.
Since I didn't want lil' Eddie Maced, I decided to go back to bed.
I decided to go to San Isidro today, if only to get away from it all. Miss you, you ugly gringos you, if only for your language. I was obscenely grateful for the ability of one of the visiting Tikos last night to speak English -- I'm liable to hug the next Asian person I see.
But yeah, so I wake up too early and go chill in the little waiting area with a book and a CD, since the puperia and the bar above are closed. Kai's still there, snoozing. Francine's running around, frantically doing mother things. Karen's all dressed up in her little schoolgirl outfit (I think she's a senior at her colegio) and damn if she isn't the cutest thing. I just love schoolgirls. Sigh. When I retire, I fully intend on becoming a dirty old man.
So Luis is also going through here, and offers me a ride to San Isidro so I don't have to wait for the bus (which we saw arriving as we left the Roca Dura's driveway). It was fun -- we picked up Rochelle on the way, a couple other schoolboys, and dropped them off. Then we got into a conversation which was pretty much Luis bitching about how Francine jumps on his ass whenever he sees a pretty girl while driving, and he's just tranquilo about it. Eventually turns into a discussion about Tikas. He learns about my love for them, and he tells me they have much aqui (he points to his ass) and much aqui (and he points to his chest) but not much aqui (and he points to his head). What I should want from a chick, he says, should have much aqui (ass), aqui (chest), and aqui (head). I smile and say I may want that for an esposa, but for a novia, todo necesito es mucho aqui (ass) y aqui (chest).
We laugh and shake hands. We are men, hear us oink.
So anyway, he drops me off at the Chirripo and I buy rice and beans and orange juice for breakfast. I don't need lunch (or food for the rest of the day, probably -- I did fine yesterday eating nothing but beer and a bite off a popsicle the girls stole from Diego), but since they make SUCH good hamburgers around here, I think I'll indulge.
If only I knew the word for "pickle"...
Then I head over here. Very attractive girl works here, and she remembers my name ("Erik" -- I've yet to meet a Tiko who can pronounce "Eddie"). May be that I'll ask her out. But I doubt I can -- she can't leave the place until it closes at nine, and I leave at two. Ian's probably here already. Crap.
I think this may be the last time I can post here. When Ian's here, the place is ****ing boot camp -- fortunately, Lobo told me Ian may be taking his daughters to the OSA eventually, so I may have a few last days to myself. Must get Ulani or one of the others into bed. Wish Ulani'd save her feistiness for there...
Posted by TomDavidson (Member # 124) on :
I think I'm going to stop reading this thread, now. It's like Bridget Jones in the jungle:
quote: 123 lbs. v. good. Offers received: 1, from drunk w/camera & two friends. V. bad.
V. hot & rainy today, which would be good if were wearing nice panties. Am not, so is not. Will not mention the bugs again. Went to party w/ Eddie after working on trail (Note to self: resolve to work on trail more, per higher purpose. Be better person, re: prev. discussion) and watched U basically hang all over him. Sordid fruit metaphors involved, to dismay of all & sundry. Still no shagging, despite truly staggering amount of snogging (two letters' difference) w/ suspicious men. Will wind up old lady w/7 cats.
[ August 18, 2003, 02:24 PM: Message edited by: TomDavidson ]
Posted by Lalo (Member # 3772) on :
Also, I can't believe I haven't remarked on this already. For a twenty-seven year old, Tom is sure an old fart.
Posted by TomDavidson (Member # 124) on :
Eds, don't get me wrong: I was once a horny young buck, myself, even if I didn't make quite as much a game out of kiss and tell.
But I remember that you wanted to go to Africa -- and then Central America -- to make a difference, to help people, to discover and transform yourself. This could well still be at the front of your mind, but it's not what you're talking about; instead, this sounds kind of like an adventure vacation.
What are the trails for? Why are so many young ex-pats working on 'em? How long has Ian been there, and what does he hope to accomplish by the time he goes "home?" Do you feel like you're doing something useful? Have you become more optimistic about the process? What would you change about things, if you could, and would you put any different priorities on resource allocation?
I hope to GOD that you won't really find yourself by reading science fiction, getting profoundly drunk, and humping desperate, barely pubescent locals; that's like dredging the gutter for a personality, and I KNOW you're a better man than that.
If you'd taken off to Amsterdam or Thailand or something with a cheerful, "Off to get laid," I'd've shrugged. But this trip was supposed to be the "Eddie learns what it's like to serve others" voyage, if I remember correctly, and so the mental disconnect occasionally jars.
What you're putting together is one of those autobiographical backpacker travel novels, the ones where the authors do a lot of pot and sleep with a few twins before fleeing for their lives from some kind of riot in southeast Asia or Arabia, at which point they settle down in the last chapter and write something presumably meaningful that they've learned from their travels. But you ain't gone nowhere if you're stuck inside your own head for the whole trip.
Posted by Lalo (Member # 3772) on :
Kiss and tell? You have a point -- if what I'm doing isn't bragging, it's painfully close -- but I don't consider it immoral, since none of you have any idea who I'm talking about.
My work is difficult, and my work is educational. But it's hardly interesting reading material, nor what I'm looking forward to reminiscing about years from now. I'm keeping this journal for myself as well as you -- and once I get back to my own computer, I intend to save it to my hard drive for future reference.
I'm sure you'd love to read about how obscenely grateful I become after hiking Death March for a foot-long strip of ground which is angled less than 45 degrees, or that you'd want to know just how difficult it is to slog through waist-high grass to a flatter portion of a mountain, whack at the grass with a blunt machete, and eventually clear enough for a hole deep enough to give your tree any chance of survival. Or how goddamnably annoying the insects are around here, with their various bites, stings, and egg-laying (within your skin).
Myself, I find myself more than a little traumatized by the damn insects, and I doubt I'll ever manage to forget how difficult the work is around here. What I WILL forget, though, are the details -- more accurately, the people and places I've stayed with, events I've done, and things I've bought. And I never want to forget how beautiful Tikas are. I intend to return in two years or so (reserving next summer for a road trip, hopefully -- maybe doing as Irami did and biking across the US) and I'll keep a similar journal recording my thoughts and experiences, comparing then with now.
If you've noticed, I left out Friday's events in my last post. Why? I don't remember what happened. If I don't keep this log, it's likely that I'll have forgotten virtually everything about my experiences here, except to write them off as a tree-planting summer.
I see what you mean, of course. You think I'm not living the humanitarian purpose I originally set out to do. But whether I'm weeping about my angst or laughing over a beer bottle with friends, the work's still getting done. I don't see any particular need to suffer in order to do good deeds -- nor do I see sainthood and pleasure as necessarily seperate.
What would you have me post, Tom? A particularly exciting anecdote about a tree? I certainly can't write about helping a person -- as primitive as the place is, dude, the people here are happy. I'm helping to replant and preserve the rainforest -- if I go out with friends at night, I fail to see how it detracts from my greater purpose here.
Posted by saxon75 (Member # 4589) on :
quote:as primitive as the place is, dude, the people here are happy
It's true. The Ticos I've met are among the happiest people I know. There's a certain lust for life they have that you rarely see in the States.
Posted by ak (Member # 90) on :
quote: We are men, hear us oink.
This broke me up!
Posted by Lalo (Member # 3772) on :
Ouch.
Tom's right. I just reread what I wrote, and though I've been trying to convince myself that what I've been writing ISN'T little more than patting myself on the back (I've yet to mention a single instance of myself having sex, for example), it's painfully obvious that my writing, while helpful to remember the good times, is more than a little influenced by my surprise at my newfound attractiveness.
Tom, of all people, should understand. He and I have both been fat before in our lives -- we both know how goddamn difficult it is to live life with that kind of handicap. I'm by no means attractive, even now that I've slimmed down, but it's such a rush to be the object of these beautiful women's desires that I've all but forgotten that I should have a few ounces of humility in my writing.
If it makes you feel any better, Tom, I got shot down today in the bus. Possibly because my clothes reek -- not much chance to wash the things out here.
As for the journal, I think this is my last post. I'm coming back in a week, and I may not be able to escape Ian again. All I've been doing the past few weeks is working my ass off -- the damnable sendero, for the most part. There aren't too many breaks with Ian around.
I'm starting to worry about my health, though. Yesterday I was sawing some wood when the damn saw slipped and I cut fairly deeply into my hand. For a serrated blade, it was actually fairly painless -- but when I pulled on either side of the wound to check out if any splinters or rust had rubbed off inside, I saw purple flesh. I'm almost certain it's not usually that color. Is this normal?
Also, I've been strangely exhausted lately. I'm in good enough shape to handle most anything that comes my way around here -- yesterday I went up and down and up and back down Death March to fetch tools -- but even though I sleep 9-12 hours a night nowadays, I've still needed to take an afternoon nap after I finish my work. What the hell? I KNOW that isn't normal. It's the same exhaustion I experience when, on my normal schedule, I sleep 4-6 hours a day. What's going on?
Ian and Jenny want me to experience more of Costa Rica -- they told me to take off for the Dominical beach today. I'm not going to, if only because the Rio Sendero isn't complete yet, and I'll be damned if I'll leave a job half-finished. But it's tempting. Oh damn, it's tempting. I'm not sure whether to stay or go.
I've no idea what to type, since I don't know how long it's been since my last post, nor what's happened in the meantime. Looking forward to antipasta and those delicious salads from Jack-In-The-Box. Mmm mmm good. See you soon, you vegetable-eating paved-roaded wasteful greedy imperialist Americans you.
Posted by Lalo (Member # 3772) on :
Okay, so you'll be wanting the journal bit. I wish I had it. I dimly remember hitting a bar with Patooky, Lobo, Erik, and Chico. A couple more girls. Growing closer with Roxanna. Big party at Ian's casa. Another couple bars. Ridiculous shitloads of work now that Ian's back in town. Etcetera.
I can't believe I'm getting bored with all these parties.
Never get tired of looking at these Tikas, though. Jesus. This is what art should look like -- enough with the damn headless Greek women.
Be back in a week. Time flew. I'm so coming back in two years.
Posted by mackillian (Member # 586) on :
*patpat* Posted by Lalo (Member # 3772) on :
I've been having the usual adventures. A few days ago (I have no idea how long ago -- I think two days, but the place is rather timeless) I did my WeedWhacker impression for Ian. Cut estacas for him from a ridiculous amount of trees -- then Ian insisted I climb up on a rickety ladder held together by one-and-a-half nails, reach way the hell between two trunks, and take down a thickass tree with a handsaw.
I got it about 80% of the way through, but it was virtually impossible. Jenny got Ian to insist that I stop, and I escorted them down the mountain to their dinner. (The next day, I came up late to the casa and proceeded to cut the tree down. Lobo stopped me, telling me I was about to kill myself, and had Patooky use the chainsaw to cut a wedge on the other side of the tree. Apparently, the way Ian instructed me to cut it down would have had the thing crush me. When Ian walked up later and I mentioned the wedge he never told me about (not to mention the goddamn chainsaw) he nodded knowingly and agreed there should be a wedge if I didn't want to die.)
They continued on to Maria's after I stopped at the Roca Dura for a few drinks with Roxanna and Ingrid and a couple others. Lobo drove by later in the night, apparently crushing the head of a "pit viper." I saw Tikos poking it with sticks, so I, I being a big dumb gringo, reached down and picked it up, holding it closer to my face.
That was when Lobo told me it could bite me after it died.
I can still hear my yammering.
But yeah. So the night progressed. Turns out a girl I spent the night with has decided we're novios -- it's fine with me, at least I don't have to go scrounging around in the bar anymore. I've told her time and time again that I'm leaving Sunday, but in the meantime, she apparently wants to show off the trophy gringo to her friends. Flattering as hell. Since when am I a trophy?
But, yeah, I promised to meet her last night. Didn't do it, because was out with Lobo and Erik and Joe and the wives and Richard and a bunch of others getting drunk. Learned a bit about pool -- am now more aware than ever about how shitty I am at it. Erik kicked my ass. He even beat Patooky. V. impressed. Not happy, since Erik won a six-pack from me. Wound up drinking most of it as revenge, back at his house -- we wound up there at the end of the night watching Matrix: Reloaded. And what a shitty movie that is. I haven't seen dialogue that stilted since Bush's last speech. I mean, the only major plot development was to show that Zion was just another level of the Matrix -- in the next movie, we'll see that the Matrix seems endless, or it all may be only a dream of Neo. Something cliche. Sigh.
Anyway, driving up, I think I saw the girl I was supposed to meet. Too dark to be sure, and I didn't want to act the fool by jumping out of the truck (and Lobo was hammered enough to leave me behind, I promise you) so didn't. Haven't seen her yet -- hopefully will tonight. Owe her an apology. I am flake, hear me roar.
Wandered down in the dark after a little spat with Erik. We've never gotten along, but gah. I really do like the guy for who he is -- if he wasn't such an asshole, we could probably be friends. But he is, and we aren't. Joe's a decent dude, though we had a slightly drunken argument last night -- he kept trying to insist that there's something MORE, that I'm not spiritual. Could not identify what is was (actually, he insisted that was the point), where it was, how it came to be, or how it affects us. Nor how he discovered it.
For a guy who used to be a bartender, Joe can't handle liquor very well.
Lobo's his usual amazing self. Fixed two motorcycles yesterday as I watched -- drunk as a preacher the entire time, but still brilliant about it. I'll miss that guy.
Etcetera.
This morning, I woke up fifteen minutes too late for the bus. Ran to Luis, asked if the bus had arrived yet (remembering to pull on a pair of boxers on the way, hooray hooray), and he suggested taking the milk truck instead, hitchhike it into town. Francine chimed in behind him, telling me to walk/hitchhike.
I didn't really feel like walking. Brushed my teeth while I waited for the truck -- ran like a mother****er to catch it after I heard it pulling away. Caught it. Did milk truck things, loading a ridiculous number of those large metal milk jugs -- since Johnny (the driver of the milk truck) had a large gringo in the truck with him, may as well put him to use.
Some redneck came to my rescue in his pickup. I was loading jugs when he drove by, and I asked for a ride -- Robert gave me a lift in to San Isidro, myself riding on the back of the truck.
That's really a highlight of my experience. The guy speeds on EVERYTHING. Looking back, I should've taken off my shirt -- but, no, still too pale.
Though, on that, a surprising number of people are mistaking me for a Tiko now. I'm still gringo as ****all, but apparently my skin's darkened enough (not very dark at all, in my opinion, but at least I look like a tanned white boy) to where it can work in combination with my Mexican genes to confuse people. V. flattering.
Am pissed, since cannot wear expensive cowboy hat I bought before I left. No use for it. V. annoying, since hat is black and rather sexy for an idea that was popularized by Texas.
May wear it on the airplane. Promised Feyd I'd do so.
Talked to Jeni for the first time in, what, two months? About time. If she wasn't on Canadian time, I'd have to blame her for our suspended inane banter.
I'm hoping the Chirripo's open today -- it was closed when I arrived, and I could REALLY go for one of those delicious hamburgers. Too bad they don't have dill pickles.
There's a couple days here I'm not accounting for, and I'm very aware of that. If I felt more interested, I'd write something about them -- if I was more interested, hell, the chronicle might be a bit less dull than it currently is. I've been doing shit that rivals my first month, easily -- but for some reason, I've all but lost interest in writing it down. Will regret when am old dirty man.
Posted by Lalo (Member # 3772) on :
Well, it's about goddamn time -- no more wanking off about time spent in bars, no more whining about how gorgeous Tikas are. Eddie has an Adventure!
But Eddie also has a bus at 11:30, and a ridiculously heavy pack to carry across town. Eddie will tell you about it tonight when he gets back. Anyone want to meet me at LAX, I'll be on the incoming 2:00 AM flight from San Jose. Or whenever the hell it arrives. Personally, I'd hope you'd have better sense than to meet me at such a godawful hour and in a place better equipped with coffee and masseuses.
Posted by Lalo (Member # 3772) on :
Eddie has an Adventure!
Okay, so, after writing that last big one, I'm heading home to the Roca Dura on the bus. It's the usual bit -- I notice an energetic tanned gringo with a ponytail pumping his way up and down the bus with a big smile, I strike up a conversation with three other gringos, none of whom know each other. The four of us head off to the Roca Dura to drink a bit, and I find out they -- they being Ross the Scot, Rich the Coloradian Biologist, and Josh the Texan (but I liked him anyway). Turns out we all met each other for the first time on the bus, and the three of them were heading up to Chirripo. In fact, by my coloring and Latin features, they thought I was Tico.
I wish there was a blushing smiley.
In truth, I'm outrageously gringo. I'm sure it was only their inexperience with Hispanics to mistake me for a native.
But yeah, so, they were heading up Chirripo. Nacho had walked in, and I had bought him a beer (and he was harassing me about the girl who chose me for a novio -- ever since he found out about it, he's been doing that obnoxious thing with his eyebrow and questioning grunt. You know what I'm talking about.), and Nacho asked why the hell don't I head up Chirripo with them. We were drunk enough to consider it, and eventually decided that if I felt like it, I'd head up at six to eat a breakfast with them and head out.
Morning came. I woke up at six, god knows why, and I did not feel like climbing the highest peak in Central America. I did not feel like climbing out of bed. But hell, they might be waiting for me, and I may as well say goodbye. So I stagger upstairs to apologize for not going, and run into Rich. Who is a very very cool bastard. He's just so damn friendly that what the hell, I may as well see him to the trailhead (the trail starts from the road only a short distance from Erik and Sandra's house -- then again, Erik and Sandra's house is, what, third from last at the end of the road). And after that I'd probably head off to work, and it might rain, so I grab my backpack and take off. In my backpack's naught but an umbrella, a flashlight, and my CDs. Boy Scouts got NOTHING on me.
So yeah, we reach the trailhead, but they're just such nice bastards. The first shelter's halfway up the mountain, and I figure it'll be a good excuse to hang around with my new friends for a while, and besides, the rangers say the average hiker reaches the trail after about six hours of hiking -- still enough for me to turn around for the Roca Dura before the rain comes.
Now, the average hiker reaches the first shelter in six hours. We reached it in three. We were SOLDIERS that day, you should've seen us. I felt more than a little Sherpa that day, actually, especially with the disproportionate time I spent ahead of the pack. Ross and Josh were light little fellas, and could keep up quite easily. Rich, a 30 year old biologist, was in great shape but couldn't quite match my long strides nor dance ahead like our two spritely companions. Still, he was slow but steady, and actually pulled ahead of me at times.
But yeah, so, I figure I'll go until noon. Still enough time to make it down, if I hurry, and these are SUCH nice guys.
At 12:30, I see some beautiful women heading toward the shelter. With a war cry ("Chicas bonitas!") and a spring in my step, I put on a boost and catch them. Rich, who's declared himself past the sow-your-seed stage in his life, decided to plow ahead while I talked with the chicas bonitas.
But these weren't just chicas bonitas. These were BLACK chicas bonitas. Oh god. Black women. It's been SO long. And one of them was really, truly beautiful -- her name was Karyn, and jesus I dug her. Her companion, more homely but way funnier, was Radha. She doesn't know why she has that name, either. Karyn made me promise to give her a back rub (she wanted it right then, but hell, I'm tired too) later that night, and they were both so tired I wound up carrying both their luggage up the mountain for them. Still, yeah, they're attractive, so I don't mind.
And since they're going to the shelter, the question of turning back is completely erased from my mind. I really should turn gay, if only to save myself this kind of hassle.
So I get to the shelter, and since I of course haven't stopped at the ranger station to register or buy a room, I have to buy it up there. It breaks me. Zero money left -- but at the time, I was sure I had $70 in my big pack back in my room, so I'm not all that worried. Yet, as my very presence there suggests, I'm not that bright a man.
But yeah. Going along with the whole "I'm a moron" idea, since I had no idea I would be up there until I was, I was not like every other person up there and equipped with a sleeping bag, food, a change of clothes, a JACKET, or money.
Hmm.
Ross gave me a plate of pasta-esque macaroni and cheese he made himself, and Rich made soup for everyone. I really love these guys. I mean it, best guys in the world are tourists.
There's nothing to do, so we largely sit around and play moronic card games. Taught to us by Josh the Texan. Coincidence? I ask you.
But I get up and get the two assholes up front to get me a chessboard -- they may as well EARN all that money I gave them. I take it back, and lo and behold, the vigorous Spaniard from the bus is there, chowing down on a HUGE plate of tuna and umentionables. He pumps his way over to me and I learn his name's Ruben, and he's like to play chess. Again, a great dude -- the personification of "vigorous," but friendly as all hell -- and he even beats me on the first game, since I was too busy focusing on my pawn structure to pay attention to his queen. I slap myself for the idiocy and, in the next four games, strip every ounce of chess pride the man had. Still, we part amicably (I take off for bed when the girls do -- they were playing some obnoxious card-slapping game, and god alone knows how many times they slapped the table, knocked over the chess game, apologized, rinsed and repeated).
Once there, hey, we figure out it's COLD. Seeing as how I'm freezing, wearing only a T-shirt and a pair of those Nike sweats with holes throughout them, I ask Karyn to share my bed with me. No sex -- I did NOT want to find out how fast bodily fluids would have frozen -- but just for the body warmth. Unfortunately, the bed was just too damn small for the two of us. Just as well -- my clothes and I were skanky enough to gag her if she had managed to spend the night. (Did not take shower, as Costa Rica likes to tell gringos that in every building they have, there is no hot water. Costa Rica is a bitch.)
So I shivered my way through the night, determined to head back to the Roca Dura with the girls in the morning, after some healthy huddling and whimpering under my sleeping bag until at least 9:00. Seeing as Radha had actually passed out for a brief second on the way up, I was sure they'd stick their plans.
Unfortunately, it seems the girls are as consistent as I am. Radha herself declared that since she was up that far, may as well go the rest of the way. Cannot let pretty girls one-up me (note to self -- kill that damn male ego) so when I find out about their plans at six in the morning, I immediately, swing out of bed and head up. Run into Ross, Josh, Rich, the vigorous Spanish Ruben, and maybe someone else -- they'd all went up at 3 to see the sun rise. Rich warned me about hypothermia. I was, may I remind you, clad in naught but a T-shirt proclaiming Cinco de Mayo and these Nike sweats that are full of thousands of tiny little holes. They were clad in full-out snow gear like thick jackets, puffy pants, and geeky little hats.
But I am a man, and men don't turn around (or, at least, let pretty chicks know that we did), so Ruben shakes my hand vigorously, and I promise to see the other dudes down at the Roca Dura. I head up to the peak alone. Mount Chirripo's actually the highest peak in Central America, or so I was repeatedly told, and I'm sure I should have felt some awe at the insignificance of my existance or blah blah blah, but what I felt was ****ing cold. Really ****ing cold. I opened up the ledger, read some obnoxious posts thanking Jesus (they also used plenty of exclamation marks! If they were there, I would have thrown them off! Thank you for your Creation, Jesus! It's just PERFECT for moron-tossing!), and wrote an irate, two-page long rant at the elements, the other morons who posted before me, my miserable situation, and Rich for dragging me up here.
Actually, though I was up there without my permission, I couldn't exactly blame anyone, least of all Rich. Still. Can't admit that in ledger. The girls came up while I wrote. We stood there feeling cold for a while, then headed down, the girls bitching about their hands all the while. I remember feeling smug about having my entire body gone numb so I didn't have to feel the frostbite set in. We get back to the shelter, and lay around feeling angry for a while. Then, since we finally feel something that amounts for peppy, we head down. I carry their luggage the entire way, along with three rocks I jacked from Chirripo (new personal motto -- "bringing down Chirripo; one stone at a time"). All told, the pack weighed somewhere between forty and fifty pounds. Not fun.
The walk down was SO much worse than the walk up. My joints are still creaking. I could have gone way the hell faster (and way the hell smoother) on my own, but I was behind Karyn most of the way, and there was no better view on the mountain. There's so much of that hell-march that I can't write down -- suffice it to say that we were laughing hysterically most of the way, partly due to Radha (who, as we got farther down, pointed out places where yesterday, walking up, we were HAPPY; or how if we saw one more jackass prancing up the mountain, we were going to seize them and make them prance back down to San Gerardo or the Caribbean), and partly due to the fact that if we weren't laughing, we'd be crying.
Then we ran across the cows. There were two, a real live cow and its real live bull. I made my way past the cow well enough (bravely going around it), then bravely fled in terror when the bull tossed its head at me. I ran up the side of the mountain where it couldn't follow me with anything more than its eyes, then asked the girls to holler at it to attract its attention. When it turned away, I jumped down, and ran away.
When the girls caught up with me later, they thanked me for leaving them with the man-eating bull. Did not respond, as felt all strategic retreats were forced to suffer some element of casualties. A tragedy. Hell, I even told them that if I had heard them screaming in the distance, I would have felt bad about it.
Did not get laid that night. Just as well, as was not able to move my body.
We got down to the Uran, and Francine's place was right next to it. We couldn't have walked down to the Roca Dura if we had wanted to, so we wept and begged Francine for a ride. I was very close to allowing her to fondle my breasts when I found out she was heading down anyway to see Luis. We waited in the Uran with PowerAde and moaned.
That was when Francine drove past us.
You've never seen me move so fast. I yammered my way down a hundred yards, screaming at Francine to please please stop oh god my feet Francine please god help me I hate you die may Luis leave you for a hot Tika you ugly spiteful bi-you're stopping! I love you! Please! Let me lick your feet clean!
The girls caught up some minutes later. Did not thank me for my unbelievable feat of speed, or for destroying the remnants of my feet. Think they were pissy about man-eating bull.
We wound up at the Roca Dura. Despite not eating anything but a bowl of soup and a bowl of macaroni for two days, was not hungry -- still hate some fried chicken since gave me an excuse to hang around the girls. Then Luis sidles over and tells me Ian and etcetera were throwing me a party that night, in honor of my departure.
I don't think I've ever wept more bitterly about a party.
But it's a sweet thing to do, so I go downstairs and pull on clothes. Then I sleep, until Lobo pounds on the door and tells me to stop spanking myself, it's time to go to a party. I stagger the inch to the door, and Lobo and Giovanni are standing there. When Lobo sees the shape I'm in, he tells me he's calling the party off, and I'd better sleep or he'll kick my ass.
I really do love that man. If Givan ever leaves him (or dies... I should really be fingering a blade evilly right now...), I'm SO going to convince him to take it like a man.
But yeah, so, I pass out for the night.
I wake up the next morning to the sound of Lobo's sweet pounding on my door. Joe the new volunteer (have I mentioned Joe? Sourpuss dude) is with him, and we all wind up heading up to the casa.
Now, Ian's been here about three days, and I have yet to stop by and see him or his wife or his two daughters or his daughters' friend or his daughters' friend's mother. So I jump off the truck as I normally do, forgetting my legs don't work, and wind up yowling when I hit the ground. As I mince my way to the casa, I hear the sound of feet pounding their way up the staircase -- the daughters' friend's mother, whose name I forget (but whom I'll call AOW from now on, for Attractive Older Woman) greets me. She's a fairly shapely woman, with a small, distinguished streak of white in her hair, and she apologizes for the girls. They saw us approaching, and ran upstairs to make themselves pretty.
They eventually come down, and sure, they're pretty enough, but there's no way they'll ever be attractive to me. Ian's youngest is thirteen (called Laurie or something) and his other fifteen. Though the older one sported a rather impressive pair of breasts for her age, they both looked about eight years old. Was not interested, even if they were both eighteen and not my boss' daughters. Their friend was another black girl, who was sixteen and looked even younger than Ian's kids. To be honest, I was rather relieved -- I know I would've had a huge moral conflict with myself if the girls had been of age and attractive.
Ian and Jenny show up a little while later. I want to help Chico out with the garage construction, but Ian insists I hike with him and his group up the mountain. Both Erik and Joe get dragged into it as well. On the way up, Ian tries to show off for his kids and has Erik climb a tree, then help Ian climb his own way up. The girls didn't even look. Poor Ian.
We all head up to a river, and Ian again shows off by stripping and diving into the ice-cold river. Just as well -- he wanted a rope tied across the river to catch anyone swept away, and if the girls weren't there, he would've made me do it. So the girls jump into the water from a rock, Ian helps them out, and rinse and repeat. God alone knows how cold Ian must have been. I went in up to my ankles, cursing at the stones' effect on my blistered and sore feet, and watched the show. The girls got tired of it after a time, despite Ian's showing off (the poor bastard climbed the other rope we'd strung up, only to fall on a shitload of large rocks, on his back; he also did many other humorous things, such as constantly losing his shorts in the stream).
But yeah. The day goes on. We have a spaghetti lunch, yadda yadda. When we head down on the truck, myself and the girls riding in the back in the pouring rain, I get dropped off at Richard's place, since I need to get my George R. R. Martin books back. When I get there, I stay with Richard, a vaguely creepy one-armed German dude, and the German's Indian wife and watch Rush Hour. The wife was actually fairly attractive and sweet, I'm not sure what she was doing with him.
Still, had a good time. I just sat there and shivered, then Richard took me back to the Roca Dura and pulled a beer run. I spent the rest of the night talking art and politics with Francine's friend (Joy?), who was a delight to talk with, even if she seemed rather extreme to the liberal side. Lobo showed up as we had dinner (well, Luis and Francine and Joy had dinner; I had a small plate of nachos, since Luis insisted Francine toss in a little extra for me. I love that man, also.) and said goodbye. Very emotional. Hugged, even.
Then I paid Luis for my stay, especially since I had just found out some gringos had run up a 60,000 colones tab on him, then borrowed $30 and ran out. He insisted that I was diferente, but I knew I had to take off the next day to spend in San Jose. I had take it from the extra money I had stashed, and which I thought was $70.
It was $50! Imagine my surprise!
So I was left holding about three dollars and change after that. Not fun. I sat around and mooned for the rest of the night -- when Nacho showed up, doing that obnoxious thing he does, I told him I had problemas de dinero, and took off to mope downstairs. Luis shows up, offers to buy my CD player off me, but then Francine drags him off to bed and I'm left with a new hope.
You see, airports now charge you an extra $30 or so just to use them. Bastards. I couldn't leave the country on the money I had remaining -- hell, I doubt I could've made it to San Jose. And I did NOT want to borrow money. So the next day, I head up to the casa to hang around with Rich and Joe all day. Ran into Ulani for the last time, along with a couple other Ticos. Had a bunch of rice and beans prepared by Joe. The day was a drag, really.
Later, I spent my last night in the Roca Dura with Rich. We're both fairly toasted from Chirripo still, so the talk's quiet and pleasant. Sold my CD player to Luis for half of what it was worth -- I think we both felt cheated, which is always the sign of a good compromise. Took a few desperate last-minute shots of the people around there. I wanted to take some of random hot chicks, if only to tell my friends I slept with her, I slept with her, and with her, and damn she was good -- unfortunately, only Roxanna showed at the time, and she didn't stay long enough for a picture. Did get my big buddy Juan-Carlos, though, along with a friendly weaselly dude who spoke decent English. Joe, Rich, Lobo, Francine, and Luis. Etcetera. Lobo showed up, and did the Nacho-thing of telling me to hunt down that girl; apparently, she was asking after me the night before.
Spent my last night cold and alone. Was out and ready for the 7:00 bus at six, and Rich joined me at 6:30. What a monstrous bag I carried, too -- even I could barely carry it. I would've loved to see someone try to steal it. Spent an hour in the Internet cafe, then took off on the 11:30 bus to San Jose. Chick behind me tried to start conversations, fed me some chips, and flirted like mad throughout the trip, but she had to have been in her mid-forties -- and while not always bad, in her case, it was. Still, quite flattering. Took a taxi to the airport, and sat around there waiting for my flight to leave, nibbling at a Burger King meal I'd bought for over two hours.
The flight back was uneventful, though during the landing I had the strangest impulse to leap up and claim the plane in the name of Allah. Did not want to be beaten to death by fat vacationing gringos, so did not. Got back here, wrote a choppyass version of the events.
Used the bathroom -- never realized how underappreciated that toilet is.
Now I'm off for a hot shower and a comfortable bed sans cockroaches. Life is good. I'm sure I'll have my wiser reflections later.
Posted by Lalo (Member # 3772) on :
Also, yes, I think I've next summer planned. A bicycle trip across the US? I'm thinking I head up the Pacific coastline, then swing east once I hit Portland. I'll end up in NY, but I should be able to hit Wisconsin and meet some of you Brand Xers along the path.
Irami, for your trip, where'd you take yourself?
Posted by Lalo (Member # 3772) on :
I'm bumping this since it's fallen uncomfortably far behind, given the Cards' penchant for deleting older threads. My apologies for that last entry on the first page -- my, I was a horny buck in Costa Rica...
Posted by BannaOj (Member # 3206) on :
since it is a landmark of sorts, why not have Papa Moose move it to the landmar page?
aj
Posted by aspectre (Member # 2222) on :
Ditto on BannaOj's suggestion. This has the feel of a 'life' thread, though covering a shorter period of time.
Posted by Kama (Member # 3022) on :
![[Razz]](tongue.gif)
![[Big Grin]](biggrin.gif)
![[Smile]](smile.gif)
![[ROFL]](graemlins/rofl.gif)
![[Wave]](graemlins/wave.gif)
to all Witnesses.
![[Group Hug]](graemlins/grouphug.gif)
![[Mad]](mad.gif)
So after staying and downing another couple beers with the gringas and Corey, I wandered around for a little while, feeling dangerous as hell -- I got directions from a corner prostitute as to where the Mejicana was, and stalked off in that direction.![[No No]](graemlins/nono.gif)
![[Party]](graemlins/party.gif)
![[Grumble]](graemlins/grumble.gif)
![[Angst]](graemlins/angst.gif)
I can still hear my yammering.