Long day, long post.

Boatswain’s Log September 21^st. Is it raining in there? Because it’s raining in here too.

 

It is raining outside. It does this a lot here. Sometimes I am lead to believe (by silly imaginative ideas) that somehow the world forgot how to rain since last night and suddenly waking up with the realization that “I can make it rain really hard!” it goes through with it. It is raining outside now and there is water pouring off of roofs and making several small rivers in the street. I am watching through my window. All this to say, welcome to a typical afternoon in Costa Rica during the winter. It would be nice if the windows here actually were able to be closed, but windows of that sort would make it stiflingly hot most of the time. It just started raining harder. Willikers. It’s fascinating to watch. Speaking of willikers, I miss seeing that Justin Carter kid. He’s a good one.

 

Anyhow today is Sunday and I am plotting a very serious day of reading interesting things and maybe going to an internet café if the rain lets up. I slept in until 10AM today, which is a very special occurrence here considering that most days I am up at 6:30ish. My host mom appeared to be somewhat disappointed that I didn’t go to Oculto this morning at CAFI (church), but A) I didn’t want to go. And B) I was really tired. This is the story of why I was so tired:

 

I woke up yesterday at 6AM. My brothers were up earlier. I headed out to Downtown San Jose in order to catch a bus to Volcan Irazu with some folks from the program. I was told that the bus was likely to cost 600 colones or there abouts. Either the lady at the hotel didn’t know, lied to me, or I misunderstood because the bus cost 3800 colones. Or roughly 7$. I had brought enough cash to get on the bus (luckily) and so we went. I paid for a roundtrip. That was smart thinking.

 

The back of the bus on the way up the mountainside (which was an interesting mix of onion fields, low hanging clouds, and cold weather) was myself, Andrew Ryan, Craig from Wheaton, Matt from Tennessee, and Kasey from California. I was at a perfect temperature and Kasey was next to me and he was too hot. I had access to the best ventilation window. Kasey wanted it open, I wanted it shut. Kasey had a sweatshirt on, and I didn’t I told him that he didn’t need a sweatshirt and he should take it off instead of me opening the window. The resulting situation reminded us all of Latin America and the US policy. I was America demanding that Kasey as Costa Rica take his sweatshirt off because it would be silly for me to put mine on (CAFTA is taking Kasey’s sweatshirt off while my lack of a sweatshirt is a free trade economy without tariffs), Matt was Cuba talking about how silly I was being in very open defiance, and Craig and Andrew where other random Latin American nations looking on quietly feeling that I was being silly also. What doesn’t fit in to our nice little analogy that was thereafter called “The Cold War” because Kasey was cold and it was about a window, was that Matt and Craig both had windows. Which could have been easily accessed at any time and opened for everyone else without me getting cold…bah. Maybe that wasn’t as interesting as we thought it was. I debated whether or not it was worth writing down.

 

It took us about an hour and when we got the mountain it was obvious that I didn’t have enough money to get into the park itself (it was 5500 colones to get in). I borrowed some $ and we proceeded up to the volcan. What no one had told us is that the volcan tends to be a bit foggy. Really foggy and wet and cold. So we got off the bus only to be greeted by frigid temperatures, a low hanging fog/mist, and a strange friendly marmot looking thing that I got pictures and video of.

 

We meandered around in the cold, misty void for awhile and got pictures of us on the other side of the fence (which surrounding signs called the “balustrade”). My friend Bradon and I scaled the side of this cliff which we thought was really awesome looking. Okay, so it was more of a steep slope. On the way down I got my shoes and socks filled with tiny little rocks. When we had become sufficiently cold we then traversed back to the eatery/giftshop which was cleverly stocked with overly priced hot foods like cup of noodles. The bus wasn’t coming back for awhile, so I proceeded to read a book that Trevor had given me about Jesus and Non-violence.

 

We ventured back out into the cold one last time before the bus only to see that the mist comes and goes. In the process we realized that the misty wasteland that seemed to stretch forever was very small, the thing Brandon and I had climbed was not really hardcore, and the Volcano actually had a crater that we never saw.

 

Then we got back on the bus and headed home. I fell asleep several times on the way back and suddenly we were in San Jose where it was warm again. I had told Andres that I would go to a gathering of sorts with him Saturday at 4PM. It was 1:30. I went home with the hopes of taking a nap, but Kasey didn’t have a good reason to go back home yet so he came too. We hung out for a bit and I got lectured about the necessity of asking good questions and being prepared by Liliana. At that moment she reminded me of my real mother. After that Kasey and I stepped out to go meander about at the University before we went to the thing with Andres which was nearby. Or so we thought.

 

 Well, we got to the University and I started to get really angry. I hadn’t eaten anything (apart from a small apple, a cookie, and a part of a cup of noodles given to me by kind people in our group) since about 6:30 that morning and it was about 3PM. When the first “I hate it here” thought occurred, I knew I should buy food. We looked for food places for awhile to no great success as my fury built, but just when things looked hopeless we found this great pizza place that sold me a quarter of a pizza and a tasty mango beverage for 1000 colones. Less than 2 dollars. I was definitively happier at that point.

 

We went to the place we were told and felt lost for about 5 minutes until Andres and his friend Monica appeared. We went to Monica’s house, met her friends, and then traveled as a group to the church where we were meeting. Speaking Spanish in the group was very easy. I felt like I was at the top of my game for awhile. Monica and her friends were cute, maybe that helped.

 

We were told that the place we were going to be was at the school where we met Andres and Monica. When we found out that the gathering was really in Heredia, I knew it was going to be a long night.

 

We left the church at about 4:45 after chatting for awhile with everyone. Kasey and I got a ride there with this guy Marco and Monica’s little brother Carlos. Carlos and Marco were pretty cool. Kasey was in the back with Carlos and they had lively conversation. Marco was a bit standoffish, but I managed to get him to talk about driving in Costa Rica and a variety of other things. He and Carlos spoke English pretty well, but not perfectly. It was fun to chat with them in 2 languages.

 

After about 1.2 hours in the car we made it to where we were headed. A three story house that used to belong to the Nazis, before they got kicked out. It is like a bunker. On the way there was lightning hiding in the clouds and there were more stars than I had remembered existing in a long time. Eventually we got there and played a few group bonding sorts of games. The group was pretty big. The people were very fun. Interesting note about Costa Rican folks, you can tell who is dating by watching to see who is touching whom in an obvious fashion. Andres told me it is because the girls are very jealous here.

 

After the activities we went upstairs to the first carpeted room I have seen in this country and saw a dramatic presentation (the exact same one the CITs did at camp this summer…I think the CITs did a better job) and heard a sermon, and prayed for awhile and then ate free food at 10PM. The sermon was okay, I wasn’t really stirred by it and I kept wondering just what “Jesus wanted to do in me tonight” as the speaker suggested. I still don’t really know.

 

From the window up there on the 3^rd story we could see the entire central valley sprawled out like a huge sparkly beast that was decorated with electric lights. We (the three kids from the US) chatted with some lovely ticos who asserted that our program was going to be great for us, they were very interesting and well dressed people. I think I was successfully interesting, but not quite as well dressed. We were not forewarned about the level of fanciness. I got to talk to Andres for quite a while, that guy is cool. He also told me that I would be the first to call him when I got home and noticed how much has changed in me after the program. I may be.

 

So at about 10:20ish we went out into the courtyard for roasted marshmallows. I thought about camp while we roasted mallows…then I ate one and discovered something: The marshmallows here are not at all tasty. They are weird and minty and oddly heavy. They roast poorly and taste only a bit better roasted because it burns some of the mint taste away. Eventually Andres said we needed to head out because he was meeting a friend in San Pedro who is from Germany.

 

We took a cab from the centro of Heredia all the way back to Morvia where Kasey lives (about a half hour), then to Coronado and Guadelupe (because the young woman who was with us didn’t have a good idea of where she lived…after 3 weeks here), and then it was just me and Andres on the way to San Pedro and back to Sabanilla where I dwell. We left at about 10:30, I didn’t get home until 12:30. Andres was nice enough to pay the majority of the taxi fare and offer an opportunity to go out dancing with him and his friends until 4AM. I was really tired and opted for sleep.

 

I got home to find out that my host mom had been staying up waiting for me to get home. I then felt bad. I realized that I should have called home when it got late, I should have brought the little piece of paper that had the number on it, and I should have just said I would be home late like Kasey did anyhow. Sigh. She was fretful for about 10 minutes last night before I went to sleep and for about 20 minutes this morning after I woke up. At first I was worried that she was going to be domineering in a very “you can’t go places late at night” fashion, but really she was just worried because she though we were at the first place I mentioned where we started the journey to a completely different province of Costa Rica and it was very late. She wanted more detailed knowledge of the things we would be doing. She had a point, but still…I had a good time and was not in danger at all. Furthermore, I got to do something I have been waiting to do for a long time: Have lots of fun with Costa Ricans. I guess I will just ask far more questions to give my mom enough info to be happy the next time I venture out after dark.

 

It’s still raining and I haven’t taken a shower yet. Dunno if I will until later. Moral of the story of yesterday. Say you’re coming home late if you don’t know, and don’t eat the marshmallows in Costa Rica.