Day 23: POST-Earthquake (a little freaked out...)

As I was wrapping up the Day 23 entry, I was interrupted. Not by Mike, not by a crab, not by a bug but by an earthquake. We’ve felt tremors before when we lived in Japan (I once woke up to our bed shaking and looked a little funny at Mike until I realized what was actually happening). This began as a tremor that made us look at each other in recognition. And then escalated into a shake that made us get up and head to our doorway (not because we were following earthquake etiquette, but we wanted to see if anyone was making a quick escape because we’d definitely need a ride). The 30 seconds it lasted was long enough to freak me out and naturally, being a neighbor to what seems like an endless ocean, freaked me out even more that a tsunami could be following. And now we sit, watching the window to hitch a ride in the event (one of) my worst nightmares comes true. There isn’t much else we can do. And if you’re reading this post, guess it means we’re safe. Thankfully. I do believe the last four weeks of living here have taken years off my life. Alright, maybe I'm exaggerating...but days at least. Hope each day I lay on the beach helps get the lost ones back.

Day 23: PRE-Earthquake (Deposit Day!!)

When we aren’t being woken up by our angry mother of a neighbor yelling at her teenage son or husband, a neighborhood dog feels it necessary to pick up her slack. This morning came a little earlier than normal and with incessant barking. I was able to subconsciously incorporate the barking into some sort of barely awake dream until Mike felt it necessary to have a one-on-one with the canine. As soon as he saw Mike, he ran over to greet him, laid on his back for a few minutes of belly-rubbing before he jumped up and ran away. From all Mike could see, he was barking at the rising sun…it was about 5:30am.

We had to head out early anyways since today was Deposit Day for our new place. Since there’s no direct bus from our town to Dominical, we needed to make it to the station in Quepos to transfer. And while I wrote that we have been fortunate to get neighborhood rides, I realized that I seem to jinx us when I put statements in the blog (like that one about the rainy season not affecting us…and then we got flooded. Or my joy over a magical SIM card that didn’t end up working. Or Mike’s bike got repaired just to break again). This morning was no exception seeing as we walked 100% of our dirt road with dust in our eyes from cars flying by. Guess that’s alright since we spent the rest of the day sitting on buses. Here’s our timeline:

8:05am – Leave the house for the bus stop
9:15am – Arrive at the bus stop
9:25am – Bus picks us up
10:30am – Bus drop off in Quepos
10:32am – Find out the bus to Dominical isn’t until 11:30am
10:38am – Head to the internet café for good coffee and a quick email check
11:20am – Return to bus station to catch the Dominical bus
11:30am – Bus leaves for Dominical (in the tightest, stickiest, most uncomfortable school bus seats)
12:45pm – Arrive in Dominical
12:48pm – Check in at Saul’s office and get psyched because our house is being prepped for our arrival and we can go check it out, meet our landlord and pay our deposit
1pm – Reach the house and it’s awesome!!! (I’ll be describing it a little later; it deserves more than a line in our travel schedule)
1:30pm – Get the key to our new place!
1:40pm – Drive back to the rental office and say goodbye to Saul
2pm – Wait for the 2pm bus
2:15pm – 2pm bus arrives (told you it’s all approximate)
3:30pm – Get to Quepos and are lucky enough that the bus to our town is just leaving, we catch it.
4:15pm – Arrive at our bus stop
4:16pm – Begin the hour walk home.
4:20pm – Juan Valdez (not really his name, but that’s what we call him because of his thick black hair and mustache and oversized straw fedora) and family recognize us and bring us home.

All that for about an hour in Dominical. To put it in perspective for our fellow Enfield-ers…it’s like travelling to and from the West Farms Mall. What would typically take someone a little over an hour (there and back)…was equivalent to a typical work day. If it was considered a job, it would be described as a bad one: miserable and boring with a lot of sitting around.

It was worth it though. From the moment we stepped in the door of our three story light blue house, we were impressed. The entrance opens to a tiled foyer with cushioned furniture, a small flat panel television with cable soon to be mounted on the wall, a bathroom with hot water, and a kitchen with a six burner gas stove, a crockpot, a coffee bean grinder and more than just one pan. Up the winding stairs brought us to the sleeping level; a master bedroom with an air conditioner and balcony with a cozy hammock. The guest bedroom (aka Matt’s room for the month of November – and anyone else that wants to come…hint hint) also has its own balcony hammock combination. And the upstairs bathroom not only boasts of hot water, but also a jetted tub. One more winding wooden staircase brings you to a finished attic, which I’ve already envisioned as my writing nook. Not sure if that’ll be possible since it wasn’t furnished yet and I’m not sure what furniture will be hanging out in there once it’s complete but it would be nice to have a real writing area rather than a kitchen counter. Speaking of kitchen counters though…

It was clearly custom built for our landlord's 6 foot 3 inch stature not for someone who just manages to get on Six Flags rides. With the countertop coming in at about my chest I also envision cooking being interesting…especially since I won’t be able to stir what’s on the back burner. Since I’m the primary chef of the household, Mike’s agreed it’s necessary to invest in a stepstool so I can actually see what I’m doing.

Other than that, it’s clearly an upgrade. Our current house has seven fans, half of which don’t work each for a different reason; the kitchen fan’s pullcord is rusted and will most likely snap in half if you try to pull it any harder. A spare bedroom fan was not strategically placed between the rafters and makes it known that it’s done a 360 with every half second thud on the wooden beam. And with a shower with water pressure equivalent to a leak – a jetted tub is just spoiling us at this point. But just in case it wasn’t, by November 15th, a kidney-shaped pool will be steps from our front door. So it’s no substitution for a soft sand beach but if we need our fill that’s only a 10 minute walk away. Along with anything else we need: the post office, supermarket, phone card company, surfboards, ceviche, live bands…

Along with our house upgrade came the knowledge that’s our creatures have also upgraded. Overhearing a conversation between Saul and two of his surfer friends, one of whom had a nasty gash on his ankle from a stingray he accidentally pinned to the ocean floor, we found out that we aren’t dealing with the average spider bite or a random cockroach in your shoe. Since he’s been here, he’s been bitten by a snake and stung by a scorpion. Stingrays, scorpions and snakes…oh my. It’s ok, I learned how to protect myself; shuffle your feet in the ocean, check your shoes before putting them on, and for snakes…I’m pretty sure just run in the opposite direction. And as long as none of them live in my home, I’ll be more than happy keeping myself out of theirs.

Day 22: The sun is back...

If the next week goes by as nice as today, I’d be a happy camper. The rain has returned to its previous routine before it flooded the streets last week and is back to hiding out until sunset to emptying on us throughout the night. Which means that our job for the day is to soak up as much sun as we can.

Mike made his routine ride to the bike repairman without me this morning since he was racing some steep competition, his front tire leak. Stopping three times to pump it up, he made it and got it fixed for what he said is the last time. I don’t know if that means he’s confident it’s not gonna get another one or if it does he’ll be setting it on fire but either way, it probably is our last time with this repairman seeing as we move a week from today.

Since we don’t want to be bothered by stocking up on groceries and lugging them home from town, we’ve been shopping at our local pulperias. Pulperias here are similar to a front porch stocked with typical convenience store items. No offense to our chicken and fish back home, but the quality of the fish and chicken here puts our stuff back home to shame. I can’t really explain the tenderness and juiciness of the chicken or the taste of a local fisherman's catch seasoned immediately after filleted, but trust me, it’s really good. I thought my culinary skills had improved since we landed in Costa Rica, but I was mistaken - the quality of my ingredients has.

The chicken is actually good enough that it was a subject of a $3 minute phone call with my parents - I spent more money talking about it than paying for it. My dad reminded me that’s what happens when it's fresh from your own backyard. He’s right. A few weeks ago, Mike and I saw a neighbor carrying a dead chicken, body covered, and head bobbing around upside down as he walked by our house. That’s as fresh as it gets and I’m sure it’s even better than the prepackaged stuff we’ve been buying. We may have gone back in time here, but I’m pretty sure we won’t be headed that far back. I still prefer plucking my chicken from a grocery store freezer...

Day 21: The best public transportation isn't the buses...

I have to say that the public transportation system is far from Japanese standards. There we could set our watches by their trains (which we actually did). We knew when they would arrive, when they would depart, how much it would cost, and most importantly, not to be late.

Here bus arrivals are approximate at best. Maybe they’ll make it for 9am, maybe not. Miss the bus by a few steps? Just wave it down and it’ll stop. Miss your stop? He’ll let you off when you remember, stop or not. You might make it to your destination earlier if your bus driver decides to speed and pass every car in his path (which happened today) or you might make it later if he decides to stop at a pulperia to pick up a snack (which also happened today). Who says there’s a 10 standing passenger max? (The law actually, I read the sign.) The more people you cram, the easier it is to stand so pick up 20 more. What’s the fare today? Depends on the bus driver. We’ve been on several rides and only a handful have been for the same amount. We don’t complain though. As long as we got a bus and a seat, we just enjoy the ride (because the seats are actually more comfortable than anything we have in our house).

Public transportation gets literal when we start our walk home on the dirt road. Two things have happened that result in more rides for us now. First, we accepted the invite from our neighbors and met quite a few people with cars who drive regularly on our road. We’re guaranteed a ride from them as long as we’re headed in the same direction. Our neighborhood isn’t large…it’s spread wide but with few people who all seem to know each other. While we may not have met everyone, I believe we’re recognizable from our daily walks through the winding palm trees and I’m confident that they’ve heard of us even if they haven’t met us. And so we’ve become welcomed in most cars after brief periods of walking.

These are different than the sketchy taxi rides from beat up Toyotas once you hit town. While giving and accepting rides in our type of town is normal practice, we’re still careful about the rides we accept, most of which are from familiar faces. These are families with children letting us hop in the back of their pickup truck. These are older couples headed to the pulperia willing to take us half way. These are young couples unable to watch us walk in a downpour. And they are all expecting the same thing; a smile and a gracias which we provide along with asking “Cuanto le debo?” (how much do we owe you) as acknowledgement of their favor. We get the same response from each of them though, a wave of the hand, a shake of the head and a "mucho gusto" before we go our separate ways. I have a feeling if we stayed here for the next couple of months, we’d hardly ever have to walk the entire way to town again…

Day 20: Bug bites and bad bikes.

For those that are concerned, the bites are better. I didn’t have to sedate myself with Benadryl just to make it through the day, so that’s a plus. I’ve also limited the scratching to only one good session per day since I realized any more than that will leave scars that make my legs look like they were pelted by an army of BB guns.

Our daily job has become prepping for a walk or ride into town to check our email until we get into our new place (which comes with internet...yay!). It takes a lot of communicating and coordinating to move out of the Crab Shack and into our palace. We have to drop off a deposit on Friday to make sure it stays ours until next Thursday when we can move in. Since our current landlord lives about four hours away and wasn’t expecting our quick escape, we have agreed to show our place to prospective renters (I’ll be putting on my best acting outfit that day). Next Wednesday, we’ll be renting a car again (another yay!) so we can speed out of here (that means going about 15 mph on the dirt road) to our new house on Thursday morning after we pass our move out inspection. I have a feeling it won’t take too long to count our 1 pan, 2 pots, 3 mugs, 1 bowl, 10 plates and broken coffee maker. I think it’ll probably take longer to tally the wicker, which we’ll gladly leave behind for the crabs and iguanas to enjoy during their visits.

We healed enough to saddle up on the bikes again and ride to the internet restaurant which cut the walk time in half. It’s about an hour ride, depending on how many breaks I have to take to rest my buns or how many breaks Mike has to take to fix his bike. If bad bikes are also referred to as lemons, Mike got the sourest one of the bunch. Not only has it had two flat tires (in two days), add a cracked pedal, loose handlebars that shift mid ride and a front tire with a perpetual mystery leak to the list. As if that’s not enough, as a good husband, he swapped bike seats with me after mine gave up during our last ride. Since Mike actually knows how to ride a bike well, he can support himself over the bumps and even stand while pedaling (which is impressive and impossible to me). At this point, the bike repairman just greets him with a laugh.

On another note, I realized this evening that there’s a very good possibility I’ve unknowingly eaten a few bugs. Without a toaster, we’ve been toasting our flaxseed multigrain bread in the frying pan. Since it’s our only pan and toast doesn’t leave much behind, we’ve cooked some meals in it without a rinse. So I had no reason to question why I’d see some leftover toasted flaxseed in some of my food. Until tonight, when the flaxseed on my chicken decided to move to another piece.

The countdown is now in single digits and I couldn’t be happier. If our new home is as great as I think it’s going to be (oh please let it be), I’m a little concerned about not having anything to write about. No bugs, no crabs, no sleepless nights listening to iguanas, no marathon walks and doomed bike rides. Uh oh....

Day 19: Hey mosquitoes, bite me.

I may have exaggerated when I said that we walked home from our neighbor’s house with a trillion mosquito bites but when I said that Costa Rica just wanted to remind me I could be eaten alive at any moment…it was proven. It would be impossible to walk away with less than twenty mosquito bites from the swarms that were attacking us (prior to surrendering as wussy neighbors and asking for bug spray). Yesterday, we tallied the damage done…and yes, lots of bites. I guess football kept this off my mind (as much as possible, I scratched here and there and complained a bit but it was expected after the feeding). But today…today is a different story.

My skin is so bumpy at this point that if a blind person were to rub any part of me they’d probably find a message. (I’m guessing it would probably say something like, “don’t forget DEET next time idiot.”) I have approximately 20 bites on my left foot, 15 of which are on the sole. (And that’s just my left foot). From there they speckle around my ankles, up my calves, behind my knees, and even in the crease where my butt sits on my legs (how they got in there, I haven’t a clue). It doesn’t stop there though. My shoulders, elbows, ribs, neck and back weren’t spared, but I can handle carrying them around on all these places. I can’t, however, handle the feet.

From the moment I placed them on the floor this morning, the burning, swelling, tingling sensations began. And when we took a quick walk next door to see if they had some milk, it was like I was walking on path of coals to get home. I scratched and scratched (yes, I know, don’t scratch…but really? Have you ever had a mosquito bite you haven’t scratched? It’s easy to say, nearly impossible to do) and even though it didn’t provide any relief, it gave me flashes of satisfaction and chills. That was until I realized that the more I scratched, the more bites I uncovered. I’m not sure how mosquito bites work but it appears some may lay dormant under the skin only to surface if provoked by fingernails. Kind of like a scratch ticket. With each layer of skin I scraped off, I found a new number.

I slathered my feet in Tea Tree Oil which Mike swore would work but just in case, I also took a dose of Benadryl. I could care less if it put me back to sleep only an hour after being awake, at least I have no urge to scratch while snoozing. And that's exactly what it did. I crashed on our homemade couch for about three hours and didn't do much more for several hours after that. Pics to come of the damage...we forgot to download them from the camera but we couldn't pass up sharing them with you.

Day 18: We are ready for some football.

Even after four years away from his home in South Carolina, Clint hasn’t lost his southern accent or hospitality and as promised, he picked us up for Quepos around 8am this morning. So we still had to set the alarm and walk out the door a few hours before kickoff…we didn’t care.

He dropped us off at a peaceful little park where I laid on a bench and tried to take a pre-game nap while Mike snapped a bunch of photos. Then we made our way into town to get my coffee fix. Even if the bar was open, we felt a little odd parking ourselves at a bar stool first thing in the morning. We found our coffee and bonus for me, I got my cheese fix too with a queso empanada (which I can only describe as a hot pocket filled with some type of excellent cheese but that’s really a terrible description for how tasty it actually was). Even after all that, it was still only 10am, but we felt comfortable enough to head to the bar, Los Pescadores.

It was the size and shape of a large UHaul with four 50 inch flatscreens, air conditioning, free internet and lots of English as it eventually filled with foreigners heckling refs and defending Drew Brees. We appeared to be the only ones who weren’t regulars, including the 85 year old lady with a back cushion and a coozie. I’m not sure who she was, but everyone else seemed to know her name and all but yelled it as she walked in the door and so I renamed her Norm-a. We didn’t get to see the Pats and we won’t (unless Clint feels compelled to hang out with a couple of New Englanders tomorrow evening) but, like I already said, it’s alright. I enjoyed hearing the NFL jingles and watching the Geico gecko instead of an unnamed one crawling on our wall.

Speaking of creatures, we have decided on our new home. Both options were an upgrade in comparison to our current Crab Shack, but one was a super duper upgrade that I couldn’t pass up and it’s no more than a ten minute walk to town. With regard to our current home, on the outside, it appears to be a one story. Live in it for a few weeks and you’ll soon come to realize it’s actually three. After Mike found a crab running under the foundation and a hundred crab holes in our yard, we’re pretty certain they live below us. And for the past couple of weeks, we’ve heard some kind of shrieking and scrambling around above us. We thought it might be bats until last night when our neighbors remembered why the previous renters moved out. They couldn’t take the iguanas that lived in the ceiling.

So is it really necessary for me to tell you that I’m still not getting much sleep? Fortunately while I lay awake last night listening to lizards that aren’t courteous housemates, I realized our countdown is off by two days. Since we are leaving CR on December 14th, we can actually start our two months in our new house on October 14th. And when you’re buggy-eyed (I think I actually get what that term means now) wondering what might crawl or fall into your bed…it still seems too far away.

Day 17: Met our neighbors...or neighborhood.

Ever since I've been able to see the ocean past the waves, so to speak, my relationship with Costa Rica has improved rapidly. We woke up (by our local alarm clock; a neighbor who has some very intense, fast paced conversations at her kids while banging around pots and pans) to an abundance of sunshine. We had no other choice, it was clearly a beach day. We grabbed our blanket, towels, and sunblock and did nothing but lay in the sun. First for a few hours...then walked a few steps to our house for some lunch...just to do it all over again for another couple of hours. We now have the tans to match two weeks of living near the equator.

While making dinner we were surprised to find The American Surfer (as Ed had dubbed him on our first trip down the road) headed to our door. He told us he's been dying to meet us after he heard through the grapevine that a couple of gringos (which is not a negative label by the way) moved in the neighborhood. He invited us to meet our neighbors a few houses down for some food and drinks. Since I was mid-cooking, we passed on the food but drinks were a solid maybe. After a brief huddle, we decided it probably wouldn't be very neighborly to dis their invitation and seeing as we were already the talk of the town, we'd like to keep the stories on the positive side.

We walked in the rain, down the dark road until we found the hosts we suspected were awaiting our arrival: Clint (aka The American Surfer), his mother Shelly, expats Owen, Mary Kay, Jim, and Ticos Marco and Orlando. And three dogs; the OD (Original Dog that relocated with Clint from South Carolina), Poopy (which I thought was hilarious since that's my preferred nickname for pets but then found out it was a Tico's mispronuncion of Puppy) and Gina (a 3 month old pup that Mike fell in love with. Marley beware...daddy's heart can be stolen...alright, maybe not stolen, but easily shared once he catches a whiff of puppy breath).

They bombarded us with questions you'd expect...how long we'll stay and where we're from and why we're here, and were disappointed when they learned of our move in a few weeks. I softened our excuses as I had no intention of insulting the community that just embraced us. They understood that traveling without a car in this neighborhood, isn't happening. Not only did they understand, they offered thier help. For the brief time we have left in Parrita, they gave us their schedules and offered free rides.

We asked Clint about his surf credentials, seeing as he was recognized as The American Surfer and he laughed. Apparently Clint USED to surf in the states, before he went to college for four years and worked for 10 years after that. When he moved to the area, he hopped on his board to see what he had left, if anything, and caught what he explained as "the best five waves" of his life, including a barrel which was not normal experience on his surf resume. Word traveled as quickly as new gringos in the neighborhood and he immediately became "The American Surfer." Which he finds amusing. Surfer or not, he was a cool guy with a generous heart that seemed to be escaping some difficult days in the states. After he heard our plan to watch football games in Quepos tomorrow, he offered a morning ride into town on the way to his church service. This took no huddle, we accepted.

We walked home after a couple hours and a trillion mosquito bites. It's just the way Costa Rica keeps me in check. Giving me good things all the while reminding me that I can be eaten alive any second...

Day 16: Found a new internet fav...

So a new attitude may have encouraged a truce between this country and I. The sun showed itself today. Not enough for us to lounge around on the beach…but enough to dry up the puddles that make walking and riding more difficult than it already is. We didn’t really have time to lounge since it’s still necessary for us to check email as much as possible to communicate with our rental agent. Tomorrow marks the beginning of a two week countdown (not like I haven’t been already) until we move. We just really need to figure out where we’re moving to.

Still a little sore, we decided to walk and check out another path our expat chauffer told us about a few days ago. We walked about an hour on the road that leads to town but turned on a different dirt road, bypassing a good portion of the interstate, through more palm plantations. After about twenty minutes, we started to get a little concerned that we’d reach a destination we’re familiar with, Dead End. Thankfully the road led us left toward town and on our way. Within ten more minutes we were on the main road. Feeling good about the successful shortcut, we even passed up a taxi-ish ride after he whistled us over to hop in. (Anyone with a car who wants to make a few bucks and has the time will give you a ride…kind of like a more acceptable, slightly organized form of hitchhiking…it might be a taxi, it might not…but either way it still seems sketchy.)

With about 30 more minutes of walking to the internet saloon that was on the outskirts of the town center, we decided to check on a few places we hadn’t tried yet. As we approached the employee at the 2nd restaurant we came across, we saw a sign for internet which saved us at least 20 more minutes of walking. It’s an open air restaurant with a TV, cold drinks, good food and lots of company. Around lunch time, it was packed. So much so that we were too intimidated to order any food until the lines went down – figured we’d be in the way and these people knew what they wanted. Eventually we got our chance to sample the sweetened fried plantains (yum!), arroz con pollo (rice with chicken), pork that fell of the bone if you just looked at it, and a spicy pickled salad that tasted so good you dealt with the immediate cough that followed each bite. This beats the café and the saloon, hands down, and will be our home away from home away from home for the next two weeks. And practically in our own backyard! (No really, we were psyched at how close it was, coming in at a mere hour and 40 minutes from our door. We’ll keep you updated on how long it takes biking once we can get back on them).

Day 15: It's not you, it's me.

It didn’t rain today but it didn’t shine either. It was gray and breezy which was nothing to complain about and it was the first day I was content with hanging around the house. After the amount of effort that was exerted the past two days on getting to town, I was looking forward to just sitting. After a few hours though, I figured it would be a good idea to mix in some movement and took my first jog on the beach since we've been here. I brought my iPod for company but it decided to be lazy and shut off after one song. So I jogged solo with the waves as my music and the path of froth high tide left behind as my track.

When I could no longer see our house or catch my breath, I stopped in silence, completely by myself. I was able to do something I hadn't really done yet...take it all in and really acknowledge the greatness of being here. I began to have a brief conversation (without speaking, I didn’t want to be the crazy lady talking to herself on the beach) with myself and this country. There was no reason we shouldn’t get along during our time together. And I realized it wasn’t all Costa Rica’s fault.

I surrendered to the fact that I may have been kind of whiny, slightly spoiled, a little needy and a bit of a wuss. And maybe it took me two weeks to get the point of the lesson. (You still think this is bad? Wait ‘til you see what tomorrow has in store.) It took a little while, but I got it...

I’m lucky to have the things I have, and although I believe I’m very grateful, I may have taken my comforts for granted. When it comes down to it, I have pretty much all I need; good health, much love and lots of happiness. And when I asked Costa Rica if I could come here to write, she listened. She’s offered a place that eliminated all the distractions that gave me excuses not to write at home. This house provides everything I asked for; electricity, silence and all the time a day can offer. Even though I'd prefer a home that doesn't make us feel as though we've traveled back in time, this is what I wanted and more importantly, what I needed.

I meant no disrespect to Costa Rica with my Diary of a Wimpy Chick. This is a country that does have beautiful things to offer. What distinguishes the past two weeks from other's experiences is that this is not a vacation, it’s an immersion. I guess when you jump in without testing the waters, you sometimes find yourself in over your head.

Now I'm not saying I have to make friends with the bugs or the crabs. And I don't have to enjoy the wicker (there's no way I could do that), the torrential downpours in the middle of a long walk, the bicycle injuries and various types of bug bites. But I can acknowledge how fortunate we are to have this opportunity and to experience the many things (good and bad)that we've already encountered and are still to come. Maybe if I wake up with a brighter attitude, Costa Rica will respond in the same way.