Last Update From Costa Rica

For some reason, whenever a Costa Rican sees me, they think it would be fun to try and impress me and speak English. The problem is that their English is so horrid that often times I think that they are just speaking Spanish and using words that I just don’t understand. For example, my Costa Rican mom and I were hitching a ride in the back of a pick up of some guy she used to work for. When I got in he took one look at me and said “yossuummbueeush?”… well at least that’s all I understood. I looked at him and asked quite politely ¿Cómo? I was shocked when I understood what he said. This guy was calling me a “son of a bitch” after just meeting me. I looked at him and then stared at the truck bed for the remainder of the trip. It wasn’t until we got home and I asked my mom why he was such an ass too me that I figured out the miscommunication. He was simply joking around with me since I was American and asked if “I was the son of Bush.” Now that I think about it… it was probably less offensive to call me a son of a bitch. Hitching rides is always interesting like that. It’s either the Latino Mario Andretti who enjoys it when I smack my face on the back of the head rest, the attempt to speak English, or the guy today who stopped a kilometer short because there was a strange smoke and smell coming from the engine. He calmly popped the hood and pulled out what looked like a four foot burnt hot dog. He got back into the car cussing about the damn snakes in Costa Rica.

Things have been going really well here in Costa Rica. It’s really feeling like home again… just in time for me to leave Thursday for San Jose. Cuyo and I went out last week hunting for mamones. If you followed my last travelblog from Costa Rica, you will remember that mamones are my favorite fruit in the whole world. We had to hunt quite intensively since the massive amounts of rain that have been falling here have knocked off most of the good ones and the other Ticos (Costa Ricans) quickly gather up all the ripe ones. We trekked pretty far up into the mountains where we found a massive, untouched tree that had hundreds of mamones. Cuyo climbed up to cut down the bundles while I got stuck with the not so fun job of collecting them all off the ground. It wouldn’t have been that bad if it weren’t for the ant hill (remember that Costa Rican ants bite) that was directly under the tree. I also wouldn’t call it fun to get constantly ´chicken littled' by the not so soft fruits. The ant bites and round welts that encompassed my entire body were more than worth the hundreds of mamones we brought back to the house and ate until we threw up.

On one of Cuyo’s days off last week, he decided to take me to Cartago to visit his father and sisters. Unfortunately, Cuyo’s father suffered a stroke 6 years ago and has been bedridden and in a nearly vegetative state ever since. Cuyo’s sisters all live in Cartago and 3 of them live with his father. 2 of his sisters were nuns (one of them I met the last time I was in Costa Rica) and I was soon to understand what the Spanish word incómodo meant. I always knew that it translated to uncomfortable, but I don’t think I ever knew what its true meaning was until I sat down on the back porch with the 2 nuns. The inevitable question came up “Paul, are you a christian?” Now it’s hard enough trying to explain what a Unitarian is to an English-speaking American, but trying to reason with 2 Costa Rican nuns was daunting to say the least. I looked to Cuyo for help and he shrugged his shoulders to say ´sorry, I don’t know how to help you with this one'. I looked to Cuyo’s father for advice and all I got in return was a blank stare and some drool. That was it! I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it earlier… I simply stared back at them like I didn’t understand the question and I didn’t understand Spanish (I often do this when people try to sell me stuff on the streets). That didn’t last long since they knew that I understood the question… the beads of sweat forming on my face were a pure indicator. I spent the next 5 seconds of thinking how I would best explain what a Unitarian was then decided to respond simply with “My mom is Catholic.” (Thanks mom, you saved me with that one) That wasn’t the end of it though. It’s kind of like putting a black light up to certain bills to see if they are counterfeit or not. Simply put a nun in front of someone and they can read the “I’m not Christian” stamp that we have on our foreheads. It was quickly decided that the next morning, Cuyo and I would wake up at 5am in order to go to the church in Cartago to see the magical virgin. Apparently, Cartago is home to the world famous Virgin de Los Angeles. A long time ago some girl found a doll and it disappeared a few times. Obviously some higher power (and not her little brother) was involved and the doll was instantly sacred. Apparently people travel from all over the world to visit the virgin on August 2nd. When we returned to the nuns’ house and they asked me how I felt about the trip, I told them that it was simply an “out of body” experience to save any further discomfort. Cuyo and I took the next bus back to San Isidro where I rediscovered the meaning of incómodo anyways. You see, in Costa Rica, when they sell all the seats on the bus, they simply make people pay the same price and stand the whole trip. 3 hours standing in the aisle of an overcrowded bus as it winded it’s way up and down some of the steepest and curviest mountain roads in Costa Rica was not exactly relaxing. Not to mention that ever since that incident with my left ear not pressurizing right, it now just hurts and makes a crinkling sound when the bus goes way up into the mountains.

I am going to go now because I have to go and teach Marcela how to use email in the city so I can keep my family here up to date too. Besides, a couple of Costa Ricans are staring at me like they have never seen a gringo before…quite incómodo.


(To anyone who is offended by my updates: I just want to apologize to anyone who might be offended by anything in my updates. Whether it be my occasional bad language or my bluntness regarding religion or politics (for example if I offended any Catholics on this update), I apologize. Remember, though, that since I am traveling alone, this is one of my only outlets and opportunities to speak English. I like to think that I write just like I would speak.)

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