Rock n Roll

Wooo-hoo! Nothin' like little earthquakes to get you distracted in the afternoon. Two tremblers just shook the ground below my chair like amtrak had just come rumbling through. This got me to thinking about my work standards.

Things I want in an office:

1. No bugs.
2. Nothing that tries to bite me. (snakes, scorpions, or mosquitos)
3. No shaking. (ground, walls, etc.)
4. Air conditioning.
5. Snow days.

This just in...

Are gender bias and cultural differences the best I can do for my first day back? Sadly, no.

While I was gone, one of our students began her travels home to Tanzania. Her plane tickets (bought by the University) showed that she had to transit through Italy. She had been told here in Costa Rica that she would not need an italian visa in order to fly through there. So she departed on Saturday on the same flight as several University colleagues (including a University executive) for Caracas, Venezuela where they would all be transferring to different flights. When she arrived in Venezuela, Alitalia barred her from entering her connecting flight to Italy because she had no italian visa. Apparently, her ticket required her to fly into Rome, take a flight to another town in Italy, and from there on to Tanzania. This means, according to migration laws, she would not be transiting but entering Italy and would therefore require a visa. The university executive tried to argue her case, but this was Venezuela, so Spanish was a necessity for arguement. The executive had to leave to catch her flight, so she took the name and number of the customs official and called another university official from her flight. He does not speak spanish, so he called around the management team until he finally got through to my boss. She called the number immediately and got a recording saying that the number (a cell phone, as it turns out) is not permitted to accept international calls. My boss then tried to call a local operator in Venzuela in the hopes she could be connected to the phone number in that way. No dice. The operators for landlines are government employed. Cell phones are privately owned, thus the operator was not permitted to forward the call. And my boss had only been given the first name of the customs agent. So there was no way to find her.

What happened to the student in the end? Get a load of this:

We. Don't. Know.

Fantastic, isn't it?? Apparently, they're just hoping she'll be deported because international law stipulates that you can only be deported to your home country. Which means she'd get to go home in the end. In the meantime, I guess she's just stuck in Caracus. It's very expensive to get stuck in Caracus. That happened to one of our students on his way here. He had to spend 6 days there. He almost ran out of money. My student has got a husband and three small kids waiting for her back home. Keep her in your prayers.

Gemischt (mixed up)

Hey folks. I'm feeling pretty mixed up today. I'm very tired coming off of my awesome weekend in Boston with my baltimore buddies. I got a great apartment for the fall with very little effort. I'm back at work. My Costa Rican family adopted a new pet turtle while I was gone. And the US appears to be going insane.

As proof of the last item, I offer Joel Achenbach's recent blog posts. My absolute favorite description of the war in Iraq so far comes from his post. It reads:

[W]e've got the most highly trained fighting force in the world trying to
play urban Whack-a-Mole.

I've been thinking a lot lately about the war on terror. And something is not sitting right with me. If the president believes that the war is so important to the spread of democracy, and so critical for national security, why isn't he sending his daughters to fight? They're of age. Presumably they have skills and intelligence capabilities that are deperately needed. Recruiters are clearly coming up empty handed these days. Reserve and national guard members are serving back-to-back tours because of this shortage. The country is in desperate need of fighters. And yet, the Bush daughters stay home. What does that say? Are some lives worth more than others? Just a question to ponder.

In other US news, Katie Holmes appears to be crazy. She is volunarily marrying this man.

Alright, seeing as how you may be reading this from the US, you're probably wondering what's going on in the Ciudad. The big news is that I can understand spanish. Really. I had a nice conversation with the cab driver on the way home from the airport yesterday. He was impressed with my pronounciation and comprehension. I smiled when he asked if my boyfriend lived in the US or Costa Rica. I said US. I think I may take up that lie for self-preservation. I usually like to tell the truth. But I'm so entirely exhausted of being aggressively hit on, and being made to feel like I am a social pariah for not having a man attached to me. One fantastic thing about Boston: I walked at night, by myself, to my new house and wasn't cat called, scared, or asked if I had a boyfriend. Not once! What a relief! Here, if I leave my house by myself after dark I attract an immense amount of attention. Because I am a female alone (so, obviously, of ill repute) and I am a north american (and everyone knows from the movies and TV that we're promiscuous). Grr.

Tonight I'm going to blow off my new African friend. He called last night after I got home, to check in on me because he hadn't seen me in a few days. He wants to get together tonight. I'm always leery of African men. Not in a racist way, in an I've-learned-from-my-experience way. Often there is a significant culture gap between my expectations of friendship and dating and theirs. Some african men really seem to think that it is their god-given right to sleep with every woman they encounter. And they merely see women as a means to an end. I've seen these attitudes in the states, in Africa, and here among our african students. This new friend of mine seems like a good guy. I enjoy talking to him, but I feel too exhausted by dealing with cultural differences with my host family to then spend my down time dealing with cultural differences with him. Besides, tonight I really want to call my best friend and get caught up with her. So my african friend will have to wait.

Yay!

Graduation was beutiful. I was incredibly inspired. One student from each programme was asked to present a speech. One of the selected speakers was one of the students who was imprisoned this past week. His words gave me hope. To paraphrase, he said that when presented with the worst the world has to offer, we can become cynical and dency the good in the world or we can become cynics with hope. This alleviated some of the ongoing discussion in my mind and heart. Because coming out of this experience, it would be shameful to ignore the wrong that happened, to be polyannic and say everything was glorious, but similarly it would be shameful to ignore the beauty, the friendships and the wonder that this experience has brought with it.

Maybe cynicism isn't even the word for it. A good friend of mine used to say he would fogive, but wouldn't forget. And I've been the beneficiary of that forgiveness. The reason for not forgetting isn't to constantly remind people of their faults, it's to acknowledge that life isn't always perfect, and to learn from your mistakes and experiences.

So, what have I learned down here? I have learned that life is precious and fleeting and must be protected and preserved at all costs. I've learned that the human spirit has great capacities that often exceed our expectations. I've learned that violence and fear are not the final words. That like the paschal mystery, after a death there is a rising. I've learned that grace doesn't crawl in on it's knees, it comes dancing through at the most surprising of times. And love is the most important thing of all.

PS_ the sun came out at the beginning of the ceremony and stayed with us till the end of the celebration.

Graduation Day!

Yay! It's 15 minutes until graduation starts :) My students look so great, I love big days like this :) There is a prospect for fun. And the sun is starting to shine! Take that, Ciudad!

Last night I dreamt of San Pedro...

So, now that I'm understanding spanish I can do important things, like translate the interludes in Madonna's "La Isla Bonita". I'm listening to the song right now...I've loved it since I was a kid.

Tropical the island breeze,
All of nature wild and free,
this is where I long to be,
La isla bonita.

I always loved the imagery and the bittersweet tune. For a girl whose first tape was Madonna's Like a Virgin, this song takes me back to a time when far off places still whispered of romance and adventure (instead of work, deadlines, crime, war and homesickness). And dancing around my room for the fun of it was a worthwhile afternoon pursuit. Maybe I'm getting a bit too cynical...some days I'd give anything to be back there in Pittsburgh dancing. Cynicism is tiring.

Lately I've been thinking a lot about frame of mind. I'm wondering if life would change here if I stopped letting little things like prison, bugs, corruption, danger, and politics get the best of me? What if I just decided to be happy, damn it? What then? Huh, Costa Rica? What. Then.

Updated: The Ciudad Misery Index

okay, so it's only been three days...but heck, it's my blog and I can post an update to the index if I want to! Just by way of commentary, you'll notice drammatic increases in some categories, and significant decreases in others. Enjoy the misery.

1. Number of robberies this week of people I know in CR: 0
2. Number of people I know who were imprisoned in CR this week: 2
3. Number of times I was nearly killed in a car crash: 2
4. Number of earhquakes today: 2 (short, small tremmors)
5. Number of mosquitoes killed while sitting at my desk this week: about 10.
6. Number of times the power went out today: 0
7. Number of times the water went out: 0
10. Number of times I ate rice and/or beans yesterday: 3 (at every meal, baby!)

I had a dream last night that I was bitten by a scorpion. I wasn't, thank goodness, 'cause I hear it hurts a lot. Apparently the ones here aren't deadly, though, so I've got that going for me. I'm a bit scared on this front becaue I was just thinking yesterday that the only bad thing that happens alot in Costa Rica that hadn't happened in the past two months was an earthquake. And we got two strong but short ones today (I'll never get used to floor and walls of my office shaking). I'm aftraid the scorpion thing may be a preminition as well. Hopefully not.

You might want to duck

Really, I'm starting to wonder if it's The Ciudad, or just me...

Last night I came home from work and my host Mom informed me she needed to go to the hospital to visit her sister-in-law (who is also a neighbor) and had just been admitted that morning. Apparently the SIL had announced to everyone on Father's day that she and her husband were expecting their third child. She lost the baby last night. So add miscarriage to the list of maladies to strike those close to me (in proximity or emotion) in the past two months. Seriously, if you're reading this right now, you might want to duck.

Dank jail reeking with miasma and gore

My students have a flair for the drammatic. The title of the post is from a letter written by the two students who were jailed yesterday. For a taste of the underbelly of the "switzerland of Central America" read on:

Dear Friends and Fellow Students,

We write you in the hope of putting you on the qui vive as and when you might find yourself in San José or any other part of Costa Rica . Fact is that we were arrested and jailed for over six hours yesterday, June 20th 2005 by the Costa Rican Police. We had gone to have a hair cut in San José and, as we were making for the bus stop after that, we were accosted by two gentlemen who identified themselves as immigration officials. They wanted our papers and when we presented our school I.D.s, they told us bluntly that they were not valid, insisting on seeing our passports which we, obviously, could not have been carrying around. They threatened to cuff us whence we agreed to follow them to the station.

Once there, we were thrown in a dank jail reeking with miasma and gore. We thronged with over 55 other detainees. There was no explanation given to us and they would not make it possible for us to make a call to the University, neither would they call on our behalf. We had to go around begging for spare phone cards from fellow inmates in order to reach the university via a small hole through which one's arm could barely reach the phone booth on the freedom side of the metalwork. Not even the presentation of our letters of residence and photocopies of our passports by the University authorities could make them release us. [Our]neighbor in Ciudad Colón, had to assist [the University] authorities in getting our passports from our apartment. While all of those transactions were taking place, we sat there, in the company of our new friends, staring at the rickety clock as it chimed the hours languorously. We were dead hungry and profoundly depressed as well. There was a roll call in the evening in which our names were mentioned as detainees.

So people, be with your passport all the time when straying far afield until things get sorted out. We are told by the University that this is the first time this is happening and, we imagine, it might not be the last. It is a sorry episode in there especially on a rainy day. If not for the kind inmates, who made us call the university, we might as well have been in there, incommunicado till after graduation probably.

We would like to express gratitude to the university for the timely intervention.

In Peace,

Bob Marley is cool

Groovin' to Bob Marley's Could you be loved. okay, so life in the Ciudad isn't always terrible...

Butterfly trees

A great thing about my office. To get there I have to walk by the butterfly bushes. These are three bushes which were planted on the grounds shortly after my arrival in CR. They surprisingly attract tons of butterflies! Yellow, orange, white with black dots, black with red spots, all kinds of butterflies. And they fly around the field and the bushes in these butiful wavy patterns. mmm...butterflies are cool.

Add it up

Okay, so I will start the blog with some good news from The Ciudad. I went to the bank today to transfer some funds to my account back at home, and the friendly woman who handles transfers greeted me warmly. I was able to do the entire transaction in Spanish understanding everything she said, and she even expressed concern that I was leaving for good (because I was transferring so much money). It was so sweet. AND my entire banking experience only took 30 minutes (even with today being social security payday in CR). All of this was very good news.

And you, guessed it, there is also bad news. The bad news is that I have to add another category to the misery index this week: Number of my students who were incarcerated this week: 1. Yes, just when I thought life in CR couldn't get any crazier, I found out yesterday that two of the African students from the University had been arrested in San Jose for walking while black...er...I mean...not carrying their passport on them. Now, I know it's the law in Costa Rica for foreigners to carry thier passport on them at all times. But I can't blame these two for not taking their passports into San Jose. One gentleman is from Nigeria and the other from Cameroon. If they had their passports lost or stolen, the closest Nigerian embassy is in Mexico, and I'm pretty sure the closest Cameroonian embassy is in the U.S. So, getting the passports replaced in time for them to fly home next week would be, in a word, impossible.

So, if we add it up, the maladies affecting my students and me in just the past two months have included: one person who got robbed, went crazy and got robbed again (the last two in my presence), one person who got robbed by a pair of con artists, one person who was robbed on the way to the beach. And one person who was arrested and put into jail. And I had to be rehydrated via IV at the local rip off (hospital cima).

All I can say is: 3 days to Boston.

Busted

So, yesterday was fun. I got home from work and fairly quickly got chastised by my host Mom for "gossiping" with my only fucking friend in The Ciudad. Hateful gossip is a fucking Tico specialty, a past time par excelence. And I'm the one who gets nabbed. For telling my one friend in The Ciudad something that's not really a secret and definitely wasn't mean. God I love this country.

Fucking pride. What happended: My host mom shared with me two stories about a new client of hers. (which is normal, because we live in the same house and we both talk about work stuff with one another.) The client happens to be an executive at my firm. One "secret" involved a training technique (which I love) that my host mom uses in her work with clients (basically roping in anyone who is nearby to help out in simulations--kids, cousins, drivers, workmen, whatever). The other was the news that the executive had asked my host mom to develop a training for my firm. I was excited about both, and proud of my host Mom, and in a moment of weakness (after two beers) let these stories slip to my only good friend here. My friend happened to be having dinner with that very same executive this past weekend, and apparently mentioned the two pieces of gossip over dinner. When the executive asked curtly where she got the information, she panicked and said, Deb lives with your trainer and she told me. Which makes both me and my host mom look like conniving bi-otches. The executive then mentioned the incident, in an I'm-expressing-my-displeasure-and-not-letting-you-explain-yourself tone, to my host mom during her appointment yesterday morning. The client/executive's trust of my host mom and me is now shattered. Which is incredibly unfortunate because we both like and respect the executive very much. This could potentially jeopardize my host Mom's buisness in this small town. So I feel awful.

And now my relationship with my host mom is on the rocks. She gave me a good (not underserved) talking-to yesterday about how she had let me into her inner circle and trusted me with her family and their secrets and had spent all yesterday afternoon worried that I had spread those other, very personal, secrets around town(which I would never do). This made me pretty much feel like crap. Because this was in very large part my fault. And I accept that. But COME ON GOD, I have ONE FRIGGING FRIEND in the Ciudad, and now I can't trust her either (she, incidentally, hasn't said boo to me about the incident...no heads-up...nothing.). And the town is so small this one blunder now affects my personal and professional life. To make matters more fun, after the discussion we ate dinner and after that, my host Mom went straight to her bedroom so she didn't have to talk to me the rest of the night. Tico conflict resolution. Great. So now, I'm back to being an island of one. No close friends, no one I can trust. I really hate this place.

Thank God I'm leaving for Boston and good friends on Saturday.

What you leave behind when you go

Was just thinking about Nick, and one of my favorite songs came on Launch.com. Randy Travis' Three Woden Crosses. The chorus speaks for itself:

"I guess it's not what you take when you leave this world behind you, It's
what you leave behind you when you go."

The Index strikes back (new and improved!)

Ok, forgot to update The Ciudad Misery Index last week. So, here are the numbers including today:

1. Number of robberies this week of people I know in CR: 0
2. Number of robberies I wittnessed: 0
3. Number of times I was nearly killed in a car crash: 2 (this morning)
4. Current number of mosquito bites: at least 35
5. Number of mosquitoes killed while sitting at my desk this morning: 3 (by 11:40AM).
6. Number of times the power went out today: 0
7. Number of times the water went out: 0
10. Number of times I've eaten rice and/or beans today: 0

Yes, you've heard it here, Costa Ricans are baaaaaad drivers. How bad? I can't wait to move to boston to be around sane drivers again. Case in point, my adventure (in other nations referred to as a "commute") to work this morning. I was running a little late after 1. oversleeping, 2. sitting at the breakfast table to savor a second cup of coffee, and 3. having to iron both my skirt and blouse before wearing them in public. I walked into town to catch a cab and buy something to drink. I've noticed over the past two weeks, that if I stay electrolyted, it keeps the (expensive) doctor and the IVs away . So I stepped into the local super-mini to get my daily "Revive: Bebida Rehidratante" or "Tico Gatorade Substitute". I've discovered that it tastes like popsicle/jello concentrate (especially the raspberry/strawberry flavor) which is an awesome upper on a Monday. I then quickly corssed the road to the Taxi stand to make my way to work (I'd missed the University bus by 20 minutes and the next bus wasn't for 40 minutes so a taxi seemed reasonable at the time). Then I got in the one taxi waiting at the stand. It was a legit taxi (meaning painted red with a yellow triangle on the side door), but was a 4x4 Geo Tracker. If you've never ridden in a geo tracker, it can make it through all kinds of terrain, as long as it is going forward and over top of things. Anything which would test it's body integrity or cause it to maintain balance basically results in firery death. So, of course, they're really poular here in CR.

The ride started out badly. As we were pulling out of the taxi stand, and I was fastening my seatbelt, the driver nearly got us sideswiped (on my side of the tracker) as he attempted to pull out onto the southbound main road in town. At this time, I noticed that there was approximately 4 centimeters of metal (probably low-grade tin) and an inch and a half of plastic guarding me from a full-speed side-impact collision. Great. Quite a sobering thought when you're not really awake yet. I pulled out my popsicle/jello drink and took a swig (silently congratualting myself on not spilling it all over my newly ironed white skirt), and we winded our way up the street to the apex of Ciudad Colon, and turned right onto the road to El Rodeo. I figured our problems were now behind us, as the road to the U is not very highly trafficked. I was still pretty tired, so I decided not to engage the driver in Spanish chitchat and instead opted for daydreaming in silence. After five minutes of climbing the blind curve-o-riffic road to my office, I was suddenly jolted out of my daydreaming when I caught something out of the side of my eye. The instant I looked up toward the front of the tracker, I appeared to be face to face with Jorge, the university bus driver, who was about to crash the bus head on into the geo tracker. Before I could eek out a peep, my driver noticed and yanked the wheel to the right. We missed the bus by, what I'm pretty sure was a margin of mere (low single digit) feet. The incident was not at all surprising, considering my cab driver's track record and Jorge's rumored past expereince as a Costa Rican ambulance driver. Just for added fun, when we finally were approaching the university entrance, my cab driver zoned out, and had to slam on the breaks to make the right hand turn into the driveway. At that point, $3 was really too cheap for the privilage of leaving his cab.

Past perfect

Ah, the spanish language! Last night in Spanish class I leared how to say "I used to". My absolute favorite word of the day was "trabajaba". I used to work. Trabajaba. That's just fun to say.

Bugs

Oh, and for added fun today, there is a mosquito under my desk biting my feet and ankles. I have probably 10 bites from this blasted thing. Grr.

Jue Puta

Well, thank goodness I've learned to swear in Spanish, today calls for it.

The day started well. I went out for a sushi dinner with my swiss friend last night, had a great night's sleep, got word this morning that my Baltimroe friends made plane reservations for our trip to Boston, and even had a great meeting today at work.

Then I went to lunch. It was awful (bad omen, but to be fair, if a bad lunch in our cafeteria was always taken as a bad omen, very little good would ever come my way...). When I returned to my desk, there was a message from my best friend in my inbox telling me her brother in law had died suddenly in his sleep yesterday morning. He was 23. He was the best man in their wedding three months ago. And he was her husband's only brother. It took me two hours to finally get through to her on the phone. Oh my God. This is why I have to go home. I can't be this far away when people I love are hurting.

Me, I always liked Nicky. He was the sweetest guy ever (people always say that when someone is gone, but in this case it was so true). As my friend said, he always got along with everybody. In the six years she knew him, they never fought once. He was fair and thoughtful and good. And he was a good dancer (I can vouch for that from the wedding). He had a wonderful sense of humor, and he looked up to his older brother with so much love and admiration. They were really fun to watch together. I seriously can't believe he's gone.

What can you do from so far away? How can we mourn and grieve and support the people we love from (seemingly) the other side of the world. And, even more imporantly, how do we do it up close? Grief is so difficult and so individual. And how do you deal with faith during grief? I remember during 9/11 I was working for an agency of the Catholic Church. That morning, we held a mass for the victims. And I'll never forget what our priest said. He said, in times of trouble, we can draw comfort from the rituals and devotions developed through the wisdom of the past 2000 years. And, in fact, that day he said the Mass for peace. There was, for me, a comfort in the familiar words and actions and psalms. I hope and pray that the unexpectedly familiar rituals will give this family some measure of peace over the coming days. And I pray that God will gift each of them with the grace to live through this trying time, and eventually, to allow Nicky's memory and spirit to be a part of their lives that come after.

If you can, say a special prayer for Nicky, his brother, my friend and their family. They could use all of the love they can get right now.

Don't let the bugs drag you down

I am in a great mood this morning. Even the approximately 14,000 mosquito bites I have right now aren't (itch) making me (itch) crazy (itch, itch).

Why, you may ask, am I in such a great mood? Because I'm leaving! I'm hitting the road, getting out of The Ciudad and going to Boston to find a place to live. I made my plane reservations yesterday, I leave in less than two weeks for a four day trip. That, in itself, would be EXCELLENT. But wait, there;s more! Two of my dearest friends from Baltimore are looking into airfares and may join me for the big search. I can't tell you how excited I am about it! Boston, house shopping, and my good friends. It's definitely the antedote to life in The Ciudad!

Work has calmed down so much time is nealy going backwards. My students are submitting their Theses today, so although I have nothing to do, I get to actually SEE all of them today, which is a real treat :) I forgot how much I missed seeing them every day. Since classes have been out for about 6 weeks, I haven't seen their smiling faces around here much. I really can't wait to read their theses. Really interesting topics!

In other news, I bought a copy of La Nacion today (the CR national newspaper). Will scour for fun stories and report back later. Could be entertaining, the lead story is the michael jackson acquittal...

Great weekends are hard to find...

Hey folks, I had a great weekend. What did I do? Well, I went out for a great dinner on Friday night (a good-bye dinner for one of the students--she's heading home to France and then on to Norway for the summer--and a lot of my favorite students at the U were there) at a place in Santa Ana called TexMex. It had: lots of space, ambiance, margaritas, a tortilla soup to die for, and fancy mexican sombreros. Funniest moment of the night: Watching the Africans in the group put on the fancy mexican sombrero. A Rwandan in a sombrero is a sight to see!

Saturday I called in (like a talk show guest) to a good friend's bridal shower back in the States. She was very saurprised! And afterward, I went to the dreaded MultiPlaza to see a movie. The movie is calle "The Pacifier" in English (La Ninera de...something in Spanish). I went with a friend who'se only stipulation in seeing a movie was that she didn't want to see an action movie, and she definitely didn't want to see anything dubbed into Spanish. Hilariously, the following happened when we got into the theater:
1. because we arrived too late (although we bought our tickets over 45 minutes before showtime) we had to sit in the middle of the second row in the theater. Our necks were not happy...
2. When the movie started, Vin Diesel started speaking in Spanish (Aw crap! it's dubbed!).
3. In the first scene of the movie, Vin Diesel's team of Navy SEALS attacked a heavily guarded tugboat in what can only be described as an action scene.

Thankfully, all of this negativity was saved by several things:
1. Vin Diesel's body, if not his voice, is present in almost every scene.
2. Vin Diesel is somehow even sexier in Spanish.
3. The plot was actually quite clever for an action/comedy/romance.
4. The Mom from the Gilmore Girls was in it.
5. One of the Dads from The OC was in it.
6. The brother from Everybody loves Raymond was in it.
7. Vin Diesel's character changes diapers, sings lullabys, trains a brownie troop to kick ass, teaches a teenage girl to drive like she's at Indy, and encourages a boy to be in a musical.
8. Did I mention Vin Diesel is in it?

Only drawback of movie: Just finished reading Cynthia Enloe's book Maneuvers, and therfore, had some feminist wincing at the militarization of a family, the diliberate militarization of a brownie troop, and the gender role questions raised. Sometimes being a feminist is no fun.

Oh, and Sunday, I got to go to Church (first time in a LOT of weeks). Still don't know what's going on during the homily, but this time I distinctly knew the first reading was about Moses. Which, in Spanish is pronounced "m-oy-sis". In the afternoon, we had an entirely too long visit from my host mom's niece and her three destructive little hellions. Three stocky boys, all under age seven, all little bullies with no manners who leave a wake of broken things, people, and feelings in their wake. They also eat us out of house and home. Ugh. I got to largely ignore them, because I had a 600 page book I was reading in English, and managed to convince them I couldn't play until I finished my book :) Eventually they left, and peace reigned in the house until we all went to bed.

What a great weekend!

The Ciudad Misery Index...

If the economaniacs (er...economists) can do the misery index in the States, I can do it here too. I have decided to track the madness with weekly updates of things that go wrong here. This was a fairly calm week:

1. Number of robberies this week of people I know in CR: 1
2. Number of robberies I wittnessed: 0
3. Number of bad dreams involving robberies: 1
4. Current number of mosquito bites: at least 15
5. Number of mosquitoes killed in my office this week: at least 10.
6. Number of times the power went out today: 2 (while I was in the shower= no hot H2o)
7. Number of times the water went out: 0
10. Number of times I've eaten rice and/or beans today: 0

This just in...another one of my students was robbed last weekend. She had all of the stuff stolen out of her bag during a bus trip to Jaco (yes, the same town I was in) last weekend (must have been on a different bus). She put her bag down on the floor under her seat and when she retrieved it at the end of the trip, it was empty. Ingenious buggers...

Duh...

They're Turks! I just remembered the lovely They Might Be Giants song Istanbul (not Constantinople):

Why did Constantinople get the works?
That's nobody's business but the Turks'

Doo-doo-doo...

Batman and Terror!

Ok,ok, I get it. Obviously, God was playing with the power switches yesterday so that today I could write a much more entertaining article today about life here in The Ciudad. So much funny stuff, so little time...

Ok, item number one: taxi drivers as tour guides. Today I took a taxi to work (which costs a whopping 1,300 colones, or $3. Quite the bargain!). After nine months of communiting on a switchback-rich mountain road, I have finally overcome all residual carsickness, and can now read on my way up and back. So, I was reading my new book, "The Poisonwood Bible" a gift from a friend far away, when suddenly, the taxi came to a screeching halt. This initially paniced me (I had a nasty nightmare last night about getting robbed) and disturbing pictures flew through my brain as I tried to figure out what was going on. My taxi driver was, at that point, hanging out his side window and looking behind the stopped car. He started saying something in Spanish, which I understood to mean that some cool, unusual critter had just caught his eye in the trees overhead. Impressive translation, given that all I understood was "cruz de calle" (which I think means either "at the cross in the road", or "crossed the road") and I think "mona pequeno" (small monkey). This was the second time this has happened to me. Both times I never saw the animal that caused the driver to stop short and look for it.

Aw crap, posted before I was done...

So, Batman and terror! Inextricably linked in my mind. You may be thinking I'm talking about Batman the superhero and teror, the "war" we're "fighting" in the US. Nope. I'm talking about Batman, Turkey and Terror! the airfreshener.

So, two days ago, I came home to an overpowering scent eminating from my bedroom. Not a surprise, because 1) my bedroom window opens into the laundry room where the dog sleeps and 2) what Costa Ricans think is an appropriate scent for "air freshener" or "cleaning product" we in the US classify as "death by asphyxiation".

This particular smell, at Costa Rican strength, was what I like to call eau de Tidy Bowl. When I opened my closet, it was incredibly intense, and I found the broken remnant of something solid and aquafresh green that smelled like...eau de tidy bowl (so I did the rational thing and threw it away in the kitchen). The next morning, the smell persisted and I later dicovered an entirely intact air freshener hanging on the top right corner of my mirror. The air "fresheners" in question look suspiciously like the air "frehener" they sell in the Buen Precio Market in Ciudad Colon. These "fresheners" have calm, pink, wild flower graphics like Glade, but instead of the word Glade!, the brand name is Terror! Don't ask me what Terror! means in Spanish, babelfish refuses to translate it (must be really archaic, because babelfish can translate the very helpful word "hovercraft". Go figure). But from my most recent run-in with Terror! I can only surmise that our cleaning lady thinks I'm smelly. I don't think I'm smelly, but then I don't take 17 showers a day like my host parents (they work from home, and so have easy acceess to showers. I work in the jungle where the lights go off and the taxis break for monkeys).

Now, one of the great joys in living abroad is the silly names they give their products. Often the names mean something simple in the domestic language, but are frigging hilarious in English. Like Terror! and the gooey white bread they sell here called (and I am not making this up) Bimbo. In Germany, our favorite product by far were Super Dickmanns . Anyway, I'm pretty sure that the strong smell of Terror! caused some sort of wierd psycho-pharmacological reaction which induced me to have a nightmare last night about being duped into renting an apartment and then being violently robbed in that apartment by big white men with guns. Grr..I hate nightmares.

So, after waking up this morning, I realized that the irony of the dream is that I'd been corresponding over e-mail with a guy named Rob about an apartment in Boston. DUM-DA-DA-DUM. This convinced me that I need to find time this month or next to go up to boston and see the apartments for myself, and meet the prospective roommates eye-to-eye. Which led me to look on Travelocity for the cheapest fare to boston. Nothing I consider "cheapest" is an option for boston, so I started to wonder if it might be cheaper to fly to Baltimore and take the shuttle to boston. So I typed in SJO and BAL as my search terms for flights and BLAM! I got an error mesage saying:

THERE ARE NO FLIGHTS AVAILABLE BETWEEN YOUR SELECTED DESTINATIONS OF SAN JOSE, COSTA RICA AND BATMAN, TURKEY.

Whoa! 1.) there's a real place in the world called "Batman"? and 2) I wanted baltimore, not batman, moron. Then I realized I'd used the wrong airport code (BAL instead of BWI--guess I'm the moron). Seriously, when I Googled Batman, Turkey, I found out it is a REAL PLACE, which REAL PEOPLE (probably mostly Turkeys...or Turkians or Turkites...what do you call someone from Turkey anyway?) take SERIOUSLY. So, now, naturally I want to go there instead of Boston. I've already picked out my hotel. The Batman Bozoogullari Hotel. And I DEFINITELY need to get a Batman Rent-a-car. Seriously, I think I may have to name my first child Bozoogullari. If I can ever figure out how to pronounce it...

Grr......

I had this great and witty post nearly completed two hours ago and BLAM! our electricity when out and I lost everything. The electricity was then off for an hour, on for 10 minutes, off for 30 seconds, on for 10 minutes off for 30 seconds, and the screen just blinked again...ohhh nooo...

Things I know now that I wish I didn't

I spent the morning editing an article on the sexual abuse of girls during warfare in africa. Since I work in the human rights field I often encounter reports and documentaries about the worst evils human beings can inflict on one another. Having to read and re-read (why I hate editing) the graphic details of the physical implications for girls who survive rape and subsequent child birth at a young age make me want to drive an ice pick through my skull. If I never have to read another word about vaginal fistula, it will be eeons too soon.

Unfortunately, these are the things, together with genocide, dire poverty, HIV/AIDS and racism, that once you know about them you either have to spend your whole life working to eradicate them or your whole life finding ways to numb the pain of knowing. This is why I hate when people tease me for being a goody-two-shoes and working in peace and social justice. They act like I'm working in this field to earn bonus points on some great scorecard in the sky. If anything, it's just the opposite. They don't understand that knowing what I know, seeing the people I've seen, reading the reports I've read, I can't do anything else. The very existence of these things breaks me to the core. I could no more refrain from working to bring peace and and end to poverty and injustice in the world than I could keep from breathing. It's not great pleasure that keeps me in the work, but great pain. I know people who have been tortured, people who have heard their name and location read on a radio station calling for their slaughter, people who have been raped, people who have been imprisoned for their beliefs, people who have starved, people who have been deported and exiled from their home country, people who have awoken to the sounds of nearby shelling in their hometown, people who have gone insane in the aftermath of war, and many, many people who have received the grace to be able to overcome and to tell their truths and to truly live a life after such wanton destruction.

So, even if it is the pain that keeps me in this work, it is the hope which keeps me doing the work. Because I believe there can be hope after sheer terror, I believe there can be love in the midst of chaos, and I believe that we can have faith, even when the darkness presses up against us. As the bible says, there is a light in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it. In each ghastly darkness there is a ray of light. If in my short time here on earth, I can increase the light, then my time here will have been well spent. May good prevail.

Success

Eagerly anticipating my return to the blogosphere? Me neither. However, I am happy to report that I had a fantabulous time in Jaco. And achieved my two objectives: one-getting out of The Ciudad and two-not getting robbed.

Jaco is like the Cleveland of Costa Rica. It's the closest beach to San Jose, so everyone has to go there on weekend trips, but everyone complains about it. Growing up in Pittburgh, as I did, everyone complained about Cleveland too. I, however, had family in Cleveland and often enjoyed going there. From the Galaria to the Cathedral to the Airshow and the Flats, Cleveland was actually not a bad little town to spend time in. Jaco is the same. It's a small, cute, convenient beach town. Yes, it's a black sand beach and not pristine white, and Yes the surf is rougher there than elsewhere. But, compared with The Ciudad? No contest.

In a little over 24 hours, I enjoyed the wonders of :
1. air conditioning
2. all the filtered water I cared to drink
3. iced coffee
4. a real mango smoothee
5. watching the US national team crush the Ticos in Soccer 3-0
6. being called a bitch in spanish in a bar for rooting for the US National team as they crushed the Ticos
7. eating pizza, twice!
8. two for one beers. Pilsen insead of Imperial (Costa Rica's answer to Iron City Beer)
9. a high pressure, hot water shower
10. two! days without rice and beans
11. not witnessing or being the victim of a robbery
12. speaking english!
13. reading a snotty Jane Austen novel
14. not talking about my work
15. sunshine!

God, I love leaving The Ciudad. On the trip I even had my first experience ever in Costa Rica of accidentally getting somewhere more efficiently. When I bought the tickets for the bus to Jaco, I didn't notice that I'd accidentally (ok, I just took the tickets they gave me) bought tickets (for the exact same price as the regular bus of 1,160 colones, or about $3) on the express bus! And it was so expressy, we got to Jaco in two hours instead of three. I took a nap for most of the trip, so I can't besure, but I think this bus may have driven through some sort of portal in Orotina. Because I've driven to Jaco before, and it took a lot more than 2 hours.

Anyway, it was a great trip! And only 10.5 weeks left in Ciudad Colon!!! Woo-hoo!

Get the hell out

The Ciudad sucks. Another one of my students got robbed yesterday, this time in front of the police station in The Ciudad. Even more comforting, she is a native spanish speaker. Basically, she got caught up in an elaborate confidence scheme a few minutes after withdrawing $400 from the local Banco, (for those of you keeping score it was her entire student stipend for the month of June). Not that I'm surprised, mind you, because the bank itself is oh-so-secure. For those of you who've never been to the bank in The Ciudad, let me paint a picture for you. In order to get in, you have to go though this one way door which opens when you press a little button, then you step into a tiny vestibule the sixe of one person and the glass door slides closed behind you, and then the glass door in front of you slides open to let you into the bank. Once you're in the bank, there is an armed guerd who watches your every move and, helpfully, polices the line for the tellers (god forbid you don't stand according to the arrows painted on the floor). Once you finally get to your teller, there is absolutely 0 privacy in your interaction. You practically have to scream your transaction to the teller, which can definitely be heard by, oh, everyone waiting in line at a secure distance of two paces behind you. And to make life funnier, all of us have to pay rent, etc. in US Dollars. And, all of the students and staff at the University have bank accounts at this bank, so everyone knows our pay schedule. God, I love this country.

The only comfort I can take from the experience is that, as my student helpfully pointed out to me, I don't speak enough Spanish to get cought this type of con. Whew! What a relief!

While reading my current favorite blog, I was reminded of my favorite cuss word: clusterfuck. Oh, how I love this word. And I have finally found the appropriate context for the word in all of its glorious meaning: Costa Rica. The Ciudad's police operations can be accurately described as a giant clusterfuck. The status of policies, proceedures, and heirarchies at my firm are also clusterfuck-o-riffic. Inter-personal politics among the internationals living down here are also clusterfucky. All around me: clusterfuck, clusterfuck, clusterfuck.

Ah, there it is, yes, my foul mood is back. Gone briefly for several days while I attempted to feel better and stop posting, it's now back in full I hate life in The Ciudad mode. The rain is pouring down, I had to listen to fluent spanish during my lunch break (reminding me that I'm still largely and illiterate mute in this country), and I'm bored out of my fucking mind (and have a ton of mindless drone-like work to accomplish). I hate fucking copy editing. I want to talk to people. In English. And not be robbed. Grr.

Anyway, I'm treating myself to a weekend in "lovely" Jaco. That is, if I can figure out the bus schedule...I did sucessfully make a hotel reservation yesterday, but I didn't have the guts to tell my Tico family I'm taking off this weekend. I need a real break. From the clusterfuck. My bar for the trip is set quite low. If I get out of The Ciudad and don't get mugged I'll consider it a rousing sucess.

Well...back to "work".