This is it

My final day in Costa Rica. And, it appears, that for the second time this year, I lucked into getting something accomplished more efficiently (remember the express bus to Jaco in June? That was the first time...)

Today I had a lot of banking to do. Despite my best efforts to get the University to give me my final paycheck early so I could transfer the amount to my US account and pay my rent and spanish class bills, and close my CR account the University refused to do so before my last day. (But, they helpfully offered one of their drivers to take me to the bank on his way to San Jose.) The reason I wanted the check early was not to abscond with the money, but because I'm leaving at 7:15 AM tomorrow, and will not have been able to get to the bank on Saturday or Monday to close my account if anything went wrong. And, let's face it, this is The Ciudad, something always goes wrong.

The Ciudad, once again, did not let me down. Something went wrong. The branch of my bank in The Ciudad is closed today. Why, you might ask, is it closed on a random friday? For the town fiesta (fair). The banks and social security office in The Ciudad decided to close today (without prior warning) so their employees could go to the fiesta. Huh. [As long as I'm on a tirade about the town fiesta, I should tell you it's just like town fairs in the US: rides they bring in on trucks, food stands, a stage with live music performances, fried dough, and beer. Exept in the Ciudad, they set the fair up on a big field DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF THE CEMETARY. Only in Ciudad Colon would the town fair be at the CEMETARY. There was a funeral today, and the family walked from the church to the cemetary behind the hearse, and had to walk RIGHT PAST THE FAIR. Totally unbelieveable, but that's the Ciudad for you...]

Anyway, back to my bank story....the drivers thought they would just take me to the the Multiplaza branch of my bank, but alas, it doesn't open until 1PM. So they took me to the branch in nearby Santa Ana instead. At this point I was pretty convinced disaster was imminent. I had some very complicated banking to do. Two transfers (one international), a check deposit, a cash withdrawl and the closing of my account. In the US I would have trouble getting this done correctly. I was convinced that they would tell me that the check wouldn't clear in time to be transferred, or I'd have to go to like seven tellers to get my stuff done, or that I had to go to my home bank branch to close my account. Gah.

When I got to the bank, the metal detector wouldn't let me in with my back pack, so I had to switch all of my bank stuff to my purse and put the backpack in a locker. Not a good sign. Then when I got into the bank, I had to draw a number and wait 30 minutes to be served. The whole time, I was thinking of contingencies...would my bank at home process a costa rican check? Would they let my host mom close my account for me? Could I close the account over the phone? And suddenly, my number was up. That's when it happened. THE MIRACLE. I got this teller who was so sweet and so understanding and....GOT IT ALL DONE. All of it. Two transfers, one deposit, a cash withdrawl, and my account closed. Done. All in like 20 minutes. I think I will name my first born daughter after her (gabriella), I am so grateful. For good measure, I hopped a cab home and paid my spanish class bill immediately. And was rewarded with a super-yummy home cooked lunch (and more time with my host mom, Tica grandma, and older host brother).

Oh, and did I mention, I did all of my banking in Spanish? :)

More editing fun...

Another direct quotation, same article:

"In the following section we will be bound to have the autopsy on promotion and protection of human rights in Central Africa."

uhhh...autopsy? Does this mean the promotion and protection of human rights in Central Africa is dead? huh. This is in addition to new words I'm learning like "scarify" (instead of sanctify). As in, I'm scarified I will start writing like this...

Today I'm grateful...

That I don't live here.

(If you're wondering, the Guardian is a totally legit british newspaper, and not the UK version of The Onion...)

Advice for editors

If you're ever offered a job editing a book or series of articles from non-native English speakers, run, don't walk, in the opposite direction. A gem from a text I'm editing today:

"Given the complexity of detailed analysis under this thematic obliges us to
work on with more preoccupation as this study calls on a plurality of
disciplines to reach the needs of readers."

You know you're in trouble when this is the first sentance of an article you have to edit...

Flat out exhaustion

Stick a fork in me, I'm totally done.

I am currently so incredibly exhausted, for no apparent reason. Might be stress.

It's been a whopper of a week in my tico family, with smallest host brother, host mom, and puppy all having been to the doctor (and two of the three to the hospital) for various potentially threatening maladies, the garage gate and alarm for the school/store broken and under repair by various technicians and the missing merchandise I mentioned before now found but bogged down in legal troubles.

Then there's my week. I'm the only person in my office, so I'm handling all of the projects right now while trying to maintain communication with my boss in Uruguay and my replacement, whom I'm training this week. And I'm working on a writing project I just can't get to work for me (I've been working on the same project for a month). I hate grant reports with a passion.

I need a seious break. I'm trying to check into the comfort inn this weeekend for some R&R, but their phone number is not in my phone book. I'm going to do some online searching...otherwise I'm just going here.

Single digits

Nine days. 'Nuff said.

Bonk

Just got a call from host mom. Little host brother, who had been sick with a severe cough the past two days, was bonked on the head with a metal bar this morning by his cousin (the hellion) and rushed to the emergency room. He's on his way for x-rays. Ah, life with kids...

My replacement at work started yesterday. Due to some bureaucratic nightmarishness her contract hasn't been processed yet, and they won't let her have an e-mail address (and system access) until that is all processed. And in addition, my boss is out of town for the next week. Gah. She's great though, and it's been so nice to have someone else in the office this week with my boss and co-worker in Uruguay and my other officemate on vacation.

Good news is, I'm packed. All rady to go (except for the clothes and shoes and toiletries I have to use this week). Only ten days left, so I have to make them count...

Blech

I don't feel like writing anything today. I've got the two week blahs. My boss and co-worker left today for a week-long trip to Uruguay. And our other office-mate is MIA, so for the first time all year, it's just me.

I'm leaving CR two weeks from tomorrow. At the same time, I'm dreading leaving and can't wait to get out of here. I'm thinking seriously about going away next weekend. One last trip somewhere...maybe just the comfort Inn. I'm feeling the need to watch TV in English whenever I want, sleep on a real mattress, take a HOT shower, and be in airconditioning.

And I got no sleep last night, I had a nightmare that woke me up around 1:30 and I didn't get back to bed until 3 or so. Grr.

I'm going to go get a dose of rice an beans (lunch).

Top 5 worst ways to wake up in the morning

5. My parents (childish leftover from teenage years).
4. Alarm clock buzzers.
3. Bugs (mosquitos biting or buzzing in the ear or roaches crawling. ewww)
2. Fire Alarm. (My first semester freshman year of college we had 57 fire alarms. 4 in one night alone.)

And the number one way I hate to be woken up in the morning:
1. Earthquake. (like the one yesterday at 5AM)

Where everybody knows your name

All of the guards at the University know my name and it kind of freaks me out.

Now, I'm generally a friendly person, and so I'm not usually freaked out by people knowing my name. I make a point to greet people, ask about their families, all of that. This freaks me out because back in like December I had a long conversation with one of the guards as I was waiting for a taxi to take me home (I had come in on the weekend, hence no bus). During the conversation he heavily hinted that he would like to date me (although not aggressively enough to cause alarm or say anything to his superiors), and found out my name. The next monday, all of the guards knew my name. I decided it might not be a good idea to come in after hours anymore (especially after another incident involving a taxi driver who came to get me when I worked late one night and stopped the car on the deserted road and tried to get me to kiss him. ewww...)

The original guard doesn't work here anymore, I'm finding that even all of the new guards know me by name. And they get a strange look in their eyes when they greet me. Which kind of creeps me out. Because I really wonder what that first guard said to everyone to make them remember my name...

Papel Higenico Perfumado

Wow. There is a huge bug in my office trying to fly out through the closed window...BONK!....BONK!...oh...sorry...got distracted there for a moment...back to the blog.

So, fancy spanish post title today. I discovered this morning, when we ran out of toilet paper in the bathroom and I had to switch rolls, that my family had purchased purfumed toilet paper. Yes, that's right. Can you think of anything less neccessary in life than perfumed toilet paper? I really can't. This, right here, is what is wrong with Costa Rica. They're spending their time making toilet paper smell better, rather than, say, curbing corruption.

Once again, my Host Dad is coming face to face with CR corruption. Last month he went to Panama and placed some orders for merchandise (Kids clothes) to be shipped here to CR in time for CR Mother's Day (Aug. 15). The merchandise is now two weeks late in getting to him and therefore two weeks late in getting to his customers. Why, you might ask, is it so late? Did they mess up the shipping? Nooooo. The merchandise arrived in Costa Rica on time. It's here in Costa Rica, and Host Dad already paid the taxes and customs duties on it. That's crazy, you might say. What's the hold up? Well, it turns out that the guy with the merchandise is holding out for a "tip". Beacuse Host Dad refused to pay the "tip" (because it will drive up the prices on the merchandise, and...oh yeah... it's wrong) they're refusing to deliver it. The guy wouldn't even take Host Dad's phone calls, so Host Dad had to drive to Heredia the other night to track the guy down.

All I can say is, thank God we have great smelling toilet paper.

19 days

Well kids, only 19 days left. Less than three weeks. Wow.

Cleaned out my closet this weekend, threw away some stuff, but am still worried that it won't all fit into my three suitcases. We'll see...

More corruption

Just when you thought all was going well, bam. The grim reminder that you're not in Kansas anymore smacks you between the eyes like a two-by-four.

Host Dad just got back from a short business trip to Colombia. He's a kid's clothes wholesaler. He travels to neighboring countries looking for good deals on Kid's clothing and passes the savings on to his customers here in CR. He got home late Saturday night. On the way home he was charged two "tips" by customs agents. One, in Colombia and one in...you guessed it, CR.

Now, admittedly, host dad had some big problems on his way home. First of all, he was traveling with two salesladies from CR, and since they all made their reservations at the same time, all of their bags were checked in under his name. Predictably, the two ladies did not get a seat on the overbooked flight, and he didn't have the heart to tell them that he couldn't take their bags (a very dangerous decision coming from Colombia). With all of the extra bags, he was charged a $180 "tip" by customs officials in Colombia. Then, on the second leg of the trip home, as host dad was about to board the plane in Bogata (he had flown from a small town in another part of Colombia), he discovered that he had lost his passport. When he got to CR, the authorities had been notified by the immigration officials in Colombia that he was traveling without papers, and were waiting for him when he got to San Jose. After a lengthy interrogation (where he was accused of being Colombian), they searched his person (presumably for drugs) and asked him to repeat his story over and over. Then he was sent to customs, where they went through every piece of luggage he was carrying. They then told him they would admit him if he payed a "tip" of $75 per bag. The total came to $300. Nearly the cost of the flight to Colombia. Host Dad didn't have that much money on him, so he gave the customs agents every colone he had on him and promised to return with the rest on Monday. And he has to return with the money because he's going back to Colombia in two weeks, and doesn't want any problems. Of course, at the end of the customs negotiation, the customs agents magically "found" his passport. Interesting.

The scary thing is that host mom has a student that works in customs at the CR airport. Host dad had called to alert her to the problems, and she called the friend to ask if he could help at the airport. He said yes, but this is going to cost a lot of money. It sure did. Gotta love low-level corruption...

Colin Firth

A friend asked me this past weekend if I'd found the love of my life down here in Costa Rica. If by "love of my life" you mean an actual person whom I love, who loves me back, someone who knows me inside and out, someone who supports me and holds me and wants to spend the rest of his life with me (and I with him), then answer is no. (woo-hoo)

But if by "love of my life" you mean "actor", then, yes, I've found him. He's Colin Firth. What can I say, I'm a sucker for the "uptight english bloke discovers fun, love and his heart when the right woman comes into his life" storyline. He plays the subtleties of English uptightedness as well as he plays the gradual melting of heart. It's a beautiful thing. He also has a great accent. And he's a character in two of my favorite books. What's not to love?