Music: Third Eye Blind – Jumper
Life gets kind of boring when you're broke.
Of course, it's my fault that I'm broke, but hey, I've been having adventures, right? Okay, so I've spent too much on stupid stuff, too. I think the temptation to take a taxi is the hardest to resist, especially when I'm tired or it's raining. That, and snacks. Snacks and Imperial. It adds up.
I realize that my finances probably aren't all that interesting to you, dear reader. They've just got me kind of stressed right now. There are some things I need to get – contact solution, pants and shoes for dance class (more on that in a minute), a new pair of jeans (I found there's now a hole right up the butt crack of one of the two pairs I have here) – that I've been living without, but I won't ask for money yet. Especially considering my parents' feelings regarding how much I've already spent...
I've said it once, I'll say it again. We should switch back to the barter system. Seriously, I've got some very pretty shells I can trade you, and I'm pretty good with a needle and thread.
Whatever. Moving on.
So, it's been a while since I last updated. Interestingly, I find that I don't think about blogging as much when I don't have wireless. Oh, I haven't mentioned that yet? Yeah, I don't have wireless anymore. Whoever we were “borrowing” our connection from learned to password protect their network. Lame. So now I share the family computer with Natalia and Sofia, which means waiting until they've finished. And since Natalia's obsessed with the new novela, she will sit and watch it online from 8 AM to 11 PM on her days off. Really, I'm not kidding. That was Saturday. Anyway, when it finally is my turn, I try to keep it short, because hey, it's not my computer right? But that means I don't think much about my blog. Oops. But I'm here now, returned to tell you about the handful of things worth mentioning from the last week and a half.
Let's start with fútbol. Last Wednesday (08/12), la Sele played Honduras in the CONCACAF World Cup Qualifiers... And it was a disaster. The ticos lost 4-0 to the catrachos. Well... A disaster for the ticos, anyway. I can't pretend that I won't always love the Honduran national team, no matter how much I scream for the Costa Ricans at the time. Hell, you have to root for Costa Rica (at least out loud), unless you want to get jumped by a bar full of angry ticos, ha. It's like being a Michigan fan in Columbus when they play the Big Game in the Shoe, no joke.
But I do have to admit that the selección catracha played kind of dirty. It's not nice to elbow the goalie in the face and take him out of play in the first minutes of the game. I mean, I think the Hondurans would have won anyway, just that by taking out the first-string goalie, it was more a massacre than a win.
I can't be too upset, though. The Hondurans really needed this win to stay in the running, and my ticos are still in the lead. Not to mention Costa Rica only needs one more win to qualify, while all the other teams need at least two. The only problem is that our next game is against Mexico, and they're the CONCACAF powerhouse. Right now, the standings are CR-12, HD-11, US-10, and MX-10 (I'm not even going to bother discussing El Salvador and Trinidad and Tobago; I'm calling it right now, they aren't going to make it). For the next round, I'm predicting wins for Honduras, Mexico, and the US, which would put the scores at HD-14, US-13, MX-13, and CR-12. Which means that we MUST win the next game after Mexico in order to qualify. There's no question there.
Whoa. When did I turn into ESPN Deportes? Jeez, I should just buy my World Cup tickets now. Anybody want to go? Wait, I'm broke. Anybody want to go to Umberto's and watch it on the big screen?
Anyway, Corin, Alex, Kate, and I went to a little bar called El Pedregal here in Santo Domingo to watch the game. It was a good thing we got there early, because otherwise we never would have gotten seats. The bar itself only had about twenty bar stools, but there were easily fifty people packed into the place. Alex, Kate, and I were drinking, and at the end of the game, we had a shot to drown Costa Rica's sorrows. We were joined by Big Boobs McGee (no, seriously, she was falling all the way out of the tank top she had on, it was ridiculous – see below), a random tica woman who was trying sooo hard to get with Alex. Or “Alejaaandrooo,” as he decided to be that night. Keep in mind that by the end of the game, the three of us were all in a state where we thought poll dancing at a bus stop was a good idea. Also, I distinctly remember picking up a cat. Oh, and Kate tried to climb a tree. Nobody remembers why.
Moving on.
So, let's talk about something that's very uncomfortable for me. I did something I'm very ashamed of.
I signed up for a dance class.
Done laughing yet? Take a minute, catch your breath. Good? 'But Sarah,' you must be wondering, 'Why on earth would you do something like that? You hate dancing almost as much as you hate the religious right and even more than you hate asparagus. Why would you do that to yourself?!?' Good question. Well, you know what they say – know your enemy. No, but for real, I may only be in Costa Rica once in my life, and dancing – salsa, merengue, swing criollo – is a huge part of the Costa Rican culture. That, and if it doesn't work out, at least I'll have given it the good ole' college try, and will be able to say that I gave it a shot, and it's really not for me. Just don't laugh too hard when I somehow manage to break my ankle.
Anyway, my first class was this past Thursday. It went... as expected. I was uncoordinated and sweaty, and the second biggest girl in the room. I was very, very far outside my comfort zone. By the end of the class, I was torn between crying, throwing up, and running to the registrar to drop it. But I won't do it, because if I drop the course, then I won't just be fat, sweaty, and uncoordinated, but a quitter to top it all off. I WILL survive this dance class, and maybe, just maybe, I'll come out of this having learned to manage my two left feet. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.
Ummm... Next: tramites de migración. Friday, everybody in the program had to do a bunch of things for the process of converting our tourist visas to student visas. First, we had to go to the Banco de Costa Rica and make 4 separate deposits to various government accounts. What a nightmare. Seriously, if you think a bank in the States on pay day is hell, try one in Costa Rica. Security guards, metal detectors, waiting 45 minutes in line. Oh, right, and the whole doing it in Spanish thing. Which normally doesn't bug me, when it's something like ordering food, but when it's something that's vitally important to remaining in the country, it makes me nervous that I'm going to screw up. But hey, it all worked out in the end. Next, we had to go get a copy of our passport to turn in to Immigration. And not just a copy of the information page and our entrance stamp, but the entire passport, cover to cover, even the blank pages. WTF? Why would Immigration need a copy of the blank pages?
Then, we had to go get some passport sized photos taken. This gets its own paragraph, but for a reason completely unrelated with the whole visa process. See, the owner of the photo studio that we went to is very nice, very handsome, and very much asked me out... We were talking about his taste in music while he was getting our photos printed, because his iTunes was playing Johnny Cash, and I asked him which song was his favorite. We canvassed Johnny Cash, Bob Dylan, and Tom Petty before moving on to how he studied in the States, and once did a motorcycle tour all the way from California to Costa Rica. Swoooon... And then, he informed me that there's a really cool biker bar in Heredia where they play all of the aforementioned music, and told me that if I'd like to go, I could just swing by the photo studio some time and he'd take me on his motorcycle...
And I jizzed in my pants.
I'm sorry, where was I? Immigration? Oh, right. Whatever, I think I already got through the important parts. Anyway, as far as the handsome photographer, I'm not sure if I'll actually take him up on it or not, because we aren't exactly sure what his marital status is. There's a picture in his portfolio of him and a girl kissing, and we think she's his girlfriend, but she might also be his wife. Or she might be an ex, who knows. Well, I will soon, thanks to the lovely Yanori, one of the assistants who works with the program. See, I told her about it, and as the photo studio is across the street from the program office, she's just going to stop in under some pretense of getting copies of some one or other of our photos, and as she casually flips through the portfolio, say something like: “Oh what a pretty wedding! Is that you?”
Good lord, I just devoted two full paragraphs to someone I saw for fifteen minutes. Oh no, I'm turning into Telemundo – it's all soccer and novelas!!!!!!! Save meeeee!!!! Ha.
What else? Oh, on Sunday, Kate, Kelsey, Ashley, and I went to Jacó, a beach on the Pacific coast. To get there, you have to bus into San Jose, walk to the central bus terminal, and then get another bus to the beach. It takes about two and a half hours, altogether. It wouldn't have been so bad if we'd gotten seats, but as they were all taken, we ended up just sitting on the floor in the space for a wheelchair, haha. The beach was very nice, but it had a lot of rocks. We spent the afternoon snacking (on Cacique-filled watermelon and tamales, yummm), napping, and playing in the waves. Which pretty much made for the perfect day. Well... until it started raining, which kind of sucked balls. But whatever, it wasn't the end of the world. We got back to Heredia around 8, and I just crawled into bed and crashed.
And that's pretty much it for now. Like I said, adventures are kind of limited when your budget is tight. Still though, I'm having a great time, and there's really nothing to complain about.
Pura Vida,
Sarah
Refranes:
El que solo se ríe, de sus maldades se acuerda. - He who only smiles is thinking 'bad' thoughts.
Si el río suena, piedras trae. - If the river babbles, it contains rocks.
Para atrás, ni para coger impulso. - Don't even think about looking back.
Agua que no es de tomar dejala correr. - If it's not healthy, let it go.
Cada cabeza en su mundo. - To each his own.
Al vivo con una ceña, y al tonto ni a patadas. - [Said to] someone who refuses to see the truth
Al que cae el guante, que se lo plante. - If the shoe fits, wear it.
Ojos que no ven, corazón que no siente. - Closed eyes, closed heart.
PS - I find it funny that I've now grown so accustomed to Spanish-language keyboards that I constantly type things incorrectly when using my own computer. Just a random thought.
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