Beach-Pacific side

The weekend before last was much like any other weekend. I had slept in even more than I usually do (Costa Ricans, especially out in the countryside, tend to get up with the sun-around 5:30 or 6:00). Thus, getting up at 7:30 or 8:00 is considered sleeping in, and when I don’t show up for breakfast until 9:00, that’s all sorts of late. So, after a late breakfast, I was in my room, on my computer, putting together lesson plans for my community class, writing some reading comprehension readings, and watching episodes of It’s Always Sunny. After lunch, I had gone into the kitchen to grab a glass of juice/Kool-aid, and my host mom mentioned that they were going to Orotina. Because I don't

have every town in Costa Rica memorized, I misunderstood her and thought she said they were going on some sort of routine, so I asked. She clarified it was the name of a town near the Pacific coast, and they were going to visit a friend of my host dad’s and to hit the beach. Two of my host sister’s friends were also going, so it sure seemed like a good opportunity. But, I had to teach a community class Sunday evening. So I asked if we would be back in time. She didn’t seem sure, so she asked my host dad, and he also stated he couldn’t promise to go. I wavered and said I probably shouldn’t go (knowing that my host family tends to linger when they go to visit people, and (I’m going to expound on this in another post)-knowing thatmaking deadlines is not exactly something Ticans do with much success. But, my host mom indicated to me that my host dad isn’t all that often willing to use his short weekends (he works Saturday mornings) to drive the family on trips. So, with her pressure for me to take advantage of the opportunity, I said yes. I figured we’d be in a hurry to get going, so immediately packed my bag, finished my lesson plan for my class, and then had over an hour to screw around on my computer. Then my host dad walks by my room and asks if I’m ready, and I rush out to jump into the 15-passenger van (which is one of the vehicles he drives for work) as they’re waiting on the road. I don’t know if I’ll ever understand this: telling me to get ready to go, then waiting an hour, then giving me zero seconds of warning that we’re leaving. But it seems to be the way my host family (read: host dad) works.

The trip across the central mountain range was gorgeous. So gorgeous I probably should have gotten out my camera from my bag and taken pictures. Sorry. And it was cloudy on the way back. Sorry again. Some of the roads that crossed over the continental divide were narrow, poorly maintained, poorly marked, and altogether nothing if not adventurous. Add in that we were driving through clouds and it was best just to not look up from my book. But I’m still here, so here’s to my host dad for not crashing/driving off a cliff. We also drove through one really pretty mountain town, and pretty towns aren’t something I’ve seen a lot of in Costa Rica.

So, we get to the town where my host dad’s old friend live, and drive off onto a rural dirt road peppered with houses and mango trees on one side, and pastures on the other. As we get to a house with some women sitting on the porch, my host dad gets out and seems to be asking where his friend lives. At this, I start to look up from my book and try to listen. Remembering another adventure with my host dad, I am interested to see how this one pans out. He and my host sister have been continuously calling from both phones, but to no avail. Now that I am paying attention, it seems like one of the ladies is saying that the people we have come to visit have gone to San Jose, and might be gone for the weekend. And, yes, my host dad did get out to ask them where his friend lived. We then go down to a small dry goods store, who I’m guessing we were told might have more information, and my host dad is up there for about ten or fifteen minutes. The sun has set during this occasion, making it seem longer than it probably was. As we chill in the van, I first joke that it will be fun to spend the night in the van. This gets few laughs. I then ask, what I think are legitimate questions like: did he call the day before or in the morning to give an ETA? Did he not call and make sure he knew where the house was? Did he get an extra cell number or house number in case the people weren’t there? I’m told, by my host mom, that no, he didn’t do any of those things-because he’s that’s the way he is (él es así). (Side note: using ‘that’s the way he/she/it is’ as a response or excuse drives me absolutely insane.) “He finally gets a hold of one of the people we are coming to visit/stay with. He jokes around on the phone pretending to be someone else and asking for people by ridiculous nicknames, the kid on the other end never gets it, and he finally relents and explains that we’re sitting down the street from their house, waiting for them to get home. In a few minutes my host dad’s old friend and his son arrive on motorcycle. The son had been out buying a new cell phone, and only brought his SIM card with him, and the dad didn’t bring his phone. So, they finally got the calls after buying the new phone and setting it up.

After unloading the car and chatting a little bit, we all piled into the car (except the old friend) and headed to Puntarenas-a port city on the Pacific coast. We stopped at the supermarket and bought some mini-bags of chips and two bottles of pop and ice. The beach was nice, really expansive and it was awesome to walk along the beach. There were a bunch of families hanging out on the parks along the beach, having barbecues and enjoying the pleasant evening. As filling as two bags of chips at 8pm after lunch at noon are, I went down to a street vendor and bought cut up hot dogs served over French fries covered in ketchup, mayo, and mustard (health was not the main goal). At about 21:30, we got back in the van, drove up and down the street past all the closed food vendors and then my host family asked me where I had gotten my food, we drove by there as well, but of course it was closed. Why we didn't stop earlier-or buy more substantial food at the supermarket was beyond me (becoming a trend on this trip). So, upon getting back to the house, my host mom went about making dinner for all of us, while the rest of us enjoying delicious mango juice and watching a DVD of classic rock music videos (awesome) and 80s hair band music videos (considerably less awesome). I didn't get too technical in correcting my host dad that Jim Morrison probably did a little more than just smoke some pot. So, we finally got to bed (on sleeping pads we had brought in the middle of the living room) close to 01:00. Oh, yeah, we were getting up ungodly early to get to the beach before the crowd and because my host dad likes to get to the beach early in the morning (not so that we could get back for my English class).

Now, I like to joke with the rest of them, but when my host dad was yelling that it was 08:00 and we needed to hustle up when it was really 05:15 the next morning let's just say I didn't laugh. The beach was gorgeous, my host mom made sandwiches, and we had watermelon and honeydew melon. I did some reading, and spent a lot of time enjoying the warm, albeit quite salty water. It wasn't the world's prettiest beach, and was pretty

crowded with Ticans driving their cars all over. But, I mean, I've only been in Costa Rica for half a year, I can't be a beach snob yet, it was great to be out in the sun and the water.

After the beach, we went back to the house, and instead of packing up and heading back (my preference) we hung out, took showers, and waited for my host dad and his friend to go into town to buy groceries, and then for my host mom to prepare lunch for everyone. I'm sure this was my host dad and mom trying to thank his friend for hosting us, but, it wasn't like he did too much-we slept on mats and sheets we brought on the floor. And they didn't have triple antibiotic cream, rubbing alcohol, or band-aids for my toe I cut all up on the beach rocks the night before. I'll contend this is a fair complaint-a house with a pet snake ought to have a box of band-aids. But, the big deal for me, was that because we sat around and ate lunch, chatted, watched some soccer, and lived life at the Tico pace (which normally isn't too problematic for me) it meant we wouldn't make it back in time for me to teach my class. Of course, part of this problem is that both my host mom and dad always seem to underestimate the time it takes to travel places (which is incredibly odd-as my host dad drives a truck for a living).

So, I didn't make it back in time for my class, and I was unable to contact the person from the community center that I organized the class with because her cell phone was broken. So, I've had to do my best to earn back some respect from my students (and pay back the bus fares for any of them that took the bus to class). Needless to say I was not excited about missing class, but hopefully my host family was happy I went on the trip with them. And, swimming in the ocean isn't the worst consolation.