Awake. Or thank God I don't live in a Quinton Tarantino Movie

*Disclaimer: this made sense in my head...

I figured it out!

What, you ask?

I figured out why I am a little less homesick every day. You might think it’s just because I am getting used to being away, and used to being…here instead of there. And that is part of it. But this goes deeper. I figured out why I am getting used to it.

The best way I can describe it (and it’s not great by any standards) is by comparing it to  watching the most awful movie I have ever had the misfortune of seeing. (Sorry Quinton Tarantino fans. He’s great and all, but this one was lost on me…also, spoiler alert. I kinda ruin the big twist so…yeah.)

So the movie is called Dusk Til Dawn. The premise: a couple of shady criminals (brothers I think) kidnap a family for the use of their RV in crossing the border to Mexico. Sounds like your run of the mill thrillerish movie. You have some family drama. You have some suspense. You have some boobies. Basically, they make it across the border and decide to pass the rest of the night in this topless bar until the rendezvous in the morning (get it?...Dusk til Dawn). Well, all this only gets you about a third of the way through the movie.  What!? You ask again? That’s right. A third of the way through the movie there is this plot twist that can only be described by the effect it has on your brain. I was in physical pain. I spent the next two thirds of the movie expecting someone to wake up from this awful dream. The credits started rolling and I still expected them to come back on and say “just kidding guys! That was all a nightmare.”

Days later I still wanted there to be some closure to this movie, some different ending.

Now though, barely less than a year later, I can appreciate the complete and utter brain fuck that Tarantino miraculously (if not distastefully) performed. Getting such an extreme (near physical) 

reaction out of a movie audience here in the 21^st century is nearly impossible. Even Sixth Sense in all its glory couldn’t have prepared me for that. So even though I still despise this movie from the depths of my soul, I have a deep appreciation for Tarantino’s ability to leave me so uprooted, confused and betrayed you would have thought that shit had actually happened to me. (And it was made in 1996)

How exactly does all this relate to my life now? Well I have been doodling along in life with this expectation of how things will go. August will come and I will start school. There will be some holidays here, vacations there and around May I’ll be free again until August. (In the movie: something will go wrong in the bar, shit will get real, the bad guys will lose…yadayadayada.) Two years ago though, reality changed. My expectations didn’t. Maybe my schedule changed, but my friends were still there and I was still in a familiar place, so I tricked myself into believing that everything was…the same. In the movie the guys walk into the bar and even after demonic vampires start coming out of the woodwork…and continue coming out of the woodwork you convince yourself it’s all a dream.

Even after I uprooted my entire life and drove back to East Texas, got on a plane to Guatemala, got on another plane to Costa Rica, got a job, rented an apartment…even after all these things I was still convinced, deep down, that this was all a dream. This was all a vacation or a hiccup in time. I hadn’t gotten to the credits yet when you have to really start evaluating the fact that all of that actually just happened and everything you thought was a dream was (for lack of a better word) real.

It is real though and I am finally becoming ready to accept that. I’m finally ready to admit that maybe things really have changed forever. Don’t get me wrong with my chosen comparisons, this isn't supposed to be sad or depressing. This is a celebration of the fact that I am awake. I could have found myself in much worse places (like that godawful, nasty bar in the movie.)

So in conclusion, I won’t be here forever. I’ll reinvent my life again and again and again I’m sure. But now I know that I can’t just change it all on the outside without bringing my heart and my mind along with me. Otherwise nothing will ever connect, or seem quite right and I will be stuck wondering why monster-vampire things are eating my brains and...yeah. 

Say Yes.

I am lazy. And no, I don’t mean the kind of lazy where you just want to lie around all day watching TV and eating chips and popcorn and ice cream because real food is too much work. (I mean sometimes I’m that kind of lazy…but who isn’t really?) No, I’m talking about the kind of lazy that keeps you from really enjoying life. The kind of lazy that makes you say no to things that you know will be fun and will enrich your life. The kind of lazy that leaves you home alone in your apartment washing dishes and sweeping up microscopic grains of dust that somehow seem to multiply just faster than you can remove them, while your friends are hiking a 14er or skiing fresh powder or lying on a beach somewhere clear and beautiful. It’s just easier to stay home. It’s easier to be alone and to look at the pictures later and have a moment of regret before moving on with your life.

I am that kind of lazy. Or I was.

The past 4 weekends in a row I have done something that I normally would have said no to. In fact, initially I did say no. I always said no.

“No, I think I’m just going to sleep in and get some stuff done. You guys have fun at the beach.”

“Ugh. I drank a little too much last night and got home really late. I don’t want to get on a bus and ride to this festival. I know it’ll be fun but I kinda just wanna take it easy.”

“Man, I really don’t wanna go anywhere this weekend. We don’t know these people very well and it’ll be a lot of work. I know we’ll get to be on a boat and it’ll probably be relaxing but…”

Yeah, THAT kind of lazy.

But I know this about myself, so the past 4 weekends in a row, after saying no, and grumbling with myself a little bit, I packed up my red and white striped bag, grabbed my swim-suit, or sunscreen or sandals looked at my roommate and said, “Ok, let’s go!”

And we did.

It didn’t occur to me how important this was until this last weekend though. The wind in my face and hair and the light spray of the ocean as we sped towards white sands and bluer waters beneath a sky so clear you could almost see the future, and it was good. Not ‘good’ like “oh yeah I’m good, thanks”.  I mean ‘good’ like water when you’re hiking in the desert, like standing at 13,000 feet for the sunrise, like finishing something old or starting something new.  I mean good like soul food and music that gives you chills, like laughing for no good reason. Good like friendships that can endure the silence of distance, or time or even just a walk without any words. Good.

It’s good to say ‘yes’ sometimes. It’s good to let yourself have fun and to enjoy life to the fullest. So then I guess here’s to not being lazy…at least not when it means I might get to experience something …GOOD. 

Oh, so you're gonna be a teacher...

"What are you studying?"

"English."

"Oh so you’re gonna be a teacher?"

I resented those words for the greater part of my college career. NO! I’m not going to be a teacher! I’m going to do something…something…I don’t know!...Something ELSE!

So now I have been out of college for a year and a half, and what am I doing?

I’m teaching.

And I love it.

Granted, I have only been at it for a week and a half and I haven’t faced many of the usual nightmares I’m sure to encounter in the future. But for now I’m actually making money (not a lot of it) doing the things I love: experiencing a different culture, speaking a different language, thinking about English all the time, and (yes this is a thing I love) presenting information to small groups of people on an almost daily basis.

The only thing that could make this any better would be if home were a little closer. But home (if you’ve been following me at all) is a subject all its own.

I guess this post is pretty short and sweet.

I love teaching.

I don’t know why I frowned upon it so much when I was younger but…well, people change.

So one more thing before I go: this may not be the ideal financial situation, but for once in my life, I can finally see what my dad meant when he said it is so much better to be doing something you love…Now I just have to cross my fingers (or just get my tushy in gear) and see what I can do about making this job work for me. 

Sunday at the Beach

I had decided a few summers ago that I just wasn’t a beach girl. We were in Florida, we were broke, and I missed the mountains so much I could physically feel it.

Things change though. People change, and one day you find yourself standing on a beach with your feet in the sand and the water, the sun on your face and your back, and you are in love. [*Disclaimer-my heart is still in the Rocky Mountains, but they are far and in another life so for now I will love the water.]

*****

He said we would leave at 7:30 so even though Ashley and I hardly slept we were up and ready to go almost on time. We sat together at the dining room table eating cereal, drinking coffee and talking about whatever it is people talk about over breakfast.  

We should have known better. Time is a relative thing here. I was raised to understand that when someone says a time they mean it, and you should always be early just in case. Here when someone says a time, it is probably just the first number that came to mind and you should just be ready to entertain yourself with whatever else until…whenever. It really isn’t that big a deal though. It’s sunny. It’s warm. Life is beautiful. Enjoy being lazy. You’ll eventually get there.

And we did. After a beer run, two bathroom stops, a gander at some gators from a bridge, a few terrifying turns here and there, and more than a few negotiations over what language should dominate for the day we finally made it. We trekked across the brown sand and rocks, up over a rocky land mass jutting out into water and dropped our stuff under a palm tree in paradise. White sand and blue waves called our names and within minutes we were flipping and bobbing in the clear, salty water.

And so the day went. Sandy beach to salty sea and back and forth again. By the end I was the kind of tired that just leaves you staring off into space with no desire to move or speak or think or even sleep. The sun has dried your worries, the sand has rubbed them loose, and the water has washed them away to find you on some other rainy day.

*****

I have never been much of a beach person. I’ve always been bored, and annoyed by the scratchy persistence of the sand clinging to everything it touches. But I am in Costa Rica now so I guess I’ll just say Pura Vida! 

Ok, Back to Business

I’m back. Christmas is a yellow and green blur (those are the colors of my sweat pants and hoodie I wore every day I was home). I slept. A lot. In fact if you know me at all you might choose to believe I am lying when I say I slept until 9 or 10 almost every day (and no, I didn’t stay up past midnight…except for new year’s…then I slept ‘til 10). It was relaxing. Christmas was perfect, slow, candlelit by the fire until the electricity came back on. New Years was…anticlimactic… but then really, it’s just another night isn’t it?

And so I’m back. Just 4 hours on a plane and it’s like I never left. Scorching sun, windy evenings, a not-quite-as-predictable-as-you’d-like-it-to-be bus schedule. Home? We’ll see. Friends met me at the airport. It’s always good when flying to a foreign country, to be able to say you have friends meeting you. It makes customs and baggage claim that much less painful. Even better than that though, is having a place to stay already lined up. Not only do you not have to find a taxi (Actually it’s harder to avoid them but that’s something else) but you don’t even have to find a hostel. You just meet your friends, hug them, play catch-up, and before you know it you are unloading your stuff into your temporary new room.

I have been back in the country for less than 24 hours and I have already had a job interview, met a potential private student, picked up a pay check, accepted a job at another school, gone to the grocery store and checked out (and loved) our future apartment. What a day. Now all that’ left is to just finish this blog post, make some homemade guacamole and drink a beer with Ashley and Sacha.

(So that’s it. Short and sweet. I’m back so I’ll be back to writing regularly…later ;)

Half-assed update

It has gotten a little late to tell the rest of the Manuel Antonio story. I’ll just say that we stayed at the most questionable hostel I have yet to encounter. But yeah, we arrived hungry and thirsty and hung-over. The next day was better. Jungle, beach, monkeys, sun, sloths…etc. You know, got chased by an iguana. It went well I think. We made it back to Heredia in time to finish our homework for the next day. Really, the whole thing probably would have been less stressful if we had only bought our return tickets that first day.

But that’s all past now. In fact, a lot has passed. I am now a TEFL certified English teacher…without a job. But then I’m getting used to the idea that I will likely be broke for the rest of my life. At least I get to go home for Christmas.

I’d like to be able to tell all my stories (not that I have that many) but let’s be honest…would you really want to read a post that long? I wouldn’t. I don’t really want to write one that long either, so at least we agree.

Highlights it is then.

1: Sloths are funny.

2: I’m surprised I wasn’t ever mugged. (knock on wood…I haven’t left the country yet.)

3: A 4 week TEFL certification class does not leave much room for travel. When the weekend comes, you drink and sleep and do homework. (Sound familiar to anyone?)

4: Rice and Beans will never be the same.

5: I’m still a beer snob….but I’ll drink whatever you have.

6: I’m not attracted to Latin American men (except for Javier of course)…They, on the other hand, seem to find me quite fascinating. I, though, apparently prefer skinny, awkward, white dudes who can’t dance and don’t like me back. Go figure.

7: When I do get to go to the beach I get bored after about 24 hours. (If I had more money maybe I’d be less bored, but I think we already established the fact that I will be perma-broke for most of my life) Don’t get me wrong, I love the sun and lying in it and standing in the water. It’s just that I only like it for so long; then I feel the need to do something else (like make money so I can do it again sometime).

8: I still like dancing.

9: I like speaking Spanish and wish I were way better at it. Actually, I just can’t wait until I am better at it.

10: I almost have a job. I’m going to need about 2 more to survive but that’s life I guess. (again…sound familiar to anyone?)

11: It is very green.

12: It’s not that much cheaper.

13: There always seem to be nice people in hostels...(I just have to get better at talking to them)

…

So yeah.  Costa Rica. Headed back January 3. But for now…Home for Christmas. 

Manuel Antonio Part 1

It felt just like a scene out of a movie. The sun was shining but not quite warming the chilled breeze that blew through the tents and over the fresh fruits and vegetables being sold all along both sides of the street. Everyone had come to stock up on ingredients for soups and salads and fresh snacks for the week. The people meandered in and out and around the tents. They visited with their favorite vendors, shared the weekly gossip, maybe they even haggled over a fair price for the onions. It was a normal Saturday morning… until the 3 gringas came running by like an episode of the amazing race with their backpacks in tow and their shorts riding up…

That’s right. My Saturday started off with a taxi ride to the wrong bus station so that we had to secure our belongings on our persons as best we could, tuck our prides away in our back pockets and hit the sidewalk running toward a vaguely explained destination. We asked for directions along the way from the meandering pedestrians who only slightly quickened their steps to point out the turn. The turn. We crossed the street without incident and immediately found ourselves headed up hill, not through a crowd of shoppers (which might have been somehow less surreal) but rather behind the veggie stands so that the vendors set off behind us as we went, yelling and cheering and laughing us along. What a sight. The three foreign girls (one in neon yellow shorts I might add) running (in a country where no one does anything in a hurry) and laughing hysterically to the point of tears as tico after tico turned and pointed and ran and yelled any and everything that came to his mind.

We missed the bus. Well we made it on time but there were no seats left so we had to buy a ticket for an hour and a half later. So we wandered around a little while, grabbed a snack, and by 10:30 we were finally headed to Manuel Antonio for our relaxing weekend away.

The bus ride was uneventful. We met a nice Italian woman who lives and works in New York. I slept. Kiera and Ashley listened to music and watched the breathtaking green pass by the windows. We arrived at about 2 in the afternoon next to a beach that could have been clipped out of a magazine, under a sun that could fry an egg. The vibe coming off the beach and tiny village reverberated with waves of what can only be described as “pura vida.” Relax. You have arrived in the land of leisure, so grab a beer or a piña colada and do whatever the hell you want. Sounds great right?

I guess I forgot to mention that none of us had gone to bed until 3 that morning and we had gotten up at 7 to get packed and catch our taxi by 8. Sure 4 hours of sleep isn’t so bad...unless maybe you were out until 3 the previous night as well, and unless maybe you forgot to grab coffee at any point in the day. I guess I also forgot to mention that when we bought our ticket to Manuel Antonio we didn’t buy a ticket home. Whatever, we thought, we’ll just get them at the station when we get there…except that there isn’t a bus station in Manuel Antonio.

So there we stood…three tired gringas in paradise, and all we wanted was food, a ticket back home and a good night’s sleep.

To Be Continued