Click and Clack?!

While I think it's pretty cool that one of the most popular shows on NPR is Car Talk, I certainly never expected my blog to involve so much talk about them! How banal, really, to talk about my junker. But in Costa Rica, talking about the condition of your car is akin to the British talking about the weather. Bad cars, bad weather: I guess whatever it is, as long as we share in each other's collective misfortunes, it's not quite so frustrating. Funny, perhaps, in retrospect.

So here we go: more car talk. Forget the time the car wash power-sprayed my engine so fiercely that my spark plugs were ruined and the car wouldn't start, leaving us stranded in a McDonald's parking lot until a mechanic on wheels came to help us. That was so last month's problem. Here's December's debacle: After a ridiculously long day of service, my roommate Kady and I were only a few miles from home when I heard that old familiar sound, the sound that strikes before the sensation: dutt-dutt-dutt-dutt-dutt-dutt.

What's that sound? What's that sound? Look out the window.

We have a flat tire. We have a flat tire! Um, Ok, pull over, we can do this. We are strong women, we can do this!

Kady, I don't want to change the tire on the side of the road in Costa Rica. Have you ever even done it?

Well, no, but I've seen it done. Where's the spare?

Um, it's that huge tire on the back of my car. Where's the jack?

I have no idea.

My unceasingly adventurous roommate thought that a perfect way to end the day would be a self-taught course in changing flats, but I ever so boringly reminded her that the tire-changing gas station was literally less than one block away. We'll bust out the tire iron next time Kady, I promise. Let's save it for when we're in the jungle with no AAA, no gas station attendants, and no male biceps.

The attendant told me my tire was irreparable, put on my spare, and gave me another junker in case of emergency. We were leaving for Panama the following day for two weeks, so I couldn't be bothered with any more problem solving.

Post-Panama, my car had a most disturbing wobble that worsened with every mile, so again, today, I took my car in. A friendly man at the auto shop (wait, who are you?) offered to test drive the car with me. Before I knew it, he was driving my car like a madman, spouting out all his theories as to what could be wrong so that he could tell the mechanic. Just as he was about to turn around, he asks if it's been hesitating during acceleration, at which point he goes even further down the road. I start to wonder if I've allowed a complete lunatic in my car and kindly remind him that my friends are meeting me at the auto shop in no time. GEEZ, buddy, ease up on the kindness, you're freaking me out a little.

After spending a day in the shop, my car was finally diagnosed. Any guesses on the problem? An ill-fitted spare. I should have known, right? So after sixty bucks and another used piece of junk, I've still got car problems, and I'm still in need of a new tire.

So how's the weather, anyway?

PhD in Disastery

It's no secret that I can be a bit of a liability to myself and/or those around me. Below I offer some evidence:

**When I was 14, my toe got caught on the edge of a 3 ring binder as I was doing jazz kicks in my bedroom. To say it broke is an understatement. The sucker was practically at a 90 degree angle, separated from it's kin. I had to wear a cast and use crutches at the beginning of my freshman school year.

**During my senior year I totaled my parents Toyota Camry because I was distracted by an adorable little kitten riding in my lap. The car rolled one and a half times, taking out a tree and a light post before resting upside down. (Yes, the cat survived, only later to be malled by our dogs. Poor cat). The headline in the local newspaper read, "Cat Bite Causes Car Accident." For a quirky girl in an uptight yuppy town, that wasn't embarrassing at all.

**I kicked a wooden clog off my foot and it hit my friend dead center in the head, causing an immediate bump and a near concussion.

**Without realizing how necessary rear-view mirrors are on bikes, I made an abrupt u-turn, putting myself directly in the path of a senior citizen riding his bike. He fell, he skid, he bled; I cried in horror at my stupidity.

**I tipped a near-cripple over in a rocking chair, and though the surgery he subsequently received was already needed, I can't help but wonder if I hastened things along.

**And last but not least in my series of idiotic events, during my family's visit to Costa Rica, I take them to my favorite local beach: Playa Conchal, where the sand is made up of thousands of broken seashells and you can peacefully swim in the calm currents. To get to this beach you must drive across a small estuary. A few of us had driven there just the day before without incident (if I'd paid attention, I would have realized our success was directly related to the fact that is was low tide). As my parents and I pull up to the waters we need to cross, which seem ever so slightly higher than the previous day, we see an older couple waiting in their posh new rental car, afraid to cross. "Lame!" I think, because of course I am a total expert now in traversing rushing rivers in old 4x4s. Those poor scardey-cat tourists. While driving past them to cross at a spot closer to the shore, my dad says, "NIcole! NIcole! Are you sure we can cross this???" Um...duh dad. I've totally got this.

So onward we go, until the top half of my car escapes the waters and makes it up onto the sand bank, while the bottom half is stuck. Within seconds, ocean water begins to FLOOD my car. I grab the manual and hop out as my dad and I bark spastic, frantic orders at each other. In a seriously delayed attempt at sensibleness (because what kind of stupid girl does not figure out how to put her car in four wheel drive before a crisis instead of during?!!) I try to look up 4wd instructions, but my fingers move in slow motion as the tide rises higher. For about 90 seconds, I imagine the thousands of dollars I spent on this run down Tracker flying into the ocean waters and sailing away, and I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Fortunately, a few Ticos run to our rescue and help me put the car in gear. I hop back in, the engine starts, and within seconds the tires grip the ground as the men push us onto the bank. As a grand finale, I open all the car doors and drive in manic circles so that the water flies out of my vehicle.

By this point, of course, we are all hysterical. Nothing gets the adrenaline going like almost submerging your uninsured car in foreign waters!

Forget the car, I'm the one who needs to be insured!

Come One, Come All!

So here's something that's been a bit revolutionary for me. When my alarm goes off at 7:30 in the morning, it isn't that familiar, frenemy sense of guilt or obligation that struggles to get me out of bed in the morning (not that I'm knocking guilt, she has her place in my world). Instead, it's knowing that if I stay home and sleep in, my day won't be as good. I won't be there to share in a cool experience my friends are having, and I certainly won't be having one myself. And besides, the ministry here is actually quite fun. Meeting interesting people, mapping territories, petting pet squirrels, driving through rivers - it's all part of the adventure [also part of the adventure: a continuous creek of sweat dripping down one's back, fighting the fine fight of mosquito warfare, and getting flat tires].

So here's a little information about the area I'm pioneering in. Huacas (part of Guanacaste) is considered the desert of Costa Rica. The year is broken up into two seasons: the wet, rainy season featuring fabulous sunsets, myriads and myriads of mosquitoes, heavy rains, flooded roads, and stifling humidity; and the dry season, featuring two months of perfect beach weather followed by about 3 months of horrendous heat and endless dusty roads. Year round the temperature ranges between 80 to 100 degrees. Did I mention it's hot?!! Two congregations - Huacas English & Huacas Spanish - meet in the same small Kindgom Hall - and both have a great need. I'd planned to dive into Spanish, but fell in love with the English congregation straight away. There are 30+ publishers and 17 pioneers, which means over half our congregation is in the full time ministry. Our territory is huge and the public transportation in the area is rubbish, so I bought a car within the first two weeks. Last month I was given a skeleton like map of a pueblito named Palmira about 45 minutes from our hall and was asked to census the territory and draw in landmarks, roads, and English speaking households. At first I was intimidated and overwhelmed by the project, but in no time I was looking over everyone's shoulder making sure they weren't making any mistakes on MY map. Over the next month, we spent many many hours in the area, but it paid off because we found over 50 potential English speakers. It was so satisfying!!

Talking to people here about the Bible here is such a pleasure. It is easy to underestimate the toll that the frequent rejection of our message takes on us until we get a break from it. And preaching in a place where people have an inherent respect for the Bible is a privilege I am really thankful for right now. We usually offer the Truth tract to establish their level of English and interest, and if we don't get to read at least one of the paragraphs and look up all the scriptures, something is amiss! My favorite study so far is Dayana, a really sweet 17 year old girl from Palmira. I told her there would be a brief quiz after chapter 1, and by the next week, she'd memorized every single scripture in the review box, reciting them in her cute accent. That made all those hours of driving out there so worthwhile. I wonder: when I return to service in a land of condescending responses, will I have stored up enough positive energy so that I won't be fazed, or will it be worse than ever?!

So if anyone wants to come out here for a visit, please do. The service will be the best part, and of course the beaches with good surf and perfect temperatures aren't so bad either. And for anyone who can't visit or serve elsewhere, remember this: anyone who gets even a few hours of service in an area that is not receptive - you rock. Pioneering in a place where service is so much easier makes me have that much more respect for everyone in the States that is reaching out! I miss you all ;))