See the Pretty Girl in that Mirror There (What Mirror? Where??)

Since deciding to hike Machu Picchu in May of this year, Kady and I realized we needed to find a local place to test out our hiking boots and our (un)fitness levels. We finally went on our first excursion to Rincon de la Vieja a few weeks ago with Harumi, Ayano, and Rachel. Heading out the door extra early with our lunches and swimsuits, we pushed ourselves for several hours to get to the beautiful Cataratas, where we dined and then swam against the currents for our chance to be inundated by the falls. The scenery was wonderfully varied: at times we were underneath forest overhang, and at others we were walking through the desert-like valley of the volcano. The trees undergoing a slow demise from their strangler fig parasitic partners were my favorite.












So when we headed back to Rincon a week later, we knew what to expect: beautiful surroundings, a bit too much sun, and a challenging hike.





That's it, right? Wrong! What we didn't anticipate was that taking a different trail would lead us not only to volcanic mud pots and hot springs, but also to a plague of nasty, biting, black flies that were completely unfazed by multiple layers of OFF! Deet equals Treat to these suckers, who feasted on seconds and thirds. Toward the end of the day I felt the strangest sensation, as if one of the flies had entered deep inside the tissue of my nose. Gross, right? But no need to be paranoid - it's just a fly. By the end of the hour long ride home, Ted, Niel, Kady, and I were starting to understand just how badly these little bastards' bites were going to itch.





Just in time for the upcoming circuit assembly, I woke up with a gorgeous little surprise the following morning:








Yep, my nose was double it's normal width, and my left eyelid was puffed up like a dead puffer fish. Apparently one of those flies was rather adept at navigating nasal canals. Wooweee, ain't I sexy?? But wait, maybe this could work to my advantage. Stay positive. Perhaps the bulbous-nose, bloated-lid look is attractive in central american cultures? Coat it with some shimmery green shadow and toad it up? Not a chance. And let's forget about the Discovery Show my dad saw about flies that lay larvae in human flesh until worms start bursting out of the skin. That.can't.happen.to.me.

That same morning came reports that some in our group had ticks lodged in areas they just had no business in. Extractions were successfully performed. Well, at least I didn't have blood sucking ticks gorging on my nether-regions as well as having a bloated eye.

Three days later, while walking back to my seat during the assembly, I asked a local sister to check out a scratch I felt on my back. All business, she pulled me off to a corner, muttered something under her breath, and yanked quickly. In the palm of her hand lay Fatty-McFatty; she dropped it to the ground and her son squished the tick under his shoe, leaving a thick trail of my blood on the concrete.

She opened her arms wide, and with a huge smile on her face said, "Welcome to Costa Rica!"

"Fights Without, Fears Within"

When it comes to meeting attendance, we all have hurdles to get past. Maybe it's needing to turn down work and disappoint our boss. Maybe it's leaving behind family that won't be joining us. Maybe it's getting past exhaustion. Or perhaps, in some distant land, in a Kingdom Hall far, far away, it's something else entirely: a terrorist that comes into the Kingdom Hall with the sole purpose of frightening all those in attendance. Generally he comes in and goes directly to the speaker's podium. But when an attendant rushes to the rescue, he chooses his next victim from the audience. He hurls himself into the air, and where he lands is anyone's guess. Sometimes, during a suicidal mission, he even hurls himself toward the fan, only to be smacked down on some innocent below. You may try to convince yourself you're ready for him: you inhale, hold your breath, close your eyes and cling to the armrests in preparation. But when you feel the thud on your shoulder, and those clawed nasty feet cling to your clothes, he has won a victory. Because at that moment, there's a screamer in the hall, and it is you.

Last week it happened this way. One flew towards the speaker, and our hero Adolfo flung him outside. But then, two more of his nasty friends were creeping towards the front row. Towards ME. And the biggest of the two, oh, he was obviously experienced at this form of terror, because while his partner in crime distracted Adolfo, he ran directly underneath my seat between my legs, and I, like a panicked fool, lifted my legs into the air, and let out a muffled scream from the front row. After the ensuing commotion, confusion, and surrounding laughter, I put my feet down and relaxed. Oh but no, he wasn't finished terrorizing; within seconds I felt a large weight against my foot, and at that moment, during a talk I am sorry to say I have no recollection of, instead of waiting for help, I got up and ran straight out of the Kingdom Hall.







This, my friends, is the monster we must face here in Costa Rica. At times he even tries to sit among us for the nefarious purpose of gaining secret information. Look as he even tries to raise his hand to comment. But we are wise to him. We will continue to fight against him.

Tick Tock Tedium

Any one who knows me well knows that at times I get a bit stir crazy. Restless. Fidgety. Spastic. Bored. Sort of like a dog that needs to be walked a lot or it starts misbehaving. Anyhow, that's how I was feeling last night. The thing is, here it gets dark at the same time every single night, year round, day in, day out. The sun starts setting around 5:30pm, and afterwards, you have hours of darkness. How about a walk on the beach? Not safe solo, and not as easy as you'd think to get a partner. How about a movie? No theatre (unless you count the room that seats about 20 and shows rentals on a projector, which I refuse to). Bowling? Not unless you consider throwing toads at howler monkeys hanging from trees a form of the sport.



Our recent game of Squish the Scorpion in the Studio is most diverting, but it only takes so long to kill em and flush em.









Of course, there's the cul-de-sac of Tamarindo, with it's collection of seedy sports bars and over-priced restaurants, but most of the friends are on a tight budget, and fine dining is generally out of the question. How about cards? Always disliked them up until now, but playing a game of cards or dominos with friends is something I've grown to appreciate.

Of all the challenges so far, this is the greatest. Car problems, critter encounters, sweltering heat, mountain size mosquito bites? Whatevs; I'll get over them. Too many nights in the house? Loca en la cabeza. Oh how I long for the pubs of San Diego and the Carlsbad sea wall like the Israelites longed for leeks and watermelons. Don't get me wrong, the nights of home cooking, relaxing, and being content with fewer distractions has done me a world of good. But last night I reached my max, and though it was unwise, I couldn't resist an evening drive and a walk on the beach. The stars here at night: incredible. To see the opaline waves, the silhouette of palm trees, and the milky way amidst an explosion of stars is, to say the least, awe inspiring (What does it all mean? What does it all MEAN?!?). I returned home, feeling a little scared and sad, wondering just how long I'll last without my closest friends and fondest diversions, and wondering if I should hire a body guard to accompany me on late night walks on the beach.

But today the ministry compensated for the challenges. The people you meet here, the stories they share with you about their lives, and their willingness to study - it really does make you see how people are "skinned and thrown about, like sheep without a shepherd." Teenagers with best friends dying of cancer. Young girls whose fathers abandoned them; whose mothers abandoned them; whose brothers died in accidents. And it is such a pleasure to be able to offer them a little bit of consolation and truth and perspective. We can't make their problems disappear, but we can give them our friendship and our time, and most valuable of all, the truth (and of course, give them Bible teach books for free, unlike a church in Santa Cruz that was selling them!!!). I was able to conduct three really good studies today, and the friend I brought with me somehow knew just what to say to offer compassionate counsel and consolation. So I don't know for how long I'll be able to stave off the stir crazy, but here's to another day.

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 ;))

Coming Soon...Actual information about where I'm pioneering!