Fleet Foxes, you are amazing!!

Just hear this song for the first time today, and the lyrics captured a bit of what I was trying to say...

My Country, Tis of Me

America, you must know by now, you're ridiculously easy to make fun. How do you manage it? What with your strip mall suburbias, fast food fatties, embarrassingly quotable presidents, and a populous that doesn't know the difference between a Swiss and a Swede, you're just asking for it. But I have defended you a time or two, to the scoffers, or ex-pats, or people as obnoxious as I was in my twenties who think that ragging on you is as counter-culture as going Vegan. And here's a little secret just between us: I'm not completely on board with that whole Pura Vida thing. I like a little chaos and impurity in my life, which may explain my love for Buenos Aires. Sorry, I don't mean to make you jealous. I love my extra hot two pump mochas, the sales rack at Anthropoligie that warps my perception of value, the sand moving tractors that make the beaches enjoyable to walk on at any tide, and wearing sweaters in summer because we control the weather, the weather doesn't control us. And the whole business of civil liberties and freedom of religion and all that - at least you allow us our minds. Or rather, you allow us the perception of our minds and then hijack them covertly through your media moguls because we're foolish enough to allow it.

But, the problem is, those questions are going through my mind again - you know, those questions. Is my life meaningful? Should I update my profile? What is my career trajectory? Could I ever contribute to a This American Life episode? Will I ever be published? Could I ever be wickedly famous like my *sister* Coco Rocha (kidding!)? Have I completely lost touch with the Indie music scene? What should I budget for aging gracefully? For some reason, the level of me discontent is on high alert here. And when you're sweating profusely in the deserts of PuraVidaVille, you haven't got time for these questions. So it's been great visiting you, driving egregiously fast on your freeways, visiting your cinemas, and walking safely on your streets, but you're doing my head in already, so back off!



Recommended Reading (if interested in the topic of this rant):
The Narcissism Epidemic: Living in the Age of Entitlement
The Paradox of Choice: Why More is Less
Stuff White People Like: A Definitive Guide to the Unique Taste of Millions

They Heard About My Sweet Cheeks

...but got the directions slightly wrong. Another mystery insect-creature came to do his vile work while I was standing at a door with four men [more on this to come]. Feeling a stabbing pain in a most inconvenient location, I paused - breathed - waited - and then screamed! And then ran around to the back of a shed to try and do some investigatory research. As usual, the damage didn't show up until about two days later. And here it is. The only photo I will actually post, do to the bizarre location of the attack.





Today it's gone from looking like an egg to a bright pink mound.


Was it a wasp? A spider? A bee? No idea, but I'm pretty sure it's a conspiracy. Creatures versus Contos. And I'm obviously losing!

Everything Is Illuminated

A strange thing about the dry season here: even the leaves of the trees suffer. Over the course of five months, they accumulate a thick layer of dust until finally the first rains of the season wash them free of their burden, their dirty souvenir of summer. That same dust cakes the dashboards of your car, sinks into the air vents, the control panels, and whatever crevice it can find, including your pores and fine lines. You smell it, you taste it, and you better get good with it because, even though everywhere, it's going nowhere.

When I previously lamented about my lack of beach-walking partners, there was one thing I didn't realize: this place I live in is a bit bipolar. The difference between low (rainy) season and high (dry) season is extreme. While the verdant land dries into a spectrum of yellows and browns, the snow birds flock from all the great lakes and those 40-below states. Suddenly our small group of 25-35 more than doubles to 75. And when it comes to a social life here, it's feast or famine, and if you've a tinge of introversion, prepare for social indigestion (imagine the equivalent of ending a fast by eating two in-n-out burgers and fries in one sitting). I went from having no roommate and a very limited though fabulous group to spending literally 622 hours in a row (that's 26 days minus a two hour separation when I missed meeting) with my new roommate, Kady Hexum. [*digression: that Kady and I have spent the last 3.5 months all up in each other's business with only approximately 2.5 conflicts may in fact be our greatest accomplishment to date*] Meanwhile our hall was bursting at the seams with loads of cool people who'd come down to preach and beach. But keeping track of them was another matter. Those friends I'd spent the majority of my time with during the lull I barely saw (and still barely see) because..well, I guess because there's only so many cars to go around and there's a whole lot of us. I know, I know, this doesn't really sound like a problem, but when it's 95 degrees and you're sweaty-filthy-crusty-tired and there's seven people crammed into a Tracker and you're driving around the insufferable one way streets of Santa Cruz looking for a lost sheep of Guanacaste but you've forget the landmark, and you can't even yell Kady! because now there's a Kady and a Katie, it may be a challenge for some. Ok fine, for me, because I'm stressy like that.

But then: a full moon. I was tired and wanting an evening of hibernation, but Katie and Jon wanted to walk on the beach, and how could I say no after blogging my woeful tale of solitude? We started at Brasilito, a black sand beach, and worked our way over to Conchal, a beach made up made of a multitude of broken shells. I'll never do this night justice, I've never seen another like it, and I hate that I can't convey it properly. It was ethereal, the way the moon reflected off the shells and the foam of the water: so bright, as if we were walking on the moon itself, or some other planet not our own. But for me, the most incredible visual aspect was the way the moonlight reflected off the leaves of the trees. That vile dust coating the leaves in daytime turned itself into something bewitching, something you'd willingly tolerate for all those months just for this. This view, as if through infrared goggles. We gawked nearly every step of the way and lay in the sand for hours just to make the night last longer. And you know those trying people who like to find meaning in everything? Ah yes, well I'm one of them, and I couldn't help but see those leaves as a metaphor for life's challenges [fill in metaphor here]. It was strange to think I could have missed that night, and I wondered how many such nights I've already missed, and what I could do to make sure I don't miss more.

But before I leave off waxing philosophical, let me tell you how the night ended: with us, like giddy children, driving back home, and Jon, the driver, slightly distracted and not noticing the ant eater (yes, ant eater) trying to cross the road. He swerved, the car squeeled out of control, we almost died (not really), and that stupid animal was just fine. Scientists better discover some cure for a rare disease within the DNA of that stinking animal for what it nearly cost us (perhaps you had to be there, the joke was very funny at the time).

PS ant-eater: you are not doing a very good job because there's ants all over the place!!!

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.