Tuesday, September 11, 2007

¡¡¡SPIDER!!!


Just because I´m in the Peace Corps. doesn´t mean that I don´t like to take showers. Albeit unlike most of you, my showers are cold and sometimes swarming with gigantic spiders waiting to empoison me with their deadly venom. That being said, I was in the shower the other day and was a bit startled to see this merry fellow dangling from our shower curtain. Actually, startled isn´t quite the word, as I believe I yelled something like, ¨JEEEEEEEEEEESSSSHUUUUWAAATHAAAAAA!!!¨ as I sprinted to my room, scantily clad.

After a 2 minute pep talk (with myself), I returned armed with my camera, baseball glove, and a newfound sense of manhood. With my back pressed against the wall, I inched my way around the shower curtain and was once again face to face with the mighty beast. I then smacked him to the ground with the baseball glove and he proceeded to scurry to and fro on the floor, whilst I tap-danced like a little girl, trying to avoid him. He must have gotten himself rather winded, because he abruptly stopped scurrying and I was able to snap this rather candid shot. In this picture you can clearly see him contemplating his impending doom. In fact, if you look closely enough, you can even see a tiny spider tear trickling down from one of his many spider eyes.


Next I killed him, mercilessly and brutally. I won´t go into the details here because children read this blog (perhaps yooouurr children). Upon finishing this dirty deed I relished in a chance to relax for a moment and began contemplating my shower again. It was at this instant that I felt something JUMP ON MY BACK!!! I immediately began batting wildly behind me with both arms (we all know how difficult and awkward this can be), while visions of a vengeful spider relative sinking his teeth into my flesh were running through my head. I finally managed to knock the offending creature to the ground and quickly got a picture of him as he crawled into the shower curtain rod.



Wow, sometimes that God can be quite a prankster. As it turns out, the mystery guest was nothing more than one of the tiny tree frogs that lives in our shower. Perhaps he was feeling a bit homesick and, wrought with grief, mistook my back for a soft lily pad. Either way he scared the bejeeezus out of me.

I would like to dedicate this blog to my cousin Travis and his dog J.D.

Monday, September 3, 2007

¨Jimmy Stuff¨

The reader may need to be reminded that all dialogue has, in fact, been roughly translated from ¨Campo¨ Spanish to English.

¨Who the hell is that?¨, I exclaimed.

´That´s ¨Jimmy Stuff¨´, my Host-Dad replied knowingly.

As we were sitting on our front porch, an elderly man carrying a giant garbage bag slung over his shoulder, was ambling towards us, shouting at the sky and berating various trees/birds. He wore knee-high rubber boots, which are very common here, except for the fact that his were astonishingly white instead of the standard black. He also had a chest length white beard and a blue cap with an abnormally long yellow bill.

¨Why do they call him Jimmy Stuff?¨, I asked, a little uneasy.

¨You see that big garbage bag he´s carrying? Its all full of different stuff he´s picked up while walking around the country.¨

¨Whoa, WALKING around the country???

¨Ya, he walks from town to town, living on the food and clothing that people give him. He´s been all over Costa Rica and parts of Panama and Nicaragua, I think¨, he said nonchalantly.

¨Well, where is he from?¨, I inquired.

¨He´s not FROM anywhere. I heard that he had a brother up North, but I think that he died. Regardless, he´s quite crazy.¨

Jimmy Stuff ended up coming up to our house and chatting with us for a while. I couldn´t really understand much of what he was saying, and I don´t think my Host-Dad could either. We ended up just nodding our heads a lot while easing back and forth in our rocking-chairs. At dinner time, my Host-Dad brought Jimmy Stuff a big plate of rice and beans which he ate ravenously, half with his hands, and half with the spoon. Later in the night, my Host-Dad was still talking to Jimmy Stuff as I went to bed.

The next morning, Jimmy Stuff had left our town, but I learned that he had stayed the night in our corral with all of the cattle. Apparently, he sleeps outside everywhere he goes, and never stays more than 3 nights in one place. He never causes any trouble, and I don´t think he would have stayed any longer even if we had asked him to. Not to get all Peace Corps. on you, but this just reinforces the stereotype of how kind and open the Ticos (Costa Ricans) are. I doubt that you could travel around America dressed and speaking crazily, and have people treat you with kindness and hospitality. Not to say that there aren´t some places where they might take you in, but most assuredly not everywhere. Sometimes it feels like I´m living in the United States of the 40´s or 50´s where everyone was a lot more trusting, and life was a lot more simple. At least that is my view of the 50´s from watching reruns of ¨Lassie¨.

On a more hilarious note, I had noticed that my Host-Dad says ¨¡Caramba!¨ a lot in situations where we (you and I) would normally shout our favorite English expletive. A few nights ago, I finally decided to look the word up in the dictionary to find out how foul of a curse it really was. Here is what I found:

¡Caramba! interj Good Gracious!

GOOD GRACIOUS??? I could not believe that as this 6 ´2 giant of a man stabs a pig in the throat with a machete and gets blood splattered all over his face and clothing, he exclaims, ¨Good Gracious!!!¨ Perhaps some things are just better left untranslated. That´s all for now, compaƱeros. More to come directly...