After about 36 hours of travel, I arrived here in Costa Rica yesterday, overstuffed bags and all. They're not kidding when they say to pack light. Oops.
I thought I'd escaped rain when my plane lifted off in Seattle, but I was wrong. It's raining. Luckily the huge drops of earlier in the day have shrunk down to little a drizzle, so the half hour walk home to my host family house won't be too bad. And unlike in Seattle, the air still feels warm, and there are hyper-screechy birds outside enjoying the drizzle.
Rain aside, things are good. The teacher is fun and funny. The other students in the class are really nice, and they live at the same house I do. The mom of my house cooks great, smiles warmly, and appreciates life. "Pura Vida" she says all the time. Pure life. That's the name of the game here in Costa Rica, the driver from the airport to the shool told me. How appropriate. I was already thinking that should be my new motto.
You want to see this place? Well, you could come here. Or you could rely on these words. I'll do my best.
The roads are seem newly paved, but they wind up and around bumps and hills, always challenging travelers to alter their tilt to keep balanced. They are narrow, so if you happen to run here, you might find yourself seeking out little spaces of earth beside the road, which start and stop frequently, so you may find yourself bouncing between the edge of the road, then over the ditch to the earth, and back again. But you won't be alone. You'll see lots of kids walking to school in their cute little uniforms, and some with mom's protectively clutching their hands. You'll also see business women with sleek buns and heels braving the winding, rolling sidewalks. Like Italy, the buzz of vespas is constant. Yet it's strangely endearing if you like that sort of raw sign of energy.
And the clubs... oh man.
I haven't been to any.
But hey, tonight's Halloween...stay tuned.