Clearly it is the only solution. Fever induced dreams. Sweating. Aches everywhere. I can't find the goddamn tylenol. Oh well.. thanks to a friendly virus, I find myself knee deep in loathing. Ugh... I haven't gotten sick in - it seems like - centuries..! Can't sleep, no appetite. Lethargic at best. Glad it doesnt take much energy to type away. Crap..the ice bag's melted, well not the bag...but you get my point. My hope is that somehow the energy coming out of my PC will inevitably transfer itself to me, and fix me!
I long for avocado in late summer. A pinch of salt...and voila.
Ok, I'm off. Bon soir!
Friday, August 27, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Deep in Costa Rican Territory (Days 3 - 4)
March 13, 14 - An early morning gives way to our planned getaway towards the Arenal volcano area. The drive is about a little over three hours, through winding hills , small villages and gorgeous views of the countryside. Illiana had mentioned something about queso Palmito and we decided to make a few stops for both coffee and some fresh Palmito cheese. Stringy and bitter goodness....yummm. The drive continued listening to a great Salsa station and taking in the great scenery.
The Arenal volcano rises ahead, imposing and majestic, following us as we get closer. We reach the Arenal Paraiso resort - a gorgeous pool and hot springs laden spot with great views of the volcano. I must pause here and truly describe what this place looks like, because it truly is paradise. Plants everywhere, beautiful flowers, colorful birds singing, I mean the place is one of a kind. Their cabins are rustic and comfortable, with a cozy porch looking out towards the volcano. Such is this place, filled with colors and pockets of lava warmed water, green with minerals.
During our stay here we managed to do a few things that truly endeared me to Costa Rica. I visited my first "soda" which is the equivalent of a cafe, but less expensive and the food is fresher. The place welcomed us for lunch with an array of native food choices, black beans, rice, steak, green beans, etc. All of it wonderful. For dessert, we got free samples of a native delicacy made with milk; sweet goodness and the perfect way to end the meal. Jason and I went hiking in the late afternoon through the forested area behind the resort. We stumbled upon monkeys and zip line platforms. It was a great way to spend the late afternoon, and I managed to bring along some frozen Imperials which quickly thawed due to the heat. We stopped short of our destination as the trail became steeper by the minute, and the thought of getting lost in the woods as darkness approached was not a viable option.
"Guario Speedragon". It should be copyrighted, as it is our original creation of a simple but exquisite drink. Take equal parts Cacique and Fresca, shake with ice and serve. Refreshing, and devastating at the same time. A fresh sample of what getting kicked in the nuts feels like, while relaxing in a pool on a hot summer night in Costa Rica. We made the most of our stay in Arenal Paraiso, which also involved watching the movie "Hot Chicks" and laughing hysterically, discovering Duval beers to our amazement, tanning, eating left over queso palmito and of course, lashing out at a Panamian waiter who tried to hustle us at the very same restaurant where two dogs decided to have sex next to our table. And of course, taking it all in, the setting, the view, the freshly made breakfast with the best orange juice in the planet, discovering my own personal waterfall aptly named Ving Falls; paradise indeed.
The Arenal volcano rises ahead, imposing and majestic, following us as we get closer. We reach the Arenal Paraiso resort - a gorgeous pool and hot springs laden spot with great views of the volcano. I must pause here and truly describe what this place looks like, because it truly is paradise. Plants everywhere, beautiful flowers, colorful birds singing, I mean the place is one of a kind. Their cabins are rustic and comfortable, with a cozy porch looking out towards the volcano. Such is this place, filled with colors and pockets of lava warmed water, green with minerals.
During our stay here we managed to do a few things that truly endeared me to Costa Rica. I visited my first "soda" which is the equivalent of a cafe, but less expensive and the food is fresher. The place welcomed us for lunch with an array of native food choices, black beans, rice, steak, green beans, etc. All of it wonderful. For dessert, we got free samples of a native delicacy made with milk; sweet goodness and the perfect way to end the meal. Jason and I went hiking in the late afternoon through the forested area behind the resort. We stumbled upon monkeys and zip line platforms. It was a great way to spend the late afternoon, and I managed to bring along some frozen Imperials which quickly thawed due to the heat. We stopped short of our destination as the trail became steeper by the minute, and the thought of getting lost in the woods as darkness approached was not a viable option.
"Guario Speedragon". It should be copyrighted, as it is our original creation of a simple but exquisite drink. Take equal parts Cacique and Fresca, shake with ice and serve. Refreshing, and devastating at the same time. A fresh sample of what getting kicked in the nuts feels like, while relaxing in a pool on a hot summer night in Costa Rica. We made the most of our stay in Arenal Paraiso, which also involved watching the movie "Hot Chicks" and laughing hysterically, discovering Duval beers to our amazement, tanning, eating left over queso palmito and of course, lashing out at a Panamian waiter who tried to hustle us at the very same restaurant where two dogs decided to have sex next to our table. And of course, taking it all in, the setting, the view, the freshly made breakfast with the best orange juice in the planet, discovering my own personal waterfall aptly named Ving Falls; paradise indeed.
Monday, August 16, 2010
My Favorite Things
True. It is a symbolic song recorded by one John Coltrane. Invoking memories of distant lands and precious moments, it speaks to me. Subtle hints of coffee from Costa Rica, salt in the air from Boqueron, Puerto Rico, steel drum beats in St. Thomas, exotic jungle in Mexico. I have been blessed to have had the opportunity to travel to these places in different occasions. The one thing that strikes me about these favorite things of mine is that they are not isolated to a physical place, but rather, the experience. I've enjoyed some of the greatest food ever in dirt floored restaurants, where dogs wander in; where soccer matches are followed with fervor and passion, in a 19 inch television set.
I met a guy the other day at a Boston bar. His name is Tom Brown, perhaps 55 - 60 years of age. Likeable, weathered soul. Yet, friendly enough to converse and generous enough to buy me a beer. Hell I even took a picture with him. These are the type of experiences that drive my fervor for travel, for discovery. It's about these things, simple, yet necessary. People, good citizens of the world, that are willing to share a smile and conversation, regardless of where you are from. Food that is mystical, lush, yet enjoyed on dirt-floored cafes, or beach side kiosks. Wondrous sights that don't cost you anything more than just your time and attention span.
Do it. Go somewhere and experience something different. Feed your soul with these simple experiences. You will walk away richer for having experienced them. Life's perspective, perhaps altered. Nature's compass guiding us towards something else, deep into the map of the human heart. Unequalled moments that stay with us, like our favorite things.
I met a guy the other day at a Boston bar. His name is Tom Brown, perhaps 55 - 60 years of age. Likeable, weathered soul. Yet, friendly enough to converse and generous enough to buy me a beer. Hell I even took a picture with him. These are the type of experiences that drive my fervor for travel, for discovery. It's about these things, simple, yet necessary. People, good citizens of the world, that are willing to share a smile and conversation, regardless of where you are from. Food that is mystical, lush, yet enjoyed on dirt-floored cafes, or beach side kiosks. Wondrous sights that don't cost you anything more than just your time and attention span.
Do it. Go somewhere and experience something different. Feed your soul with these simple experiences. You will walk away richer for having experienced them. Life's perspective, perhaps altered. Nature's compass guiding us towards something else, deep into the map of the human heart. Unequalled moments that stay with us, like our favorite things.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
In An Elevator
It was in early winter when I found myself in an elevator. This elevator was the only physical structure for miles, and in that instance, it served as my friend, my confidant, my most dearest of ears. I pleaded, in this cold night, alone and in desperation. Such strange circumstances I thought. Here I am in this metal box, pleading my case, in silence, yet such was the emotion coming out of that silence, that its walls vibrated. At times, the floor shook. My watch was no longer ticking. Time had stopped. Yet, it was one of the longest nights of my life.
It was all of a blur after all. I recall walking down a long hall; cries in the distance, coming out of many caves. The hall was dimly lit, and a haze hung that made it almost impossible to see clearly. Before I walked into that metal box I felt I had taken the longest walk in my life. I left her there alone, scared, while they took her, and moved her to another floor... and I walked...into that metal box.
The metal doors closed, and there I was, and I asked in silence for help, for him, for her. For their sakes. I didn't care at that point about myself. Every shred of who I am, every shred of myself was peeled away, and left on that elevator floor, naked; humbled. I begged for help, I demanded for him to be okay, crying out towards the metal roof. With every breath I took I became more ill, wasting away as my strength became his. In the ensuing three weeks I became deathly ill, bedridden, barely able to breath. In that metal box I left it all. Never had I surrendered as I did then.
As the doors opened, I ran towards them, knowing in my heart, I had given all I could, in that cold, unyielding metal box. It was the moment I became a father, thanks to a little divine intervention and the solitude of an elevator, in early winter.
It was all of a blur after all. I recall walking down a long hall; cries in the distance, coming out of many caves. The hall was dimly lit, and a haze hung that made it almost impossible to see clearly. Before I walked into that metal box I felt I had taken the longest walk in my life. I left her there alone, scared, while they took her, and moved her to another floor... and I walked...into that metal box.
The metal doors closed, and there I was, and I asked in silence for help, for him, for her. For their sakes. I didn't care at that point about myself. Every shred of who I am, every shred of myself was peeled away, and left on that elevator floor, naked; humbled. I begged for help, I demanded for him to be okay, crying out towards the metal roof. With every breath I took I became more ill, wasting away as my strength became his. In the ensuing three weeks I became deathly ill, bedridden, barely able to breath. In that metal box I left it all. Never had I surrendered as I did then.
As the doors opened, I ran towards them, knowing in my heart, I had given all I could, in that cold, unyielding metal box. It was the moment I became a father, thanks to a little divine intervention and the solitude of an elevator, in early winter.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Deep in Costa Rican Territory (Day 2)
March 12th - The day begins with Jason puking, due to his marathon drinking from the previous night. The dude can't even eat breakfast. At least he accompanies me to the Panaderia La Parada, where I get myself a ham, cheese and onion sandwich. What a pleasure to eat..sitting' down in the patio table at La Guacima, feeling the early morning breeze. A great start. What IS missing however, is some coffee. Dark, strong and vibrant.
We make our way up to Volcan Irazu, and I discover a radio station that becomes my beacon for all that is wonderful in the world - Salsa. 24 hours a day, Salsa and more Salsa, old, new, and in between. Awesome.
Another thing I discovered, is that EPA does not stand for "Environmental Protection Agency" in CR, it is simply a Home Depot type of store. Nice job Ving.
On our way we stopped to grab some Queso Palmito, fresh, from a little store on the road. It was so good. Salty and peels like string cheese; a good companion to beer.
As we arrived at Irazu, we decided that a jolt of java was necessary. The cafeteria in the parking lot served up a great cup of coffee. We asked and were told that the name of the coffee was "Del Valle". Awesome cup of vibrant, strong cafe. Of course, Shirley and I being the only cool people, had our cups. Irazu was impressive, with its chartreuse lagoon in the middle, ringed by sulfur. It was very windy, after all, we were over 10,000 feet above sea level. Found a couple of lava rocks, and on we headed towards Cartago.
What can we say about the Basilica de Los Angeles in Cartago; impressive, majestic. With its statue of the Archangel Michael slaying the dragon at its peak. It was a nice break from our activities; a more focused moment as we approached it and explored its inside. We read the story about the Basilica and why it was built. Saw the holy water spouting, and how the local ticos in the area flock to it, and bathed and washed their faces and hands. Some even drank from it. Faith is a powerful thing.
On our way out of the Basilica, I remembered how Shirley mentioned that her now deceased grandfather would always stop at a restaurant across the street for a cup of joe. We made our way across the street to La Perla del Sol and proceeded to enjoy some strong Costa Rican coffee and some outstanding seafood rice.
As we left Cartago we realized that there was an outstanding item on our to do list for the day; the drive on the Orosi Loop. What a gorgeous ride, across small villages, majestic views of the mountains and lakes; well worth it. We stumbled through the finish line, exhausted and overjoyed, and spent the night relaxing at La Guacima amongst friends.
We make our way up to Volcan Irazu, and I discover a radio station that becomes my beacon for all that is wonderful in the world - Salsa. 24 hours a day, Salsa and more Salsa, old, new, and in between. Awesome.
Another thing I discovered, is that EPA does not stand for "Environmental Protection Agency" in CR, it is simply a Home Depot type of store. Nice job Ving.
On our way we stopped to grab some Queso Palmito, fresh, from a little store on the road. It was so good. Salty and peels like string cheese; a good companion to beer.
As we arrived at Irazu, we decided that a jolt of java was necessary. The cafeteria in the parking lot served up a great cup of coffee. We asked and were told that the name of the coffee was "Del Valle". Awesome cup of vibrant, strong cafe. Of course, Shirley and I being the only cool people, had our cups. Irazu was impressive, with its chartreuse lagoon in the middle, ringed by sulfur. It was very windy, after all, we were over 10,000 feet above sea level. Found a couple of lava rocks, and on we headed towards Cartago.
What can we say about the Basilica de Los Angeles in Cartago; impressive, majestic. With its statue of the Archangel Michael slaying the dragon at its peak. It was a nice break from our activities; a more focused moment as we approached it and explored its inside. We read the story about the Basilica and why it was built. Saw the holy water spouting, and how the local ticos in the area flock to it, and bathed and washed their faces and hands. Some even drank from it. Faith is a powerful thing.
On our way out of the Basilica, I remembered how Shirley mentioned that her now deceased grandfather would always stop at a restaurant across the street for a cup of joe. We made our way across the street to La Perla del Sol and proceeded to enjoy some strong Costa Rican coffee and some outstanding seafood rice.
As we left Cartago we realized that there was an outstanding item on our to do list for the day; the drive on the Orosi Loop. What a gorgeous ride, across small villages, majestic views of the mountains and lakes; well worth it. We stumbled through the finish line, exhausted and overjoyed, and spent the night relaxing at La Guacima amongst friends.
Friday, August 6, 2010
It's a quarter after one, I'm a little drunk and I need you now...?
Picture perfect memories scattered all around the floor. Reachin' for the phone 'cause I can't fight it anymore. And I wonder if I ever cross your mind. For me it happens all the time...
Those are introductory lyrics to song called "Need You Now" by Lady Antebellum. It's definitely one of my favorite songs this year, but it wasn't until the other day, that I actually started paying attention to the lyrics. And I wonder how many of us out there find themselves in these situations; wanting to reach for the phone, but not acting on that impulse. Rather, we pocket that impulse, and save it for a rainy day. Most of the time, that day never comes, and we continue to set aside those impulses, and they pile up into the unknown...farther and farther from our reach, until simply forgotten. Gone baby gone.
I wonder how many of us live our lives like this, simply setting thoughts aside or actions that never see the light of day. Like puppets on broken strings, a misstep here or there - gone with a flash. Is it simply in our nature to set "things" aside until some point in the foreseeable future...? Do we perhaps over analyze things to the point where we simply surrender and say to ourselves - maybe later...maybe next week...
We've all heard the cliches, "Live like you were dying" and so on... Some will say, life is too complicated, or that there are too many obstacles on the way. Perhaps as we get older, complexities and obstacles start to fade and give way to opportunities to act on impulse, much more than in our youth. Depends on who you ask these days.
Still, we sit here and continue to wonder, if I ever cross your mind.
Those are introductory lyrics to song called "Need You Now" by Lady Antebellum. It's definitely one of my favorite songs this year, but it wasn't until the other day, that I actually started paying attention to the lyrics. And I wonder how many of us out there find themselves in these situations; wanting to reach for the phone, but not acting on that impulse. Rather, we pocket that impulse, and save it for a rainy day. Most of the time, that day never comes, and we continue to set aside those impulses, and they pile up into the unknown...farther and farther from our reach, until simply forgotten. Gone baby gone.
I wonder how many of us live our lives like this, simply setting thoughts aside or actions that never see the light of day. Like puppets on broken strings, a misstep here or there - gone with a flash. Is it simply in our nature to set "things" aside until some point in the foreseeable future...? Do we perhaps over analyze things to the point where we simply surrender and say to ourselves - maybe later...maybe next week...
We've all heard the cliches, "Live like you were dying" and so on... Some will say, life is too complicated, or that there are too many obstacles on the way. Perhaps as we get older, complexities and obstacles start to fade and give way to opportunities to act on impulse, much more than in our youth. Depends on who you ask these days.
Still, we sit here and continue to wonder, if I ever cross your mind.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Come...And Talk To Me
At one point or another, it happened. Whether it was at Ms. Callahan's class sophomore year in high school , or as I filled one of many notebooks, with thoughts and observations - it happened. I became a writer. Now, that does not mean I am going to write a book or anything like that. I know myself well enough to know, that I lack the discipline to write a novel; to weave a storyline together, intricate and involving.
I belong here; where I can write whatever comes to mind. Where I can flow freely, in this so called ocean of thought. Hell, I just let the fingers do the typing. I merely sit here and let them guide me along. Words come across in a flash, type this, type that. I am no longer in control, and that's how I like it. It should always be effortless. Not a whole lot of thinking or intellectual conversation. Hemingway one said, "All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know." Everything after that, is gravy. Writers are victims to their own admiration; they emulate their favorite writers, without knowing it.
It's so much simpler to just...let the fingers do the talking. Come... and talk to me.
I belong here; where I can write whatever comes to mind. Where I can flow freely, in this so called ocean of thought. Hell, I just let the fingers do the typing. I merely sit here and let them guide me along. Words come across in a flash, type this, type that. I am no longer in control, and that's how I like it. It should always be effortless. Not a whole lot of thinking or intellectual conversation. Hemingway one said, "All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know." Everything after that, is gravy. Writers are victims to their own admiration; they emulate their favorite writers, without knowing it.
It's so much simpler to just...let the fingers do the talking. Come... and talk to me.
Jazz...So Damn Cool
What the hell is it about this style of music that drives me crazy. It makes me heal, feel all around better. I just dont understand it, and perhaps I never will. All I know is that it moves me, and at times, tears me to shreds. There's such complexity in Jazz, and I capitalize it damnit because it deserves to be capitalized. It's almost undescribable. It feeds the soul, heals the spirit. I remember driving to college in my early years and listening to a now extinct Jazz station. Made me feel invincible.
Jazz, even the name is cool, never mind Coltrane or Davis or Monk or Evans. Those guys served one master, and that master was Jazz. Cool and effervsecent. Lifeblood. Takes you away from this world, and drops you in a smoky lounge, with dim lighting and plush booths. All of a sudden martinis are being served, and you are tapping your feet; feeling it. So damn smooth...good God. You wonder if this music was actually composed in heaven. Perhaps God after all is a Jazz fan through and through.
It lingers...like a kiss. Its lips wrapping around yours like a Christmas gift...just because it's Jazz. Heaven's very own soundtrack.
Jazz, even the name is cool, never mind Coltrane or Davis or Monk or Evans. Those guys served one master, and that master was Jazz. Cool and effervsecent. Lifeblood. Takes you away from this world, and drops you in a smoky lounge, with dim lighting and plush booths. All of a sudden martinis are being served, and you are tapping your feet; feeling it. So damn smooth...good God. You wonder if this music was actually composed in heaven. Perhaps God after all is a Jazz fan through and through.
It lingers...like a kiss. Its lips wrapping around yours like a Christmas gift...just because it's Jazz. Heaven's very own soundtrack.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Rain
Rain.
Truly a wonderful thing. Energy, flowing from the skies like unstoppable tears. Emotional, powerful. A reminder that life is better when is wet, lush and filled with passion. I've always fondly recalled rain to be a sign of good things. Full of silvery luster, like moonlight on a starless night. It soothes the soul, looking outside my window. Watching the rain fall. Nature's music, listening to the drops fall around me. Engaged in a ritual unlike any other. Listening; not a whisper, or thought. The sky cries out and we become the audience, of nature's greatest concerto.
Truly a wonderful thing. Energy, flowing from the skies like unstoppable tears. Emotional, powerful. A reminder that life is better when is wet, lush and filled with passion. I've always fondly recalled rain to be a sign of good things. Full of silvery luster, like moonlight on a starless night. It soothes the soul, looking outside my window. Watching the rain fall. Nature's music, listening to the drops fall around me. Engaged in a ritual unlike any other. Listening; not a whisper, or thought. The sky cries out and we become the audience, of nature's greatest concerto.
Jukebox Years (Chapter 1)
Times were different. No longer was my job 5 minutes away, but now I had to drive an hour plus to and fro. It was a royal pain in the ass, sitting in traffic every day and I did my best to lash out in all sorts of forms. At times, cursing at the idiots doing 50 on the highway and sometimes even openly threatening them with their lives. It did help to catch up on the conceptual things in life, such as the Howard Stern show and the assortment of rock music on WAAF and WBCN.
The job was an analytical position in Boston, which luckily landed me dead center in the financial district. The perimeter consisted of your local assortment of bars, dives and clubs in addition to a plethora of sandwich shops. I took the Orange line from Medford which dropped me right at the building’s doorstep.
Never had I witnessed the collective hopelessness and degenerate attitude of people until I began to take the Orange line. Glimpses of desperation and boredom were abundant, as were the aromas of the filthy bastards who used the train as their personal toilet. It was nightmarish, but my consolation was that in 20 minutes it would be over. That’s what I would tell myself to retain my sanity. It was hell on wheels and I was a castaway, lost in its sea of shipwrecked souls.
Things at Standard were looking up. The job was challenging and I was learning quickly, although determined to stay away from any projects or extra responsibility. I was there to do the bare minimum and go home. Many days were spent surfing the Internet or calling my buddy Jason and chatting about the latest video game. The routine was executed to perfection. Projects thrown my way were quickly discarded and replaced with social tours of the floor and endless personal phone calls to my buddy Steven. He was content with his new venture as it gave him more freedom and according to him, opened more doors. We kept in touch for a while until he started to become repetitive and desperate, finishing his phone calls by saying “things were looking bleak” or that, “World War III is imminent”. He sounded to me like a man on his way to the guillotine, or worse.
The job was an analytical position in Boston, which luckily landed me dead center in the financial district. The perimeter consisted of your local assortment of bars, dives and clubs in addition to a plethora of sandwich shops. I took the Orange line from Medford which dropped me right at the building’s doorstep.
Never had I witnessed the collective hopelessness and degenerate attitude of people until I began to take the Orange line. Glimpses of desperation and boredom were abundant, as were the aromas of the filthy bastards who used the train as their personal toilet. It was nightmarish, but my consolation was that in 20 minutes it would be over. That’s what I would tell myself to retain my sanity. It was hell on wheels and I was a castaway, lost in its sea of shipwrecked souls.
Things at Standard were looking up. The job was challenging and I was learning quickly, although determined to stay away from any projects or extra responsibility. I was there to do the bare minimum and go home. Many days were spent surfing the Internet or calling my buddy Jason and chatting about the latest video game. The routine was executed to perfection. Projects thrown my way were quickly discarded and replaced with social tours of the floor and endless personal phone calls to my buddy Steven. He was content with his new venture as it gave him more freedom and according to him, opened more doors. We kept in touch for a while until he started to become repetitive and desperate, finishing his phone calls by saying “things were looking bleak” or that, “World War III is imminent”. He sounded to me like a man on his way to the guillotine, or worse.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Deep in Costa Rican Territory (Day 1)
3/11/2009 - Finally, our bags are packed. We are operating on a dangerous mix of excitement and delirium due to our lack of sleep. Then again, who the hell sleeps before heading to Costa Rica? Or as my boss stated a couple of days prior to my departure, "Who goes to Costa Rica in the middle of a recession?". Therein lies the rub. You see, this trip has been in the making for well over a year. Meticulous itineraries have been drawn and replaced ad nauseum. The land of volcanoes, ticos and great coffee awaits!
1:30pm - We finally touch down in San Jose after a ridiculous two hour joyride around the Newark airport lot, with visibility at zero and about 20 planes ahead of us. The torture was too much, and I knew right there and then, that I should have flown first class. I must admit, arriving at San Jose and feeling the immediate warmth as we walked through the gate, was a joyous occasion. Now if I can just make it thru immigration without any hiccups.."Sir, why does your passport say Santa Claus?"....
2:00pm - Well I certainly did not expect Juan Santamaria airport to be this busy... ants everywhere, bobbing and weaving on their way to baggage claims, or to exchange their hard-earned USD. Lots of folks waiting to carry our bags, into the shuttle and on to pick up our vehicle. After spending some time going over minutiae at the car rental place, our horse awaits - a burgundy Chrysler Caravan that will forever live in legend, due to its extraordinary exploits.
3:00pm - On our way to La Guacima (Shirley's house), we finally make the necessary stop at a licorera (liquor store), that's gated like Fort Knox. I swore I would get an electric shock from trying to jar the gated contraption open. Here's where I purchased the "jumping" Imperials - more on that in a bit. I soon discovered that with Jason doing all the driving, I could sit back and enjoy as many beers as possible...without interruptions. That is, until Shirley invaded the front seat. I rode over 20 minutes with her sitting on my lap, as I explored my first of many six-packs.
3:15pm - We make a pit stop at El Rancho (Manuel and Clara's), where a six-pack of Imperials follows me out the door as if to say, "we are with you all the way..". Alex proceeds to soil his pants after a chihuahua chases him around the house. Quick pictures and hi's, and on to La Guacima. Famished explorers need their chow, and there's plenty of it here, as we mow thru salads, arroz con pollo, the works. It was delicious. My first true Costa Rican dish. On we move towards the supermarket to stock up on what else....beer....rainbows of it. To our surprise, Belgian beers await for us, as if to say, "welcome - drink me". Hundreds of dollars later, we are back in La Guacima chillin', until an unexpected guest arrives.....
5:00pm and on - As the evening unfolds, Illiana delights us with her presence and brings some suitable items, such as a boombox, and a mixer (for margaritas). We love her for it of course, and she even brings a delightful fruit called Pejibaye (sp?) that is eaten with mayonnaise...don't ask. Our first Costa Rican night evolves into a music-filled event, with plenty of beers and multiple trips to the licorera for some Cuervo; a great start to our trip, dare I say an awesome first night. A surefire sign of things to come.
1:30pm - We finally touch down in San Jose after a ridiculous two hour joyride around the Newark airport lot, with visibility at zero and about 20 planes ahead of us. The torture was too much, and I knew right there and then, that I should have flown first class. I must admit, arriving at San Jose and feeling the immediate warmth as we walked through the gate, was a joyous occasion. Now if I can just make it thru immigration without any hiccups.."Sir, why does your passport say Santa Claus?"....
2:00pm - Well I certainly did not expect Juan Santamaria airport to be this busy... ants everywhere, bobbing and weaving on their way to baggage claims, or to exchange their hard-earned USD. Lots of folks waiting to carry our bags, into the shuttle and on to pick up our vehicle. After spending some time going over minutiae at the car rental place, our horse awaits - a burgundy Chrysler Caravan that will forever live in legend, due to its extraordinary exploits.
3:00pm - On our way to La Guacima (Shirley's house), we finally make the necessary stop at a licorera (liquor store), that's gated like Fort Knox. I swore I would get an electric shock from trying to jar the gated contraption open. Here's where I purchased the "jumping" Imperials - more on that in a bit. I soon discovered that with Jason doing all the driving, I could sit back and enjoy as many beers as possible...without interruptions. That is, until Shirley invaded the front seat. I rode over 20 minutes with her sitting on my lap, as I explored my first of many six-packs.
3:15pm - We make a pit stop at El Rancho (Manuel and Clara's), where a six-pack of Imperials follows me out the door as if to say, "we are with you all the way..". Alex proceeds to soil his pants after a chihuahua chases him around the house. Quick pictures and hi's, and on to La Guacima. Famished explorers need their chow, and there's plenty of it here, as we mow thru salads, arroz con pollo, the works. It was delicious. My first true Costa Rican dish. On we move towards the supermarket to stock up on what else....beer....rainbows of it. To our surprise, Belgian beers await for us, as if to say, "welcome - drink me". Hundreds of dollars later, we are back in La Guacima chillin', until an unexpected guest arrives.....
5:00pm and on - As the evening unfolds, Illiana delights us with her presence and brings some suitable items, such as a boombox, and a mixer (for margaritas). We love her for it of course, and she even brings a delightful fruit called Pejibaye (sp?) that is eaten with mayonnaise...don't ask. Our first Costa Rican night evolves into a music-filled event, with plenty of beers and multiple trips to the licorera for some Cuervo; a great start to our trip, dare I say an awesome first night. A surefire sign of things to come.
Clarity
There are moments in our lives that clearly define us and maybe even elevate us to another level of being. For some these events can range from the birth of a child, to getting "that" promotion, scoring a role in a movie, getting married, becoming a recording artist, surviving an illness, climbing Everest. Notice a pattern here? These are all tangible things, usually dependent on another person or a chain of events. But...what if that instance of ascendance, that moment of je ne se quois, happens outside of this realm. What if it happens, when you least expect it...? A sudden flash of emotions overwhelming the spirit, and in that instant, knowing that you've reached the edge; inherently knowing that you've gone farther than you ever have. For most of us, events such as these are rare. Humanity's defining trait after all, is our dependence on one another. We saw this after 911; how the world reached out, and embraced itself telling those suffering from pain, loss or simply shock - you are not alone.
Yet, what if alone in your house, one day, while sifting through old cd's, watching the snow fall...it hits you. A sense of heightened awareness, of control, of command. Everything changes. Clarity. What triggers it? Perhaps we all seek it in some form or shape, or rather wait for an event to take place, to finally recognize it. "You take the blue pill - the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe what you want to believe. You take the red pill - you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes."
Not as far from the truth as we might think...
Yet, what if alone in your house, one day, while sifting through old cd's, watching the snow fall...it hits you. A sense of heightened awareness, of control, of command. Everything changes. Clarity. What triggers it? Perhaps we all seek it in some form or shape, or rather wait for an event to take place, to finally recognize it. "You take the blue pill - the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe what you want to believe. You take the red pill - you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes."
Not as far from the truth as we might think...
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