Feliz Ano Nuevo! I noticed people were drinking in line at the mercato on New Year's Eve day as they waited in the checkout line. I shuffled off to the beach after stocking up on Imperial Silver, what the ex-pats like to call Corona Tico, and margarine (I saw no butter), flour and baking chocolate to make brownies, and I saw these fellows in the road, having a swell time roughhousing, opening their mouths, baring their teeth, putting their faces together as though that were starting position. Then, they twirled and flipped each other like smackdown. I watched and tried to lure them into peaceful negotiations with a banana, but at the end of the tussle, one went off to his drain pipe, and the other stayed at the pipe near my house.
At the beach I watched the macho male ex-pats saw and machete big pieces of wood and then build an enormous log cabin like construct for their bonfire. There was so much strutting and whacking and hauling and chopping that I had to photograph them, but by the time I returned in the evening, the construction had grown to four times this size! A man from Melbourne, Florida, who, I was told, was
a Hazmat guy, filled two cups with chlorine crystals, poured brake fluid over each and set them at the base of the cabin and waited for the chemical reaction to start the fire; it was slow, and people were impatient at 9:30 at night; some or most were already very drunk. Someone threw a match in, and the fire swooshed to light, spewing white tails into the air as the chemical reaction resulted in two heaven explosions! It was loud, hot and dramatic. Vanessa, age 4, and her 18 month old brother, Sebastian, were gleeful but so, so tired. We all sat in those chairs we used to cart around for soccer games and watched as the flames lapped up all the innerds of the log cabin and began to leap up and over the top of the building. Before 10, I'd had it, trying to make conversation with people who were more interested in drinking than talking, and I really didn't want to drink more than the one "Corona Tico" I'd had, so I came home where these little friends greeted me, as they have every night this week. They seem to want me as their friend, which I find flattering, so I am trying to respect them to the best of my ability.
a Hazmat guy, filled two cups with chlorine crystals, poured brake fluid over each and set them at the base of the cabin and waited for the chemical reaction to start the fire; it was slow, and people were impatient at 9:30 at night; some or most were already very drunk. Someone threw a match in, and the fire swooshed to light, spewing white tails into the air as the chemical reaction resulted in two heaven explosions! It was loud, hot and dramatic. Vanessa, age 4, and her 18 month old brother, Sebastian, were gleeful but so, so tired. We all sat in those chairs we used to cart around for soccer games and watched as the flames lapped up all the innerds of the log cabin and began to leap up and over the top of the building. Before 10, I'd had it, trying to make conversation with people who were more interested in drinking than talking, and I really didn't want to drink more than the one "Corona Tico" I'd had, so I came home where these little friends greeted me, as they have every night this week. They seem to want me as their friend, which I find flattering, so I am trying to respect them to the best of my ability.
The Galloper has betrayed me already. The door on my side doesn't open from the inside, so I rely on powering down the window, opening the door and then rolling the window back up before I turn off the motor. Now the power window on my side doesn't work. AND today I filled up the diesel tank and had the man check the oil; I needed to containers of oil, and all together filling the tank and putting in the oil cost $70!!!
Retire in Costa Rica, you ask? Who the heck could afford it???
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