So I finally got my act together and took some pictures of the place I currently call home.  Here is the grand tour:

The kitchen/dining room with Krysta cooking something delicious.  You can also peek into the laundry room from this angle, the laundry room that now, thanks to our sweet neighbor friend, holds a fully functioning dryer.

Do an about face and you are looking through our walkway/office into the living room.

Up the stairs now.  Here is Cailah's lovely room, well part of it anyway.

And over to Krysta's room.  Please take note of all the various shades of lavender.

Here is a portion of the view from the aforementioned perch outside of Krysta's window.

And this is my room.  Please notice the cheery wall color and the ridiculous lamp I purchased for $3.  

And try to ignore the makeshift vanity table, I am improvising with these beautiful bins until something better and yet affordable comes along.

This here is my version of the Bird's wall o' bits.  If you look closely you're likely to see your face up there, or something you wrote me, or made me, or gave me.  And if you don't, well then take a picture of yourself, write me something, make something, just send me anything so that I can add it to my wall and think of you daily.

I would also like to note that in addition to our dryer being operational two other exciting changes have occurred around this house in the past couple of weeks.  1.)  Thanks to Mr. Jeff Dixon our upstairs toilet now flushes and fills all on its own.  2.)  And once again as a result of our potbellied, retired and oh so kind neighbor, we can not only shower with hot water, but we can do so while the fridge is still plugged in.  Amazing.  Also amazing, how this neighbor man laughs at my inability to speak or comprehend the Spanish language.  How he laughs heartily and cups my chubby cheeks, just as if I were his 2 year old granddaughter first learning to speak.  

I am currently, at this very moment, sitting on my favorite perch - the seat sized windowsill outside of Krysta’s bedroom window. With my feet resting upon our roof, my back against the window frame, and my eyes scanning the neighborhood and the green mountains encasing it, this sitting and staring has become a ritual.

About a week ago I packed a bag and took myself on a trip to the beach. Manuel Antonio was the place. And here are my thoughts, as recorded in my rambling journal at the end of that first day away, August 26…

Stale sheets and a sticky body. Can sheets be stale? For surely these ones are. Can a body be sticky immediately following a cold shower? I tell you the answer is yes. Stale and Sticky. These are currently my two primary physical sensations. The third being the feel of an occasional breeze that blows in my face and through these pages thanks to the fan at my feet. And fourth, fourth is a full stomach and relaxed muscles. I suppose that is five.

Today I arrived in Manuel Antonio and am currently writing this from my room at Sol y Mar Hostel. Let us start at the beginning shall we? For memories sake. I left my house around 7:30am to catch the bus. Hugging Krysta, (for she is a tactile person) waving to Cailah (for she is not) and locking the gate behind me, I said goodbye. The bus from Desamparados to San Jose was crowded during this morning’s rush hour. And it was hot. I made the fatal mistake of sitting on the sunny side of the bus – and man that ball of fire was relentless. I was dripping sweat and embarrassed as I took a glimpse at the Ticas occupying the bus: with their large earrings and painted faces, none of them even looked warm, not even a little damp. I continued to wipe my brow, neck and upper lip on repeat.

Arriving in San Jose I made my way to the Coca Cola bus station. Through the park, right, left on central, and to the end of the walking path. Many blocks later I see the anticipated McDonalds, now do I turn right before or after this McDonalds? Hmm…unclear. I decide before is the better option. I walk awhile, searching for some massive or neon sign with block letters spelling out C-o-c-a C-o-l-a. This does not appear. Just as I begin to feel I am wandering aimlessly I see some buses. Good. Head that way. And just as my hope had appeared it was immediately lost. Now I am officially done for. The bus station is more like a central market. And really I do love me some good market perusing, but not when the product I am looking for is a bus that leaves in minutes. I walk up and down the street to no avail, I then turn into the market, a labyrinth of stores, sellers and stalls, I pop out on the other side. I am lost. And once again I am sweating. As I shuffle in circles all I can hear are the calls of men as I pass and the voice in my head reciting the guidebook, “The Coca Cola bus terminal is one of the most dangerous parts of San Jose, located in the red light district.” Desperate, I ask someone (my language of choice some strange sort of spanglish) she points, I drag my feet, ask another, I turn right, and ask another…Finally. Found it. Buy my ticket, make it on the bus, and thank goodness. I am on my way.

Approximately four hours later (spent dozing, reading, enjoying the lush green passing by my open window) I am in Quepos. Taxi to Sol y Mar, and I have arrived. The owner of the hostel, a tiny Tica who immediately calls me friend, shows me my room and gets me orientated. At this point there is no electricity, which equals no fan, which equals stifling. So I take a cold shower, get on the ol' swimsuit and catch the bus to the beach.

my hostel room.

I didn’t go out to the Peninsula, didn’t go into the national park. No, no that’s saved for tomorrow. Today I just went to the public beach and sat myself down. For hours I read my book. Drank my water. Ate my apple. Enjoyed the interspersed rainfall. Played in the warm waves. And walked along the shoreline.

yes, that is a sloth.

and this is manuel antonio.

When the sun started to sink I explored the market and made my way back to the bus stop. After another cold and welcomed shower I once again headed back to the bus stop. I saw a restaurant along the ride home that looked inviting – outdoor seating overlooking the jungle of trees and the ocean. Why not treat myself? As I sat waiting for the bus, and waiting for the bus, and waiting for the bus, my confidence began to wane. Minute after minute it withered until when the bus finally did arrive most of my excitement had died. Wilted, my head hung down low as I gave into feelings of embarrassment. Feeling foolish for being alone I had the urge to turn around and hide in my room for the night. Luckily my resolve and my hunger made me push through. I went to the restaurant, called El Avion, and it was incredible. Once I got over myself and simply let my self-consciousness go, the tension melted and I began to enjoy myself. So after a glass of wine, some seared tuna steak, a cup of delicious Costa Rican coffee and three waiter friends later, I was feeling pretty great. So glad I forced myself to dine alone. To make it a dinner that counts – soaking in my surroundings and lingering over coffee. The waiters invited me to some club as I was leaving, “It’s ladies night,” “You’ll be taken care of,” “See you there!” I laughed as one tried to wave goodbye and ran (literally ran) into a table – causing an uproar from his friends.

Back to the bus stop. I read Isabel Allende while waiting. As I struggled to unlock my door back at the hostel, tiny Tica called out “Como Esta?” “Locked out” I replied. She laughed, “Oh Muchacha…” and came over to give me a tutorial on locking and unlocking doors. After inquiring about my plans for the evening I told her I was staying in, at which point she responded, “No! You should go out, it’s ladies night!” “I know,” I laughed, “But I don’t want to go alone.” “I don’t either,” she instantly replied, “we’ll go together, not to get drunk, no no I don’t do that, either do you, just for some beer.” I wish you could see how beautiful and earnest this woman was, how sincere she was in her offer. It kind of broke my heart to tell her no. Perhaps if I had a friend with me I would have gone, or perhaps if I were my carefree friend Victoria Whaley I would have said yes. But for now, I feel quite content with the shape my day has taken. Yes. A discoteca may have simply pushed me over the edge.

Goodnight.

August 11, 2009

Walking out of the airport I followed Krysta’s directions and turned right, (“it is less crowded” she explained over the phone).  Before I could make it through the glass doors I saw her face.  On the tip of her toes she waved her hands above the heads of the crowd, smiling and calling hello.  We met in the swarm of people and with a hug she took my bag and led me to the car.  The drive through San Jose was filled with chatter, updates, excitement and a tinge of nervousness as I took in my new surroundings.  After a pit stop at the Janzens (a family working with Krysta and Cailah) where I met several new people and we picked up Cailah, we were on our way home. 

Home has a huge gate with a series of locks that need to be opened to gain access.  Home is in a neighborhood through windy streets that I am convinced I will never be able to navigate successfully.  Home seems to be massive:  two stories, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a laundry room, storage room, kitchen, dining room and living room.  The walls of this home are painted every color imaginable, in no apparent order.  This new home of mine has lots of character.  The shower never gets too warm, and sometimes it just doesn’t get hot at all.  It is electrical, so to avoid a short we must not forget to unplug the fridge before we shower.  And to plug it back in when finished…this is important!  The water gauge on the upstairs toilet needs to be manually turned on after each flush and back off once the tank is full.  And never, never, put toilet paper in the toilet, just don’t do it.  The windows upstairs display views of lush green mountains and colorful houses stacked like building blocks.  And when the front and back doors are open, a breeze plays gently and wonderfully throughout my new home.

Getting a tour I follow Krysta and Cailah upstairs to my room.  The walls are baby blue and there is a bed made especially for me, built by a person I have never met it has been awaiting my arrival.  The newly bought mattress is dressed up in sheets and blankets of Krysta’s, on loan until I can purchase my own.  Lying on the pillow is a postcard of Costa Rica, a welcome note from my new roommates.  In the corner, tucked against the wall, is a blue bin covered with fabric of paisley print.  Placed carefully atop is a green olive oil bottle serving as a vase, a vase for a daisy whose white open face greets me when I enter.  Treats of chocolate and dried fruit lay by its side.  This room has been cleaned and scrubbed, it has been carefully and lovingly prepared for me, it is simple and it is beautiful…and I love it.

Today we did something that made this house our own.  Paint.  We painted the kitchen, laundry room and arches leading into the living room.  Covering tan, white, orange and a dark forest green we cut the color selection down from four to two.  It is now a combination of “Lime Burst” and what looks like a chocolate milk shake.  It is very Andes Mints.  And it looks delicious. 

And tonight Krysta and I did something I have been looking forward to for months:  a long conversation over a cup of hot tea.  Sitting in our new kitchen, the walls still drying around us, and the furniture along with our bodies all huddled together at the center, we sat, sipped and spoke.  It feels good to be here.

California Dreams...

And this is the last one.  The last photo tour chronicling the months leading to the present. After L'abri and traveling Europe a bit, we are now in California in the month of May.  I had the joy of spending this month exploring the Golden State with my dear friend Helen.  It was so fun to be a tourist in California, we tried to experience all it has to offer.  Which I was reminded... is a whole lot.

This was our mode of transportation and in many ways our home.

Making s'mores in Arroyo Grande.

Doing something on the beach in Pismo.  

(dancing?  jumping?  unclear...)

Kayaking in Morro Bay.  Which, by the way, is so much harder than it looks.

This is where our kayak took us... sand dunes.

We drove and walked around the beautiful Montana de Oro.

Then we headed down to Santa Barbara for Westmont's graduation.  Here is the bird and I post-graduation ceremony.

Lauren, me, Helen and Linnea for a picnic at the park with Lauren's family to celebrate her graduation.  yippee!!

Then, because of Nease family connections, we got to take a yacht (yeah, I said a yacht) out into the Pacific.  We saw seals and dolphins.  Quite successful.

Down to Los Angeles.  The Getty.

The Hollywood sign seen through the smog from a gas station.  So glamorous.

Helen and the Village People.  I can't even explain to you how excited she was about this.

Disneyland!!!

The whole family was there.

And it was SO much fun.

Bubby and AP snuggled on the Matterhorn.

And the girls got ears.

Next we continued on south to Lauren's hometown of San Diego.  Here we are at the cliffs watching the surfers and the sunset.

 

And here is Helen petting Lauren's dog Sasha.  Which if you know Helen, you know this is a big deal.  For some reason the friendly fluffy Sasha fell outside of Helen's general fear of dogs.

A night out in San Diego.

And then we headed north again.  We stopped in Long Beach for a couple of days and stayed with the incredible Jason and Marta Jones.  Sadly, I have no pictures.  But the highlight of Long Beach had to be Helen's reaction to experiencing her first earthquake.  After the trembling stopped she began bouncing in her seat and excitedly offered high fives all around.  

Then it was Six Flags.  Which was great because the lines weren't too bad and we both love roller coasters.  But which was not so great because of the 100 degree weather.  I had to actively focus on keeping my complaining about the heat down to a minimum.

And then... Sky Diving!!!

Somewhere in between San Diego and Long Beach we got to talking about how we both went through a period of creating lists of "things we want to do before we die."  We were agreeing how these lists are kind of silly and how their content would have changed drastically from then to now.  But we discovered that one thing we both had on our list, and both still had a desire to do, was sky dive.  So...we did it.  

Back in Arroyo Grande.  Expressing our love for the place.

We then took a drive up the scenic and famous highway 1.  Going at a leisurely pace, stopping frequently to simply stare, it took us the full day, 7 hours, to get to Monterey.  One of our first stops:  The Elephant Seals!

This is Harry.  He is the man who created this beautiful arrangement of flowers alongside of the 1.  He was a cute old gentleman who told us sweetly, "geez, I think I may love you both."  The feeling is mutual Harry, it's mutual.

 

One of the sights in Big Sur.

And here we are in Monterey.  Walking along the wharf posing with the plethora of statues / carved inanimate objects.

We also went to the Aquarium and explored Canary Row of course.

We then continued our journey North heading to San Francisco.

Here we are toasting ourselves in the luxury of the St. Regis Hotel.  

Thank you dad.  And thank you points!

Helen insisted that we take this picture with flowers in our hair.  Fulfilling her dream of living the lyrics "if you're going to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair."  So we rummaged through the weeds and made it happen.

This is just before going to a show at the Independent.  Ever heard of the band the Dears?  We hadn't either.  You probably shouldn't bother.  But we still had a good time.

Back down to Fresno and then a day trip to Yosemite!

They're cute.

So we went up to this place called Glacier Point, it is supposedly absolutely beautiful.  But because of the cloud coverage, the raging thunder storm and the amazing static electricity in our hair, we didn't really take in much of the view.  We spent a good 30 minutes simply looking at each other and laughing at the ridiculous sight.  We then became part of the attraction, tourists were asking to take pictures of our rising hair.  It was hilarious.

And that was our trip, which was officially entitled:  California Dreams, after a television show Helen watched growing up in Scotland.  She sang the theme song frequently, often to my embarrassment.  This month of California travel was an incredible time, one that I did not want to end.  When it was time for Helen to leave it was quite traumatic.  Because who knows when I will see her again, and after living together and being connected at the hip for the past 7 months, quitting cold turkey seemed like a horrendous idea.  And, also, because her departure seemed to truly mark the end of a chapter.  L'abri is over and I am forced to move on, to look ahead and to take new steps.  And that is what I am trying to do.