Looks Like I'll Make It

I ran into a little problem on the border between Ecuador and Colombia, and thought I just might not make it.  Turns out that when I went to Immigration at the Ecuadorian border, the Ecuadorian side did not stamp my passport nor register that I was back in the country.  Which made me illegal.  Which means against the law.  On the Peruvian border, the immigration officer told me I didn't need another one, because I still have time on my old stamp.  It seemed strange, sure, but it was the middle of the night, I was mostly asleep, and I was trying to deal at the same time with an Israeli who didn't get an exit from Peru and desperately needed my help with translation.  

SO, today, when I showed up to check out of Ecuador, they said that they had to turn me in for being in the country illegally.  And that it costs a lot to get out of a situation like that.  They said $200.  

So, the negotiation starts at $200.  But here's the deal - as you may have seen in my last post, I ain't got no $200.  I don't have $2.  Or do I?

I pleaded.  I begged in spanish, and I said again and again how I didn't have any money.  I told them I had just enough to get to Cali and pay my exit tax.  I told them how I couldn't even afford a place to stay tonight, or I wouldn't be able to get out of Colombia.  And I BEGGED.  

But it didn't work.  They held my passport.  They wouldn't return it.  So finally, I said to the guy, okay.  He took me to the back room.  There, I told him that I could part with $10, and that's it.  Really that's it.  I haven't eaten in the past 36 hours because of my stomach, which has saved me some cash.  And so $10 I could actually afford.  And he agreed that it was enough to pay my fine.  Note: It absolutely was to pay a legitimate fine, and was in no way a bribe.  At no time have I ever or will I ever offer bribes to government officials in any country, nor would the fine people at the Ecuadorian migration office accept one.  

Bastards.    

And so he gave me my passport.  And he gave me an exit stamp (which will be interesting to see what happens next time I go to Ecuador with two exits and only one entrance).  

BUT, I'm on my way.  I'm back in Colombia, the place of my birth.  I'm hanging out in the border town of Ipiales for a couple of hours, waiting for a late enough bus to get me into Cali in at least some daylight.  I just ate a quarter chicken - my first meal in 36 hours.  It was awesome, and my stomach seems like it might handle it.  I also haven't had any water.  I had to be on busses for 7 hours or so, with no toilets, so I didn't want to upset and potential balance I had in my belly.  And I made it.  I'm getting on another bus in an hour or so, and should be in Cali as the sun rises.  I'm legal, I've got enough cash to get out of the country, and I've got a ticket that will get me damn close to the airport.  All of these things were weighing on my mind as I left Quito (those and the little stomach problems I was having) - and now I can just relax, get some water, and enjoy the cruise north.  

REALLY LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING BACK TO COSTA!

Right Now - 29/8/09 3:47 PM

Right, well, I guess I didn't learn my lesson about the food.  Or maybe it was taking a shot of scorpion infused firewater.  Or maybe it is just life.  But I'm sick again.  This time no fever yet, but man my stomach is messed up.  But I look pretty tough with this bruise/gash on my face from two nights ago.  I look like I could mess you up.  But I can't.  Not with these dainty wrists.  

I'm in Quito.  I got here at 4:00 AM this morning.  I'm sick of getting places in the middle of the night, really.  I got here, not feeling great, and I was a bit stressed.  I took city busses all the way from the South end of Quito to the airport in the north.  I still didn't have a return flight, and the phone was difficult for two reasons: 1) I don't have the money to both make the phone calls AND make it to the flight; and 2) Copa airlines is retarded.  Maybe they're drunk.  

Anyway, after passing the airport, and then coming back to it, I finally determined that the central office of Copa, in downtown Quito, is the only office that can help me.  AND - they don't open until Monday.  So, I decided to make my way back to old town on some busses to try to find a place to rest, and perhaps find some internet so I can call Copa in the US for free on Skype.  

Right, well, after stealing another $50 from mom's credit card without her permission, I got a flight (thanks Mom) from the phone here at my hostel (Secret Garden in Old Quito).  And I don't have to go all the way to Bogota, which I can't tell you how good that is.  Here's the situation - I don't have the money to BOTH go to Bogota AND pay my departure tax.  I've done some studying online to tell me what my departure tax is, and while the answer varies widely, it seems like it's about $30.  I've got $50 and about $50 in pesos (Colombian variety).  The pesos should get me to Cali and leave approximately $25.  That leaves $5 I have to pay from my US cash.  I'll have to pay $8 to get to Colombia.  I'll have to pay $20 for lodging tonight, dinner tonight, and breakfast this morning and tomorrow morning.  Four meals between breakfast tomorrow and my flight (assuming two meals a day), each at $4, is $16.  That leaves me with - wait for it - $1.  $1 when I get on the plane.  Wow.  WOW.  Wow.  Wow.  Let's hope the tax isn't $32.  Maybe I can make it without dinner tonight. 

Regardless, in spite of my stomach and my absolutely horrendous money planning - both worldly concerns, I know - I'm in good spirits.  Mom, I got some pedialyte at the pharmacy, so I'll get all my electrolytes back.  I'm going to go lay down and watch a movie.  Haven't done that in a while.  

OH!  On the stairs between the first and second floors is a quote from Einstein, which I felt was right in line with Steve's comment the other day.  I never think about the future - it comes soon enough.  

Montanita - Meaning: Awesome

So, I guess what I really needed was just to get silly drunk.  And by silly drunk, I mean stupid drunk.  And by stupid drunk, I mean retarded drunk.  Awesome.  Let’s see some highlights:

• Rum and cokes to start at the hostel with the leftover rum from Alausi that has crossed the Peruvian border – twice. 
  
• Pizza and beer dinner with three Canadians and four German girls. 
  
• “Flaming Ecuador” shots with the gang.  The bartender rewarded me with a shot from a bottle filled with aguardiente and, get this, scorpions.  Not kidding you.  Oh, he set it on fire for me too. 
  

Morning after with the bottle of scorpions.  

• A serious danceoff – shirtless – with a local black guy for the affection of three Ecuadorian women. 

• I won.  

• Girls giving me lots of drinks - they drank free so they kept putting their straws to my mouth.  In spite of David's warning, I consumed.  And upon waking up - I still have my corneas.  No lesson learned there.  
• Mostly naked (all male) swimming with the Canadians in a pool at the bar.  Nobody joined us.  My boxer shorts have huge holes in them.  Locals took note.
  

• A dog fight in the bar, followed by an “I got this,”  and me joining the dog fight in an attempt to bite them back.
  
• Another dance off, this time involving the “worm” and a kick to my face - seriously.  And this time on stage.  And this time soaking wet after our swim.  This is when I became legendary, I think.
  

• Bloody face from the kick, and a bloody lip from an Ecuadorian girl with a biting fetish. 
  
• How does one lose a SOCK at a bar?  And just one!  
• Awesomeness.  

 

I’m on the bus on the way to Puerto Lopez, and it’s absolutely beautiful loking over the beaches from up on this small mountain. 

 

I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun in one night.  I think it was Fred’s party with the pink boa back in Marchish.  I had a blast with the Germans and the Canadians, and felt like life-long friends.  This afternoon, as I was heading to the bus stop, a local  that I did not know at all saw me passing and said, “Brian! Estas saliendo? Puedes quedar aqui!”  In other words, people know me.  I’m kind of a big deal. 

 

So, that was fun.  It’s hard leaving all the time though.  But now I’m heading to Quito if I can.  I still don’t have a flight home (that’s a long story), but I think I’ll try just going to the airport in Quito and seeing if they can help me there.  If not, I’ll head on to Colombia I guess, and figure it out there.  

Oh, I'm ridiculously low on money.  Maybe I can sell this Bible.  

Right Now - 28 Aug 1:30 PM

Chilling at an intenet cafe in Montanita. I'm just not feeling good about it here. Strange. The town itself is unattractive to me. It's mostly mud roads and construction. Not a lot of open space to just chill, other than on the beach. It's heavily overcast, and a little too chilly for the beach. Surfing doesn't really look like an option today.

I've got a lot weighing on my mind. Jake is sick. I have to try to change my flight back to Oklahoma. I have to book a ticket back to Costa Rica. I kinda wish I had chosen to go south with Marion. I miss Alex and the Irish with whom I had a blast yesterday in Mancora. I miss being grounded. I've lost a bit of my sense of adventure.

Maybe I am a bit depressed because I feel like I am taking steps back instead of forward. Maybe I am worried about what will happen at the beginning of October. I feel frequently these days like I have to figure out my life before making each individual decision. For example - the decision to go to Machu Picchu. I'm considering moving for a short period back to Oklahoma - at least to make it a home base for whatever I might do next (Nepal? Islands?). If I do that, then it makes sense to make the move when I go back at the end of September. And to that, I have to get everything arranged for Jake. Which takes time. Which I wouldn't have if I went to Machu Picchu.

I think really I am just tired. I'm in a place where really the thing to do is party at night, and I don't party that much these days. Especially when I am tired. I'm more inclined, really, to just pack up and take off. But to where?

This is another one of those lost days. Trying to tackle everything at once, and everything intellectually. Guess I need to spend some time alone. But that's hard too. I guess it's time to book a flight home.

Umm, Still Peru

So, as it turns out, I didn't quite make it out of Peru last night.  Alex, a friend I met in Banos, arrived in Mancora yesterday or the day before, and in spite of being very sick the night before, I hung out with him for a while yesterday.  And towards the afternoon, I was just not in the mood to move on, either north or south.  Feeling a lot better at the time, I just didn't want to get in a bus quite yet.  

I moved to a new hostel last night, and the difference between the two is as great as the difference between my last two nights.  In NAIF, the first hostel, I had a private room and bathroom in a very small, family run hostel with a nice little kitchen, a young daughter running around with her friends, and more hammocks than guests.  While I enjoyed it immensely, my final night there was borderline delirious with the fever (maybe over the border), and consisted of me shivering in bed or shivering in the bathroom for the better part of the night.  Loki, on the other hand - a name that has particular importance to me - was quite the opposite of the tranquilo atmosphere provided by NAIF.  The building is beautiful (as you can see here), with a large swimming pool, a big bar, pool table, ping pong, table soccer, volleyball, and perhaps 100 or more guests lounging in posh resort style.  I shared a room with 5 other people, and struggled to get some sleep over the heavy beats being played in the open bar/pool area after hanging out with some Germans until 1:00 AM.  While 1 AM doesn't exist at NAIF, it's early at this hostel, and is the time when may here go out to party somewhere else.  

In any event, I am still in Peru.  I met a couple girls from Germany last night that are headed to Ecuador today, and thought I might join them at least for the bus ride.  I'm guessing I'll head to Montanita overnight tonight, and perhaps spend a day or two there, and then head up to Cali and Bogota to catch a flight home.  I'm down to well under $100, and have about $40 worth of busses, perhaps, to get back to Colombia.  Then another $40 to get to Bogota - but I still have some Colombian pesos for that.  So, perhaps I have $50 left. That may last three days, but, wow, hrmm, this is cutting it close.  

Okay, so another day in Peru, and then north.  As far as you know. 

Note: You can't see here.  Internet connection sucks butt.  

Peru

Sunrise in Mancora.

Surf Peru - Check. 

So, a few days ago, when Alex, Ferne, and I got to Cuenca, we were planning on spending at least a night or two in Cuenca.  But something happened when we got to the bus terminal in Cuenca.  We checked on buses heading out, and all of us ended up buying tickets to leave Cuenca that night.  They went on south to Loja and Vilcabamba, and I traveled west and south to the Peruvian border.  Bus leaves at 9, it was only about 2, so we headed into Cuenca for a look around and some food (again, no burgers south of Cuenca), and back to the bus terminal to catch my 9 o'clock.  

I know this may sound a bit like a repeat of my border crossing into Ecuador, but I met an awesome French girl at the bus terminal in Cuenca as we were boarding the bus to Mancora.  Marion is down in South America after a friend's wedding in Guayaquil, Ecuador.  She's going to travel a bit through Peru before heading back to France next month.  She and I hit it off immediately, and were almost friends by the time we reached Mancora at, get this, 4:30 AM.  This marks the second time I found myself in a small town in a new country for the first time in the middle of the night with a girl from Paris without a place to go.  Strange, huh? 

So we took at mototaxi (tuctuc) to a hostel we had heard of, and after negotiating for a room, decided to just sleep a couple of hours in a hammock until daylight and then find a place to stay the following night.  After minimal sleep, Marion and I left for a walk to the beach just before sunrise to find some breakfast.  This town is beautiful.  It's dry - a real desert climate much dryer than I had imagined.  The sun is really hot, but the breeze that blows off the water is very cool.  There are quite a few tourists here, both from Peru and from away, but it's absolutely not even close to overwhelming like Jaco might be (and Jaco is nothing compared to most resort towns in the world).  The one main street is paved, littered with tuctucs everywhere, while all other roads, like the one by the beach, is made of sand.  There are beautiful women, hippies, Europeans, surfers, kiteboarders, sunbathers, and partiers.  But not many of each.  

NAIF Hostel. 

Yesterday I surfed a 6:30 AM session and a 2 PM session.  Peru marks my third country to surf in - behind Costa and Nicaragua.  The waves aren't huge (no big swell these days), but the point break is a lot of fun, although a bit crowded.  I find it easier to surf here, as the waves seem to wall up a bit better than in Oeste, even when they are small.  I surfed on a 6'8", which isn't very small, but is the smallest I have ever surfed, and I did really well.  Wetsuit in the morning, but only board shorts in the hot afternoon sun.  It was an absolutely wonderful experience.  I was a little nervous at first around a lot of new people, but quickly got in the swing of things and caught a good 10 waves or so yesterday.  Some over head-high.  Sweet.  

Me getting off the back of a waste-high in Peru. 

Marion and I have had the most wonderful conversations over the past few days.  We spent about exactly 72 hours together, and all of it together, with the exception of the few hours of sleep for the two nights.  She has challenged me completely, but at the same time we have helped each other to look at life, and living, from different perspectives.  I have absolutely loved connecting with her - however short lived it was.  

Marion left for Lima last night, as I suffered most of the night with what turned into a horrible fever.  While I have been pretty sure I would head south for the past couple of days, I think it's time I head back north.  I love the idea of going to Machu Picchu.  But I think I'm tired.  I miss my dog.  I miss Costa.  I miss Oklahoma.  It's only been a couple of weeks, I know, but I think it's time to start my adventure back north.  So tonight I will catch a bus, most likely back into Ecuador, and see if I can't catch a wave there back to Costa Rica, and then on to Oklahoma.  

For Better and For Worse

A good friend of mine told me today that she gets upset because people never write on Facebook or in their blogs about the bad times.  Generally, it's only pictures on Facebook of smiles and beautiful sunsets.  So, tonight, I am writing because this is one of those bad times.  

Not that it's all bad.  I am in a beautiful place... still in Mancora in Peru.  The place I am staying, while ridden with mosquitos, is a beautiful little hippy place.  I'll write all about the last three days in the morning.  But for now, I am writing because I am sick.  And it hurts.  

I have been doing the opposite of being careful with what I eat down here.  I have been careless, tempting fate every chance I get.  Ceviche of all varieties, fruits out of the mercado, juices made from small town water - you name it.  And somewhere along the way over the past couple of days, I found something that is haunting me.  It started yesterday with bad stomach cramps.  This morning, it turned to diarrhea and nausea.  Then this afternoon, the fever hit.  Accompanied by cold sweats and serious body aches, it has pretty much knocked me down.  Faced this morning with the question of going north or south on a bus, I now have no option.  

So my body hurts.  Everywhere.  If it weren't for the stomach cramps, it would feel like the onset of dengue.  But I know it's just the fever causing the pain, and the fever is surely related to whatever is happening in my stomach.  In a way, this buys me some time alone.  I've been spending the last three days with a very cool new friend, who took off for Lima tonight, and haven't spent any time with myself.  And so, like the yellow fever vaccination, this illness allows me to see an opportunity at the same time it forces me into it.    

And so I will lay here tonight, perhaps blog if I can not sleep, but likely stare at the swarm of mosquitos above me looking for any opportunity at exposed skin, thinking about which way the bus might take me tomorrow.  Torn between north and south, solo or with a friend.  Tonight, though, as usual, the decision was was in the hands of the universe, not mine.  

Banos to Alausi

On the road to Alausi. 

Hostel Panamericano Detail

The morning after our excellent bike ride, I hiked up the mountain next to Banos to get a great view from a lookout point called Bellavista.  The hike was a little much after the exertion the day before towing that crazy Australian damn near to Amazonia, and my back has been really bothering me since.  But that's no matter.  

We, being Alex, Ferne, and myself, representing three continents of English speaking countries, headed south a couple-three hours (thanks to Maine for the term "couple-three") to a city called Riobamba, which may be the fourth largest city in Ecuador, for all you know.  Our intention was to catch a train to a magical place called El Nariz del Diablo, or "Candy Mountain" in English.  All the guide books mention it, and for good reason.  It's the only interesting thing about Riobamba.  And it's not that interesting.  As it turned out, though, they were sold out from Riobamba, which was good news, because it meant we didn't have to stay there.  

And MORE good news... we could catch a train to the same magic Candy Mountain from a much closer and cheaper spot in Alausi.  And so we had a quick bite to eat and headed back to the bus station for another couple-three hours to Alausi.  

Side note:  On the train to Alausi, the bus stopped for a couple of dozen traditionally dressed Ecuadorians to board the bus and crowd the aisles.  The women still wear the clothing you see in the pictures; I was amazed!  Hats of varying styles.  Four or five layers on top, covered with a very brightly colored shawl.  Half a dozen skirts, with an equally brightly colored top skirt, sometimes with some lacy stuff towards the bottom.  And crazy wool socks pulled up to the knees.  But here's the thing, and I mean no disrespect; they smelled of rotten-onion trout.  I didn't even know rotten-onion trouts existed until I smelled them, and I kid you not, I am still smelling it today.  But I digress.  

After quickly finding perhaps the most meager accommodations I have ever had the pleasure of paying good money to lay my head in (and yet still considerably better than the house I lived in for the past 10 months), we toured Alausi in the dark, assuming we would be leaving the next day after our train treat.  And as it turns out, Alausi is absolutely beautiful.  I can not describe how magical the town park and church are after sunset in this 5000 person Andean gem (do I sound like a guidebook yet?).  I'll include a picture here so you can describe it yourself.  The whole town is magical, though, from the cobblestone streets, to the $2 big ass breakfasts, to the mix of traditional and modern dress and customs, to the old western movie style train station and balcony doors, to the gigantic statue of San Pedro, the patron saint of patron saints.  

Boys around the age of 7 to 9 run the streets covered in soot asking REPEATEDLY to shine your shoes.  I named one Pedro, and he and I had a great conversation consisting of him starting with "Something in Spanish that probably means shoe shine", and my response of "No gracias."  And then repeat.  Not a dozen times, but hundreds.  Eventually, we cracked little Pedro, and his smile beamed.  He enjoyed the game enough to bring friends back the next morning, and we finally cracked and gave them a dime or several to pose for the picture shown here.  Pedro is the one with his arms around two other boys.  Love those little guys.  Taught them to say "dirty shoes" in English.  Best of luck my friends.  

So we went and saw the Devil's Nose on a train.  Meh.  At it's best.  If you've done everything else in Ecuador and have lost your passport and therefore can not leave, you should do the train ride to Devil's Nose.  Or just lay on the tracks and wait for the train... that may be better.  

Afterward, we decided to drink our dinner in our penthouse, which was fun, and left us with nice little hangovers for the next day when I, again, changed my mind last minute and decided to head south to Cuenca, instead of out to the Ecuadorian beaches to the west, keeping the Three Amigos together for at least a few more hours, and seriously testing my cash reserves.  At the time of boarding, I had no idea where I would go from Cuenca, but Peru was weighing heavily on my mind.  So - close - to - Peru.  Must - go - to - Peru.  Doesn't that make it sound heavy?  I won't tell you how this turned out, but I'll give you a little teaser...  Da-da-da-da!!!  I'm in Peru!  But you knew that already.  Because I want my next blog to be about my trip to Peru and my first day here, I'm going to skip Cuenca with just this... Absolutely beautiful.  I don't like big cities, but if you are going to go to one, go to Cuenca (Ecuador's third largest city, as far as you know).  But avoid the burgers from this point south.  

Tomorrow's blog - PERU!  Neat.  Am I the only one excited about this?  Oh, don't get your hopes up; I'm still in the range of 40ish hours from Machu Pichu, and don't even have the money for the bus to get there and back.  

Right Now - 23/8/09 5:50 PM

Just a quick note - Peru is beautiful.  I'm at a sweet little hippy hostel right on the beach on the North coast.  It happens to have WiFi, so I'll blog tonight about the last few days of adventure.  Life is wonderful.  Can't find my razor.  

Right Now 22 Aug 2009 717 PM

I´m sitting in a little internet shop in Cuenca, Ecuador´s third largest city. I just arrived here by bus this afternoon, and plan on leaving tonight. The city is absolutely fantastic, and I would have very much liked to have stayed, but have already bought my next ticket when I was at the terminal earlier.

I´ve had an absolutely wonderful few days. I honestly feel great. I´ve been joyful the vast majority of the time, laughing at things that aren´t funny, smiling frequently at nothing at all. Just smiling.

Right now, my back is killing me. After the bike ride and then hike the following morning, which I will blog about soon, my disc started acting up again. But I feel physically excellent. I have quit smoking. I did cheat and have two cigarettes, but only two in the past week or more. I haven´t been drinking much, likely due to the lack of money. I feel strong.

I did start running into some intellectual questions about this spiritual path I seem to be on. They´re not really new, but I think that they are hitting me in a new way. I wrote this in my journal the other day...

... I feel a little lost today. Where´s the meaning? Where´s the purpose? If I´m measnt to live in the present, why? Why be happy? How do we accept the end? Or is there no end? And if there is no end, what goal could we have? Ease suffering? Why? Suffering is in the mind, so perhaps we kill the mind? And if we do that, why not kill our bodies too? Even if it was all to get to heaven, or to our lotus leaf, why? What´s there? If we wase all the suffering, then what? Then there´s no suffering to ease. If I haven´t found heaven, how can I say it´s better than hell? Haven´t people claimed to have seen heaven and chosen to return to hell?

Looking back, that passage seems really depressing. But I wasn´t at all depressed, nor am I now. My mind has just taken a step back and wonders why we would ever prefer to be in heaven, where there is no longer purpose. At least when we are in hell, we can have a purpose to get to heaven, or at least to get some AC or some ice cream or something. When you reach the top, which may be where I am going, or where I already am and don´t realize it fully yet, why go on? Does feeing joy and love ever get boring? Does numbing ourselves to our human condition really lead to something better than the hell we are in? If we´re on a rollercoaster and are fully aware, we recognize that the odds of being hurt are ridiculously slim, but if we choose to be blind, we can enjoy the fear and adrenaline from the climbs and falls. Does awareness really lead to something greater?

In the end, I guess there is only one way to find out. And I guess it gives me purpose. And that´s good enough for me.

I´ve started reading the New Testament. Surprisingly, it didn´t catch fire in my hands, nor have I been struck by lightening more than normal. I find the first few chapters of Matthew very much in line with my understanding of my spirituality these days. He argues against worrying about human needs, and instead find spirituality and human needs will be taken care of by themselves. He warns against thought, even. But then Jesus seems to get a little mean and starts threatening people if they don´t follow his lead. And I´m not sure I buy all of his miracles. I´ll write more about it as we go along.

By the way... I don´t quite know how to say this. I don´t really feel bad about it, because I think it was the Gideon´s intention, really, but I stole the Gideon bible from the hostel I stayed in for two nights in Alausi. I can just imagine me getting to the pearly gates, or whatever there is at the entrance to heaven, and God saying something to the effect of, ¨Seriously? You stole the BIBLE! You stole the freakin book in which I told you NOT to steal. No, you can not come in here. Jeezy Creezy, get over here! Get this guy.¨ And of course, Jesus would reply, ¨Stop calling me that! You know I hate it when you call me that.¨ And I guess I´d probably just take a picture and move on. Perhaps it´s for the best.

Did I steal that Jeezy Creezy bit from a Brittish executive transvestite comedian? Man, I gotta stop jacking stuff before it becomes a habit!

Biking Banos to Puyo

Okay, I had an absolutely incredible day today.  First, I woke up, as I had planned.  EXACTLY as I had planned.  I'm not as flaky as I thought.  

Following waking up, I had a steam bath.  This is pretty funny.  For $2.75, you get taken into the steam bath area next to the rooftop terrace.  It's all enclosed, with several small rooms.  You are placed in a wooden box, where you sit and a cover is slid on to the top, with only a small hole for your next to fit through.  And then it gets HOT.  And WET.  You sit there for a few minutes, and just as you're about to pass out, they take you out, and you soak a towel in a bowl being fed by a stream of frigid water for a second before running it up your right side.  Then left.  Then center.  Then right.  Then left.  Then back.  Super cold.  Then repeat.  In one of the repetitions, you replace the toweling with siting down in a running bath of frigid water and rub your abdomen in a circular direction with two fingers for a few minutes.  At the end, you are sprayed off (right side first again) with a hose like a jailor might do to a new inmate.  

It actually felt wonderful.  After that and some delicious breakfast, I bought a pair of socks (that makes two pairs, which is better than one), a plastic poncho, and some water, and headed on a biking voyage through the mountains with Alex, from London, who is now a good friend, and Ferne, from Australia, who is also now a good friend.  It was SPECTACULAR.  Here are some of the pics.  The waterfalls were gorgeous, and the views unparalleled.  After 25 kilometers, though, Alex's chain broke.  So, I bought a five foot piece of rope off of some guy in a nearby house for 50 cents, and tied a lead from my bike to his.  We put Ferne on the bike at the end of the rope, and I towed her to some of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen.  After another 25 km, though, I was dead.  My legs just wouldn't work anymore.  So we had a beer overlooking yet another spectacular section of the river as the sun set, and then caught a bus passing by on the way back to Banos.  

Honestly, it was one of the most wonderful experiences I have ever had.  Again, full of laughs, smiles, and at least for me, love.  I think I'll wake up tomorrow too.  

Banos

Wow.  Been cool.  First, some parting things on Colombia, about things I found neat in Colombia:

• There are armed guards at all the bridges.  That doesn't make me feel safer.  
• You have to wear a vest with your license plate number in huge lettering when you ride on a motorcycle.  They say it's because the FARC and Narcs used to kill people while on motorcycles and nobody could get their license numbers.  Interesting.  
• They love billiards up there.  Tons of pool tables.  Even a little pool hall in the bus station in Bogota.  
• On the bus, there's a digital readout of the speed of the bus where everyone can see.  When it's below 80 m/h, it's green.  Above 80, it turns red.  Above 100, it just says "Alerta, Alerta, Alerta."  That's not really about Colombia, but it was neat.  

Okay, on to the bus ride.  First, a 23 hour bus ride from Bogota to the border town of Ipeales.  That's a long bus ride.  But it was awesome.  I met a totally cool French girl in the Bogota bus station who was also heading towards the border.  Julie has been traveling around the world for the past year, and was heading to Colombia from LA to meet up with some friends from France when she heard that they were still in Ecuador.  So, she was taking a bus from Bogota to meet them in a cool town called Banos, a few hours south of Quito.  By the time we were at the border, we were great friends, and she invited me to come to Banos.  And so I did.  

But on the bus!  GOD did I feel love.  Smiling and laughing randomly as I stared at the countryside.  Even freezing in the middle of the night, I was elated.  And I still feel it.  I sat next to a Ecuadorian from Quito named David, who at one point tried (of course in Spanish) to start converting me to Christianity.  He's a Jehovah's Witness, it turns out.  Later over breakfast, he warned me not to accept drinks or candy from strangers.  That made sense, as they could drug me and rob me of my enormous wealth, but what HE was warning about was them drugging me and robbing me of my LIVER.  And kidneys.  And corneas!  Yeah!  He was sure to let me know that the going rate for a cornea is $20,000 or $30,000 US.  Which is good news!  I'm almost out of money and my corneas are in really good condition.  

So, at another point on the first bus, get this situation... An American (me!) living in Costa Rica sharing some Johnny Walker Blue Label scotch and some conversation in Spanish with a Pakistani living in Paraguay on a bus from Colombia to Ecuador.  How international is THAT?  Very.  That's how.  

So, we got to Ecaudor.  After 22 hours on a bus and a short taxi/collectivo ride.  See picture.  Crossed the border.  Had a good conversation with a border guard checking my bag about two dollar bills.  He was fascinated because a) they freaking use US dollars here (who freaking knew); b) they do not have two dollar bills; and c) he had recently seen one on display somewhere.  He thought it was funny.  We laughed about something.  

Then I got in another taxi/collectivo to the next town, and was just able to get a half chicken to split with Julie before rushing to the next bus that was leaving for Quito.  In THAT bus, nothing exciting happened, really.  Just 5.5 hours or so of Ecuador.  Some good laughing with Julie, a quick view of a wall and some identical buildings in Quito.  We planned to stay at a hostel near the bus station in Quito. 

But as it turns out!  That bus station "no funciona."  It no longer exists as a bus station.  So we went to a new one, that is NOT in the guide book I bought online with mom's credit card.  And it's a long way from pretty much everything.  SO, we got there and a) realized that Ecuadorians generally view South as up, which is why I was so confused talking with David on the bus about the layout of Quito; and b) a bus leaves in 10 minutes to Banos, and we can even have time to buy four beers if we really hurry.  And so we did.  

And finally, at 2AM, 33 hours after I left Bogota, a bus dropped me and Julie off in the dark, on a street, next to what they called a bus station, in a town I'd never been to, in a country I've only taken a few steps in, where it smells like pee (a dog in the cargo hold peed on Julie's bag - not kidding), with nobody on the streets, and without a place to go.  I was on high alert.  Thank god I know ninja.  

There were three hostel signs within view in this 13,000 person town.  Two had big gates shut on the entrance door.  One had three hoodlum looking 15 year old kids in the entrance.  We went for that one.  Turns out they had a room with two beds for $15 - hot water and even a TV.  Perfect.  We crashed.  In the Hostel Don Diego.  It wasn't pretty, and the street was loud with trucks, but I was able to lay vertical and stretch out.  Awesome.  

The next morning we went in search of her friends, who were rumored to be staying at a place called Plantas y Blanco.  So we set out.   The town is only about 10 blocks by 10 blocks.  It's neat.  Plantas y Blanco was only about 7 blocks away.  We found it, they had two beds in a dorm with four other beds and a shared bath.  Cool.  The friends weren't here, but they had been.  

Okay, this is getting long, so I'll bullet:

• Found friends (three French girls), who had found another friend in the jungle (Alex from London).  
• Ate delicious lunch. 
• Went to hot springs bath.  Back and forth between freaking hot mineral baths filled with Ecuadorians and freezing cold shower from beautiful waterfall that I'm looking at now. 
• Delicious pizza for dinner on the brick sidewalk by the center park in front of the church.  Beautiful. 
• Looking from the hostel's rooftop terrace, I saw two boys, perhaps 9 and 11, pee on the street.  And when I say on the street, I mean ON the street.  In the middle of it.  Just stopped in their tracks, whipped it out, and peed in the middle of an intersection about 10 feet apart.  It seemed natural.  Later I saw a guy peeing on a building right by a crowded street.  Sober. Apparently that's in.  
• Meet up for drinks, pool, dancing with another new friend, Jenny, also from London.  Four crazy French girls, a cool young London girl, Alex, Brian, and a slew of others from Spain, Chicago, Switzerland, and of course Ecuador, doing tequila shots and drinking oversized beers while concentrating on the longest games of pool on a tilted table in Ecuador.  Neat.  
• Drunk.  Late.  Night.  Security guard.  Street corner.  Top bunk.  
• I had planned on going either white water rafting or mountain biking today.  But didn't.  
• Excellent conversation with an Aussie who just came over from Venezuela about the spirituality and socialism.  Good timing after just finishing the Celestine Prophecy.  

This town is absolutely awesome.  Hot springs.  Jungle.  Biking.  Bungee.  White water rafting.  TONS of hostels, backpackers, awesomeness.  You should definitely stop by.  If you're in the neighborhood.  

Oh, so the Celestine Prophecy is all about coincidences, and get this.  Five pages before the end of the book, a character exclaims "Onward and Upward!"  Now THAT is strange (read my last blog).  Still don't really know what that means.  

Tomorrow, I plan on waking up.  

Bogota - Ecuador - $40

This is kind fun. I decided this morning over an omelete at some restaurant on the north side of Bogota that I should head to Ecuador. ¿Can anyone offer any insight as to why? GOD I love upside down punctuation.

I´m in the bus terminal in Bogota. It´s cheaper for me to take a 26 hour bus ride to Ecuador, hang out there for a week or two, and then head back than it would be for me to try to travel around Colombia. Colombia is just silly. Going to Ecuador, that´s just crazy. Loco gringo, Jota called me.

So, as it turns out, I´m heading to Ecuador. I got a real yellow fever vaccination yesterday, cancelled my return flight to Costa today, and am catching the longest bus ride of my life in just under and hour. Oh, and when I get to the border, I´ll take a cab into Ecuador, and then have to take another bus for five hours to get to Quito. But THEN, well, but then...

Jota happens to have a friend in Quito. So I am going to call her when I get there. Perhaps I can stay with her for a couple of nights, and then head deeper into the Andes or perhaps to some coastal town Ecuador. I won´t have money to do anything, so I should get pretty good at doing nothing for a week or two. But I´ll be doing nothing in Ecuador.

Eventually, I´ll reissue my ticket back to Costa to see Jake. Cause I miss him. Damn I love that dog. I am guessing now that I´ll come back some time in late August or the first of September. But honestly, it could be in 9 days. I don´t know if I know how to spend only $10 or $15 per day, especially when I´ll be paying $5 to $10 of that on lodging. It should be interesting to see.

As for now, I am going to get on a bus. Perhaps stare at some countryside, and see where the road takes me. Hopefully it´s Ecuador, cause that´s what my ticket says.

¡Woohoo!

Right Now - 14/8/09 10:25 AM

In a McDonalds.  In Bogota.  On Calle 116 and Carrera 19, or so.  Free wifi.  So I bought a water.  

I just walked back from Nina's house, where I had a nice little dinner and a beer as I chatted with Nina, her niece Yolanda, and Yolanda's daughter Jen.  All part of Ozzie's family.  It was nice to have some typical Colombian food, which I have been seriously lacking since I have been here.  It was nice to meet some new people, see Nina's place, and talk with Jen, who is about to start her second year of college.  It felt like family.  

I decided today not to accept the job here in Colombia.  In the end, screw all the signs or coincidences.  It doesn't feel right for me.  I think the reason is mostly that La Mesa could be a small town in America.  Sure, the culture and climate may change, as it does throughout the states, but it's really just a small town an hour away from a huge city.  I like all the small towns throughout the hills; I like the idea of meeting new people and being involved in new communities; I like the idea of working with Trevor and helping take something very small into something less small.  But in the end, I think my life here would be work.  I may get the opportunity to travel from time to time, perhaps to Ecuador or Peru, but I think my life while I worked would lack growth in any manner other than in a career.  Living and working in Colombia sounds freaking cool, but I don't think it's that much different from living and working in the Poconos, minus nice lakes and tourists.  

So, tomorrow I am going to go to the airport.  I got a falsified yellow fever document, but it wasn't filled out correctly, so I am going to have to change my flight.  I have two wonderful friends in Costa that I would love to travel around with for the next week, but I also love this opportunity to cruise around Colombia for a couple of weeks and see what's up here.  Mom, don't be surprised if I call asking for more than five bucks next time... 

Overall, I'm a little excited about where tomorrow will take me.  I keep thinking I should be getting nervous about not having a job lined up, but I'm just not.  I'm actually pretty emotionless these days.  I don't suppose that will last for too long.  It's quite calming right now, but honestly a bit boring.  I loved the sadness I felt with Pepper left, and I look forward to being a little nervous during my travels here in Colombia.  I'm still not sure how long I will delay my flight back to Costa.  Think 2 weeks is enough?  I guess I'm planning on cruising up to Medellin, then to the Caribbean coast, up to Cartagena, then down to some cool colonial town, then back to Bogota.  It will be in the range of 50 hours in a bus over the next however long, which is a lot.  Maybe I can find a bookstore.  

I may not be able to blog much over the next while, but I'll connect when I can.  

As a good lawyer friend of mine in Boston used to say, "Onward and Upward."  

Not sure what that meant.   

Bogota Colombia

Meh.  

Big ass city.  Eight million.  Lots of people.  President's Palace.  Old buildings.  Crepes.  Busses.  Lots of busses.  

I can't get the pictures off of my camera, and the ones on my iPhone don't do much, but there are a few neat things I found here.  First, there's a single block of sidewalk where you see a bunch of people all crowded around, at first seeming to all be staring at their shoes, perhaps in some shy manner to avoid eye contact.  As it turns out, though, this is a rare stone exchange.  And it's super serious.  Thousands and thousands of dollars are held on little white folded pieces of paper as potential purchasers expect first by eye, then by mini-microscope to determine the street value of the precious stone.  Jota informed me that most are probably carrying guns, and that there is never any crime on this particular block.  Very odd thing, really. 

I learned not to say "hola" to guys here.  They look at you funny.  Hola is fine for girls, but Buenas is more appropriate for guys.  Interesting.  

It's freaking cold here when the sun isn't shining.  Girls all walk around in down jackets and fancy boots, and men wear suits or at least carry sweaters.  It's a good climate to dress well all of the time, so I clearly stand out being a bum from the beach.  

The McDonalds and KFCs are mansions here.  Two stories, even sometimes roof decks.  Crazy.  

I'm definitely not into big cities these days.  

Meh.  

La Florida Colombia

There are tons of cute little towns scattered throughout the mountains surrounding La Mesa, and probably throughout the country.  I especially liked this pueblo, La Florida, which is quite a bit higher than La Mesa, perhaps an hour drive across windy mountain roads.  La Florida is in an area of black soil and cooler climate than La Mesa, which makes it ideal for exporting flowers, as the name might suggest.  The pueblo is very small, and has no system of government of its own, but instead tags off of another nearby pueblo Anolaima, for its organization - not unlike Esterillos Oeste tagging off of Parrita.  

The kids there are still very intrigued by the presence of a gringo walking around their streets.  One boy, in particular, holding a kite (which are really big here - people sell them at your car window at traffic lights here in Bogota like they sell fruit in Costa), saw me and, after staring for a bit and smiling, went to grab a couple of friends to show me to them.  It was cute.  It reminded me of Bello just north of Medellin when I landed there while paragliding in the low clouds.  But that's neither here nor there.   

In any event, it's clear that this town was hopping when the railroad used to run through.  I guess the rails have been replaced by trucks which hightail it to the airport with the flowers the locals grow.  You can see the old, worn down hotels and rail station, though.  It actually gave a cool feeling as you could guess the excitement when the train would pull in and farmers from the countryside would ride carts full of color to sell to vendors ready to load on the railcars.  Or, in any event, it looks cool.  

La Mesa Colombia

We arrived in La Mesa, after running by to see a lawyer at around 11:30 PM on Tuesday night, a little after one in the morning.  After a beer and an introduction to Luisa, Jorge's pet monkey who lives in the backyard, we went to bed.  

I mostly just followed Jorge around yesterday, and got on the computer a bit while he was at work.  Jorge is Trevor's partner down here.  He was born in Colombia, although a bit northeast of here, but moved to California when he was very young to escape danger from leftist rebels in his birthplace.  He's has some interesting stories about coming back to visit - once his aunt was shot in the shoulder while trying to escape a FARC roadblock.  Young Jorge was in the back seat, and was thrown down on the ground, but got extremely lucky as the national guard appeared at exactly the right moment, weapons firing, and successfully chasing off Jorge's potential captors.  Jorge, now 28, has lived here in La Mesa for the better part of the last decade, and has worked with his family business of telecommunications here in Colombia, while his parents are still in LA running a successful residential construction company.  

Jorge's a good guy.  He's very driven, but has a softer side too.  He labels himself as an atheist and an alchemist, although I haven't pressed very hard to see what he really means by this.  He really wants to make this company a success, after major setbacks involving the theft of copper wires left the company in a somewhat desperate situation.  

Enter Trevor.  A good friend from back in Oklahoma who seems to dabble.  Everywhere.  Nobody's really sure what Trevor does.  I'm not sure he knows.  But somehow he ended up becoming a partner in a small telecommunications company in La Mesa Colombia, and is searching for someone help him to expand his client base.  After flying to Costa to chat with me, he agreed to fly me to Colombia to check it out.  

The town is cool.  I wouldn't call it beautiful, but that's only to my eye.  It's a small town, but larger than what I am used to.  Perhaps 30,000 people.  It's got a strong city center, surrounding the "new" catholic church built perhaps a couple hundred years ago, abutting the "old" catholic church, built even earlier.  In every pueblo down here, there's a small park in front of the catholic church, which serves as a meeting grounds in the evenings, filled with benches similar to the ones all over Costa.  

The town center is on a "drunk grid" system, as I have called it.  The streets aren't quite perpendicular or even particularly straight, but it resembles a grid system in a not so right-angle type of way.  It's mostly brick and clay cinderblock construction, with either lamina or those spanish style clay tile roofs.  The church may be the only really pretty building here, although there are some absolutely beautiful houses in one of the hundreds of communal additions surrounding the city.  

It lies in the short mountains, but quite lower than Bogota, so it's hot during the day.  Pretty hot actually.  At night, it can get chilly, perhaps even enough for a blanket.  The first night I was here I was happy to have the blanket.  The second night I would have preferred without a sheet.  If it weren't for that damn mosquito.  

The town is used as Trevor and Jorge's base of operations, and then they have repeaters and slave towers to cover the whole town and towns nearby.  Some of the nearby towns are sweet little mountain towns, where the kids are still really interested to see a gringo.  Those are definitely my kind of places.  

I'll be heading into Bogota tonight, as Jorge has to be there in the morning.  Not sure where the next 48 hours will take me.  Especially unsure where the next two months will take me.  But I'll have to start making decisions, likely starting tomorrow.  

Right Now - 13/8/09 10:25 AM

I'm sitting in Jorge's office in La Mesa, Colombia - about an hour drive west of Bogota.  I'm well rested after getting a long night sleep last night, but feeling a little uneasy.  Maybe it's because of a vicious mosquito attack last night (it was two against one).  I think right now I am wrestling between improving my future and enjoying today.  And in more than one way.  

The job I am scoping here, for example, would be a hell of an experience.  I would be doing business in Colombia, which is something relatively unique for an Oklahoman.  I would continue to improve my Spanish.  I would be doing something "grown up" in an industry I know very little about.  It would be a great resume boost.  

But on the other hand, although La Mesa is beautiful, and I actually really enjoy this type of town, there isn't a whole lot here that interests me.  No surfing, no tourists from around the world - basically a life similar to one might have in a small town Oklahoma, only without being able to drink the water, people that speak in a different language ----

11:47 AM - Just had lunch with Jorge.  But I'll get back to what I was saying before.  Basically, I think I'd grow as a person here, but I would grow as a spirit better somewhere else.  That's a silly way of putting it, I know, but it's the way it feels.  Now I know my mom would ask why can't I do both?  Or she would say that it's not about the place, it's about me, and I can be myself and grow as a spirit anywhere I am.  And theoretically, she's right.  But I'm still not there yet.  I think it's still easier for me to... Wow.  First, wow, this is a train of thought blog.  Second, wow, I think I know what's best for me again.  

I'm reading the Celestine Prophecy for the first time these days, and the "First Insight" of the "Manuscript" that predicts the spiritualization of human beings at the end of the 21st century is awareness of coincidences - the feeling that something else might be guiding us in a certain direction.  I find it similar to the signs that the boy in The Alchemist kept looking for.  In both novels, the characters drop rationalization and intellectualization for this mystical guidance.  And in a way, it's exactly what I have done when going with my gut feeling.  It's taking away the conscious mind, and, in a way, having faith in something we don't understand.  I tend to think of signs and coincidences as they are portrayed in these novels not as some alternate force in the universe, but as a language spoken by our spirits that is recognized by our intellects.  But perhaps they are both.  Perhaps our spirits and this alternate energy are one and the same.  Maybe it doesn't matter.  

And so soon I will be faced with a decision - move to Colombia or stay in Costa - or move to Oklahoma or travel to Nepal - or God knows what.  Oddly, all of the signs and some coincidences seem to point to Colombia.  I've always had some strange fascination with this country.  I know a good amount of Spanish.  Pepper's boyfriend's grandmother lives here.  My passport says I was freaking born here!  Yellow fever may make me stay a few extra days.  But it doesn't feel right, does it?  Or am I just expecting something different right now?  Am I expecting the signs to point towards a less human experience right now?  And so perhaps the off feeling is really just my intellect not believing the signs.  Maybe the signs are telling me just to stick around for a few weeks.  

Great, so now I'm really in an intellectual rut.  And I believe it's all just my intellect trying to steer myself in a certain direction.  I don't trust myself or the world.  And that's pretty sad.  I don't trust myself at all these days.  

All told, though, I'm pretty happy.  I have awesome options.  I'm in a small office in Colombia, experiencing stuff I never had before.  I feel a lot of love these days, both internal and external.  Overall, a pretty good life.  And I guess this struggle is the struggle I am meant to go through right now.  And I'm interested to see how it will turn out.  I'm interested to see what decision I'll make.  I bet it will be the only one I can.  

The Yellow Fever Blessing

I bet there might be a lot of people with Yellow Fever that might get quite mad at the title of this blog, and perhaps I'm being insensitive, but yellow fever has actually, seemingly, blessed me.  Here's how...

I'm on my way to Colombia.  I decide to delay a three day trip down to check out a job prospect in order to spend time with Pepper on her last week in Costa Rica.  I decide to fly out on the same day she flies out, so we can hang out as much as she can stand.  

Pepper is going to move to Australia to meet up with her boyfriend, Oz.  Ozzie's mother, Lee, lives in Atenas, between Esterillos Oeste and the airport in Alejuela.  Pepper wants to spend a night at Lee's before heading out, and Pepper, Pat, and I went to Lee's last night for some wonderful food and incredible company.  Late last night, Lee mentioned Yellow Fever. 

As it turns out, Costa Rica will not let me back in if I have not received a Yellow Fever vaccine.  And I will have had to receive it ten days prior to returning to Costa.  Oops!  That sucks.

Or DOES it?  Instead of only three days in Colombia, I get to spend ten!  And Lee's mom lives in Bogota, and would love it if I stopped by!  And why the hell stop there?  There's a lot of Colombia out there, they tell me.  And Ecuador is right next door with a really cool place I can't spell.  And Peru; haven't I always wanted to go to Peru?  Well, no.  But still!  Brazil, the Guays, Argentina, Chile, and some countries up on the Northeast Coast that I either a) won't visit; or b) have never heard of really.  

Well, Pepper, Pat, Lee and Lee's boyfriend all did a damn fine job of convincing me that this is a blessing.  It's a sign.  It's an OPPORTUNITY.  And it's too good to pass up.  

Oddly, I guess I had this opportunity without yellow fever.  It just too the virus to make me realize it.  And so, with very little money (a bit more thanks to a very generous gift from Pat and Sheila helping out with my exit taxes), clothes meant for staying in a luxury house for three days, and a damn fine attitude, I'm heading to Colombia.  And I don't know how long I will  stay.  Perhaps two weeks?  Perhaps three?  In any event, it will be an adventure.  But then again, isn't it all?

Pepper.

I literally cried.  Tears welled up in my eyes as my face tensed.  A frown with a smile at the tips showed the seemingly contradictory emotions of surprising sadness and utter joy as we hugged for the last time.  I felt as though I might crash into the ground as Pepper walked off to the plane.  

Since Pepper moved to Esterillos a few short months ago, she has touched the lives of all of us with her sincere smile, her infectious laugh, and her loving and lovable spirit.  I fell head over heels in love with her almost immediately.  Working only Monday nights at the bar, I ensured I was there with her - not for support but just to have the opportunity to be around her.  Monday nights led us to a friendship that has blessed me ever since.  I had the opportunity to see her fall in love with Oz, which, as Pat puts it, is perhaps the best couple the world has known.  We experienced an overwhelming love together in roadtrips with Oz, Scott, and Jeni, first to Atenas and then to Manuel Antonio.  We've danced on the streets together, gotten high off of water vapor together, surfed, worked, laughed, cried, loved, seen Scott strip in front of Ozzie's mom, bitched, high-fived, dined, and had Cuba Libres out of a can on the sidewalk in front of a grocery store in Parrita together.  We danced to Michael Jackson after his death, and took on Oz in the first and perhaps only Boogie Days tournament in front of the Lowtide.  A lifetime of memories from only a few short months.  

The sadness comes not from a sense of loss, as neither Pepper nor any of our experiences together were mine or were permanent, but simply from a separation from a dear sweet friend who seemed to know me better than I knew myself at times.  But it fails in comparison to the joy I have for the time we have spent together, and the life-long impact she will continue to have on me.  I'll miss her, that is for sure, but it's wonderful to have had someone like Pepper in my life to miss.  

Not Waiting for the Last Dance

My mom and I had a great conversation the other night, during which I remembered a certain personality psychology course I took at Harvard.  While I was pretty well known for not attending lectures, this particular course spoke to me.  It was taught by an absolutely wonderful man named Brian Little, who was almost poetic in his lectures about "personal projects", "pseudo selves", and "having, doing, and being."  It amazes me that I haven't thought of him within the last year or so, because as I look back, he might have been a very significant influence on my life.  

Professor Little was not only fun.  He was VERY fun.  And he was also very interesting.  Much of what he taught was his material (which is common at Harvard), and his particular perspective on personality psychology was not necessarily brand new, but was humanistic in a manner that is rare at a research institution like Harvard.  Now, it has been years since I took the course, but one of the central concerns of Little is how personal projects, personal strivings, and life tasks lead us to generally take on different personality characteristics.  In other words, it is theorized that our personality is relatively stable throughout our lives, but we actually show personality traits that are significantly different than our stable personality in order to accomplish certain goals.  For example, I may be far on the introvert side of the Extroversion scale and far on the positive side of the Neurotic scale (there are five main "scales" that are commonly used in defining a personality), but I may have a life goal of being married and having children.  God KNOWS no nice girl in her right mind would want to be with me being who I really am, and so I can only help to find a girl in her wrong mind or act a little different to fool those sane girls into loving me.  Thus, I may act extroverted and less neurotic in order to attract a pretty girl who might find me interesting enough to bear my children and tie the knot.    

What Little found, of course, is that high stress is highly correlated with a large separation between the personality of our short-term "pseudo-self" (although I think he hated this word) and our "actual" self.  This shouldn't come as a surprise.  In considering "sacrifice" though, I find this particularly interesting.  I am of the opinion these days, and not even that strong of an opinion, that the only thing one can really sacrifice in this life is one's self.  At any time that I am not being true to myself, that I am not being authentically me, I am sacrificing myself.  A good friend once said that if, in any job, you are sacrificing yourself, you will find that no amount of compensation will ever make up for it.  I tend to agree.  And while I believe that changing one's personality is not necessarily out of line with being authentic, I believe it provides a nice metaphor.  Perhaps the stress that we feel when we are using a false personality is a good metaphor for the suffering (as the Buddhists would call it) we feel when we are not being our authentic selves.  Perhaps it's more than a metaphor.  Perhaps is just a smaller scale of the same problem.  

Before his final lecture at Harvard, Little had asked us to read what I remember as the 18th and final chapter of a book.  I can't quite remember the name of the book, or what genre it would fit in, but it was just a short little thing, and I believe that the 18th and final chapter was perhaps titled "Save the Last Dance."  In this chapter, the author writes in the first person, and is writing a request to himself.  In this plea, he forgives himself for not always being there, from straying away from himself from time to time.  He doesn't assign blame, but instead offers understanding, a compassion for himself for wandering away from his true self, knowing that it was in pursuit of important life goals.  But he asks himself, in a lovingly poetic way, to come back home when those tasks are done.  He asks himself, when he finally reaches his deathbed, to save that last dance for him.  

So Dr. Little, in his final minutes of his final lecture at Harvard, brought the class to tears and then a 20 minute standing ovation as he left us with something that would not be on a test.  It was not something that we would need if we went on to become psychologists or psychiatrists, but something he found important enough to share with that mass of inspired intellectuals.  As we go through life, we will frequently seperate from our true selves.  We will find ourselves acting, wearing masks, putting on shows in order to accomplish certain goals, whether life-long or short term.  But in the end, peace comes from being at home, from being ourselves.  That last dance should be for us, not for this human experience and its demands.  

I guess for me, I'm interested in dancing with myself before that final song.  Of course, when you first start dancing with someone new, it's sloppy.  Sloppy is actually quite an understatement for what I am experiencing right now.  I guess I would prefer to go through the awkwardness now, though.  Perhaps then I can enjoy whatever song life plays, regardless of whether or not I have a partner.  And when my time does come, perhaps I'll be a bit more graceful, or at least be able to just laugh with myself when I lose the beat.  

Costa Rican Driver's License

So, last week, I decided to tag along with three friends (Jeni, Eric, and Jeana), who were headed to San Jose (the City) to take on one of the most difficult feats here in Costa Rica... obtaining a legal local driver's license.  When it comes down to it, there really isn't much at all... if you have a valid driver's license from the states and a passport with an up-to-date stamp, they give you a driver's license.  It's JUST THAT EASY.  But is it?

Adam, another friend, traveled TWICE to San Jose, returning with nothing.  By the way, San Jose is a 2.5 hour drive, which isn't much, except very few of us have cars that can make it that far, and so we're generally going at someone else's leisure, or we're taking the bus.  And the bus doesn't take 2.5 hours.  If it shows, it generally takes, well, more.  So, on his third and final try, Adam finally returned with a license.  (Of course it was his final... why would he return AFTER receiving his license?) (Actually, there might be good reason.  I'll explain later.)

So, what is it about getting the license that is so difficult?  In the states, it may take 30 minutes if you have to wait at that place on Classen where nobody seems to know who's next, or even next for what.  But for the most part, it's easy... go, show ID, get a picture, pay $10, get a license.  Well, here's the skinny...

FIRST, and it's hard to know that this is first without taking a poll and going with the majority, you must go to the doctor.  And AT the doctor's office, you have to pay money.  10 THOUSAND colones (only $20, but still).  Then you go and sit next to a doctor, who asks you if you can use both your arms, and if you're an alcoholic, your sexual preference (not true), and if you can see.  He believes you for the most part, except for the vision thing, which he requires you to read line seven on the chart across the room (FTLGMZ).  If you can, you pass.  EXCEPT, he needs to know your blood type, and they DON'T just take your word for it.  You have to go to the "laboratory", right next door, where you pay 5 THOUSAND more colones, a person take some blood, puts it in a vial, right next to everyone else's blood that was there before you, and tells you to wait.  So you do.  Eventually he comes out with a very serious looking half sheet of white paper that says on one side a letter, and on the other a mathematical symbol that modifies that letter.  Only after returning this magical paper to the doctor who preformed his thorough evaluation to ensure you were safe to drive a motorized vehicle, does the doctor give you an official looking white piece of paper with his SIGNATURE on it, verifying that he, as a professional, believes you should be given a license to drive in this fair country.  

But why the blood test?  As it turns out, they put it on your license.  Right next to where they show whether or not you are an organ donor.  In case you haven't visited Costa and experienced the magnificent driving styles of locals and tourists alike, there is damn good reason to put these in bold red right next to your name, which seems unimportant, really.  (Did you know magnificent was spelled with an "e" towards the end and not an "a"?  Huh.)

So, to avoid making this blog take longer to read or write than it takes to get a driver's license here, I'll make it quick.  After you have your medical slip, you take it and your passport, your driver's license, and a COPY of your passport and of your driver's license (if you don't have the copy, I kid you not, they shoot you) to a magical fortress called Cosevi, which is right next door to many doctor's offices.  You talk to the guard, who tells you to skip the line at the door at the back of the facility, go straight to the guard at that door, tell him you need to see Dona Forget-Her-Name, who is on the second floor.  I'm really not kidding about this.  If you don't talk to that guard, you will waste a lot of time.  You must go see Dona Forget-Her-Name first.  Oh!  And she only works until noon.  Seriously.  So, you go to the second guard, and he pretends he has no idea what you are talking about.  Actually, he probably doesn't.  So you ignore him, walk through, and go the second floor, where you sit in a chair.  And wait.  You're not sure if you should be waiting.  But you do.  And you wait.  Finally, Dona FHN comes out of an office, after a couple of men have already checked to make sure you have your copies and your health certificate and what-not, and she says "Pase!"  Which means enter.  So you do.  She doesn't say anything, just looks at it, signs your copies, puts some squiggly lines, and motions for you to leave.  

You then go back to guard 2, who gives you a "ficha" (not sure what those little papers with numbers are called in the states), and then you wait.  My number was three, and they were on number 51, and it takes a long time to go from number 51 to number 3.  So, when your number comes up, you go to a guy (or girl), who asks you where you live (and he trusts you), and he enters in all your paperwork, and gives you another very small white piece of paper that you must then take all the way to the BANK where you must pay 4 THOUSAND colones, and then return, snake the line, return to the SAME guy who gave you the slip of paper, wait for him to finish with whoever he might be dealing with at the time, quickly slip in, give him the receipt that proves you paid, get your picture taken, and get your license.  Of course, that's if you're lucky.  By the time I got back from the bank, my little guy was gone.  Perhaps to lunch.  So I had to snake some other guy, who couldn't find my records, and sent me to some other girl, who also could not find my records, and so made them up (without my medical sheet), and gave me a license with no organ donor information AND no blood type.  Which brings us to the reason why you MIGHT go back even after receiving a license.  But I won't.  Cause, honestly, I'm pretty sure they don't bother with that information anyway.  

But, now I got my license.  And WHY, you may ask?  Why pay, in the end, 19 THOUSAND colones, when my Oklahoma license is perfectly valid as long as my passport stamp is up to date?  Well, I could argue that it's better when the cops pull you over (which they do, at random stops, all the time).  But that's not really why.  I could say I didn't like my OK license picture, which is true.  But not really a good enough reason.  It's because it's cool.  I have a Costa Rican driver's license.  And I think that's pretty neat.  

Maybe I need a hobby.