Hola amigos! Estoy en Heredia, un ciudad con un grande universidad y muchos cosas interesante.
Enough Spanish... for now... this is my first update froem the field and time itçs literally money at internet cafes, so I´ll get to it.
Delta sucks. To make it down here, I dealth wil sleeping in an airport, missing three flights, having to swtich airports and running literally as hard and fast as I could to make my connection in ATL to San Jose. Whew.
I got to my apartment to find it empty except for the land lady, a lovely woman named Sonia Solano. Along with her dog, Pandacita, she was the first to welcome me after my driver, Tomas, and I spoke about Messi, the World Cup and the fact that the U.S.A. needs to play with more heart and less head- being a cerebral soccer player is good to an extent, sure, but is almost always trumped by creativity and flow. Case in point: Maradonna.
Sonia offered me orange juice and I asked for beer (I slept for 5 hours from Friday till Saturday night). She gave me two cans of beer, those being a Heineken and a Bavaria. Following that, I took the best shower of my life.
Anyway, our accomodations are quite interesting. There are three aparatments within the grounds of the property. Almost all houses have strong fences to keep out the riff raff. Gates, bars, LOTS of razor wire and barbed wire. It makes for an interesting contrast because most homes have excellent gardens filled with flowers, vines and lovely trees. The top floor is the apartment for the supervisors and his/ her companion/s, if any. It looks onto a coffee plantation. People are friendly in our neighborhood, especially as they probably don´t see many Americans in their neck of the woods (that being Santa Lucia, a suburb of San Jose).
We have been getting the lay of the land and spending some time drifting through markets, taking photos and being points of interest for vagabonds and teenage girls (the latter is especially true in my case, guess my stock is higher here than in Mpls!).
Clinic starts tomorrow and should be quite an experience. We are color coded because, believe it or not, our names are crazy to the locals. I´m Green Man, which rocks since that is a favoirte costume of mine that Charlie rocks on "Always Sunny," so think of that image when you wonder how I am doing down here... keep in kind that I´m not actually wearing a green suit, but just have a green plkacard and name tag in my table area.
We may get an internet connection in our apartment soon. Two cockroaches so far, they were small and greasy looking. I say werte because Nick killed them. Leaf cutter ants work so damn hard that I have tried avoiding them while walking. The American Work Ethic could use some schooling from these little power houses. The guardian ants have giant mandibles and will go for blood if any trouble comes their way.
Until next time-- enjoy the season, go Rovers!
-M@
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Ticos & Tortugas: Destination Costa Rica
As some of you may know (and most of you may not know), I am headed down to Costa Rica for 33 days beginning May 21. While the first three weeks will be spent working at a traveling free health care clinic dubbed La Clinica de la Mariposa (lit. "The Clinic of the Butterfly"), I chose to extend my itinerary to afford me some time for independent travel. I am thrilled and also a bit nervous about the endeavor-- speaking clinical espanol is not in my wheelhouse (yet), though in the end attitude and a willingness to look and sound a bit goofy in any attempts to treat patients is something I can roll with.
I am hoping to spend approximately one week volunteering at one of two sea turtle nesting sanctuaries and hatcheries. Tasks such as patrolling at night for poachers, collecting eggs, measuring and tagging adults, releasing hatchlings and combating invasive species will demand most of my time. However, I am hoping for some time to surf and sit in a hammock to write.
While I plan to write extensively in a journal during the epic adventure, I will do my best to update friends, family and happenstance readers alike with regaling tales and profound anecdotes... or just to brag about how nice the weather is!
Stay tuned! Salud!
~M@
I am hoping to spend approximately one week volunteering at one of two sea turtle nesting sanctuaries and hatcheries. Tasks such as patrolling at night for poachers, collecting eggs, measuring and tagging adults, releasing hatchlings and combating invasive species will demand most of my time. However, I am hoping for some time to surf and sit in a hammock to write.
While I plan to write extensively in a journal during the epic adventure, I will do my best to update friends, family and happenstance readers alike with regaling tales and profound anecdotes... or just to brag about how nice the weather is!
Stay tuned! Salud!
~M@
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
"The Watcher Meets The Witness"
~ Sinister Stories Part 1 of 3 ~
January winds are often the bringer of sin in places where the mercury refuses to climb. A nameless figure paced the empty platform, equally as likely to be waiting for a train as a friendly face. His scars carried countless stories, no doubt, that unique blend of triumph and tragedy that seems to be an intrinsic aspect of the human condition. He was tall, lean and out of place even as he stood alone. A quiet desperation filled his face as he huddled next to a partition in an effort to avoid the chill. Had I the ability to sense a foreboding atmosphere, I would have.
Checking his watch, the man reached into a pocket as if to assure himself that something lay within. The minutes ticked away with no sign of impending doom as stillness signaled a reprieve from the Arctic breeze. Suddenly, a shot rang out. The man I had been watching fell to the ground in a defensive reflex, reaching into his long coat and withdrawing a gun of matte metal. The weighty object gave him courage as he peered over a low row of barren, snow-clad bushes. Originally placed by a landscaper for aesthetic reasons, they now served as a form of cover from the hidden onslaught.
Muffled shouts came from a low hill nearby. Recognizing the voice, our man responded with a raspy yell. A light shone in the distance, just barely preceded by a whistle from an impending train. Several cars filled with various people who, in turn, were filled with various dreams and plans were fast approaching. Hastily forcing his weapon back into a secret space, our man popped up and flitted back to his original position. His expression told me that he was not expecting a crowd of company.
Unknowing visitors soon filled the area, forcing a pause to any would-be altercation. Raucous laughter from a group of law students rang through the night and served as a complete contrast to the unchecked aggression that only recently flew through the air. A girl with transfixing eyes and a coy smile stood out among the swarm of people. Arms crossed, the man waited as I held my abated breath, not daring to move for fear of giving away my position. As the jovial crowd trickled down the various nearby streets, the night once again offered up an eerie blend of quiet cold and dancing shadows.
His malicious intentions may have been unrecognized or else ignored by the late-night crowd filled with people warmed by whiskey and other spirits. I, however, was less easily duped. Sinister thoughts can be glimpsed through the eyes of such men when they are not aware of being watched. And I, the Watcher, knew what secrets and desires he held within his heart. His pulse quickened as shuffling steps could be heard by the knoll. He held his breath. Silently, I crept out from my vantage point and stunned this unwelcome intruder. Sharing was never my forte, you see, even in my current state.
Simply too much time and energy had been spent forcing this conniving character to succumb to my will and arrive at the meeting place. The ruse had worked; a drug habit creates great will for being such a crippling Achilles’ heel. The stranger will awake with a headache and a story. The man I had been watching, however, would not be so lucky. The Watcher, bringer of justice and peace, will once again prevail.
January winds are often the bringer of sin in places where the mercury refuses to climb. A nameless figure paced the empty platform, equally as likely to be waiting for a train as a friendly face. His scars carried countless stories, no doubt, that unique blend of triumph and tragedy that seems to be an intrinsic aspect of the human condition. He was tall, lean and out of place even as he stood alone. A quiet desperation filled his face as he huddled next to a partition in an effort to avoid the chill. Had I the ability to sense a foreboding atmosphere, I would have.
Checking his watch, the man reached into a pocket as if to assure himself that something lay within. The minutes ticked away with no sign of impending doom as stillness signaled a reprieve from the Arctic breeze. Suddenly, a shot rang out. The man I had been watching fell to the ground in a defensive reflex, reaching into his long coat and withdrawing a gun of matte metal. The weighty object gave him courage as he peered over a low row of barren, snow-clad bushes. Originally placed by a landscaper for aesthetic reasons, they now served as a form of cover from the hidden onslaught.
Muffled shouts came from a low hill nearby. Recognizing the voice, our man responded with a raspy yell. A light shone in the distance, just barely preceded by a whistle from an impending train. Several cars filled with various people who, in turn, were filled with various dreams and plans were fast approaching. Hastily forcing his weapon back into a secret space, our man popped up and flitted back to his original position. His expression told me that he was not expecting a crowd of company.
Unknowing visitors soon filled the area, forcing a pause to any would-be altercation. Raucous laughter from a group of law students rang through the night and served as a complete contrast to the unchecked aggression that only recently flew through the air. A girl with transfixing eyes and a coy smile stood out among the swarm of people. Arms crossed, the man waited as I held my abated breath, not daring to move for fear of giving away my position. As the jovial crowd trickled down the various nearby streets, the night once again offered up an eerie blend of quiet cold and dancing shadows.
His malicious intentions may have been unrecognized or else ignored by the late-night crowd filled with people warmed by whiskey and other spirits. I, however, was less easily duped. Sinister thoughts can be glimpsed through the eyes of such men when they are not aware of being watched. And I, the Watcher, knew what secrets and desires he held within his heart. His pulse quickened as shuffling steps could be heard by the knoll. He held his breath. Silently, I crept out from my vantage point and stunned this unwelcome intruder. Sharing was never my forte, you see, even in my current state.
Simply too much time and energy had been spent forcing this conniving character to succumb to my will and arrive at the meeting place. The ruse had worked; a drug habit creates great will for being such a crippling Achilles’ heel. The stranger will awake with a headache and a story. The man I had been watching, however, would not be so lucky. The Watcher, bringer of justice and peace, will once again prevail.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Glee & Need (click!)
And so as I while away my lunch break and think back to 20 minutes ago when I was eating some primo pork lee shaing, my restless fingers tap loudly upon the keyboard and transmit my thoughts into digital reflections of where my head is currently at...
So.
I listen to a lot of random music and the legendary ballad by the Rolling Stones entitled "You Can't Always Get What You Want" has really struck a chord as of late. For those of you who (a) actually read these notes I assemble and (b) have never heard the song before, the chorus is as follows:
"You can't always get what you want (x3)
But it you try sometimes well you might find
You get what you need"
Aside from a very interesting story about how the then- little town of Excelsior, MN (with much of the color added by a "Mr. Jimmy") stymied a 4th of July concert the Rolling Stones were supposed to play there, the lyrics are truly poignant. We spend so much time and so much effort wanting things-- of both material and less tangible natures-- and in some cases that drive and desire can truly commandeer the driver's seat of our conscious thoughts and actions.
During this last Holiday season, I looked around and noticed more than ever how hungry people seem to be to accumulate possessions and spend money. A resolution of mine in 2010 is best summed up as "Less Is More;" I want less clutter, less boxes, less stuff. Even amidst a few buying spurts on eBay, I'm doing ok. I believe Cheryl Crow sings the words, "It's not getting what you want/ It's wanting what you've got," and that is a principle I strive to keep in mind... retro video gaming not included.
Let's all worry less about what we want and search instead for the things we truly need-- health, happiness, family and friends. Because in the end, all we have is each other.
So.
I listen to a lot of random music and the legendary ballad by the Rolling Stones entitled "You Can't Always Get What You Want" has really struck a chord as of late. For those of you who (a) actually read these notes I assemble and (b) have never heard the song before, the chorus is as follows:
"You can't always get what you want (x3)
But it you try sometimes well you might find
You get what you need"
Aside from a very interesting story about how the then- little town of Excelsior, MN (with much of the color added by a "Mr. Jimmy") stymied a 4th of July concert the Rolling Stones were supposed to play there, the lyrics are truly poignant. We spend so much time and so much effort wanting things-- of both material and less tangible natures-- and in some cases that drive and desire can truly commandeer the driver's seat of our conscious thoughts and actions.
During this last Holiday season, I looked around and noticed more than ever how hungry people seem to be to accumulate possessions and spend money. A resolution of mine in 2010 is best summed up as "Less Is More;" I want less clutter, less boxes, less stuff. Even amidst a few buying spurts on eBay, I'm doing ok. I believe Cheryl Crow sings the words, "It's not getting what you want/ It's wanting what you've got," and that is a principle I strive to keep in mind... retro video gaming not included.
Let's all worry less about what we want and search instead for the things we truly need-- health, happiness, family and friends. Because in the end, all we have is each other.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Encino Man: Better Than Ezra, But Not By much
I'm watching Encino Man. It's actually a pretty good movie. Paulie Shore, Sean Astin and Brendan Frasier all had break-out roles... kind of. I am only 20 minutes in, but David (Sean Astin) said that hosting a pool party on the last day of school to become miraculously popular would make his life worth living. He also got pinned to a wall by a roughneck crew with knives and had "EAT ME" written on his forehead with a Sharpie. Stoney (Shore; even his teacher called him that) announced the 4 Food Groups:
"Look at what we have here. Dairy Group-- Milk Duds. Hide these under your pillow. Fruit group... Sweets Tart. Mmm, so citrusy they will bite your head off. Over here we have the vegetable group... veg-e-ta-ble group. Corn Nuts. Aww, put 'em on a pedestal, bro! *Ding* Meat group. Mmm burritos, these are my favorite. Eww, figures-- hot on the outside, icicle in the middle."
Best dialogue:
Stoney:"He doesn't know what high school is."
David: "He doesn't know what anything is. He doesn't know this is a room."
It was weird how easily and seamlessly the Cro-Magnon Man assimilated into then-current Encino, California. Also weird was that before they found Link (Frasier), we found the crazy crew in class as the teacher pulled down a cartoon rendering of the Cro-Magnon man from the map roll above the chalk board. The girls in the class then commented on how sexy the drawing was and how they'd love to get "dominated" by that primitive man. A glimpse of things to come, surely.
The sister was full of jerkish quips. Seriously, she was awful.
M@
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