Nuclear Polio Vaccination

Went horseback riding for the first time. The feeling of power was incredible. Felt like my penis grew another 4 inches. Invoked feelings of being on the wild west like Eastwood and Jeff Bridges (Saw True Grit twice the week it came out). My masculinity was off the charts.

The funny thing about this town is that you’ll see just as many people riding horses for transportation as you’ll see cars. Actually better to ride a horse as the Costa Rican roads are beyond any horror you’d see in tax paying Oklahoma. If you don’t own a 4X4 vehicle in this country you’re screwed.  I also saw how a woman can really enjoy horse back riding. Seems like it could be really stimulating hee hee.

Spent most of the morning feeding (and milking) the cattle and horses and goats. Learned how to wash,groom and saddle the horses without getting kicked in the head.

Also went and netted some Tilapia from the pond and Paul’s chef Vivian cooked us all grilled Tilapia using only salt, lime juice and olive oil as seasoning. I was the bomb. For dessert, homemade ice cream. Something I hadn’t had since I was a young boy staying at my Granny’s for the summer. I almost cried after the first spoonful (weighs a ton).

Spent the even listening to the owner of the farm, Paul, talk about his sexual exploits in Africa–while on business there with the World Bank. Strange dude. Could not understand why he was telling me how he smuggled ganja into the states nor his fetish for 20 year old African women (the darker the better he says).

After two hours of this and seeing the biggest cockroach I’ve ever seen in my life (it flew onto the porch fluttered its papery wings and then flew away), I decided to try and sleep a little. But not before bathing myself in Deep Woods Off . Still it didn’t help much and I got eaten alive anyway.

This Canadian couple that were staying at the farm on a bed and breakfast deal decided they couldn’t sleep there one more night because the insects were so bad.

The husband and I went for beer and cigarettes and found a place with cabinas only 6km from the farm. With the bad roads (they were not driving a 4×4 vehicle) and the insects, old Andy decided he was gonna stay put. I put my Spanish to use and  brokered him a deal on the cabinas alongside a taxi to pick up his wife (and a ride home for me).

Paul wasn’t happy bout this and in between bragging about his sexual conquests in Africa he explained to me why the couple’s abrupt departure left him feeling sore.

Everyone was out to get poor Paul. His farm staff wasn’t worth a damn. The townspeople were against him. His ex-wives and girlfriends had him figured wrong. No one understood him. At least that was the way he’d tell it.

With just the two of us alone on the property, being on the farm took on a weird vibe, one similar to “The Shining”. Old Paul was exhibiting some paranoid behavior. And the weirdness was only just beginning.

I thought about rubbing one out before I went to sleep. But Paul’s room was right next to mine. He’d surely hear the mattress squeaking from behind the thin walls.

So I decided just to close my eyes and breathe deeply and ignore the hissing of mosquito wings in my ears.

Tags: Clint Eastwood, Costa Rica, Jeff Bridges, True Grit, World Bank