Hawkeye makes a mean stir-fry
The night before was pretty magical. Cooking dinner with my bunkmate Austin, singing Talking Heads. We’d bought lots of vegetables and had to use them all before we left for the next day. There was talk of hitching into San Isidro. The more I thought about it the more I liked the idea. I went to bed excited at the thought of doing it. This was pure hitchiking, something I’d only done once in the States during the worst snowstorm in Oklahoma history. Before I fell asleep I did the math and realized it was a full 3 weeks since my last orgasm and hadn’t had one the whole year of 2011. WOW……..
Ended up hiking 5km with Austin. Had a few conversations and we were sitting down for water when a van full of Tico boys (futbol players) and their coaches picked us up. They couldn’t have been older than 11 years old. They were so cute. It was like out of a movie. So much energy and all I could do was smile. I felt silly trying to talk to them in my pedestrian Spanish. We kind of made it work. Sometimes I said yes to things I didn’t quite understand.
“Bobby!!!! Bobby!!! quien es su jugadore favorito? ” We talked about PS-2 games. Messi vs. Ronaldo. It was classic. It was sunny. It was beautiful. It was Costa Rica. Waited for the bus in San Isidro, exchanged some currency and waited. Travel days are always the worst.***********************
“Don’t mistake activity for achievement.” ~John Wooden
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How the fuck did I end up here? Because I thought it’d be exciting to hitchike?
Cuz i thought I might get close to Pavla the Eastern European beauty? 5 km in the hot ass Costan Rican sun cost me a bus time and a chance to watch the Ravens-Steelers. (Steelers won and of course it was a classic)
Was it worth it? I guess. I wanted adventure and that is what I got, that and a little bad advice. Fucking A. Sleeping in a flop house. This place is a real shit hole and MORE expensive than the hostel in Chirripo. Maybe I should’ve gone to Domenical and tackled the trip the next day. Then I might have gotten to watch the Steelers play. Nothing is free right?
All the activity I had today and I’m still hours away from Montezuma. A boat and bus ride still seperate me from my final destination at this point. Have to wait until 5:00 Am before the first ferry departs. I might not even sleep. I may just lie awake with my knife out, in case the guy who runs this joint tries to murder me with his son. What a dump. When they walked me down the dark hall I quietly flipped out my blade and waited for the time to make my move–half expecting them to open a door where some tough Tican goons awaited me to get my cash.
Both father and son wore wife beaters and there was no a/c. The lobby (which resembled something closer to an apartment living room) housed some old man with a breathing machine watching television.
I knew they were just waiting for me to fall asleep and then WHAM. I wasn’t going to go easily though. I kept my clothes on, tried my best to lay on the flimsy sheet they gave me and left the light on..
If San Jose was Costa Rica’s version of Houston, then Punta Arenas was their version of Texas City (I’d say Miami but I’ve never been there) . I thought of the other possibilities I could’ve explored. I couldn’ve stayed at the casino in Alajuela and splurged…this town though reeked of old world criminal. pick pockets and stabbings. Poor planning. I thought of my concubine back home. thought of the Steelers and Pats game next weekend, and Green Bay defeating Atlanta. This dump made my shitty apartment look like the Holiday Inn. Finally my eyes couldn’t take in any more light and the last thing I heard was my blade slipping from my hand and falling to the floor. If they wanted to ambush me then this would be their best chance. I just hoped I wouldn’t be able to feel it if they knifed me in my sleep.
famous last words
Tags: Chirripo, flop houses, John Wooden, Messi, Ravens, Ronaldo, San Isidro, Steelers
Nuclear Polio Vaccination 