pura vida.

18 December 2011 § Leave a comment

I realized that I’ve been so quiet about my tico family that I’ve myself not written much about them, or thought about it, because up until recently the host family business felt like a business, a semi-formal transaction, and now that the house has emptied of university pretension, it feels more friendly now. there’s more peace in the fresh december air, the motnh of rest and drunkenness for costa rica, so I’m told by the guys I played a game of futbol with earlier, between early afternoon beers and conversation and now that I can’t speak english anymore, for who would understand me but one roommate Jorge, who leaves back to Germany in the morning, or Rainier, my awesomely drunk professor of spanish, from the southern nation of Boone, North Carolina, via Guanacaste?

Rainier pulled me out of my selfpity yesterday – he banged on my door with a bottle of beer, knocked the door open. what the fuck are you doing in here, he asks, in a snarling drawl unmistakably redneck. Of course I say these things with the utmost amount of affection and kindness, for I lived in western North Carolina for a day less than two years of education in life and other things not so glamourous. you see, the problem starts when we glamourize things and make them bigger than they are. then they get all out of proportion and distorted. addiction sets in. then it’s a desperate search for the unattainable, when before it was just a nice thing to have now and again. anyway. I digress.

He pulled me from the concrete cave that has been my pseudocell for nearly three months, and demanded I get a beer and sit down and talk to the people there whom I didn’t know, that no, I could not continue my letter writing or contemplate finishing the second chapter of Madame Bovary. It is estaba, not estuvo, he tells me sometimes, or corrects my pronunciation of some swear word I’d never use in English. And that’s saying quite a bit, because I like to swear almost as much as I like to talk.

wait. that doesn’t follow.
whatever. logic is flawed. this is Costa Rica. todos son pura vida aqui. it’s time to start traveling. like i keep saying. but I’m halfway done and where have I gone, what have I done? I have three notebooks, a novel and a blog to speak my words for me, while I do myself while walking through safer neighborhoods and towns up in the mountains. time to find the next thing. keep going. leave, too.

I thought I had a lot to write. Like I said, I’ve been doing a lot of that lately. But I think that I’m just going to live for a little while, and see what happens next.

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