The After-Hours Club

One of my very favorite things about Costa Rica is the way they can be completely content just sitting around in the shade, passing the time. There’s nowhere to go, no hurry, they just enjoy the moment. It can happen after lunch (almuerzo), when everyone’s too full to go back to work or do much of anything, late afternoon over a cup of coffee and slice of bread or cookies (cafecito), and in the evening when the day’s work is finished. I cherish these times.

Since there are several young people on my block and some of us are quite the night owls, we’ve developed a tradition of staying up late and hanging out. We usually just stick around either in front of my house where there’s a stone bench, or across the street in front of Andrea’s house in the wooden chairs that are always out front. If it’s late enough, Andrea’s parents take in the chairs and we migrate to the bench / curb across the street at my house.

The core of the group is made up of me, Boby and Katy. Boby is one of the young construction guys working on the house next door to mine. He’s got a bit of a rebel personality, but he’s a hard working and a loyal friend. He’s often the one to liven up the conversation.

Katy

Andrea

Katy (KAH-tee) – who is my tica neighbor, not the friend I’ve traveled with, is Boby’s girlfriend and has a similar personality, but she’s a big gossip (as nearly all Ticas are) so I don’t tell her any secrets. Andrea, who is 18 and one of my closest friends, is almost always with us too.

We are sometimes joined by Cristian. He’s kind of a wild card in that some days he’s really talkative and other days reserved. He and I are somewhere at the blurry line between friends and sweethearts, but it's more of a flirtatious give and take than anything serious.

Kenneth

Then there’s Kenneth. So I mentioned that Boby makes things interesting, well Kenneth turns it into a circus. Kenneth is a regular class clown and gets everyone smiling and laughing without fail. He and Boby are both my same age. Kenneth once entertained us for a night by his attempts to balance on a wooden chair with one foot on the chair back and the other on the seat while only the two back chair legs pivoted on the asphalt. Some of us gave it a try as well. Surprisingly we all ended the night without a scratch but the chair was not so lucky.

Jaleska also joins us once and a while. She’s 18 and good friends with Andrea. In my opinion, she’s an attention hog. She always tries to gain the spotlight and get the conversation to center on her. I really don’t miss her when she’s not around. If it’s not too late, my host sister María likes to hang out with us, but by 9:45/10:00 p.m. my host mom usually calls her inside because she has to get up for school the next day. there’s also Wendy, who has two young kids, but is very young at heart. She might join us if the kids are down for the night and she’s feeling social.

Maria

We entertain ourselves a variety of ways. We sometimes chalked lines on the street and play soccer two square – where you have to pass the ball back and forth with your feet, only letting it bounce once in your square (it’s harder than you think). We often sat around listing to music from people’s mp3 players on their cell phones, singing to the lyrics. We’d tell stories, joke around and all it all just shoot the breeze. Sometimes we had in-depth discussions on one topic or another. A few crazy highlights I remember are walking handstand races and using broken chunks of drywall to chalk up the entire street with messages for and caricatures of our neighbors – all in good fun of course.

Then there were the apretados – oh how I love these. They are simple, frozen ice cream-like treats that come in a plastic bag tied off at one end, a little smaller than a baseball in size. There are all kinds of fruit flavors (mango, papaya, strawberry, blackberry, banana etc.) as well as chocolate, chocolate peanut, coconut, vanilla cream, and others I’m probably forgetting. In some they add powdered evaporated milk that mixes with it as it melts to make it creamy. To eat it you bite through one corner of the plastic bag and bite and slurp till it’s gone. I like to pre-mash the ice so it’s easier to eat. The problem is, your hands usually freeze in the process, but I just switch back and forth. They’re called "apretados" because the verb "apretar" is to press against – makes good sense I think. The best part – they’re incredibly cheap, just 30 cents each or 150 Colones (Colones are roughly 500 to the dollar). They’re sold out of people’s houses where they’re made daily in the kitchen and kept the freezer. Some are open as late as midnight, so we often make late-night apretado runs. They are always a hit.

So this is what I look forward to most nights, hanging out with the “gallada” (the gang). We all live right here on the same block and always have a good time when we’re together. They keep me guessing and I love it.

What Did You Just Call Me?

“¡Hola mamacita guapa, que chica más linda, uuuyi!”

Translation: “Hey hot little mama, such a pretty girl, ooowee!”

That’s a typical shout an American girl hears while walking down a busy street. It’s often accompanied by whistles, or a sound like “tsss tsss tsss” to get her attention. It can be quite annoying at times and if not taken into context, offensive. It was one of the toughest things for me to get used to about Costa Rica. The men have no reservations about yelling out cat calls to women. We Americans tend to take offense to it, but that’s because in our own culture, it’s considered rude and obnoxious. Men might stare at women a little and check them out, maybe smile at them, but they don’t shout incessantly. Well, here they do, some more than others.

I’m not saying it doesn’t bother me, because sometimes it does. Like when I want to lie out on the beach and some guy parks himself on a bench nearby with a clear view so he can watch me – that’s just not okay. But if I’m just walking down the street and they want to whistle and say something, I’ve come to the point where I find it amusing, and even take it as a complement (though it’s really not saying much, considering how the guys here pretty much stop in their tracks for anything with breasts, blond hair and blue eyes).

Many of the girls from the second semester of USAC, after being in Costa Rica for 3 months still aren’t used to it and it is driving them crazy. Well, I figure you can let it drive you crazy, or you can just get over it and take it in stride. Getting mad at them only riles them up even more anyway. You’re much better off just accepting the culture and not stressing yourself out about it – that’s what I’ve learned to do.

Besides, can you really complain when all the guys in town seem to thing you’re gorgeous?

Shake those hips!

I am so thankful that Latin American guys are not afraid to dance. I mean, you’ve still got your typical wallflowers, but there are far fewer here. Praise God! It’s so fun to see guys who aren’t afraid to shake their hips. I’d like to tell all American guys that there’s nothing wrong with gyrating your hips to the rhythm of a song – girls love it! That is, as long as you don’t go overboard. There’s still something distasteful about the surprise attack from behind if the girl’s not expecting it. But in regards to just letting the music flow through you and moving to the beat, these guys know how to groove.

I suppose it’s the culture, where it’s quite normal for a family to encourage toddlers and young kids to shake their booties to the music, all finding it hysterically entertaining when the little ones catch on. So they grow up being rewarded with applause when they decide to dance it up. I guess us Americans just aren’t quite so lively in our family get-togethers.

Perhaps we should be. Girls like a guy with confidence. More boys should be brought up knowing it is okay to express themselves and not be afraid of an audience. I think it would boost their self esteem and confidence on and off the dance floor and may make the difference between winning the girl they like rather than sitting on the sidelines wishfully thinking.

And when a great song comes on, it means more entertainment for everyone.

Guatemala - Poor and homeless for a day

After the tour finished at about 9:00 a.m. we ate a little and hung around until our vans departed for Flores. We stopped back by our hotel on the way back to pick up luggage and arrived just before 11:00 a.m. Here we encountered a little problem. We were almost out of money and had nothing to do until 10:00 p.m. when our bus would depart. We each had about the equivalent of $2.00 in Córdobas, which were roughly 20 to the dollar, and being at the very end of our trip with the rest of our transportation paid for, we refused to pay ATM transaction fees for just a few more dollars of foreign currency. We found a hostel that would hold our luggage for the day for just 5 Córdobas, and then wandered around the little town that was actually formed on a landmass surrounded by rivers. We learned that it was one of the last strongholds for the natives as their territory was continually shrinking from European invasion. We were approached by several tour guides trying to offer us boat rides and cave excursions which might have been nice had we had a little more cash, but we had to just make due killing time. Katy bought a sleep aid pill for the bus ride back and I a beer for the equivalent of 50 cents and a few postcards.

With several hours left to kill and the temperature rising, we searched for some shade (of which there was very little) to just sit and relax. We were hungry, but only had enough for one meal so we figured it best to wait and eat later so as not to be too hungry on the bus. We finally found a spot near the water next to a dock under the shade of a tree. We tried to relax but the ground was rocky and rather uncomfortable. There were also an unusual amount of flies buzzing around. We tried our best to ignore them until I began to notice something smelled funny. I looked to my right and realized we had sat down right next to a pile of dog poop. I gave a shout of disgust which was echoed by Katy. Then, taking everything into perspective, we started laughing hysterically. “It’s like we’re homeless!” I said. We were tired, hungry, poor, felt dirty, and were surrounded by flies.

We picked ourselves up and, wiping the tears from my eyes from laughing so hard, I suggested we try the other side of the island where we had seen a couple trees. We found a good spot, but decided we’d be better off with a blanket on the bumpy grass. Of course, by the time I got back from our hotel with a blanket, a guy with an snow cone cart on wheels had parked right next to our spot and some other vagabonds were hanging around making conversation. “Great!” I thought. “Now we’re competing for plots of grass! I’m not sure this can get any worse.”

There was a bridge crossing the river that lead to a small park area with a couple trees and we decided to try that out. As we were spreading out our blanket, a local about our age approached us, asking what we were doing. He told us that napping on the grass was a bad idea, making ourselves a target for a possible mugging. So now we felt like some odd combination between homeless people and naïve tourists. There was an empty little refreshment bar with some tables out front and he invited us to have a seat. I think he had already been drinking some, but he seemed harmless and there were two of us plus the bartender, so we figured we were ok. He bought us each beers, but Katy didn’t want to drink so I ended up with two. We went on to talk about all kinds of stuff, including where we had been and where we were going and he talked all about his past. He’d made it to the states to work illegally, but then was discovered and deported. He hadn’t seen his family for years and his mom was supposedly finally arriving by plane that day. Why he thought it would be a good idea to get drunk before her arrival is beyond me, but he eventually got there. I got close too, considering he insisted on buying Katy beers that she handed off to me. After a few hours of rambling conversation that eventually was more annoying than amusing, we decided to make our exit. I had had 3, trying to distract myself from my rumbling stomach, and had reached my limit, but I felt bad leaving two full beers on the table. He got a phone call and when his back was turned I dumped the warmer of the two on the grass. I figured one full beer was okay and maybe he’d drink it himself. That might sound like a waste, but you have to realize that the beer was cheap, and not accepting the offer would have been worse. In his state he wouldn’t know I hadn’t drunk it. After he finished his call, we thanked him for his generosity and left. He was sad to lose his company, but wished us well.

We had finally arrived at dinner time and decided to surrender the last of our dollars to a meal, but it had to be cheap. I had 27 Córdobas left and Katy had 30. She had a craving for a burger and I felt like pasta. We browsed menus of several restaurants and none offered both items inexpensively. I found a place with a cheap spaghetti marinara plate and Katy saw a sign for burgers and set off to get one to go, planning to return and eat it at my table. I didn’t sit at my table long before two 30-something guys, the only other people there, invited me over to their table. My food came and I was relieved that it was a large-sized portion that would fill me up. My new acquaintances were very interesting people and made great conversation. It turns out they were both gay, a suspicion I had from the start, and were actually exes, but still friends and were traveling together. We made conversation about their past, which they were surprisingly open about (they had had a couple drinks) and each told stories of our travels. Katy arrived with her burger and joined the conversation.

We stayed chatting there in the restaurant after our food was gone, which helped to pass more time. Finally 9:30 p.m. rolled around and we returned to the hostel to collect our bags and walk to the bus stop. The arrival of the bus was a great relief and the beginning of our journey home. The 8-hour bus ride passed in no time for Katy, who was lucky enough to not have anyone sit in the seat next to her and, with the help of her pill, passed out for the whole trip. I on the other hand, having not had a problem sleeping the first time, opted not to buy a pill, but got stuck sitting with someone next to me in a partially broken seat that rocked from front to back with the driver’s every application of the break pedal. I got little more than short cat naps and the ride dragged on through the night. At 8:00 a.m. we arrived at the Guatemala bus station and found our prearranged shuttle for the airport. I had to charge my $7.00 exit tax to my credit card and bought an apple with the last of my change. I ended up with a couple Córdobas to spare as souvenirs. We took a 45 minute flight back to Costa Rica and a 2 hour bus ride back to Puntarenas. I arrived late afternoon, completely exhausted and extremely grateful to collapse onto a comfortable bed and lay my head on a pillow without lumps.