Help me! I'm MELTING...

Pardon me whilst I melt down here, real public like, m'kay?

Obviously, I've been fighting my own sort of writer's block, and today? Well, I guess today it all came to a head and popped like the zit my life sometimes becomes-but again-self inflicted gets no pity.

One minor prollem has been the fact that my 'major' computer acts all friendly like we are getting along just fine, then all of a sudden it shuts off and eats whatever I was working on, which is majorly depressing. That leaves me stuck with my little netbook, which is all cool and groovy until you want to capitalize something with your left hand, then you are expected to have a mutant pinkie finger that stretches WAAAY over thataway ----> I don't, so I have to stop and THINK whilst I type, which is kinda like rubbing your head and patting your tummy. Must be left brain, right brain conflict-that's what Momma would say, I'm sure. But I digress.

The MAJOR prob, howevah, has been my reluctance to face the fact that YES, VIRGINIA, we are, in fact, back and have been for what? About six weeks now? And I have posted once, I think? (BTW...for some reason, blogger quit informing me that I had comments, so I have not responded to them 'cuz I simply didn't know they were there-soggy!) In any case, I got up today determined to accomplish SOMETHING, and decided to start "small" and do laundry. Now, ordinarily this wouldn't be a big deal, but due to the flood that occurred during our absence, our well was fouled, and despite the two thousand dollar filtration system we have installed, we have been once again fighting fartwater and rust bacteria, both here at the houseboat and at the house (for some odd reason, the rust bacteria problem has never been adequately addressed, in my HUMBLE FARKING OPINION), so despite the fact that I have TWO, count'em, TWO washers and dryers in two separate households, I have to go to a laundromat to wash my white clothes. Now, normally (normal being when the Innocent Bystander is offshore) I keep my laundry done all the time, but when he is home, I can't spread things out in piles on the couch (because he is so efficiently holding it DOWN), so I save most of mine up to do when he is gone (hush-I live on a houseboat-I have enough shorts and tanks to last a month!). Add to this the fact that I have been in denial since we've been back, and it will explain how I did not, until just one hour ago, unpack my suitcase (because I knew I had some treasured white shirts in there that have not yet been subjected to fartwater.) *blushes* Yes, I am that big of a procrastinator. Anyway, I did not just unzip a suitcase, I unzipped so many memories that I was overwhelmed and burst into tears. Sometimes I forget how awesomely I've been blessed in this life, both in the things I have been privileged to do and see, but also by how blessed I have been to have you all in my life, and I do realize how selfishly I've neglected you all.

So. I'm stepping back in, albeit slowly. I just looked through my Amsterdam pictures and realized that we only took TWENTY pictures the whole time we were there-we've been three times now, so most of the stuff we go to see is repeats, which the IB is not inclined to take pictures of, and he is usually the photographer, SO. Mostly we got pictures of Igor trying some of our favorite things ^^groucho eyebrows^^ which is not strictly illegal for iguanas anywhere that I am aware of. We amazed ourselves in that we almost did not even need our streetmaps anymore, as we pretty much either have memorized where everything is by now, or managed to stumble across what we were looking for OR stumbled across things we weren't looking for but managed to find anyway. It was all good.

Our hotel was magnificent. The Banks Mansion is located right on one of the five major canals (the Herengracht) and is about two hundred yards from a tram stop, so it was pretty much centrally located for us. The service was outstanding-it seemed like every time we left the room, someone came in and tidied up and checked to see if we needed anything. Anything, in this case, meant pretty much ANYTHING-this place included a full service breakfast as well as both an in-room mini-bar and a very well stocked 'living room' downstairs, which had a nice selection of liquor, beer, wine and soft drinks as well as light appetizers all day and night, which is included in the price of your room. They also had a wonderful coffee machine that made custom blends at the touch of a button, which was very nice to come back to several times a day as it was very cold and rainy most of the time we were there. We have never stayed at the same hotel twice in Amsterdam, and love to try new places, but I would seriously have to think twice before I stayed anywhere else the next time we go-this place had too many perks and may well deserve a repeat visit.

We always go to the Rijksmuseum, which has many paintings we both love to visit, in particular Rembrandt's The Night Watch. We also always go to a place called Museum Ons' Lieve Heer Op Solder, which translates to Our Lord in the Attic, which is a beautiful church concealed in the top few floors of an historical home that is roughly 350 years old. What always amazes me in these places is that the art and historical objects are RIGHT THERE-they generally aren't behind any kind of protective barriers and there is very little security evident anywhere other than in the room that The Night Watch is in. It just boggles my mind that these three and four hundred year old paintings and sculptures are an arm's length away. We also always take at least one canal boat ride, which are very informative and give you a very broad view of the city in a short period of time. All of these attractions and many many more are all included, as is all in city metro/tram transportation, in the IAmsterdam card. For one set price, you get free or majorly discounted admission to almost all of the museums in the city plus the transportation hop on hop off feature AND coupons to many local businesses and restaurants. They are available in one, two or three day versions, and are WELL worth the price-we paid fifty eight euros apiece for three day passes and they always more than pay for themselves.

One place that is not included is the Anne Frank house. We did not go last time we were there, but we went again this time. It is a very sobering experience if you take your time and try to put yourself in that position, and one of the reasons we don't always go is that I always end up in tears when we leave there. It is THAT powerful.

How do I convey the laughter of running down rainy sidewalks that turn to bikepaths of doom with coffeeshop breath? Giggling over the IB's pronunciation of the street we stayed on (Vijzelstraat-in Dutch, the ij combination is pronounced like a long i, with the j silent, but the IB insisted on calling it vajizzlestrat, a la Snoop Dog. I'm sure it loses some of the humor in translation-but I tried my best to impress on him what a vajizzle actually is. Just sayin'. *wink*)The menus for things that are not strictly illegal for iguanas anywhere that I am aware of, and the variety of flavors and scents of things that are not strictly illegal for iguanas anywhere that I am aware of? (Kind of like going to a wine tasting, only NOT.)

One thing I can and will convey is my newly aquired distaste for what the locals consider an improvement. In an effort to clean up the city, the famed Red Light district has been condensed. Now, we always take a stroll through at least a small section of the district, as it is the IB's trip, too, and I'm all for anything that is going to translate to some bump and grind action of myne own. HOWEVER. Before the 'cleanup', we would walk down these little alleys with the red lights over the windows, and it would be one Playboy centerfold after another-a blonde, then an Asian, then a redhead, then a brunette-all flawless, beautiful girls. Now that they are all condensed, it is more like walking down Bourbon Street in New Orleans, where the most outstanding features of some of the girls are the colors of their bruises. There is no longer a young ho' section and an overweight fiftysomething ho' section and your basic crack ho' section-they are all lumped in together now. SOMEHOW, we ended up walking for what seemed to me like hours around the same four block area. I won't say WHO was directing us, but he had a PENIS, and apparently it was acting as a divining rod for tired out ho's. Anyway, the longer we walked, the more pissed off I got. The last straw was when we saw this not so bad looking working girl come out of her window to negotiate price vs. activity, and I got to see her potential customer. It's all good when it is an even match, but I blew my top when I saw this sweet youngish thing fixing to go get PawPaw's groove on for him. Kinda sucks any pretense of romantic images right outta the park, and I grabbed the IB by the...ARM...and wrestled him back into the real world.

How's that for a start? Now...where is that laundry I was so anxious to do?

Final Day in Costa Rica

We left Jaco with Mario about ten and told him we just wanted a leisurely drive back to San Jose, and that we wanted to stop at the soda that we'd stopped at on our first day for lunch.  He started out with his MP3 player playing some really offensive rap crap that was in english.  I mean, this stuff was the epitome of why I hate most rap-fuck the bitches and stab the cops shit and n----- this and...well, you get the picture.  The Innocent Bystander was giving me some eye english that let me know in no uncertain terms that he was not going to be able to put up with that for two hours, and sure enough, after about the third song, he told Mario to pull over.  The IB got out his Iphone and pulled up a playlist of Latin American music and the gringos actually introduced the tico to some new (for him) artists.  After we got going again, he held up his MP3 player again and explained that he had borrowed it from his ten year old son.  *blink*

I asked him how many kids he had and he said ten.  Johnny and I both looked at him, eyebrows raised.  "DIEZ?" we both asked.  He nodded and repeated it.  Ten.  Then he looked at the IB sideways and said "No TV."  It took half a beat, and we all burst into laughter.  No TV.  What a card.

We stopped at the roadside soda at the top of the mountain and found that they had all the same souveniers that we'd bought in Jaco for about a third of the prices we'd paid.  We all decided to have a casada one last time (because we had big plans for dinner) and discovered that this little hole in the wall had the best food we'd eaten thus far!  The IB even finally got some queso frita (a fried white cheese) that he'd been hunting the whole time we'd been in Costa Rica.  After a wonderful meal, we proceded on to the hotel.

We stayed at the Hotel El Rodeo, a four-star, ecologically sustainable hotel ten minutes from the airport.  Mario took us in and helped us get checked in, then told the IB to hang on a minute, that he had a present for him.  He ran out to the taxi, and when he came back, he had his hand behind his back.  When he brought it to the front, I started crying, for there in his hand was Igor, his little iguana that rode everywhere he went in his taxi.  We insisted that Igor needed to stay with him, but he insisted that we take him, and that the IB take him to Nigeria and let him ride on the boat with him.  I sobbed like a baby.  We exchanged email addresses, and said that we would take him with us on all of our travels and send him pictures of everywhere Igor goes.  It was SO HARD to tell him goodbye.  I am tearing up just thinking about it.  Mario es mi amigo y amo a Igor.

The hotel was very nice.  It was a welcome change to be in an air conditioned room, so we both took our first shower that 'took' for the whole trip.  We went for a walk around the grounds and basically just took it easy for the rest of the afternoon. ^^groucho eyebrows^^  When we came up for air, it was time for dinner, which was the whole reason the IB had chosen this particular hotel.  The El Rodeo Steakhouse is supposedly "the best in the country for 27 years."  I believe them.  The IB had a SLAB O'Beef and I had a much smaller version (sorry Braja!  I'm a carnivore, what can I say?).  They were very, very good, but mine was so rich I had to go into the bathroom and *searches for a delicate way to put this* puke it all up.  I didn't feel sick though, so I returned to the table and finished my dinner with no problems.

The trip home was uneventful other than the last minute dash to catch our connecting flight in Houston.  By the time we got through customs and immigration, our flight was already loading before we even got to our terminal, so we ended up getting to be those people you always see being driven through the airport on one of those little annoying electric carts-we flagged one down and he was happy to give us a ride!  It is the only thing that kept us from missing the flight, but it was okay since we were in first class (thanks again, frequent flyer miles!).

Impressions.  We as US Americans take a lot of things for granted.  We assume that when we go to the bathroom, you put the toilet paper IN the toilet and flush it down, but it doesn't work that way all over the world.  Costa Rica's septic systems are so delicate that they have signs in all the restrooms advising you to please NOT FLUSH toilet paper down the toilet.  There are wastebaskets provided and you are supposed to deposit your used tissue there, which seems very unsanitary but is necessary to keep the pipes from clogging.  We also take for granted that when someone says American they are talking about US Americans.  One woman from the states who was on the safari cruise asked "How can they call them American crocodiles if they are here in Costa Rica?"  I wanted to get up and bitch slap her.  We also take our natural resources for granted.  I don't think we talked to any Costa Ricans who were not acutely aware of their environment and the impact both tourism and development are having on their country and its flora and fauna.  I heard from several different people how it 'used to be' so tranquil (and they say it so beautifully "trankeel"), but that you had to go deeper and deeper into the mountains to find that tranquility anymore.  Progress.  ^^shrug^^

All in all, a wonderful trip, a wonderful country, a wonderful people.  A new piece in the puzzle of my life.  New experiences, new friends.  Isn't that what it's all about?

*smooches*

Mario and Manuel Antonio

When we arrived in Costa Rica we were picked up by a driver who had been arranged for us by Jan and Greg at the hotel.  Mario is a charming fellow who has been driving for them for the five years since the hotel has been open, and were they ever lucky to snap him up!  He is very passionate and knowledgeable about his country, and was careful to speak clearly and slowly so that we two gringos could keep up with the conversation.  He spoke fairly good English, but when he found out we both speak bastardized and butchered Spanish, he decided he was only going to speak Spanish to us unless we really couldn't finger out what he was trying to say.

On the way to the hotel, he took us to this awesome little soda (roadside restaurant) at the top of a mountain looking out over a large valley and off into another set of peaks.  Absolutely stunning views that my pictures don't even come close to doing justice to.  We had a cup of Costa Rican coffee. (Ehh...*waves hand back and forth*...I wasn't that impressed as I prefer a much stronger more bitey coffee, but I had thought to bring along my Splenda and my Italian Sweet Cream Coffeemate so it was drinkable) (no, they do NOT pay me!)

We got back in the car to finish our trip through the mountains, and along the way, Mario introduced us to his companion Igor, a little toy iguana he kept on his dashboard, who will re-enter the story later.  When he dropped us off at the hotel, we told him that we would have Jan and Greg call him to arrange when next to pick us up, as he is their driver for long rides, but local taxis would be our in town transportation.  We did, however, arrange right then for him to pick us up on our last day to return us to San Jose for our flight home.

When we got back from the zipline tour on our first full day in country, we hit the pool for awhile, then headed into Jaco proper.  Jaco is pretty much like any other beach town or tourist town-one main street of tourist shop after tourist shop, selling all manner of towels, bathing suits, jewelry and rosewood carvings.  We don't really 'do' souveniers, but I picked up a couple of little things that would be easily packed, and we found some dinner (excellent fish-mahi mahi and seabass, primarily) and a grocery store to procure our beer for the night (Imperial and Imperial Light substitute remarkably well for Busch and Busch Light in a pinch).  After much discussion and debate with Jan and Greg and some friends of theirs who were down from Canada, we decided to get Mario to take us to Quepos, a town about one and a half hours away, to visit a National Wildlife Refuge there called Manuel Antonio.

It was a beautiful day-perfect for hiking.  We, along with one other couple, hired a guide to take us through the trails.  It was well worth the money.  The guides see things you would NEVER be able to pick out on their own, and they carry these telescopes on tripods, and zero right in on things.  He also does a little lecture, pointing out different plants and fruits and barks and telling us about them in this very dry voice (imagine Ben Stein's monotone with a Spanish accent).  He'd say things like, "In Costa Rica, with this tree, they take the bark and they boil it in the water, then they drink the water.  This is good for headaches." or "In Costa Rica, they take the leaves of this plant, and boil it in the water, then they breath in the steam of this plant.  They do this for three days and it cures the asthma."  Evidently, for every plant in Costa Rica, there is a potion to be made.

We were very fortunate right off to see our second batch of capuchin monkeys (we'd seen a few the day before on the zipline tour briefing) (these are the little white faced monkeys that are used as helpers for wheelchair bound patients).  They are so cute!  We could also hear howler monkeys, which sound just like their name suggests, but we never did get close to them.  We saw iguanas and basilisks (also known as the Jesus Christ lizard because it can 'walk' on water), crabs, bees both of the itty bitty variety that don't sting and the African Killer variety, which were fortunately WAAY up in the trees, bats, sloths (which is really just like saying we saw a couple of wads of hair in a tree because they ain't kiddin' folks-those suckers to not MOVE), a porcupine, and probably ten or so more things I'm forgetting.  It was most definitely a blast.  

After the tour was done, we walked over to a soda on the beach with Mario, who had waited to take us back to the hotel.  We had a lovely open air lunch (all the sodas are pretty much open air) of barbecued pork and chicken, along with yuca which neither of us had ever eaten. Surprise, surprise!  It is just like potato, but with a little more fiber.  Very yummy.  

On the way back to the hotel, Mario told us that he wanted to take a detour and show us something.  He started teasing us about La Sirena, which he expected us to understand as we are big Mana fans (a Latin American band who has a song by that name).  When he finally realized we weren't going to get it, he just said one word and it came to both of us-mermaid. He turned down a series of little secondary roads in a residential area and we came out on the beach.  Out about a hundred yards in the surf was a large rock sticking out of the ocean, and mounted (heh-I said mounted) on top was this statue of a mermaid.  We tried to get pictures, but they did not come out worth a flip, so pfft.  When we got back in the car, Mario kept talking about how sad it was.  I finally asked him what was so sad, and he told me that many people had died surfing in that area because of the rocks scattered under the surf, and that the man who had had the statue built commissioned the artist to give the bronze the face of his daughter, who was one of the victims.  Gave me a piss shiver, that one did.

I think I will quit pushing my luck and close this for now, and finish up the story tomorrow.  I am trying to catch up on your blogs too, and have two, count'em, TWO awards to acknowledge, so this is a busy week for me.  Add to that the Superbowl and the fact that the Innocent Bystander goes back to the Fatherland on Wednesday, and hopefully you'll forgive me for drawing this out so long.  Hasta manana, ya'll!