Indirect objects today. The geek within is enjoying this far more than I should admit.
It rained today while Bryan and I were walking down the mountain, and of all days for me to be wearing only an undershirt it had to be today. I felt very self-conscious and was worried that the Ticas might see my nipples, so I tightened my backpack so that the straps covered them. Call me a pansy if you must, but the people here are weird sometimes, and they'll make fun of gringos for just about any reason; for instance, I made fun of a gringo the other day just because he couldn't speak Spanish. I mean, it was Bryan, but still, I'm not even a Tico and I make fun of the gringos. So you can understand my apprehension.
By the way, the term for a male nipple in Spanish is "tetilla." Note that it is feminine. However, on a female breast, it is called a "pezon" and is in fact masculine. This language weirds me out.
No me gusta cuando usted puede ve mi tetillas.
-Juan
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Monday, January 30, 2006
I fixed the link to the photos, but if you don't want to scroll down, here it is again:
Costa Rica Photos
New teacher again today. A guy named Chico. He's cool. We covered direct objects today, and it made a whole lot of things I've heard in the past few weeks make so much more sense. In Spanish, you see, the DO comes before the verb, whereas in English it comes after. For example:
"I did it."
In Spanish, would be this:
"Yo lo hice." (I it did)
This will take some getting used to, because there's no logical way to wrap it up in good English grammar like there are most other things. But that's okay, because I have a jungle outside.
This has been "Brief and incomprehensible Spanish with Juan." Thank you for reading, please come again.
Adios.
-Juan
Costa Rica Photos
New teacher again today. A guy named Chico. He's cool. We covered direct objects today, and it made a whole lot of things I've heard in the past few weeks make so much more sense. In Spanish, you see, the DO comes before the verb, whereas in English it comes after. For example:
"I did it."
In Spanish, would be this:
"Yo lo hice." (I it did)
This will take some getting used to, because there's no logical way to wrap it up in good English grammar like there are most other things. But that's okay, because I have a jungle outside.
This has been "Brief and incomprehensible Spanish with Juan." Thank you for reading, please come again.
Adios.
-Juan
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Note: This is a continued entry from earlier today. If you missed the earlier entry, and you're into reading the things I write, you might enjoy hearing what I had to say about mine and Bryan's trip from Santa Ana to Fortuna.
--
So moving on, Bryan and I woke up early the next morning and went on a tour with some guys from a company known as "Pure Trek Canyoning." The main drive of what these guys do involves hiking through the jungle, and from time to time rappelling down a waterfall or two. Or four. Bryan and I, being the skilled rappelling experts that we are, took on this challenge with gusto. They came to our hotel at around 7:30 to pick us up, and half an hour later we were hiking into a canyon and could hear the sounds of the approaching waterfall. After a brief safety speech from the guides, we (and the 15 or so others with us) began to descend the first of four waterfalls.
Umm... so I'm typing this, and I'm realizing there's not much more to say about what we did in the canyon. I mean, it was the time of my life and I'll never forget it, but it's just not story material. We rappelled down the falls, we hiked out of the canyon, we had lunch with the guides, and that's about it. I loved it. Honestly, one of the best days of my life.
After returning to our hotel, Bryan and I had scarcely put on dry clothes before it started to rain. Really really hard. And in a town like Fortuna, which is designed mostly for tourists, our options were to either go and try to see the volcano through a bunch of mist, clouds, and fog, go waste our money on souvenirs, or sit in the hotel and watch second-rate movies on HBO with the volume muted and try to figure out what they were about by reading the Spanish subtitles. Without question or hesitation, we chose the latter. And that was how we spent the rest of the day.
We made plans to go and see the volcano today, but it was foggy again, and so there was no chance we'd see anything resembling lava or even a crater. Bad luck with timing, but we'd been told to expect it. So we got on the bus to come home at around 12:45, and the fun started all over again. About five hours of travel-time, total, involving one kind of scary moment where a lady without an ounce of sense in her head LEANED AGAINST THE BUS DOORS with HER BABY IN HER ARMS, thus causing the door of the moving bus to fly open and nearly toppling her and her kid onto the road. Luckily somebody grabbed her in time, but seriously, who does that? Loca.
And now for some rather exciting news, I found out that one of the internet cafes here in Santa Ana will copy files from my camera's memory card onto a CD for me for a mere dollar. I jumped on this opportunity, and finally have some photographic evidence for all of you to enjoy from my trip.
Costa Rica Photos
I will be adding more to this page every week or two, and I'll say something about it on my blog when I do so that you don't have to constantly check on it.
By the way, I've received lots of comments, emails, and other types of messages about all the entries I've been writing since I've gotten here, and I really liked getting them. Thanks for taking an interest in Bryan and me, everybody. We're glad you like us.
And now, yet another time, I have to go karaoke with my local parents before I go to bed. Life is hard sometimes.
Viva la Conversa
-Juan
--
So moving on, Bryan and I woke up early the next morning and went on a tour with some guys from a company known as "Pure Trek Canyoning." The main drive of what these guys do involves hiking through the jungle, and from time to time rappelling down a waterfall or two. Or four. Bryan and I, being the skilled rappelling experts that we are, took on this challenge with gusto. They came to our hotel at around 7:30 to pick us up, and half an hour later we were hiking into a canyon and could hear the sounds of the approaching waterfall. After a brief safety speech from the guides, we (and the 15 or so others with us) began to descend the first of four waterfalls.
Umm... so I'm typing this, and I'm realizing there's not much more to say about what we did in the canyon. I mean, it was the time of my life and I'll never forget it, but it's just not story material. We rappelled down the falls, we hiked out of the canyon, we had lunch with the guides, and that's about it. I loved it. Honestly, one of the best days of my life.
After returning to our hotel, Bryan and I had scarcely put on dry clothes before it started to rain. Really really hard. And in a town like Fortuna, which is designed mostly for tourists, our options were to either go and try to see the volcano through a bunch of mist, clouds, and fog, go waste our money on souvenirs, or sit in the hotel and watch second-rate movies on HBO with the volume muted and try to figure out what they were about by reading the Spanish subtitles. Without question or hesitation, we chose the latter. And that was how we spent the rest of the day.
We made plans to go and see the volcano today, but it was foggy again, and so there was no chance we'd see anything resembling lava or even a crater. Bad luck with timing, but we'd been told to expect it. So we got on the bus to come home at around 12:45, and the fun started all over again. About five hours of travel-time, total, involving one kind of scary moment where a lady without an ounce of sense in her head LEANED AGAINST THE BUS DOORS with HER BABY IN HER ARMS, thus causing the door of the moving bus to fly open and nearly toppling her and her kid onto the road. Luckily somebody grabbed her in time, but seriously, who does that? Loca.
And now for some rather exciting news, I found out that one of the internet cafes here in Santa Ana will copy files from my camera's memory card onto a CD for me for a mere dollar. I jumped on this opportunity, and finally have some photographic evidence for all of you to enjoy from my trip.
Costa Rica Photos
I will be adding more to this page every week or two, and I'll say something about it on my blog when I do so that you don't have to constantly check on it.
By the way, I've received lots of comments, emails, and other types of messages about all the entries I've been writing since I've gotten here, and I really liked getting them. Thanks for taking an interest in Bryan and me, everybody. We're glad you like us.
And now, yet another time, I have to go karaoke with my local parents before I go to bed. Life is hard sometimes.
Viva la Conversa
-Juan
Hey there, everybody.
This weekend, Bryan and I went to the town of Fortuna, the nearest city to Arenal Volcano. But do you see what I did there? I wrapped up our travel into one convenient little sentence, completely removing any reference to the adventure that was getting to the city. I shall now relive that adventure for you. The following is based on a true story; only the events have been changed in order to make it far more exciting.
Our options for getting to Fortuna were many. We could take a plane for $75, we could rent a car for about $125, we could take a charter bus for about $25, or we could continue being the cheap tightwads that this country has made us into. Meaning, we could take the public bus for a mere $3. Obviously we chose the latter. It would add about an hour and a half onto our already considerable travel time, making the trip take around five hours, but we would save $22 as well as get to have a cultural experience. And boy, did we experience the culture.
The trip started normally enough. We boarded a bus in Santa Ana at around 3:00 to take us into San Jose, normally about a ten minute drive by car. With all of the bus stops, it took us closer to twenty. We were expecting this, so it was okay. However, once we got into San Jose and got off at the proper stop, we realized we had no idea where the bus station we needed was. If you've never been to Costa Rica, then you've never really gotten to experience the thrill of trying to find an address in a city where streets have no names and buildings have no numbers. Addresses here are directions in relation to landmarks. For example, my house in Santa Ana would be "200 meters past the catholic church, turn left, go 50 meters, stop at the pile of chicken cages and look up. I am in the bar on your left." The bus station we were looking for was "700 meters north of Coca Cola [Market], across the street from the old church." It took us awhile to find it. Once we did, we had to fight through some very elementary Spanish skills in order to find out which bus we were supposed to board. After boarding, we had to sort out the fare with a bus driver who spoke no English, and as far as I could tell he also spoke very little Spanish. It took us awhile to figure it out, needless to say.
But then, at around 4:45, we were on our way. Little did we know that two and a half hours later we would have to make a stop in Ciudad Quesada and change buses. I don't honestly remember how we figured out which bus to board in those twenty minutes at the bus station, but we did it just in time, because shortly after getting on the bus we pulled out of the station. Although we needn't have worried about hurrying, because we were riding the public bus. Before leaving the station's parking lot, we had stopped to pick up four different groups of people who had been ten minutes late to catch the bus. In order to make all of the necessary stops on our way out of Ciudad Quesada (also known as San Carlos, by the by, and the names are used interchangeably without explanation to confused gringos), we had to drop off all of the nighttime commuters, teenage partiers, and just plain ol' vagrants. It took us about an hour to leave San Carlos.
About forty minutes outside of San Carlos, we made a stop, and it looked like everybody was getting off of the bus. It was obvious we weren't in Fortuna, or any city for that matter, because everything around us was completely dark. I turned to Bryan in order to let him know that I was confused and frightened. Luckily, somebody nearby who spoke English heard my pathetic whimpers and filled us in on what was happening.
"There's a bridge the bus can't cross. You have to get out and walk."
He was serious. And he was right. So Bryan and I got off the bus and started walking. It was dark by then, about 8:15 at night, so we couldn't see more than a few feet in front of us, and most of that was by the light of the bus behind us. All we could hear was the rushing of water beneath the bridge we were crossing, which seemed to get more rickety with each progressive step. I was being a pansy about it, yeah, but it was an unsettling thing, I tell you. Anyway, we got across safe and sound, boarded the bus waiting for us on the other side, and rode the remaining hour and a half to Fortuna. We checked into our hotel, had dinner, and went to bed, secure in the knowledge that our long day of travel was over.
--
Okay, I need to go for now, our bus is about to leave for San Jose. I'll finish telling about the weekend either later today or tomorrow, once I get back to Santa Ana. But don't get too excited about it, the trip here really was the most exciting part of the story.
Hasta luego.
-Juan Iglesias
This weekend, Bryan and I went to the town of Fortuna, the nearest city to Arenal Volcano. But do you see what I did there? I wrapped up our travel into one convenient little sentence, completely removing any reference to the adventure that was getting to the city. I shall now relive that adventure for you. The following is based on a true story; only the events have been changed in order to make it far more exciting.
Our options for getting to Fortuna were many. We could take a plane for $75, we could rent a car for about $125, we could take a charter bus for about $25, or we could continue being the cheap tightwads that this country has made us into. Meaning, we could take the public bus for a mere $3. Obviously we chose the latter. It would add about an hour and a half onto our already considerable travel time, making the trip take around five hours, but we would save $22 as well as get to have a cultural experience. And boy, did we experience the culture.
The trip started normally enough. We boarded a bus in Santa Ana at around 3:00 to take us into San Jose, normally about a ten minute drive by car. With all of the bus stops, it took us closer to twenty. We were expecting this, so it was okay. However, once we got into San Jose and got off at the proper stop, we realized we had no idea where the bus station we needed was. If you've never been to Costa Rica, then you've never really gotten to experience the thrill of trying to find an address in a city where streets have no names and buildings have no numbers. Addresses here are directions in relation to landmarks. For example, my house in Santa Ana would be "200 meters past the catholic church, turn left, go 50 meters, stop at the pile of chicken cages and look up. I am in the bar on your left." The bus station we were looking for was "700 meters north of Coca Cola [Market], across the street from the old church." It took us awhile to find it. Once we did, we had to fight through some very elementary Spanish skills in order to find out which bus we were supposed to board. After boarding, we had to sort out the fare with a bus driver who spoke no English, and as far as I could tell he also spoke very little Spanish. It took us awhile to figure it out, needless to say.
But then, at around 4:45, we were on our way. Little did we know that two and a half hours later we would have to make a stop in Ciudad Quesada and change buses. I don't honestly remember how we figured out which bus to board in those twenty minutes at the bus station, but we did it just in time, because shortly after getting on the bus we pulled out of the station. Although we needn't have worried about hurrying, because we were riding the public bus. Before leaving the station's parking lot, we had stopped to pick up four different groups of people who had been ten minutes late to catch the bus. In order to make all of the necessary stops on our way out of Ciudad Quesada (also known as San Carlos, by the by, and the names are used interchangeably without explanation to confused gringos), we had to drop off all of the nighttime commuters, teenage partiers, and just plain ol' vagrants. It took us about an hour to leave San Carlos.
About forty minutes outside of San Carlos, we made a stop, and it looked like everybody was getting off of the bus. It was obvious we weren't in Fortuna, or any city for that matter, because everything around us was completely dark. I turned to Bryan in order to let him know that I was confused and frightened. Luckily, somebody nearby who spoke English heard my pathetic whimpers and filled us in on what was happening.
"There's a bridge the bus can't cross. You have to get out and walk."
He was serious. And he was right. So Bryan and I got off the bus and started walking. It was dark by then, about 8:15 at night, so we couldn't see more than a few feet in front of us, and most of that was by the light of the bus behind us. All we could hear was the rushing of water beneath the bridge we were crossing, which seemed to get more rickety with each progressive step. I was being a pansy about it, yeah, but it was an unsettling thing, I tell you. Anyway, we got across safe and sound, boarded the bus waiting for us on the other side, and rode the remaining hour and a half to Fortuna. We checked into our hotel, had dinner, and went to bed, secure in the knowledge that our long day of travel was over.
--
Okay, I need to go for now, our bus is about to leave for San Jose. I'll finish telling about the weekend either later today or tomorrow, once I get back to Santa Ana. But don't get too excited about it, the trip here really was the most exciting part of the story.
Hasta luego.
-Juan Iglesias
Thursday, January 26, 2006
It's a good day.
So today, I left school a little bit early. I know, I know, I shouldn't be missing class, but trust me when I say it was the right decision to make in this particular instance. The last session of our day is a 1 1/2 hour review of the things we've covered in the two previous two hour sessions, and my options were to either go to this review, or experience what I experienced instead.
I went rappeling today.
180 feet.
Down a waterfall.
Apparently, one of the river guides for the people who went rafting on Saturday is also a fairly well-connected fellow who does things ranging from kayaking in canyons to horseback riding through the mountains to such things as we did today. So Minnesota John got this guy's number, gave him a call a couple of days ago, and next thing I know I'm commiting to spending the afternoon trusting my life to people I've never met. It's an exhiliarating feeling, to say the least.
I haven't rappelled in close to three years, so I had lost my old confidence in the equipment; in other words, I was a little nervous. The guy came to pick us up here in Santa Ana, drove us to a place about a half hour away, and it was a short hike to the top of the waterfall. Looking down from the top, I realized it was almost three times higher than anything I had ever descended before. This thing was massive; but it was incredible. The beauty was really something that has to be seen to be believed, but it was really out of this world. The three of us who were to be going down the falls were mesmerized while the guys set up the ropes.
Once I was strapped in, I was getting re-acquainted with what I was supposed to be doing; I got back the cockiness I was used to from when Nate and I used to do this every weekend down in Red Rock. But the waterfall was really something to behold. I got soaking wet on the way down, and I was loving every single minute of it. At one point, the guide we were with had tied off our "eight ring" so that we couldn't descend any further, and we got to jump straight into the waterfall. So much fun. I don't know that I'll ever get to experience anything like it ever again, but I'm glad I got to do it today.
Moving on...
Like I said yesterday, about half of our really good friends from Conversa are leaving in the next couple of days. Deb from Michigan treated us to dinner and drinks at a restaurant that's about halfway up the hill, and it's pretty safe to say that a good time was had by all. We bid fond farewells to Deb from Michigan and Bob from Kentucky, who will both be missed a great deal in the coming weeks, and just had a great time talking about all the fun we've had and laughing about stories from our respective pasts. Like Bob said, I don't think I've ever met such a diverse age group of people with whom I've been able to mingle so well.
So here I am, closing out my day at the internet cafe, writing my blog entry while my laptop downloads the latest episode of Lost. I suppose once that's all done, I'll take myself home, watch the episode, and fall off into an all-too-brief sleep before I get to hike up the mountain and see my friends again.
It's a good day, indeed.
-Juan
So today, I left school a little bit early. I know, I know, I shouldn't be missing class, but trust me when I say it was the right decision to make in this particular instance. The last session of our day is a 1 1/2 hour review of the things we've covered in the two previous two hour sessions, and my options were to either go to this review, or experience what I experienced instead.
I went rappeling today.
180 feet.
Down a waterfall.
Apparently, one of the river guides for the people who went rafting on Saturday is also a fairly well-connected fellow who does things ranging from kayaking in canyons to horseback riding through the mountains to such things as we did today. So Minnesota John got this guy's number, gave him a call a couple of days ago, and next thing I know I'm commiting to spending the afternoon trusting my life to people I've never met. It's an exhiliarating feeling, to say the least.
I haven't rappelled in close to three years, so I had lost my old confidence in the equipment; in other words, I was a little nervous. The guy came to pick us up here in Santa Ana, drove us to a place about a half hour away, and it was a short hike to the top of the waterfall. Looking down from the top, I realized it was almost three times higher than anything I had ever descended before. This thing was massive; but it was incredible. The beauty was really something that has to be seen to be believed, but it was really out of this world. The three of us who were to be going down the falls were mesmerized while the guys set up the ropes.
Once I was strapped in, I was getting re-acquainted with what I was supposed to be doing; I got back the cockiness I was used to from when Nate and I used to do this every weekend down in Red Rock. But the waterfall was really something to behold. I got soaking wet on the way down, and I was loving every single minute of it. At one point, the guide we were with had tied off our "eight ring" so that we couldn't descend any further, and we got to jump straight into the waterfall. So much fun. I don't know that I'll ever get to experience anything like it ever again, but I'm glad I got to do it today.
Moving on...
Like I said yesterday, about half of our really good friends from Conversa are leaving in the next couple of days. Deb from Michigan treated us to dinner and drinks at a restaurant that's about halfway up the hill, and it's pretty safe to say that a good time was had by all. We bid fond farewells to Deb from Michigan and Bob from Kentucky, who will both be missed a great deal in the coming weeks, and just had a great time talking about all the fun we've had and laughing about stories from our respective pasts. Like Bob said, I don't think I've ever met such a diverse age group of people with whom I've been able to mingle so well.
So here I am, closing out my day at the internet cafe, writing my blog entry while my laptop downloads the latest episode of Lost. I suppose once that's all done, I'll take myself home, watch the episode, and fall off into an all-too-brief sleep before I get to hike up the mountain and see my friends again.
It's a good day, indeed.
-Juan
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
So now that the Samford kids are gone (and we do miss them dearly, they were fun), there are only nine of us left at Conversa this week. Two college students (Bryan and myself), three vacationers (a nursery manager from Minnesota named John, another John from Idaho, and Bob from Kentucky), one retiree (Deb from Michigan), and three twenty-something-year-old people who have moved down here on a semi-permanent basis and are looking to improve their Spanish before getting apartments and jobs in Costa Rica (Katie from South Carolina, Tricia from Chicago, and Greg from Minnesota). With such small numbers, it's easy for us all to get together and hang out after classes every day. We've made it a habit to go to one bar or another and have a couple of beers at the end of each school day, and it's turned into a nice little routine for us.
Tomorrow, sadly, this must come to an end.
After this week, only four of us will remain, and Thursday is actually Deb's last night in town. So we're all going to stop at a restaurant that's about 1/3 of the way up the mountain after school and have a few drinks and reminisce on the two weeks we've known each other and all that jazz. It's weird how much I've laughed and had fun with these people after only knowing them for such a short time. I guess it's the kind of personality that's drawn to do something like Conversa; it's generally congenial people who are fun to be around.
Anyway, enough with the sappiness.
Bryan and I have nearly completed our first semester of Spanish. He's feeling a bit of trepidation, but I'm downright excited. Things are clicking, connections are being made... I'm still super-slow at speaking it but I'm picking up on things I never would have thought possible. Now when my madre (Costa Rican "mom") asks me if I'm going to "cenar" (to have supper) in the restaurant or elsewhere with my friends, I don't have to spend five minutes thinking about what she said. Instead, I can spend that five minutes formulating my response. I now only feel half-retarted, and I feel proud of my wee little accomplishment, even if it has taken about 44 hours of class (so far) to get me there. That's 5 1/2 hours a day spread out over eight weekdays, for anybody who's curious.
I'm working on a way to get my pictures up here. It won't happen anytime soon because I left the cable connecting my camera to my computer on my desk in Waco, but if I can find a card reader down here somewhere then I'll have them up for you to see as soon as possible.
This weekend Bryan and I are going to see a volcano. Arénal is the most active volcano in the country at the moment, and is in fact the world's third largest active volcano. Odds are very good that all we'll see are a bunch of clouds, but we could get lucky and see an eruption. Of course, if not, then we'll just have to drown our sorrows in the warm natural hot springs surrounding the area. Poor us. We are such mistreated creatures.
The coca-cola here tastes so much sweeter than it does in America. It's bottled domestically, so I suspect that they use the pure cane sugar rather than the "high fructose corn syrup" they use in America. Plus it all comes out of glass bottles, and everybody knows that they are far superior to plastic bottles when it comes to taste. I think I may be able to make it without Dr. Pepper as long as I never run out of bottles of coke.
Buenos noches, chicos y chicas. Hasta mas tarde.
-Juansito, Un Oso de Baylor
Tomorrow, sadly, this must come to an end.
After this week, only four of us will remain, and Thursday is actually Deb's last night in town. So we're all going to stop at a restaurant that's about 1/3 of the way up the mountain after school and have a few drinks and reminisce on the two weeks we've known each other and all that jazz. It's weird how much I've laughed and had fun with these people after only knowing them for such a short time. I guess it's the kind of personality that's drawn to do something like Conversa; it's generally congenial people who are fun to be around.
Anyway, enough with the sappiness.
Bryan and I have nearly completed our first semester of Spanish. He's feeling a bit of trepidation, but I'm downright excited. Things are clicking, connections are being made... I'm still super-slow at speaking it but I'm picking up on things I never would have thought possible. Now when my madre (Costa Rican "mom") asks me if I'm going to "cenar" (to have supper) in the restaurant or elsewhere with my friends, I don't have to spend five minutes thinking about what she said. Instead, I can spend that five minutes formulating my response. I now only feel half-retarted, and I feel proud of my wee little accomplishment, even if it has taken about 44 hours of class (so far) to get me there. That's 5 1/2 hours a day spread out over eight weekdays, for anybody who's curious.
I'm working on a way to get my pictures up here. It won't happen anytime soon because I left the cable connecting my camera to my computer on my desk in Waco, but if I can find a card reader down here somewhere then I'll have them up for you to see as soon as possible.
This weekend Bryan and I are going to see a volcano. Arénal is the most active volcano in the country at the moment, and is in fact the world's third largest active volcano. Odds are very good that all we'll see are a bunch of clouds, but we could get lucky and see an eruption. Of course, if not, then we'll just have to drown our sorrows in the warm natural hot springs surrounding the area. Poor us. We are such mistreated creatures.
The coca-cola here tastes so much sweeter than it does in America. It's bottled domestically, so I suspect that they use the pure cane sugar rather than the "high fructose corn syrup" they use in America. Plus it all comes out of glass bottles, and everybody knows that they are far superior to plastic bottles when it comes to taste. I think I may be able to make it without Dr. Pepper as long as I never run out of bottles of coke.
Buenos noches, chicos y chicas. Hasta mas tarde.
-Juansito, Un Oso de Baylor
Monday, January 23, 2006
So yesterday (Sunday), Bryan and I went and played some softball. Bryan's Costa Rican brother-in-law is from Venezuela, and in Venezuela baseball is the sport to play; therefore, there are many people who play softball as well. In Costa Rica, it's all pretty much soccer.
So we went to this park in San José with Guillermo, and lo and behold, there were a bunch of Venezuelans and a bunch of Nicaraguans. These two countries, it would seem, are rivals. So it quickly turned into a pickup game of Venezuelans vs. the "nicas." No joke, they call them nicas. And they were a cocky bunch of punks. Especially one guy that Bryan and I (or maybe it was just me) had dubbed "Purpleshirt Punkass." Purpleshirt was that guy on the team that everybody knows, that nobody can stand to be around, but nobody wants to tell them to go away because they won't do it anyway. I was playing catcher, and of the four time this guy went up to bat, he got out three times. He was lucky enough to score once, and I have no excuse for that. It made me sad. But that's okay, because the other three times he got out made me happy. This is why I am a bad person.
Anyway, the Venezuelans (and two Gringos, aka "us") ended up losing to the Nicas. But it was a fun time and I have little more to say about it.
Today was the first day with our new teacher. She speaks much better English than the last one did, but that's no help to us because she refuses to do it in the classroom. She's very ready with the praise, though, and that's nice.
Okay, I need to go. Adios.
-Juansito
So we went to this park in San José with Guillermo, and lo and behold, there were a bunch of Venezuelans and a bunch of Nicaraguans. These two countries, it would seem, are rivals. So it quickly turned into a pickup game of Venezuelans vs. the "nicas." No joke, they call them nicas. And they were a cocky bunch of punks. Especially one guy that Bryan and I (or maybe it was just me) had dubbed "Purpleshirt Punkass." Purpleshirt was that guy on the team that everybody knows, that nobody can stand to be around, but nobody wants to tell them to go away because they won't do it anyway. I was playing catcher, and of the four time this guy went up to bat, he got out three times. He was lucky enough to score once, and I have no excuse for that. It made me sad. But that's okay, because the other three times he got out made me happy. This is why I am a bad person.
Anyway, the Venezuelans (and two Gringos, aka "us") ended up losing to the Nicas. But it was a fun time and I have little more to say about it.
Today was the first day with our new teacher. She speaks much better English than the last one did, but that's no help to us because she refuses to do it in the classroom. She's very ready with the praise, though, and that's nice.
Okay, I need to go. Adios.
-Juansito
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Veintiun de enero del dosmil seis
It's been a good couple of days.
First off, for anybody wondering how that test I was talking about went, I can say with great ego that I did much better than I had thought I would. I got a 94 on my first ever Spanish test, and next week I will be placed accordingly. This just gives me the warm fuzzies all over.
For some general Conversa/Costa Rica news, regarding myself and Bryan, we have taken it upon ourselves to ease the load on the school buses that take the students from Santa Ana (the town we live in) to Conversa (the school we go to). In other words, we are walking to school every day. This may sound like no big deal to you, but you have to believe me when I say that it's a bit of an undertaking. You never really appreciate the difficuly of walking uphill until you have to do it. The walk from my house behind the Coco to the trail itself is proably a little more than half a mile, and the trail is an uphill hike of about 3 miles to Conversa. It takes about forty-five minutes to walk to school, at which point we take some very cold showers at school. Why a cold shower? Because hot water heaters, it turns out, are a relatively newfangled thing and have not yet made their way to the mass populace of Costa Rica. Thus, the school has no hot water available. We are getting freezing cold water from deep within the mountain in which to shower. It is both a reminder that I am alive as well as a reminder that I don't like to be cold. But anyway, it's getting me in pretty good shape (I'm seeing my ribs for the first time since high school), so I'll keep doing it until I go home. In fact, Bryan has made it his goal never to take the bus to school, so I suppose we'll be walking to school for weeks to come. It's a good time, lemme tell ya.
And now for storytime.
All week long, one of the older students here (also named John) has been planning to have his 54th birthday party in the bar I'm living in. We've been talking it up amongst the other students, including the 25 or so college-aged kids from Samford who have been here for the past three weeks. We were all pretty excited about it because it would be an opportunity for us all to hang out a bit outside of school before all the Samford kids leave on Monday, and to get a pleasant buzz going on while we were at it. John (or, as we have come to call him, Don Juan) paid for everything, including drinks, food, bocas (appetizers), and karaoke. It was a qualified bash. I even did a little karaoke duet with one of the Samford girls ("Fly Me to the Moon" if you're curious); it was good times all around.
But the most remarkable part of this story would have to be the dancing. I don't remember who it was that dragged me onto the dance floor after the karaoke, but I remember wanting to fight it the whole way but also being a little too buzzed to properly recall how to do so. I started dancing to some of the salsa music, and was having a great time, and as my buzz wore off I realized that I was still having a great time even without the aid of alcohol. Turns out dancing is fun. Who knew? Before last night, I hadn't made a serious attempt at dancing since Sarah's prom my senior year of high school. But last night was an adventure. I did a little bit of swing, a little bit of salsa, and I think there may have been some disco involved, but the lines are kind of blurry in regards to musical styles down here and so it was hard to tell. The weirdest thing about it was that all the teachers, who had come to party with us, kept sliding up next to me and doing some moves that will make me feel very awkward looking them in the eye on Monday. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, but there were a couple of moments where I just kind of slid away and hoped they wouldn't notice until I was across the floor. In retrospect, it's pretty funny, I suppose, so we'll just let it be funny and leave it at that.
In unrelated news, I have started introducing myself as Juan without even thinking about it. The people down here just can't wrap their tongues around "John," so rather than fight through it I have simply become "Juan." It's kind of nice, really, because it makes me feel like a real live Tico (local). It's fun.
And on a kind of frustrating note, you might notice that I am writing this entry on a Saturday morning. "Why," you may be asking yourself, "would a person in Costa Rica who has the day off spend his Saturday morning in an internet cafe writing journal entries?" The answer, of course, is the snooze button. I was supposed to go rafting with a few of the older students and Bryan today, but I set my alarm clock too early. Trust me, that sentence does make sense. We were supposed to meet at the bus stop at 5:50 to head to wherever it is we were supposed to go, but since I was up late last night I left myself vulnerable to "subconcious alarm clock manipulation syndrome," a condition with which I have been struggling since early in my high school days. I only needed to set the alarm seven minutes before 5:50 in order to be there in time. My clothes were laid out, I hadn't planned to shower, and the bus stop is a block from the Coco. For some reason, I set my alarm clock forty minutes before 5:50. Thus, when it went off, my subconcious mind said "I have much more time to sleep. We will snooze." And so I snoozed. Then, it went off again, and my mind says, "That is annoying. Snooze." So I snoozed. Once more it went off, and my mind said, "Damn you, clock, and all that you stand for," and simply turned the clock completely off. This was what got me into trouble. My concious mind awoke at 6:00, aware of what the subconcious mind had done, and in a panic. I threw on my clothes and was out the door by 6:01, but it was too late. I missed the bus, and I didn't know where we were going rafting, so I couldn't simply get a cab to take me there. So here I sit, in the internet cafe typing journal entries. It's a little frustrating, but I've got several weekends left and I will make it onto the river before I go.
So now I will probably go buy some book in Spanish and attempt to build my grammar and vocabulary by reading it. I'm thinking I'll hike up to the school and read in the hammocks, because it's much more quiet and peaceful there than in town. Either way, I reckon I'll end up having a nice, relaxing weekend, and I've never been one to complain about relaxation of any kind.
And now I go to the bookstore. I'll see you guys later.
-Juan del Coco
It's been a good couple of days.
First off, for anybody wondering how that test I was talking about went, I can say with great ego that I did much better than I had thought I would. I got a 94 on my first ever Spanish test, and next week I will be placed accordingly. This just gives me the warm fuzzies all over.
For some general Conversa/Costa Rica news, regarding myself and Bryan, we have taken it upon ourselves to ease the load on the school buses that take the students from Santa Ana (the town we live in) to Conversa (the school we go to). In other words, we are walking to school every day. This may sound like no big deal to you, but you have to believe me when I say that it's a bit of an undertaking. You never really appreciate the difficuly of walking uphill until you have to do it. The walk from my house behind the Coco to the trail itself is proably a little more than half a mile, and the trail is an uphill hike of about 3 miles to Conversa. It takes about forty-five minutes to walk to school, at which point we take some very cold showers at school. Why a cold shower? Because hot water heaters, it turns out, are a relatively newfangled thing and have not yet made their way to the mass populace of Costa Rica. Thus, the school has no hot water available. We are getting freezing cold water from deep within the mountain in which to shower. It is both a reminder that I am alive as well as a reminder that I don't like to be cold. But anyway, it's getting me in pretty good shape (I'm seeing my ribs for the first time since high school), so I'll keep doing it until I go home. In fact, Bryan has made it his goal never to take the bus to school, so I suppose we'll be walking to school for weeks to come. It's a good time, lemme tell ya.
And now for storytime.
All week long, one of the older students here (also named John) has been planning to have his 54th birthday party in the bar I'm living in. We've been talking it up amongst the other students, including the 25 or so college-aged kids from Samford who have been here for the past three weeks. We were all pretty excited about it because it would be an opportunity for us all to hang out a bit outside of school before all the Samford kids leave on Monday, and to get a pleasant buzz going on while we were at it. John (or, as we have come to call him, Don Juan) paid for everything, including drinks, food, bocas (appetizers), and karaoke. It was a qualified bash. I even did a little karaoke duet with one of the Samford girls ("Fly Me to the Moon" if you're curious); it was good times all around.
But the most remarkable part of this story would have to be the dancing. I don't remember who it was that dragged me onto the dance floor after the karaoke, but I remember wanting to fight it the whole way but also being a little too buzzed to properly recall how to do so. I started dancing to some of the salsa music, and was having a great time, and as my buzz wore off I realized that I was still having a great time even without the aid of alcohol. Turns out dancing is fun. Who knew? Before last night, I hadn't made a serious attempt at dancing since Sarah's prom my senior year of high school. But last night was an adventure. I did a little bit of swing, a little bit of salsa, and I think there may have been some disco involved, but the lines are kind of blurry in regards to musical styles down here and so it was hard to tell. The weirdest thing about it was that all the teachers, who had come to party with us, kept sliding up next to me and doing some moves that will make me feel very awkward looking them in the eye on Monday. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, but there were a couple of moments where I just kind of slid away and hoped they wouldn't notice until I was across the floor. In retrospect, it's pretty funny, I suppose, so we'll just let it be funny and leave it at that.
In unrelated news, I have started introducing myself as Juan without even thinking about it. The people down here just can't wrap their tongues around "John," so rather than fight through it I have simply become "Juan." It's kind of nice, really, because it makes me feel like a real live Tico (local). It's fun.
And on a kind of frustrating note, you might notice that I am writing this entry on a Saturday morning. "Why," you may be asking yourself, "would a person in Costa Rica who has the day off spend his Saturday morning in an internet cafe writing journal entries?" The answer, of course, is the snooze button. I was supposed to go rafting with a few of the older students and Bryan today, but I set my alarm clock too early. Trust me, that sentence does make sense. We were supposed to meet at the bus stop at 5:50 to head to wherever it is we were supposed to go, but since I was up late last night I left myself vulnerable to "subconcious alarm clock manipulation syndrome," a condition with which I have been struggling since early in my high school days. I only needed to set the alarm seven minutes before 5:50 in order to be there in time. My clothes were laid out, I hadn't planned to shower, and the bus stop is a block from the Coco. For some reason, I set my alarm clock forty minutes before 5:50. Thus, when it went off, my subconcious mind said "I have much more time to sleep. We will snooze." And so I snoozed. Then, it went off again, and my mind says, "That is annoying. Snooze." So I snoozed. Once more it went off, and my mind said, "Damn you, clock, and all that you stand for," and simply turned the clock completely off. This was what got me into trouble. My concious mind awoke at 6:00, aware of what the subconcious mind had done, and in a panic. I threw on my clothes and was out the door by 6:01, but it was too late. I missed the bus, and I didn't know where we were going rafting, so I couldn't simply get a cab to take me there. So here I sit, in the internet cafe typing journal entries. It's a little frustrating, but I've got several weekends left and I will make it onto the river before I go.
So now I will probably go buy some book in Spanish and attempt to build my grammar and vocabulary by reading it. I'm thinking I'll hike up to the school and read in the hammocks, because it's much more quiet and peaceful there than in town. Either way, I reckon I'll end up having a nice, relaxing weekend, and I've never been one to complain about relaxation of any kind.
And now I go to the bookstore. I'll see you guys later.
-Juan del Coco
Thursday, January 19, 2006
I missed a day, but I don't think anybody really noticed.
So our first test is tomorrow. I'm a little worried. Why? Because earlier today, Bryan and I worked out this math:
We are here for eight weeks.
In these eight weeks, we will earn four semesters worth of Spanish credit.
This equals out to one semester for every two weeks.
That makes our test tomorrow our midterm for Spanish I. After four days. Es muy rapido.
We are graded down here, but since we're transferring the credits into Baylor we only have to pass; transfer credit comes in as pass/fail. However, Bryan and I have become fiercly competitive in the past week, and we are each determined to be the better Spanish speaker. Thus, each of us is aiming for a 100 on tomorrow's test. And that's why I'm worried.
For anybody interested...
Yo estoy aprendando muy Español todos los dias.
It's true. Babelfish it, if ye doubt the claim.
Arriba!
-Juan, aka El Muchacho Guapo
So our first test is tomorrow. I'm a little worried. Why? Because earlier today, Bryan and I worked out this math:
We are here for eight weeks.
In these eight weeks, we will earn four semesters worth of Spanish credit.
This equals out to one semester for every two weeks.
That makes our test tomorrow our midterm for Spanish I. After four days. Es muy rapido.
We are graded down here, but since we're transferring the credits into Baylor we only have to pass; transfer credit comes in as pass/fail. However, Bryan and I have become fiercly competitive in the past week, and we are each determined to be the better Spanish speaker. Thus, each of us is aiming for a 100 on tomorrow's test. And that's why I'm worried.
For anybody interested...
Yo estoy aprendando muy Español todos los dias.
It's true. Babelfish it, if ye doubt the claim.
Arriba!
-Juan, aka El Muchacho Guapo
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Only five pages of homework tonight, but three of those pages covers EVERY VERB IN THE SPANISH LANGUAGE. I don't think I'll have them all memorized by tomorrow. I know my lack of confidence won't make the task any easier, but I don't think it makes my success any less likely.
Also, some errors from my last post that I would never live down if I didn't correct them now:
January is "enero," not "erene."
As an almost-graduate of a major university, it turns out that my estimated vocabulary is closer to 40,000 words. This does not make me feel more comfortable about my Epañol, because that just makes the gap that much bigger. I would like to boast that I hold a solid 200 word vocabulary in Spanish, but boasting about that would be dumb. That puts me on par with the average caveman. Excluding, of course, the really smart cavemen from the Geico commercials. I'll bet they know lots of words.
Also, mañana is spelled with an eñe (ñ), not an ene (n) followed by a yo (y). My mistake, and thank you all you crazy kids for not jumping at me in a rage for my Español malo (bad Spanish).
My favorite sentence that I overheard and understood completely today: "Una mas cervesa por favor." (One more beer, please.)
Buenos noches, mi amigos.
-Juan Carmaque
Also, some errors from my last post that I would never live down if I didn't correct them now:
January is "enero," not "erene."
As an almost-graduate of a major university, it turns out that my estimated vocabulary is closer to 40,000 words. This does not make me feel more comfortable about my Epañol, because that just makes the gap that much bigger. I would like to boast that I hold a solid 200 word vocabulary in Spanish, but boasting about that would be dumb. That puts me on par with the average caveman. Excluding, of course, the really smart cavemen from the Geico commercials. I'll bet they know lots of words.
Also, mañana is spelled with an eñe (ñ), not an ene (n) followed by a yo (y). My mistake, and thank you all you crazy kids for not jumping at me in a rage for my Español malo (bad Spanish).
My favorite sentence that I overheard and understood completely today: "Una mas cervesa por favor." (One more beer, please.)
Buenos noches, mi amigos.
-Juan Carmaque
Monday, January 16, 2006
16 de erene del 2006
I love this place, but I am terrified. I'm realizing that I have a vocabulary of over 30,000 words in English, and it's taken me beintidos años to aquire it, and now I'm expecting myself to replicate this kind of thing in an entirely new language in about dos messes. Es loco.
I have about seventy vocab words to have memorized by tomorrow. I'm going back to El Coco to study now. Hasta manyana.
-Juan
I love this place, but I am terrified. I'm realizing that I have a vocabulary of over 30,000 words in English, and it's taken me beintidos años to aquire it, and now I'm expecting myself to replicate this kind of thing in an entirely new language in about dos messes. Es loco.
I have about seventy vocab words to have memorized by tomorrow. I'm going back to El Coco to study now. Hasta manyana.
-Juan
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Olah, mi amigos!
I´m back at the internet café with some fun tidbits of the past day or so. Here´s a bit of a recap for you.
So when Bryan and I got off the plane, we took a good 40 minutes to get through customs, watching the lines around us zoom past while ours remained firmly still. It would have been hilarious if it weren´t mildly irritating.
We then got into a van with a man who is about seven hundred years old. The van was slightly older. After opening to the door to throw my luggage in and then sit down in the next seat up, we found that the door was never meant to close again. Bryan had to hold the door closed for the twenty minute drive from the airport to Santa Ana (pronounced ¨Santana¨). During this ride, we became acquainted with "Gata," who works in the office at Conversa. She told us a little about the town, and we found out that my host family owns a bar called "El Coco." What did this mean for me? Well, for the time being, it means free Mexican food and Cervesas. The local brand is Imperial, and it has an Aguilar (eagle) on the front of it. Fantastic.
Today, Bryan and I woke up around 10:00 and headed into town with Guillermo (some guy we met yesterday who speaks decent English) and played a bit of softball with some Nicaraguan guys. This was good times, and they seemed to like watching us play if only so they could mock us in Spanish. I struck out once, and was asked if I would like a bigger bat or a bigger ball. Hilarious. No, really.
Then when we got back, we went back to our host families for lunch and afterwards decided to hike up the mountain to Conversa. This was a mistake. The hike was three miles, about 90% uphill, and we didn´t know where we were going. We ended up hiking about a mile past the school before coming upon what appeared to be a pair of random Ticos (locals), but were in fact the owners of Conversa. They had no problem telling us where we´d gone wrong, and after that we were fine. Because it´s the weekend, nobody was there except a guard, but we got to play some basketball and relax in some hammocks while waiting for the sun to set so we could come home, have dinner, and go to bed. We´re both pretty excited to start school tomorrow, because after that we will be able to have a decent conversation with the people around us without looking like a pair of boobs. Yes, that´s right, we look like boobs. Big white ones.
And now I have summed up my day for you, and I shall go pay my 100 colones for the forty five minutes of internet time I have used. That translates into about 20 cents. This place rules so hard.
Also, I have made it my goal to participate in Karaoke before I leave. I will sing in Español if it´s the last thing I do.
I´m back at the internet café with some fun tidbits of the past day or so. Here´s a bit of a recap for you.
So when Bryan and I got off the plane, we took a good 40 minutes to get through customs, watching the lines around us zoom past while ours remained firmly still. It would have been hilarious if it weren´t mildly irritating.
We then got into a van with a man who is about seven hundred years old. The van was slightly older. After opening to the door to throw my luggage in and then sit down in the next seat up, we found that the door was never meant to close again. Bryan had to hold the door closed for the twenty minute drive from the airport to Santa Ana (pronounced ¨Santana¨). During this ride, we became acquainted with "Gata," who works in the office at Conversa. She told us a little about the town, and we found out that my host family owns a bar called "El Coco." What did this mean for me? Well, for the time being, it means free Mexican food and Cervesas. The local brand is Imperial, and it has an Aguilar (eagle) on the front of it. Fantastic.
Today, Bryan and I woke up around 10:00 and headed into town with Guillermo (some guy we met yesterday who speaks decent English) and played a bit of softball with some Nicaraguan guys. This was good times, and they seemed to like watching us play if only so they could mock us in Spanish. I struck out once, and was asked if I would like a bigger bat or a bigger ball. Hilarious. No, really.
Then when we got back, we went back to our host families for lunch and afterwards decided to hike up the mountain to Conversa. This was a mistake. The hike was three miles, about 90% uphill, and we didn´t know where we were going. We ended up hiking about a mile past the school before coming upon what appeared to be a pair of random Ticos (locals), but were in fact the owners of Conversa. They had no problem telling us where we´d gone wrong, and after that we were fine. Because it´s the weekend, nobody was there except a guard, but we got to play some basketball and relax in some hammocks while waiting for the sun to set so we could come home, have dinner, and go to bed. We´re both pretty excited to start school tomorrow, because after that we will be able to have a decent conversation with the people around us without looking like a pair of boobs. Yes, that´s right, we look like boobs. Big white ones.
And now I have summed up my day for you, and I shall go pay my 100 colones for the forty five minutes of internet time I have used. That translates into about 20 cents. This place rules so hard.
Also, I have made it my goal to participate in Karaoke before I leave. I will sing in Español if it´s the last thing I do.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Friday, January 13, 2006
It is time!
About twelve hours from now, I will leave for Costa Rica. For anybody who doesn't know, I'll be spending eight weeks there to study Spanish by immersing myself in the culture in addition to about five hours of classes a day. I'll be in classes with three or four other people of about my skill level, and we'll get shuffled around once a week so that everybody moves at their own pace. Yippee-kai-yay. My bags are packed, my Passport is ready to go, all that remains is to go to this gigantic party tonight and then wake up in time to get to D/FW airport tomorrow. It is impossible for me to comprehend how excited I am about this; I've heard nothing but amazing things from others who have gone, and the pictures on the Conversa website are nothing short of breathtaking. Looks like it should be a good time. I've got my shorts all packed and ready to go.
Updates will be fairly regular while I'm down there, I should think. I'll have an internet cafe just down the road from my host family's house, so when I've done all of my usual "rounds" on the internet, if I've still got time left on my ticket I'll be sure to stop by Blogger and let everybody know what's going on. Send me emails, I'll read them!
Just don't be surprised if after the first month I start posting in Spanish so that I can practice. If that happens, I'll post a link to Babelfish so that everybody can continue to read whatever exciting things I might have to say.
Okay, more to come later. I must go and party with my friends before I miss seeing them for two months. Goodnight, everybody. See you in Costa Rica.
Listening to - 'Til the Day I Die by Third Day
About twelve hours from now, I will leave for Costa Rica. For anybody who doesn't know, I'll be spending eight weeks there to study Spanish by immersing myself in the culture in addition to about five hours of classes a day. I'll be in classes with three or four other people of about my skill level, and we'll get shuffled around once a week so that everybody moves at their own pace. Yippee-kai-yay. My bags are packed, my Passport is ready to go, all that remains is to go to this gigantic party tonight and then wake up in time to get to D/FW airport tomorrow. It is impossible for me to comprehend how excited I am about this; I've heard nothing but amazing things from others who have gone, and the pictures on the Conversa website are nothing short of breathtaking. Looks like it should be a good time. I've got my shorts all packed and ready to go.
Updates will be fairly regular while I'm down there, I should think. I'll have an internet cafe just down the road from my host family's house, so when I've done all of my usual "rounds" on the internet, if I've still got time left on my ticket I'll be sure to stop by Blogger and let everybody know what's going on. Send me emails, I'll read them!
Just don't be surprised if after the first month I start posting in Spanish so that I can practice. If that happens, I'll post a link to Babelfish so that everybody can continue to read whatever exciting things I might have to say.
Okay, more to come later. I must go and party with my friends before I miss seeing them for two months. Goodnight, everybody. See you in Costa Rica.
Listening to - 'Til the Day I Die by Third Day
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Yeah, it's been awhile. Sorry. Also, I will fix this template very soon. I accidentally uploaded this while I was working on something else. My mistake.
So I got back from London, came through Waco to see my shugah and grab my snowboard, then it was off to Colorado for a few days of snowboarding. Snowboarding was fun, but because of a dry winter in America it was not the best conditions I've ever encountered. So, after two days on the mountain, I decided to make a full-blown road trip out of my free time instead of simply a snowboarding trip. I left the mountain early and drove to Boulder, where I promptly got a hotel room and fell immediately to sleep.
I woke up the next morning and went to breakfast at The Buff, which I was told was the best breakfast in Boulder. I was not disappointed. It was a close race, but the Buff's omellette just barely beat out the Mexican guy at the Dallas Embassy Suites. I also experienced my first Mimosa, and it felt very classy to be drinking it. Champagne for breakfast? Yes sir. With my orange juice, if you please.
Then it was coffee with my old Zelda buddy, Matt Sidor. Hoorah for longstanding internet friendships, even if I am the absolute worst when it comes to keeping up with people. But at least I knew he was living in Boulder now, right? Eh? That's something, innit? Huh? Maybe not. Anyway, it was cool to see Matt.
So from there, I was going to just drive home, but then when I got to Denver I made the sudden and resolute decision to turn around and drive to Cheyenne, Wyoming. I don't know where this urge came from, and there's really not a good explanation for it. But I followed through, drove to Cheyenne and got some pictures at the state capitol. It wasn't particularly impressive, but I guess it was kinda cool.
Fun facts about Cheyenne:
Cheyenne is the smallest of all of the state capitols, with a population of only about 50,000.
Even though Wyoming is the 9th largest state in terms of land mass, it is dead last in population size, with only 501,000 residents. This is both sad and humorous all at the same time.
The state mammal is the bison.
The state bird is the western meadowlark.
Anyway, after leaving Cheyenne, I had no particular goal in mind. In order to increase my "states visited" count, I went ahead and turned right into Nebraska. And by the way, Nebraska is boring. Boring, I say. I hit "scan" on my radio, and the dial went to one radio station, then circled THE ENTIRE DIAL before coming right back to the same radio station. In short: southwestern Nebraska has exactly one radio station. This makes me sad for Nebraskans.
I stopped in Cozad, Nebraska and got pictures for my roommate. The joke here is that this last name is Cozad. It's pretty hilarious if you think about it, really. Not "hey, did you hear about the horse in the bar and the long face and all that business" funny, but still funny.
After consulting my atlas and calling my dad for some quick Googling, I discovered that I was a short three hour drive away from the geographical center of the United States of America. Or at least, the lower 48 states. For the entire US, I would have had to go into South Dakota, and I was already too far south to be able to commit to such a drastic change of direction. Plus I was in a poopy mood and tired of driving. So I set course for Lebanon, Kansas, where I saw the most pathetic attempt at a tourist attraction I will ever see. A flagpole, a chapel that's smaller than my desk, and a hand-painted plywood sign are all that is there to mark the geographical center of America. I wasn't expecting much, and man was I ever not disappointed.
Luckily there was the world's largest ball of twine only twenty minutes away. That made me giggle like a wee child.
Anyway, after that I headed back to Waco and there isn't much more to tell. Expect a survey tomorrow.
So I got back from London, came through Waco to see my shugah and grab my snowboard, then it was off to Colorado for a few days of snowboarding. Snowboarding was fun, but because of a dry winter in America it was not the best conditions I've ever encountered. So, after two days on the mountain, I decided to make a full-blown road trip out of my free time instead of simply a snowboarding trip. I left the mountain early and drove to Boulder, where I promptly got a hotel room and fell immediately to sleep.
I woke up the next morning and went to breakfast at The Buff, which I was told was the best breakfast in Boulder. I was not disappointed. It was a close race, but the Buff's omellette just barely beat out the Mexican guy at the Dallas Embassy Suites. I also experienced my first Mimosa, and it felt very classy to be drinking it. Champagne for breakfast? Yes sir. With my orange juice, if you please.
Then it was coffee with my old Zelda buddy, Matt Sidor. Hoorah for longstanding internet friendships, even if I am the absolute worst when it comes to keeping up with people. But at least I knew he was living in Boulder now, right? Eh? That's something, innit? Huh? Maybe not. Anyway, it was cool to see Matt.
So from there, I was going to just drive home, but then when I got to Denver I made the sudden and resolute decision to turn around and drive to Cheyenne, Wyoming. I don't know where this urge came from, and there's really not a good explanation for it. But I followed through, drove to Cheyenne and got some pictures at the state capitol. It wasn't particularly impressive, but I guess it was kinda cool.
Fun facts about Cheyenne:
Cheyenne is the smallest of all of the state capitols, with a population of only about 50,000.
Even though Wyoming is the 9th largest state in terms of land mass, it is dead last in population size, with only 501,000 residents. This is both sad and humorous all at the same time.
The state mammal is the bison.
The state bird is the western meadowlark.
Anyway, after leaving Cheyenne, I had no particular goal in mind. In order to increase my "states visited" count, I went ahead and turned right into Nebraska. And by the way, Nebraska is boring. Boring, I say. I hit "scan" on my radio, and the dial went to one radio station, then circled THE ENTIRE DIAL before coming right back to the same radio station. In short: southwestern Nebraska has exactly one radio station. This makes me sad for Nebraskans.
I stopped in Cozad, Nebraska and got pictures for my roommate. The joke here is that this last name is Cozad. It's pretty hilarious if you think about it, really. Not "hey, did you hear about the horse in the bar and the long face and all that business" funny, but still funny.
After consulting my atlas and calling my dad for some quick Googling, I discovered that I was a short three hour drive away from the geographical center of the United States of America. Or at least, the lower 48 states. For the entire US, I would have had to go into South Dakota, and I was already too far south to be able to commit to such a drastic change of direction. Plus I was in a poopy mood and tired of driving. So I set course for Lebanon, Kansas, where I saw the most pathetic attempt at a tourist attraction I will ever see. A flagpole, a chapel that's smaller than my desk, and a hand-painted plywood sign are all that is there to mark the geographical center of America. I wasn't expecting much, and man was I ever not disappointed.
Luckily there was the world's largest ball of twine only twenty minutes away. That made me giggle like a wee child.
Anyway, after that I headed back to Waco and there isn't much more to tell. Expect a survey tomorrow.
Sunday, January 1, 2006
What I've been up to since last you heard from me:
I spent a week and some change at the check processing center for Legacy Bank in Tri-City (Newcastle). This was great fun, and I got to earn some money while meeting a few new folks; always a good time in my opinion.
I had Christmas, and am now the proud owner of a banjo and an acoustic bass guitar. No idea when I'll have time to play these properly, as I won't be taking them with me to Costa Rica.
Then, on December 27th, I flew off with my step-brother's marching band to jolly old London, and am in fact still there/here. I managed to find an internet cafe while I was walking around London, enjoying the light crowds around town due to the fact that it's Sunday and also that there's a parade three blocks away drawing attention elsewhere.
This morning, I went to a church service in Westminster Abbey. And that was supra-cool. Also, about three hundred feet from where I'm sitting is a house that Benjamin Franklin apparently lived in for seven years. The office suite next door is available for rent, by the way.
I have found that from time to time I will subconsciously start speaking with an accent in order to avoid being spotted instantly as a "Yank." It's kind of embarrassing to catch myself, but I don't know if it would be any better or worse to be isolated because of my Yankhood.
Hour's almost up, got to go. Cheers.
I spent a week and some change at the check processing center for Legacy Bank in Tri-City (Newcastle). This was great fun, and I got to earn some money while meeting a few new folks; always a good time in my opinion.
I had Christmas, and am now the proud owner of a banjo and an acoustic bass guitar. No idea when I'll have time to play these properly, as I won't be taking them with me to Costa Rica.
Then, on December 27th, I flew off with my step-brother's marching band to jolly old London, and am in fact still there/here. I managed to find an internet cafe while I was walking around London, enjoying the light crowds around town due to the fact that it's Sunday and also that there's a parade three blocks away drawing attention elsewhere.
This morning, I went to a church service in Westminster Abbey. And that was supra-cool. Also, about three hundred feet from where I'm sitting is a house that Benjamin Franklin apparently lived in for seven years. The office suite next door is available for rent, by the way.
I have found that from time to time I will subconsciously start speaking with an accent in order to avoid being spotted instantly as a "Yank." It's kind of embarrassing to catch myself, but I don't know if it would be any better or worse to be isolated because of my Yankhood.
Hour's almost up, got to go. Cheers.
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