Ooops
Monday morning and up before the maids. I scared the bejezus out of them yesterday because I opened the door just as they knocked on it. It's 8:38 now, which means that they're eight minutes late, but I hear a knock on a door down the hall. They just asked me if I had laundry, which would have been a good question yesterday, but I'm checking out tomorrow in the morning.
Today will be call the cable company day and see what kind of speed we can get out of them. The only company allowed to provide service in Costa Rica is RACSA, which has subcontracted out work to other companies. There are as far as I can tell three levels of service. At 40 bucks a month, Jack is getting around 120kb down and 70 up; not so very speedy, especially for uploading pictures.
Marisol gave me a ride back to the hotel last night in her Range Rover, el Tank, and I wish I could accurately describe her driving--and the driving in general around here. I fancy myself a competent wheelman, but, I'm going to have to get my mind right first before I decide to strap in for a spin. The only thing that keeps the automobile mortality statistics within manageable comprehension is the fact that speeds are much slower; therefore the cars stop quicker.
Because stop they must, oft times within inches of the otherwise dented or bruised vehicle/citizen. Yet strangely I haven't been scared as a passenger yet, only by imagining myself as the driver. You have to use a mixture of confident assertion and immediate yielding at the precise moment, having to accurately determine not only who has the right of way at that particular moment, but whether or not the other guy is using the same calculation as you are.
I've invited Marisol to dinner tonight at the restaurant here at the Aurola Holiday Inn on the seventeenth floor, which is supposed to have the best view in the city. A fitting nightcap I believe for my first stay in San Jose. I didn't get to see the volcano or ride in one of those canopy contraptions in the jungle, so I feel I have to spend at least one night as a tourista.
Break
Just used my keys for the first time at the new digs. I only had a five thousand colones bill so I stood in line for change at the hotel, having decided to assert my taxi fare knowledge, and didn't want to negotiate change from the driver. Sure enough the meter wasn't running, so after a couple of blocks so I generously offered the driver two thousand for the ride. No problemo. I was also able to give directions correctly this time en Espanol, or I should say as yesterday's cabbie informed me, en Castellan.
"Aqui, por favor," and I walked up to the gate as if I owned the joint. Marisol's car wasn't there but the inside door was open and music was playing. The housekeeper Katya greeted me expectantly all smiles and I took a picture. Talk about acting like a tourista.
I dug in the fridge for liquid yesterday to find that Marisol lives like a bachelorette. Nada. Nothing. Zero. Three beers in the freezer and some not immediately identifiable frozen goods I'm figuring dates from the Paleolithic era. Speaking of ancient, all the radio I've heard here that wasn't particularly Latin has been of the oldies variety, the real oldies, and the really fucking old oldies that I heard in the casino restaurant a few days ago. Can we say the worst of the seventies anyone? I can't wait to crank up Queens of the Stone Age for the locals, followed by a little Tom Waits and Mississippi Fred McDowal. Not to mention the commie Ken Layne.
Speaking of which, eyes wide open is the response I've gotten so far about my politics. "Of course I voted for George Bush," has been my favorite declaration so far. Only one reference to Pinochet in response so far, and I'm looking forward to some lively discussions. And yes, I am going to remain unarmed while I'm here. But the people here are so lovely; Marisol has even promised not to hate me because I'm a Republican, and Jack has even forwarded to me an email containing a link to a newspaper guy who swings my way.
Break
Had to do something so I went to the hardware store to get doorknobs and hinges. Ran into minimal translation difficulties as the universal sign and sound-effect language served. Typical door-type installation problems: too much paint over the years, rusted and too small screws and just different enough hardware to make the operation sticky. I'll get a chisel and sandpaper later on to smooth things out but for now everything is working OK.
Marisol came home from the gym and is now in the kitchen with Katya fixing some grub. Missing the internet right about now. It's the perfect time for a little Drudge gossip to see what's cooking north. Are Brad and Jen still splitsville?
Break
Had a lovely siesta until 6 PM when I heard Marisol come home with el Tank from shopping. We discussed the American political system including congress, the executive and the judicial. We were heading toward how the electoral system works to begin with but I got sidetracked as usual with how the number of electors is decided and it went long. Costa Ricans were as surprised as a typical college professor when W was reelected, and they want to know why. I, your humble servant will try to undo the damage done by the 'common wisdom' in my small corner of Central America. Hopefully without doing too much damage myself.
We are heading out to dinner as soon as the lady applies the proper treatment to her visage. She looked fine as she was but resisted in the universal fashion. As with most women, I expect an entirely different creature to emerge.
Break
Guillermo Ibarra was our pianist for the evening, greeting us with 'Fly me to the Moon,' continuing through 'I Can't Live' (Bee Gees) and 'Phantom of the Opera.' I am now the proud owner of his debut CD. There was a Nicaraguan couple at another table that invited him to come play at their restaurant in Managua.
The 'USDA Cut' of filet mignon was the right piece of the cow, but I almost sprained my index finger making the first slice. However, it was tasty, and the view is the best in the city, and the service made up for any perceived shortcomings. I couldn't imagine a more perfect evening to end to a most successful trip. We went into the casino to check for whores and found the place a ghost town. Three old white guys at the bar and a woman raking in her take from a slot machine. She was almost running as she blew past us, muttering something about getting out of there before she gave it all back.
Tomorrow we'll go to one of the private banks to look into opening an account and attempt to contact the cable company for broadband service. We've been discussing wheels and I'm sorely tempted to bring Mr. 2 down the Pan American Highway. It's impractical, expensive (as I'll have to pay an import tax), lengthy, and possibly dangerous. It sounds like a good plan to me. Anybody want to take a ride? Attractive female preferred.
It's late; we'll talk tomorrow on the plane, OK? Nite.
Break
Well that didn't work. Major traffic accident on the way to the airport. I'm flying tomorrow on the same flight barring other accidents. But I got a few more pictures out of it, notably the locals constructing a way off the highway using rocks and pallets. We were probably ten minutes from using it ourselves when the traffic started moving again. Pics under the flap with the usual dial-up bandwidth warning.
Apparently Marisol (Mari from now on to save on letters-say it Marrie-try rolling the R) has a life and I'm home alone working on a few photos. I'll stop by John and Cleo's tomorrow and upload before getting on the plane. Went to a few banks and I would have to have a bunch of paperwork and establish residency in order to open an account here. This is a new law instigated by the fact that two Tico ex-presidents are currently residing in the clink, I think, for funny banking shenanigans. Mari has volunteered to launder my money for the duration through her account as long as I don't use a Nigerian bank.
Is the world the same all over or what? The cable guy didn't show up when he was supposed to. The fastest speed available hereabouts is 700 kb down-500 up for $90 a month. I've decided to go with the mid-range at $70 and 500 kb down. As it seems to take only a day to get plugged in (when they show) I'll deal with it when I get back so I can get my airport to sync with the modem before they leave.
The radio is killing me here. Eminem is on now, and I just heard a song with a chorus of "don't call me gringo you fucking beaner." Ramstein has the big song though, "We're All Living in America." This is 'not' a love song according to the lyric. As it's mostly in German Mari takes it as fun, but after listening to it, I actually think they're seriously pissed. Or at the very least, annoyed. 'Santa Claus for Africa' (like we invented Saint Nick), 'Mickey Mouse for Paris,' blah blah blah. Mari says the video is very cool visually.
[This portion deleted due to foul language, anti-German sentiment, a short discourse on the trade imbalance, the falling dollar and Pershing missiles, and references to Brazil]
Break
This is the time for a damn newspaper. 8:AM on Wednesday and I finally got the sliding doors open to the back. The house is chock-full of little age related nuisances. The jalousie windows are missing a few panes of glass (I had to replace one in my bedroom window last night to keep the wind off my back), doors need to be squared to shut properly and electrical outlets, like the one under the counter where I'm now typing on battery power, need to have electricity. Last night I adjusted the doors on the kitchen cabinets to make them align and close properly. I won't lack for distraction when I need an excuse not to write.
The coffee is so-so, mostly I think because it's only the second pot of water through the new Mr. Coffee machine Mari brought home yesterday. The second cup is better. Have I said that the weather is perfect down here? So far the sky is a pleasing hue of blue today, as it was yesterday, and the day before; broken up by clouds rolling over the mountains and providing just a touch of moisture. I am going to have to procure a real camera of sorts and a lens or two over the coming weeks.
Forgot to stir the sugar in the last cup of coffee. I hate when that happens. Today's big plans-beside trying to catch my airplane-include buying a shirt (undergarments were bought last night at the supermarket) upload this tripe to the blog, and, not much else that I can think of.
