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Asthma_is_Sexy
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Name: Crud
Country: United States
State: Colorado
Birthday: 10/6/1983
Gender: Female
Interests: I've been loling on the railroad, all the livelong day (lol). I've been loling on the railroad, just to pass the time away (lol).
Expertise: Ever heard the expression, Jack of all trades, master of none?
Occupation: Student
Industry: Other
Message: message me
Member Since:
4/2/2003
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| This is a work in progress.
Here is the rundown of Costa Rica, so that I my feeble mind may remember it in years to come.
My husband and I flew on the same flight from NYC to Georgia. In Georgia we parted ways. He want to Colorado, I went to Costa Rica. I kept crying on the flight. What was I thinking? Traveling to another country by myself. The airline staff came by with customs forms. "How many people with you?"
"Just me" I reply.
"Don't seem so sad about it!"
I arrived in San Jose around 10 PM on Thursday, Christmas Eve. I rolled through customs, which wasn't so bad except this gal kept touching my back with her stuff. I was so tempted to scream "MOVE BACK, BITCH!" but instead I just gave her several angry sideways glares. I took a Taxi back to the hotel. It cost $23.
At the hotel I checked in and chatted with the hotel clerk for a while. I also watched... Grease? on television. At least part of it. I kept thinking... wtf is this? That is John Travolta... Is this Dirty Dancing? I felt like a moron when I figured out what it was.
The next day I got up early because the clerk said he would help me rent a car. He wasn't able too, but that was okay.
I took my camera and headed out to find the Christmas tree that had shone brightly from my hotel. It was a Coca Cola Christmas tree. I took pictures. There were some people walking around during the early light of the morning ( a little past 6 AM) but not many. I eyed them all suspiciously. Would they try to steal my bag? I pulled out $300 US from an ATM at a gas station. Then I walked with even more apprehension back to my hotel.
I ate breakfast (plantains!) and I got myself together so I could go search for a calling card. I decided to stay a the same hotel for the rest of the trip (I hadn't previously had a reservation for any additional nights I didn't really plan anything). I traveled down to the ol' MasXMenos grocery store and bought some stuff (razor, lotion) and then I used my broken Spanish to obtain some calling cards, so that I could call my husband in the good ol' U.S. of A. It was difficult going because this was the first place where nobody really spoke any English. I bought almost $30 worth of calling cards. Whoops.
On the way back from MasXMenos I was accosted by a drunk man. He gave me a flower. The gentleman held a beer in one hand. He was quite dirty, and had a large cut over his eybrow. I spoke with him for 15 minutes on the street. He asked me to sit down. I obliged part way, so that I was squatting on the sidewalk. He attempted to teach me some Spanish. I could barely understand him as I attempted to get away. He tried to walk me to my hotel, so that nobody would snatch my bag. I was more afraid of him snatching my bag than anything. Luckily for me, I could see that one of the ubiquitous security guards was carefully watching the situation unfold. As I pulled away from the drunkard, he gave me a look that cleary said "are you okay?" I gave him a thumbs up and continued back to my hotel.
In the lobby I told the second clerk that I had been accosted by a drunkard who had given me a flower. He suggested I put the flower in my hair. I did so to oblige him. He said it looked very pretty. My face flushed a little as I ran back to the room. I called my husband and we spoke. Then I called my mom. Then I wondered just what in the hell I was going to do with my time. The 2nd hotel clerk suggested that he could show me around San Jose later on that day. I decided I'd better not wait around for that, and I left to walk around San Jose by myself.
At first I was completely nervous. I kept thinking, someone is going to steal my bag or my money or my passport (I wanted to leave it in the hotel, but what if someone stole it there!?). I walked around aimlessly. I watched for other people with cameras, but I saw none. I walked around the post office twice and sat down on a short wall and waited. Waited for anybody else that might be a tourist with a camera to take pictures. I waited and waited and waited. Finally, I saw a family take a picture in front of a statue. I waited a little longer and then I brought my camera out. I was nervous that people were looking at me, waiting to grab my bag and steal my passport. I took a few pictures and nervously put my camera back in my bag. I walked a little, took a few more. Eventually I was taking pictures of everything I saw, bag snatchers be damned. Nobody bothered me. Well, almost nobody bothered me.
At the square by the Museo del Oro a man asked how much I charged to take pictures. I tried, in vain, to explain that I couldn't take a picture of him because I couldn't get him the picture. Eventually we gave up on communication and I resumed my photography.
In the square I sat and watched families feed pigeons. Small fat boys toddled around chasing the pigeons. Bigger, leaner boys ran through, causing massive waves of pigeons to clear a path. I snapped photos of the children and the pigeons. I felt a little bad about it, but I didn't stop. I worried someone would get mad and ask me to stop taking photos. Nobody did. Nobody else seemed to have a camera. It made me nervous.
Eventually I left the pigeon square and walked on. I was hungry, but I didn't want to eat just anywhere. There were several international fast food chains... Pizza Hut, KFC, Taco Bell... I avoided all of those as well as the grimy local places. I waited as I walked, on and on.
I found a church with open doors. I was nervous to go in because I wondered if they might be closing. I decided that as unpleasant as it would be, I'd let them tell me if it was too late to go in. I walked in and took pictures. Plenty of other people were taking pictures, so I didn't feel bad at all. I didn't leave until they turned off some of the lights, about 10 minutes after I had entered.
Across from the church was a park. Little did I know this park would figure into my Costa Rican experience later on. I snapped a few photos, watched a few people make out, and sat down to rest. I was starving and tired. I hugged my stuff protectively as I sat until I decided to lug it away on my shoulder, back towards the hotel.
Another church presented itself. I took a short look through it and came across yet another park. I meandered in and sat. A man close to me was barking "quesadillos, quesadillos, quesadillos!" Several people took up his offer. I watched him construct the quesadillos, grabbing items out of plastic grocery bags. He topped the entire thing in some sort of creamy sauce resembling Mayonaise. I wanted one, but 1. I didn't have any colones, the official legal tender of Costa Rica and 2. He was making everything out of a bag... I didn't want to get sick quite so early in my trip. I passed on the quesadillos and ambled to the hotel, tired, sore and hungry.
After showering, I could barely move. My thin yellow sundress had offered no protection from my thighs roughly chafing each other. The insides were bright red and swollen. I ws forced to change into something that would allow me to wear pantyhose to prevent further unpleasant rubbing. I slept for an hour or two before managing my last escapade for the night. My legs and feet were barely up to the task. I cursed myself for having become so lazy back home. If I still took the subway to work, maybe all this walking wouldn't be so bad.
I looked up the address for a restaurant, Macchu Picchu, and headed out. My plan was to take a taxi, but I thought I was so close I might as well not bother. The thing about Costa Rica is that none of the streets have signs, and none of the places have addresses. An address might be something like "on 30th st, between Avenue 1 and 2." Unfortunately, they never marked where 30th st or Avenue 1 or 2 was. I walked. I asked a few people. I continued walking. I think a bird pooped on my head. I gave up, and I got in a taxi. He took me directly over, and the place was closed (Merry Christmas, stupid!)
I asked him if he knew another good restaurant. My crappy Spanish wasn't getting us anywhere, so he called his son, who spoke English, and I talked to him. "Oh hey, yeah, the place I wanted to go is closed, and I just want to go to another nice restaurant... I don't care what kind of food, just something that is open" He translates for his father and then we are off to a restaurant somewhere in San Jose. He writes his phone number down and gives it to the waiter with instructions to call him when I am finished. I pay and then I eat some absoultely delicious sea bass with avocado sauce. I drink 2 glasses of wine. I read "The Road" at the table. And then I head home with the cabby. Apparently I've massively overpaid him the first time, because he doesn't want me to pay him again. I still give him a tip and he gives me his number... for any future cab needs. A very thoughtful gesture, but I know I'll never call him again. It's just too easy to get a taxi on the street.
I read more of "The Road" and fall asleep.
Day 2 (I guess it is really Day 3)
I woke up early. Got dressed, went to eat some plantains. I used the computer to do some email and waited for my ride. He came, 15 minutes early, and we headed out. Today's adventure? Zip lining in the forest. Before completely leaving San Jose we stopped to pick up a family at the 5 star hotel... the Holiday Inn. I think. I can't remember. It had nice flowers. They introduced themselves to me. Tuck, Eva, and the daughter Sofia. An interracial, international couple. Tuck, a dark man from Florida with dreadlocks, Eva, a light skinned, almost red head Spanish woman. I should have known as soon as she said gracias. Sofia, their middle school aged sweetheart of a daughter, with 4 long braids in her hair. The ride to the place, Turu Bari, was long, but it was nice to have people to chat with.
Turu Bari allows you to do 2 events. I didn't realize they'd allow you to do more if you paid more. I paid for the nature walk and the zip lining. We started off by zip lining. The tour guides suited us up in our helmets and harnesses. They gave us gloves. I was afraid to take my camera bag with me, so I brought my camera with one lens and left the rest of the lenses in a locker. Along with my money. (Somewhere the previous day I managed to pull out some colones at the ATM). This would prove to be the worst mistake I made on the entire trip.
Saddled up and ready to go, the group climbed up a tower and then awaited in terror as one by one we were attached to a metal cable and flung out into the forest canopy. I was getting pretty anxious as my time drew nearer. Too late to turn back now. Soon I was flying down a metal cable, over the forest trying to hold my position staring straight forward. The guides had taught us how to brake, but it didn't seem all that effective. As the end of the line zoomed closer I awaited my impending death. The guide at the other end slowed me down, I stopped, he unhooked me and sent me on to the next cable. This happened a few times, until I no longer was afraid.
Of course, just as soon as you get used to one thing, they try to spice it up. The second to last tour guide shook the cable line rhythmically as I travelled across it. If that wasn't enough, he directed me to cross a bridge... a tiny, narrow, swaying bridge hanging from the trees. I did it, but I was none too happy.
The final line was high in the air. We had to climb another tower to reach it. There were two lines side by side, and on this final line I was able to take 1 picture.
Once down we headed out on the nature walk. I was so sure that we were going to head back to the entrance first, but we didn't. My lenses! My lenses! I had only my super wide angle lens with me the entire time. Beautiful butteflies, tons of iguanas, interesting trees, leaf cutter ants, bats... All I could get were a bunch of **** pictures of them. I was so upset. I couldn't stand it.
We ate lunch in the middle of the forest. Juice was free, but water was extra. Of course, my money being holed up in a locker at the front didn't do me a whole lot of good. I drank one cup of disgusting juice, and resigneed myself to the prospect of being thirsty. We finished the nature walk. (Oh yeah, I neglected to mention the guide... Paolo... he was cute).
So we finished out nature walk. The group I was with had decided to go on a horse riding tour so I had to wait for them. I inquired about going myself, but there were no additional horses. So I sat around and read about Costa Rica. There are so many dogs in Costa Rica. I had seen plenty hanigng around in San Jose, and another one here, at the restaurant in Tura Bari. A small dog that followed everyone around, escorting them from the lockers to the drink stand.
Back at the hotel I saw one of the familiar clerks. Clerk # 2. The one fond of flowers in the hair. He said "I saw you the other day!" On the bus, he saw me as I limped back to the hotel after walking around San Jose. He didn't mention that he'd suggested he show me around. I was glad he left it out.
I showered and dressed. Tonight, I was going to go out! I asked the clerk for a suggestion. He mentioned a place called "El Pueblo." I was up for it. I went to eat at Macchu Picchu. I walked, since I knew where it was. Still absurdly nervous, I crossed the street at one particularly shadowy stretch before getting there.
What a mistake it was to go there. High from my experiences earlier in the day, I was ready to take on all of San Jose. But my crappy Spanish betrayed me, and the waitstaff was just a little bit rude about it. I ate my meal, chicken stuffed with shrimp and covered in an unnatractive, thick gravy, in silence. I left, down and put out.
I considered going to my room and sleeping. What was I thinking going to another country by myself? I moped around for a good 10 minutes before deciding I'd better get off my ass and enjoy myself. So I went out. I caught a cab and I ended up at El Pueblo. El Pueblo is a little village of shops, restaurants and bars. The bars were empty. The place was pretty empty. Rather than sit alone at a dance club I opted to head to a restaurant bar. There was a man eating by himself. First person I'd seen eating solo besides myself. I ordered a glass of wine, and read the paper. The bartender who had listened to my crappy Spanish as I ordered, eyed my skeptically. "Entiende espanol?" he asks. I reply " I can read it better than I can speak it." We talk in Spanish for a while. I feel better. I order my second glass of wine and finish the paper. Did you know that taking aspririn during pregnancy is helpful to the mother and the baby? Did you know that there is an increase in the amount of citations of facebook in divorce cases? It's easier to understand the fluff pieces. I paid and left.
I headed off to the dance club. This one had people in it, but they wanted 10,000 colones. $20. No thank you. I went to the other one. Almost empty. Oh well. I ordered a glass of wine and sat down. Music played. I listened and drank. A staff member came to my table. He started speaking in Spanish. I had no idea what he said, and with the music so loud I wasn't going to. "No hablo espanol" He gives me the 1 finger "wait a moment" sign and runs off. He comes back with a taller staff member. A buff black man with a stern face. He says "that couple over there wants to know if you'd like to drink with them."
"I don't speak Spanish"
"They just want to know if you want to drink with them."
Sure. I head over. A well groomed couple, in shape, maybe late 20's early 30's. They welcome me. The gentleman speaks English. We drink, and talk, then dance and drink. I speak broken Spanish to the woman. "Quier bailar como una gringa de Nueva York?" I ask. She shakes her head. I show her the dance moves I see at a bar "Home Sweet Home" from the stylish hipsters. She laughs and repeats them. She shows me her moves. They are smooth and stylish. I'm clumsy. I try.
She heads to the bathroom. Her bf sits down. "I hate this kind of music!" He shouts. "Are you familiar with reaggaeton?"
"Yes." I answer. "I like it!"
He shakes his head.
She comes back. We dance some more and then part ways. My taxi driver back is very nice. We talk a lot. He asks for too much money, but he was upfront about the cost before I got in.
I get in and see hotel clerk #1. We chat for a little. It's late. I have to get up early tomorrow. I go to sleep in my room.
Day 3.
Still, I wake up around 4:20 in the morning. So early.
I'm hungover.
Jesus Christ, am I hungover.
I get ready to go, I eat some plantains. Hotel Clerk #2 is there in the morning. He laughs at me when I say I'm hungover. I eat some plantains. He tells me to eat some fruit, like watermelon. I eat one piece. I give up.
The bus ride to the volcano is nice. I meet some people. Julie from France. Poj and Indian living in San Fran. An older couple. An Indian woman and her adult daughter. We are quiet for the most part until we eat breakfast. Coffee energizes them. Not me. I don't drink coffee.
We visit a coffee farm. So, that's what coffee looks like, eh? I don't really care a bunch, I don't drink coffee.
We head to the volcano. By now, we are all old friends. I tell teacher stories, they tell their own stories. Julie and I make fun of Poj who has gone from Mr. Silent, to Mr. energetic. We have a lot of fun just talking.
The volcano is obscured in a mist. Finally it clears and we can see the lake in the crater. Sulphuric acid, PH of 0.5. Awesome. It had a small eruption 2 days before we got there. I was a little sad we missed it.
Forward and onward, we head to a nature preserve. We see a lot of animals, and walk around some waterfalls. A good time was had by all. Then we headed back to our hotels. I was sad to see us all part ways. I was happy I didn't vomit on the bus or anywhere else. I was pretty hungover.
Back at the hotel I shower. I act like I'm getting ready for something, but I don't do anything. I take a nap. I brood. I get sad. Why did I come to another country by myself? Not again. I'm going out.
I grab my stuff and leave. Wandering. I end up at the park... the same one I saw people making out at. It's night now. I sit down. What am I doing here? What do I do now?
While I'm thinking a man comes up. "Can I sit here?" he asks. In Spanish, of course. I nod yes. He sits down, then he starts chatting. I bust out my rusty Spanish. We aren't communicating very well. Things get a little rough. He starts to take a few liberties. Uh oh. I'm in trouble. What do I do now?
I keep my out for the police. They are there. They don't notice me. But they are there. Alright. I'm safe. But I still want to leave. Eventually I am able to. And I almost run down the block. On my right is a hotel with a bar. Perfect. I head in.
1 glass of wine, and I'm out. There is another bar on the right. Same block. It has a balcony. Open air. I'm in.
1 glass of wine, and I'm staring down anyone on the street that dares to look up. Nobody matches me. They all turn away, embarassed.
Another bar, this time on the left. I head over. 1 glass of wine, but I can't tolerate the taste. I pay for it and leave. I haven't eaten dinner.
On the street I see two men speaking in English. 1 is in a wheelchair. They walk past. I brightly cheer "hello!" They walk on. I turn around and shout "Oh come on! You could say hi back!"
They both turn around. The man in the wheelchair and his tall companion.
"I did say hello" says the tall one. "Well, I nodded."
I apologize, just as brightly as I'd said hello in the first place.
We start talking. The wheelchair bound man is named Dave and the tall one is Jeffrey, his son. They just met 1 month ago. They are on there way to **** with the hookers at a bar. Would I like to come?
Of course I would.
At the bar, we talk and laugh. We point out hookers we like. We laugh. Dave buys me a drink. "Look at that hooker! Does she have two belly buttons?" Jeffrey asks me to stop staring. I try, but it's hard.
Eventually I go to the bathroom. I ask the 2 belly button hooker where it is. She points the way. In the bathroom I discover she only has 1 belly button. The other spot is a tattoo.
Dave buys me another drink. He dances in his wheelchair and with his wheelchair. Eventually the hookers start crowding in on us. Dave is dancing with a hooker. Jeffrey is talking with a hooker. Live music is playing. Suddenly I've got two boys talking to me. I laugh at them and try to talk in broken Spanish. "Cuantos anos tienen?"
"19"
jajajajajaja
I laugh, they hit on me. Things are getting a little crazy with the hookers and the little boys are crowding me in. I'm done for. I still haven't eaten dinner. I leave.
The taxicab driver is very nice. Too nice. Pretty soon he is holding my hand... and why am I in the front seat anyway? Luckily it is a short ride back to the hotel and the peace and solitude of my room. Clerk #1 is in the lobby. We chat for a little and then I head to my room and pass out.
Only to wake up, early in the morning, to get ready to catch my flight back.
$3 for an apple juice a the hotel. No food until I reached Georgia. Please, I don't want to vomit on the plane.
US customs "How are you?"
"Miserable"
"Why is that"
"I caught a hangover in Costa Rica"
"Partying?"
"Yeah"
"How many people did you travel with?
"Just me"
"What is your occupation?"
"Teacher"
I try not to be, but I'm a little embarrassed.
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| Hey, I'm back from Costa Rica.
To be honest, I've been gone from xanga a lot longer than that. ...Facebook. Facebook. But facebook doesn't really give you the chance to journal. I guess I just haven't been wanting to talk about my life.
Anyway, here is a woman in Costa Rica.
And here is me one night I went out.
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| Day 5, Xi'an with a train ride to Shanghai.
City Wall
So we woke up in Xi'an and headed to a bike ride on an ancient gate inside the city. There were individual bikes and tandem bikes. Jason and I were going to go on individual bikes... we were fighting that morning and not in a good mood, but they ran out, so we had to ride tandem!
We raced around the wall trying to beat Paul and Simon (two cool U.K. dudes) and we would have (probably) but we got a flight tire. We still rode the bike with a flat all the way to the end. The total ride was just 8 miles.
The gate we rode on (photo by Jason)
Here our our new friends on their bikes
Sean (Australia)
Amy -Australia (I couldn't get a non blurry pic!)
Paul and Tiana - U.S. (also on a tandem bike)
Great Mosque
After that, we went to a Muslim temple. We had to go down this creepy alley and it was a bit scary. More about that in a moment. Here is the Muslim Temple. Oh, interesting note, the gals that had their shoulders showing had to put on scarves.
Right outside the Muslim temple, there was some shady construction going on. This dude was lifting rocks using a pulley with a little piece of cloth attached to it.
Dude liftin' rock (photo by Jason)
Unsafe conditions!
We made our way back to the strange alley and even picked up some food there.
(All strange alley photos by Jason)
FYI, this stuff was not very good. It was okay. I'd much rather eat a delicious rice ball in china town.
Afterwards we went some place to buy stuff and eat... I think... my memory is getting blurry. Would you believe we had McDonalds AGAIN?! Jason and Sean were both feeling very ill that day and wanted Western food. Well, y'know what? They don't use breast meat for the chicken sandwiches. UGH. Worst chicken sandwich of my life. I gave up and found some weird food at this bakery. It was pretty tasty. I ate some bread that was orange on the outside with chicken on the inside. And some peach thing that had half a peach baked into it. I might have to look for those in Chinatown.
After that we headed to the Big Wild Goose Pagoda
Big Wild Goose Pagoda
The Jasons (I dunno who took this photo, but it is awesome. )
They had chickens. I don't know why.
Indian Style Budha
Chinese style Happy Budha
They said to rub the belly for happiness, the ears for long life, the head for wisdom and the nipples (tour guide being a jokester)
On th way to the train, we saw these guys. A man handling them actually picked one up and offered to hand it to one of our tour group members. The tour guy wouldn't take it so the man tossed the chick back into the box.
Jason had somebody ( I dunno who!) take a photo of him and some employee at the train station.
On the train
Me n' the 56% alcohol (Firewater). Regina gave it to me. (photo by Jason)
Simon U.K., drunk on the train. (photo by Jason)
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