Spontaneity

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  Here, Costa Rica
Thursday, January 10, 2008

It's been only too long since I've last updated. News from down south:

Thanksgiving- Panama with other volunteers.
Xmas/New Years- In my site, muy tranquila.

It's been rather quiet with school vacations. I've been reacquainting myself with the all too commonly used word, pereza- laziness

There's a small park near my house with three swings, four see-saws, monkey bars and some cement tubes for crawling through.  I usually go to swing.  A solitary effort, no extra body required. For some reason people over the age of... 12 are never too interested in going to the park to see-saw. So if I go with the kids, they have to pile on the other end of the see-saw. Anyhow, I was swinging, just contemplating life and my existence as a PCV in Costa Rica, my site in particular, when I decided to do something spontaneous.

When I swing, I usually face the road-side. The park is on a hill and at the bottom, the road. On the other side of the road is a small mountain (I'm not good at distance/height, but maybe... 10-15 stories high? Not really a mtn at all, more like an extremely large hill) with coffee plants. I've always wondered what was on the other side. The other side of town, of course. But what if it WASN'T the other side of town? What if it was a secret passageway to... the neighboring town or there was a cave filled with a thousand wonders? No, no, I HAD to find out. Even if it turned out to be something as mundane as the other side of town.

There are several shacks at the bottom of the mtn. I didn't want to disturb the residents or get myself attacked by rabid dogs or set upon by mad chickens. So I began hunting for a way across the little stream that runs between the shacks and road that wasn't a) directly in front of the houses and b) a dip in the stream. I found a "bridge" that was a little farther down the road and walked across as if I owned it. (You DO realize that attitude is 90% of the game, right? If I looked like a trespasser, I'd be wrestling with chickens instead of writing right now.)

I bushwacked my way through coffee plants and stickler plants in my flip flops. I thought about calling it quits or "doubling back home for sneakers" (a poetic way of quitting) but I valiently pushed aside the branches and ignored the sticklers in my jeans, shirt, hair, skin, etc.  At one point it was a vert climb and I stared at it dismayed until I realized there was a bit of a trail farther down. Of course if coffee pickers can summit this thing with baskets weighing 10 lounds full of coffee beans, then I sure as anything can too! So I took the trail.

When I reached the top, properly scraped up, what did I see? Not the other side of town, nor a pot of gold, but the neighboring town and, yes, more coffee plants! Whoo-hoo! I was better than Scooby Doo and Shaggy any day of the week! I was a mystery solving girl, unafraid of gu-gu-gu-ghosts or sticklers or even branches shaped like skeleton arms! Anyhow, I found a dirt road cutting through the plantations and took the way that seemed to lead back to town. I resisted the urge to take a branching path as I wasn't feeling THAT adventurous.

Guess where I finally wound up? On the other side of town. How's that for spontaneity. Try it!

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