Ji-Soo and Ginna Try to Leave Brooklyn: Take Four

I could not spend another day cooped up in the apartment and Ji-Soo had the great idea of going to the Botanical Gardens. We chose to go to the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens, which didn't get us out of Brooklyn, but we had to take the J train into Manhattan to get the 2/3 so technically, we got out. And, a pleasant surprise upon arrival - admission was free! Here are some highlights:


This area was hot and humid. I was pretending to be some sort of jungle animal - maybe a howler monkey.


Ji-Soo loved this flower because it looks like there is a little puppy inside.


I don't know what this is, but I liked it.


Ji-Soo thought this one looked like it had a little alien in the middle with head, eyes, out-stretched arms and a funny leg/butt part. I like the color and the markings.


Hanging roots.


Little guys at work.


Symmetry.


No. Clue. But it looked cool - colorful, like a fruit dessert, sprinkled with confectioners sugar.


Jamaican poinsettia.


Bonsai.


I fell in love with the little leaf in the center. I think this is an elm - Ulmus?


More Ulmus.


I love these sad, dried out little guys. Ji's take: resilient, not sad.


We made a little friend.


My favorite of the day, vine lilac, snuggling with rosemary.


I thought these guys looked like little snakes.


Bromeliads - in the desert! I have only ever seen them in the cloud forest in Costa Rica.


Don't touch.




More ants.

Ji-Soo and Ginna Try to Leave Brooklyn: Take Three

We waited and waited. We told ourselves that if the plow came by 7 p.m. we could still make it to Rochester. At 8:30 p.m. on Wednesday night the plow came by. We could see it from the window of Ji's living room and were very excited and talked about the plausibility of leaving for Rochester at this hour. We decided it would be a dangerous headache to drive all night let go of the idea of a trip to Rochester (this was difficult for me).

We looked out the window and saw that the plow had come to a stop on the corner and had not moved for five minutes. Across the intersection from the plow we saw a group of about 15 Hasidic men congregated in the middle of the street. What were they doing? I hoped that they were protesting the lack of public services. Ji and I decided to put on our layers and wander out to investigate.

The situation on the street was this: the plows (we could see now that there were two, one behind the other) could not pass through the intersection because on the other side the intersection a mini van was stuck in the snow, dead, halfway into the street. Close to 30 Hasidic men and young boys were swarmed around the van, pushing and rocking, hoping to move it back into its spot to allow the plows to pass. While this project was in in the works, the plow driver was having a discussion with a group of 6-8 Hasids on the corner. Imagine this:

Hasidic man, very think Yiddish accent: "What about in '96? You guys had everything plowed by the next day?"
Plow driver, very think NYC accent: "We are short 600 men! We had 600 more men back then. We're just short men."

There were very few other people on the street and being surrounded by so many Hasidic men gave an odd feeling of being in the 1800's. I'm glad Ji had his phone and the wherewithal to use it.


Group work getting the mini van back in place.


Waiting. The plow driver is the man across the street dressed in green.

Finally, the mini van is moved. Finally, close to 9 p.m. the plows move. And Genius Ji-Soo takes a video.

Ji-Soo and Ginna Try to Leave Brooklyn: Take Two

This morning, more than 24 hours after the snow stopped, S 9th st. in Brooklyn still has not been plowed. I convince a very unwilling Ji-Soo to try to dig the car out of the street with me. This involves digging a car wide path through 1-2 ft of packed down snow from Ji's car, past a van, another van and out into the intersection. I think this sounds like a fantastic challenge. Ji-Soo does not.

But he is kind and supportive and starts the project with me. After about 30 minutes he decides that he is not having fun and heads back inside. I continue the project, not with any real hopes of being successful, but because I can't stand another day in the apartment waiting for something to happen. After about 30 min a garbage truck with a plow on the front goes thru the intersection and yells out his door.
"I'm trying my best to get to you!"
"Are you coming through?"
"If not this time, then the next time around!"
"Thank you!"

But, I've been waiting over a day for a plow to come by, so I don't get my hopes up or stop digging. 10 min later I see him on the street, one block down, slowly working his way toward me. I can't yet believe that the plow might actually pass, so I keep picking away at the snow. I'm about to call up to Ji and tell him the plow is coming if he wants to come down to watch when Ji shows up with a Thermos of hot tea. He pours me a cup of steaming hot chamomile tea while we stand in the middle of the street watching the plow, less than a block away, get stuck in the snow. I finally realize that my toes and fingers are cold and that I want to go inside.

From Ji's apartment on the 15th floor we are able to watch the plow stay stuck. A tow truck arrive to help but ended up leaving the plow stuck in exactly the same place. He is now sitting sideways in his cab, door open, legs out.

I've showered, I've eaten, and I'm going to watch a movie.

Ji-Soo and Ginna give up

Ji-Soo and I were supposed to drive to Rochester this morning. When we woke up the sky was clear blue. The blizzard was over. We ate breakfast, showered, packed and headed out, knowing that we would have to dig the car out. Digging the car out only took about 20 minutes even with the three foot drifts. What we were not expecting, however, was for the road that the car was parked on to be unplowed and covered with 1.5 ft of snow. We went back inside.

Back inside I got grumpy. Why couldn't we buy snow shovels and dig a path for the car out to the paved road? We had just given up! We had run from the adventure! We were so close! Although Ji was not as eager I to spend hours shoveling snow, he did agree to bundle up again and give it a shot.

Step One: Find a snow shovel. Result: Failure.
We asked at the front desk but he said he had to use it. We went to a hardware store and they were sold out. We tried to find a second hardware store and decided we would not pay more than $35 for a snow shovel, imagining that with such demand they could jack the prices.

On our shovel hunting expedition we passed:
-about ten cars stuck in the street
-plows sitting on side streets not willing or able to plow thru three foot drifts that had accumulated
-a city truck stuck, fishtailing dangerously close to a parked car.
-people of all types out in the streets shoveling out cars, rocking stuck cars
-traffic jams caused by cars stuck in intersections
-a car who took a turn too fast and slammed into a snow bank
-tons of Jewish kids shoveling sidewalks all over the neighborhood
-a man with a plastic snow shovel, snapped in half
-cars that had gotten stuck halfway into or out of a parking spot and were then abandoned

This is when I realized that even if we were able to dig a path for the car to get out of the unplowed road, there was still real potential disaster. We never found the second hardware store. I said to Ji: "You were right. Let's go home and watch movies."

Blizzard of 2010

Last night at 11:30 Ji and I decided to wander out into the blizzard. A block away from his house we saw a minivan stuck in an intersection, a Hasidic Jewish man frantically shoveling snow away from the front of the car. Since Ji moved to Williamsburg I have become fascinated with Hasidic Jewish culture. Earlier in the day Ji's brother in law had joked about whether or not after 6 months of living here Ji has made eye contact with any Jewish people. They are an insular people.

Dire circumstances, however....

As we passed thru the intersection, past the man and his shovel, we heard a voice from the window of the projects on the corner.
"You better not hit my car! Watch out for my car! You better not f***ing hit my car! Motherf***er!"
And on and on.
The Jewish man ignored for a minute then turned toward the voice and yelled, "Which one?"
"That one, right there. Right next to you. You better not f***ing hit it!"
"It's ok!"

The window voice turned into inaudible grumbling and the Jewish man returned to his shoveling. Barriers broken down, cultures crossing, ground covered. Or just some crazy person yelling out a window.


Ji's car


Cold and wind blown Ji-Soo. Total outside play time: 20 min. We couldn't last much longer.


We weren't the only ones out for a midnight stroll. Notice how little snow there is on this street because it was out of the wind. The next morning we saw five foot drifts in some places.


A happy little sign.


Our poor bikes covered by a snow drift. The tassels on the bike to the right show how windy it was.


Ji-Soo defrosting in the elevator.

International Christmas Eat Fest

Phase One: Christmas Eve

Stage One: Ji's cousin's house in Wayne, NJ. Lots of Korean food I don't know the name of but it was good and I wanted to eat more but did not because we had Stage Two to go to. There was meat and noodles and dumplings and mung bean cakes and green tea cake and almond cookies.

Stage Two: Ji's friends house in Leonia, NJ. Cuban cuisine. Suckling pig with rice, beans, yuca, avocado with onion and lemon juice. Ribs, crispy skin, cheeks. I almost busted my button off my pants.

Phase Two: Christmas Day

Stage Three: Ya's house in Plainview, LI. Enough (mostly) Thai food to last 3-4 months: lo mein, spring rolls, ginger noodles with shrimp, chicken, spinach cakes, green curry soup, baked ziti, fried sweet potatoes and taro. Having nothing to do with food, this get together also included Senegalese sabar drumming by Mass and some cousins and some really enthusiastic dancing by my aunts. Ji, Mindy and I got sabar lessons and I only smacked my hand with the stick once. Mass says this means that I'm really starting to understand sabar.

Languages spoken during this 24 hour period: English, Korean, Spanish, Thai, French, Wolof.

When Ji and I got back to his apartment we watched How To Train Your Dragon and then spent about three hours working on projects - Ji-Soo fiddling with his guitar and me sewing a sewing pouch.

And I am happy, happy, happy.

New Things

Sunday November 14, 2010

Some More New Things(why does everything seem so new recently?):

-I love eggs. I eat fried eggs all the time. Ever since I have decided the grocery list I have not bought eggs. I don’t mind the taste, but they make me sleepy. Until about a month ago. I bought some eggs and fried one for breakfast the morning before I left for San Jose to fly back to New York in October. And now I’m hooked. I hardly eat meat or cheese here and think my body is asking for protein.

-My body has been asking for lots of things lately. When I’m hungry its not just hunger, it’s craving. It’s always craving. I get more exercise here then I’ve gotten since high school and I feel my body responding. It’s become gluttonous for exercise. I’ve always felt better the more active I’ve been but it’s risen to a new intensity. Even one day without at least 20 min or exercise and I find myself slipping into cranky and sad. I’ve always been intimidated by people who NEED to exercise every day and now I am one of those people. I wonder about the month I will spend in Brooklyn over Christmas and New Years. How the hell will I exercise in the freezing cold?

Changes

Tuesday November 9 2010

The weather here has taken a somewhat sudden turn. Gone are the endless rainy days and here are the freezing-cold-crazy-windy days. Just like that. I woke up one day and that was how it was. No gradual cooling off of the days and lessening of the rain. And now I go to work in my long underwear and wool hat.

Showering in the cold is…an experience. I have what I’ve heard called a “suicide shower.” Cold water running over hot electric coils for a warm shower. The hotter I want the water the slower I have to pass it over the coils which means less water pressure. These days my choice is usually between low pressure with lukewarm water or a falling trickle of scalding hot water. Believe it or not the second option seems pretty great on some of the colder mornings.

I am happy about this change in the weather because it means I get to wear my long underwear to work under my pants. I know I already mentioned that I do this but I did not mention how happy it makes me. How warm and snugly it feels. I love layers. Today I wore wool socks, long underwear, pants, tank top, t-shirt, sweater, hoodie, raincoat, wool cap and scarf. And. I loved it.
Another cool thing that has happened recently: a sloth sanctuary has opened by my house. Right by my house. For all intents and purposes, right next door. I like this for a number or reasons:

1. Now I can cross “live next to a sloth sanctuary” off my list of things to do.
2. I feel safer.
3. Lazy bears are cool! That’s a direct translation from Spanish. Oso perezoso = lazy bear. I picture Care Bears.
(How many items must a list have to merit the making of the list?)

On Sunday I went to the last free open house (are all open houses free?) before the official opening on Monday. This is what I learned:
• Lazy bears are not actually related to bears. They are related to armadillos and anteaters. Common characteristic: strong back. Lazy bears use them for hanging, armadillos and anteaters use them for digging.
• Like a cow, sloths have four chambers in their stomachs.
• It takes about one month for food to pass thru the digestive system of a lazy bear. This process takes about 32 hrs for humans.
• Lazy bears poop once a week. They have to come down to the ground to do it.
• Lazy bear digestion is so efficient that they don’t have to drink water. They get all the water they need from the leaves they eat (or fruits, flowers and leaves depending on the type of lazy bear).
• There are two types of lazy bears: two-toed and three-toed (two toad, three toad, one fish, blue fish). I don’t remember which is which but one kind has external genitals and the other internal. The way to differentiate between the sexes for the type with internal genitals is by the color of the patch of fur on their backs. Yellow = male, white = female.

The sloths at the sanctuary have been rescued from a wide range of trauma – sideshow, dog attack, kid attack, animal attack, hunters, hit by car, electrocuted on power lines. There is one lazy bear at the sanctuary by my house who had one arm burnt badly by a power line only to fall to the ground and be attacked by a dog on the same arm. When she arrived at the sanctuary they amputated the damaged arm. She is the only three legged lazy bear in the sanctuary She is also the only (not so)lazy bear that has escaped from her enclosure in the sanctuary, and she has done it three times.

Reflections

October 24, 2010

This morning at meeting an older man came in wearing dress shoes, slacks, a button down shirt and a cardigan. Half of the cardigan was tucked neatly into his pants with his shirt, the other half was not. I imagined him tucking in his shirt and not realized that he’d also tucked in his sweater. I couldn’t help but think that it was somewhat adorable, cute, endearing. I feel like it’s patronizing to call old people cute, but I also feel like its true.

Both of my parents have recently fallen into this Cute Older Person category. They have both also recently had their 60th birthday which maybe allows them to be cute, or allows me to see them as cute. Their most recent cuteness?

In the Charlotte airport during a layover on my most recent trip back to the States I call my dad to let him know that…well…that I’m in the Charlotte airport on a layover. This is what is wonderful about parents: it’s so easy to call them just to say hi. He barely registers this information and launches into something which sounds to me like bullfighting school. It must be a poor connection.

The following day when my family gathers in NJ I realize that I heard correctly. He and my Uncle are going to sign up for bullfighting classes in CA. While he’s at it, my Uncle is going to take stunt-driving classes in NJ. Ji-Soo is with me and I look to him to gauge his reaction only to see him launch into conversation with my Uncle about how fun and relatively affordable stunt-driving classes would be. I wonder if my wacky family is a surprise for him or if somehow, through knowing me, he is prepared for this. I wonder: in his mind, am I part of this group?

Mom, just in time for her 60th birthday, has joined the local rowing club. She updates constantly about the goings-on of the Indian River Boat Club. She is excited. I comment to Ji that although both of my parents are mature and capable adults, they both have a certain childlike quality about them. They both get very focused and excited about new endeavors they take on. I wonder if this has been passed on to my brother and I. I wonder if this is part of what first drew my parents together. I wonder, am I part of this group?

A few months ago during children’s meeting the facilitator had the kids draw two pictures of themselves: one of how they see themselves and one of how they think other people see them. I was at the same time overwhelmed by the difficulty and depth of this task and by my desire to try it. How do I see myself? How do others see me? In a recent email to a friend I confessed, “It may make me a total sap, but I just miss hanging out with you.” She responded, “You’ve always been a total sap, and I miss you too.”

Just One Big Queja

Disclaimer: This entry is just one long complaint.

And now I'm sick. And everything is wet because it hasn't stopped raining for days. Even my tea infuser for my Get Well tea (thank you Mom!) smells like mildew. And it's cold and damp and I'm behind on my work and I wake up scared in the middle of the night because of the robberies and assaults that have been happening.

What being scared in the middle of the night makes me think and do:

-if someone abducted me and dropped me in the middle of the cloud forest I'd be screwed because I don't know what I can eat and I'd never find my way out
-If you climb up on the roof of my house and swing down on the balcony I bet you could break into my house and the dogs wouldn't even notice.
-Even if its raining, if I'm walking at night and hear voices I'll take my umbrella down and grasp it in my fist to make me feel safer

I can't wait for October break. I love my job, but I can't wait for October break.

Downfalls To Teaching

9.24.10
This morning I crouched naked in the shower for 30 minutes pouring vinegar over my head to get rid of lice. What a funny thing to be doing, I thought. I wonder if they told me to do this as a joke, I thought. I wonder if I’ll have vinegar left over to cook with, I thought.

Vinegar does not smell as strongly as I’d thought. After shampooing the smell does not stick as strongly as I’d worried. Or I just got used to it. Today was a stinky mess anyway – I pulled out clothes I haven't worn recently (the others tossed in the laundry) and with them a comfy, musty, mildew smell. Tonight I sit in mildew pajamas after my vinegar shower. How often do I need to work vinegar into my scalp? When will the lice be gone? I don’t know. But I do know that vinegar makes my scalp warm, 30 min is a long time to sit on my heels and reading with my head between my knees and vinegar dripping off my nose is barely worth it.

Continued Thoughts

I'm not finished with the book. Here are some thoughts, lifted more or less directly from a letter I just wrote to a good friend on her way to Bogota, Colombia:

I'm just now finishing an essay by William P. Roberst Jr. I love the way he writes. Its sort of crazy and poetic, which I think fits pretty well with his actions. After more than a year in prison he got paroled to work in a hospital and wrote this to his still incarcerated pacifist friend Larry (the guy who put the book toether):

"In my first ramble among snow and trees I had a long talk with a terribly wise and ancient maple druid and he asked especially about you, Larry, and wanted to know what this conscription thing is that has the ghastly power to pin you to cement, where he can't talk with you. But druids know how to wait and I told him you do too."

Later he said: "Although there is much that hurts, there is so wonderfully much that sings - which, after all, is life."

This is also the guy who was initially in a minimum security prison and told the authorities that he was going to leave because he didn't want to be his own jailer. He was immediately transferred to a higher security setting. Then he was happily paroled in Boston for a bit but decided his life would be much more productive and meaningful it if were his own so he wrote to the parole board: "... I want to tell you that I no longer consider myself under the authority of the parole board." He was re-arrested. Who does such a thing? I feel like he must be either wise or crazy.

And lastly, the title of his essay is "Prison and Butterfly Wings". He says, "We flapped our butterfly wings in prison. Who can know their effect in our interconnected world?" What a wonderful, uplifting thought.

almost forgot - in following up a reference to Mann Act (the prisons had many conscientious objects but also men violating the Mann Act) I went to wikipedia and found this super interesting: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mann_Act

An (Unfinished) Essay on Emptiness and Confusion

August 30, 2010

I have come across a book that has really shaken me by the soul. Its funny how books like those come into our lives. I found this one in the Monteverde Library on a rainy Saturday. I stopped into the library for a break from the rain and a rest on my trek up the hill to my soggy house.

Sometimes I am no good at choosing books and sometimes I know just by glimpsing the spine that we are going to be great friends. The latter was the case with this book, a few small candles: war resisters of wwii tell their stories by larry and lenna mae gara.

I loved this book from the start for its all lower case title and black cover (who writes WWII in lowercase?!? Unfathomable! The “i”s no longer look like roman numerals and the only reason left to do it is because that’s the way its always been done but it doesn’t even make sense any more but somehow I suspect that’s the whole point! Genius!) I don’t remember if I started this book that same evening or the following morning but I do know that by the time I walked to meeting on Sunday morning I was filled with ideas and questions.

…

And that was two weeks ago. I’m still not finished with larry and lenna mae and their collection of war resisters. Everyday I plan out another small piece of the detailed and insightful essay I will write and post about pacifism, ideals, religion, support, beliefs, spirituality, politics and history. Every book I read and every podcast I listen I relate back to what I’m reading in this book and I add another small section to my essay.

But lets be real – unlike Laura Norton-Cruz and Raquel Maldonado (my inspirations when I think about how I want to write about powerful ideas and share them with the world) I will never write this essay. Maybe I’m just not an essay kinda girl. Maybe I’m not a war resister and locked in a cell 23 hours a day for going on a work strike because I’m not down with segregated dining halls even though it’s the 1940’s and I’m white and now I have nothing left to do but read and write. Maybe I love my job more than ever this year and find that I don’t have much down time between work and exercise and reading and phone calls to Brooklyn and sleep.

This is my wish: that you will read this book and then talk to me about it. Maybe you will be as touched as I was by John H. Griffith’s father who supported him through his resistance with the same fervor that he supported his other son who was in the navy because he felt that they were both trying to do the right thing. Maybe you will stop and sit up when you read Ralph DiGia’s account of how he realized that he was going to jail because “what would ideals mean if one gave them up when they were put to a test?” Maybe you would then spend days searching for your own ideals and wondering what you would stand up for if given the opportunity. Maybe you too will realize that you’ll never be a Quaker because even though you think pacifism is important and admirable, you think the butt-kicking scenes in The Girl Who Played With Fire are just so cool you want to go out and take Thai Kick Boxing classes so you too can beat up bad guys. Or maybe you’ll have a totally different experience with the book and we’ll discuss and clash horns but it will still be a wonderful conversation.

I’ll leave you with my list of “Things to follow up on from a few small candles: war resisters of wwii tell their stories” even though I am just over half way done:

1. U.S. support of Hitler in the late 1930’s
2. Anti-Nazis in Germany in 1930’s and 40’s
3. U.S. immigration policy from Germany during this time. What did the U.S. know?
4. Nazi-Soviet Pact 1939
5. All Quiet on the Western Front and Johnny Got His Gun, two anti-war novels
6. The Power of Non-Violence by Richard Gregg
7. “Civil Disobedience” by Thoreau
8. Gandhi

Vacation on Vacation = The Best Idea Ever.

This is why:



Lobster rolls in Maine.


Poking stuff in Acadia National Park.


Orange seaweed on the beach on Campobello Island, New Brunswick. We camped so close to this beach that we could hear the waves from the tent.


Seaside cliffs on Campobello Island.


Long exposure moon-rise shots on Campobello Island. This was a 15 second exposure. Half way through a car turned on its headlights. I thought my picture was ruined, but it was enhanced.


Long exposure shots of long exposure shots. It's like going on vacation on vacation.




This was at about 10 p.m.



Maybe my favorite picture from the whole trip. We were on the beach and the sun started to come out so I burst into "Here Comes the Sun" and Ji snapped a picture.


Pretty pretty Campobello Island.


Pretty pretty beach.


Breakfast on Campobello Island. Eggs with herb and garlic goat cheese cooked over the fire, on tin foil. We heated up tortillas to wrap them in. It was delicious, but took forever and started off with me dumping two whole eggs in the fire by accident. The only utensils we had were two titanium alloy sporks from my aunt in North Carolina (Thank you Aunt S!).


Hiking in Fundy National Park, New Brunswick.


Snails snuggling with barnacles at low tide in Fundy National Park.


On a rock preparing for a jumping picture that was such a disaster that I won't even bother to post it.


Ji's awesome shot of a waterfall on a hike we did in Fundy National Park.


Looooow tide in Alma, New Brunswick.


Hopewell Rocks. Not as cool as they were when I was a kid. Most areas are collapsed or roped off. No climbing allowed.


Hiking the Franconia Ridge in New Hampshire.


The Ridge.


and back down... I was sore for three days.

I Love Biking

7.15.10

Why is it the most wonderful thing ever? Ji-Soo and I left the house today at 8:30 a.m. on our bikes and returned at 5:00 p.m. This is what we did:

From Brooklyn Hts. crossed the Pulaski Bridge then over to Roosevelt Island. Looked at some apartments there and left feeling like I'd spent a few hours in the Twilight Zone. Back into Queens, through Astoria, across the Tri-Borough and rested for a bit on Randall's Island. A loop around the island and then across the foot bridge into Manhattan, down the East River, across the Queens Boro Bridge back into Queens and then more or less traced our steps back home. Phew.

And it was awesome.

De-Centering?

I just read a reflective post on my good friend Laura's blog about her time in Mexico (lauritadianita.info) in which she talks about her search for fresh chicken. In her mind this meant a store with refrigeration. What she found was a woman willing to slaughter a chicken in front of her. This sparked an "Oh yeah, I guess I never thought of it that way" memory of my own.

On an early morning taxi ride the day before I left Costa Rica the cab driver commented to me how much he loved the rain.
"You live in the right place, then." I said. "But how do you dry your clothes?"
"Well, I have a little covered space where I hang them. They dry fine there. In two days just about everything is dry."
And then he went on to share with me how one can use the back of their fridge to dry small pieces of clothing, like underwear.
"It's great," he said. "Everything will be dry in two days!"

And I thought: "So this is my problem. I thought two days drying time was slow!"

So, there you are LauritaDianita, my own reflections on de-centering.

NYC: Day 1

This may not be very interesting to those of you who have your own lives, but here are some reflections on my time in NYC in comparison to life in Monteverde. Hopefully very soon I will either be too busy with insane summer fun or a job to be able to update regularly, but for now, here it is (much more exciting life updates can be found at lauritadianita.info or ebomb.quehubo.info, which is the story of friends biking across Mexico and other exciting adventures):

On Day 1 I met Ji-Soo for lunch downtown by Ground Zero. We got, on his right-on recommendation, falafel platters from a truck vendor. This is one thing I have missed about NYC - street food, everywhere.

My falafel platter with Business Ji-Soo in the background.


Business Ji-Soo and I being super serious downtown. Me rocking my new pearls. Behind us there was a whole mess of florescent green and orange as workers from Ground Zero took their lunch break. Business Ji-Soo headed back to the hive and I started back for Brooklyn. When I came out of the station at Borough Hall I found myself smack in the middle of a mini-, mid-week farmer's market. This is another thing that doesn't happen in Monteverde - random awesomeness like street performers and farmer's markets. As I walked back to the apartment laden with multi-grain bread and apple cider I was a aware of how out of touch I was with the fact that it was a gorgeous day. Sure it was warm and sunny, but there was no full body and soul awareness that you get in Monteverde. Pros and cons, yings and yangs, I guess.

Some Random Photos That I Never Got Around to Posting

Snuggling scorpions. In my bathroom. Right by the toilet. Apparently they are mating and the male is leaving his sperm pouch on the frame of my bathroom door and then pulling his mate over it to pick up. Awesome. Get a room, jerks. But they have a room, and it's my bathroom.


Captured snuggling scorpions. Ha! Take that!


Volcano Arenal seen from the hike down to the San Gerardo biological station in the San Elena Reserve. This was in April sometime and we were lucky enough to have a clear night and a good set of binoculars to be able to see lave flow at night (orange glowing rocks tumbling down). Recently, with all of the eruptions in Latin America, Arenal has been more active than usual. Gas and ash are being thrown 200m up into the air and the temperature in town has been rising. All of this is within the normal activity of the volcano but it has not happened in a few years.


Stupid horrible asshole scorpions that I caught in my house. This is the other species that they have in Monteverde.


Eating guava for desert. This is not what I knew as guava, which I guess here in Costa Rica is called Guayaba. Who knows? In general I'm confused about fruit in Spanish.


It looks like a giant grub that we ate segment by segment.


I found these three chillin' in the corner of my bathroom one evening. They were having a party and didn't invite me.


Scorpion + black light = awesome.