Ginna: 4 (nights with no new bites)
Fleas: 0
My new technique is to wear leggings with long socks double folded over them. This morning I took off the socks to find four fleas stuck in the fabric of the socks. Kill rate: 75% - one got away.
Two nights ago I dreamed that I arrived back in NYC. It was a foggy night and NYC looked so beautiful I had to fight back my tears.
This is another dream that makes sense to me.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Dreams
November 7, 2011
I hope that once I move back to NYC the dreams will stop. They aren’t bad dreams, nothing close to a nightmare, but not pleasant either. Maybe the worst part is that they are reoccurring - I have one every few months, variations on a theme. Usually I’m headed to a party to hang out with Ji but I can’t quite get there. Sometimes I can’t figure out the bus or train system. Once or twice I’ve lost my keys. Always, I’m confused and anxious and frustrated. Always, I’ve made plans to meet up with Ji but can’t quite get there. My phone is dead or I’ve lost the number. Always Ji is waiting for me and I can’t get in touch with him to tell him I’m lost but I’ll figure it out, I’ll be there soon.
I don’t believe much in dream analysis but this one seems pretty obvious.
I hope that once I move back to NYC the dreams will stop. They aren’t bad dreams, nothing close to a nightmare, but not pleasant either. Maybe the worst part is that they are reoccurring - I have one every few months, variations on a theme. Usually I’m headed to a party to hang out with Ji but I can’t quite get there. Sometimes I can’t figure out the bus or train system. Once or twice I’ve lost my keys. Always, I’m confused and anxious and frustrated. Always, I’ve made plans to meet up with Ji but can’t quite get there. My phone is dead or I’ve lost the number. Always Ji is waiting for me and I can’t get in touch with him to tell him I’m lost but I’ll figure it out, I’ll be there soon.
I don’t believe much in dream analysis but this one seems pretty obvious.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Monday, August 15, 2011
Costa Rican Mother's Day
Monday august 15, 2011
I woke up late today, 7:45 a.m., and felt a little guilty. I called Mom for Costa Rican Mother’s Day and got to talk to her and Dennis, which always makes me happy. I went for a run, showered, made some fry bread and did the laundry.
Living alone I spend most of my housework time listening to pod casts. (Who knew that pod cast is two words and housework is one? Thank you, spell check.) I love pod casts. This morning I listened to two really powerful pod casts, one that had an unexpected impact on me.
The first one was about the rise of militias in the U.S., especially since the election of Obama. Reaction: I am so naive to the world.
http://www.thechangingworld.org/archives/2011/wk31.php
The second pod cast, http://www.thechangingworld.org/archives/2011/wk32.php was about The Sierra Program, a rehabilitation project in a prison in Australia to try to stop the Revolving Door Syndrome of recidivism. This pod cast was pretty remarkable, listening to you men talk about the choices they had made that led them to prison and their desire to change the patterns of their life and not return to prison. Pretty moving stuff. But then, as I was hanging my clean laundry on the porch, in the sun shine and gentle breeze, I heard something so powerful it brought tears to my eyes.
The reporter had been talking to skeptical prison staff, those who did not think that the Sierra Program would make much of a difference. She then talks to Sierra Program participants about their reaction to that skepticism. She talks to one man who is 24 years old, formally in the armed forces. When he left the army he fell into drug and crime and describes in general terms the violence of his actions and armed robberies. The reporter mentions the skepticism of others and asks this man why she should that he, a violent armed robber, can change just because of participation in this program. He responds, without hesitation and with full respect and calm, addressing her by name:
“Sharon, I was an armed robber, not am. That’s the most important thing, that change has occurred in my mind.”
This is where the tears came in. I cannot help but be emotionally involved in the world. And I realize that this is one of the most powerful ideas for me: we are all capable of making poor choices, but with support, patience, love, understanding, structure and discipline, we can change. I can’t quite find the words to express how amazing I find this young man and all of those young men – trying, trying, trying to make change for better in their lives. What takes more courage than that?
I woke up late today, 7:45 a.m., and felt a little guilty. I called Mom for Costa Rican Mother’s Day and got to talk to her and Dennis, which always makes me happy. I went for a run, showered, made some fry bread and did the laundry.
Living alone I spend most of my housework time listening to pod casts. (Who knew that pod cast is two words and housework is one? Thank you, spell check.) I love pod casts. This morning I listened to two really powerful pod casts, one that had an unexpected impact on me.
The first one was about the rise of militias in the U.S., especially since the election of Obama. Reaction: I am so naive to the world.
http://www.thechangingworld.org/archives/2011/wk31.php
The second pod cast, http://www.thechangingworld.org/archives/2011/wk32.php was about The Sierra Program, a rehabilitation project in a prison in Australia to try to stop the Revolving Door Syndrome of recidivism. This pod cast was pretty remarkable, listening to you men talk about the choices they had made that led them to prison and their desire to change the patterns of their life and not return to prison. Pretty moving stuff. But then, as I was hanging my clean laundry on the porch, in the sun shine and gentle breeze, I heard something so powerful it brought tears to my eyes.
The reporter had been talking to skeptical prison staff, those who did not think that the Sierra Program would make much of a difference. She then talks to Sierra Program participants about their reaction to that skepticism. She talks to one man who is 24 years old, formally in the armed forces. When he left the army he fell into drug and crime and describes in general terms the violence of his actions and armed robberies. The reporter mentions the skepticism of others and asks this man why she should that he, a violent armed robber, can change just because of participation in this program. He responds, without hesitation and with full respect and calm, addressing her by name:
“Sharon, I was an armed robber, not am. That’s the most important thing, that change has occurred in my mind.”
This is where the tears came in. I cannot help but be emotionally involved in the world. And I realize that this is one of the most powerful ideas for me: we are all capable of making poor choices, but with support, patience, love, understanding, structure and discipline, we can change. I can’t quite find the words to express how amazing I find this young man and all of those young men – trying, trying, trying to make change for better in their lives. What takes more courage than that?
Bug Killer
Sunday August 14, 2011
I killed another scorpion last night. It’s not even that exciting anymore, but this particular death was kind of interesting. I was sitting on the toilet, peeing when it happened. I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye and there it was, prancing into my bathroom with no regard for my privacy. I didn’t even freak out. I just pulled up my pant leg so it wouldn’t get tangled in arachnid, stomped on the perverted critter and continued peeing.
Unfortunately, this did not get the job done. Even on the hard tile of my bathroom floor the arachnid exoskeleton held up against the soft bottom of my slippers. Still seated on the toilet, I stomped again. The second attempt did not manage to capture the tail scorpion and I sat watching as it jabbed at the sole of my slipper in an attempt to free itself.
In the end I had to stand, pull my pants up and grind my heel to immobilize the scorpion, and sweep it up and dump it into the toilet to finish off the job. And now I get to add “The Time I Killed a Scorpion While I was on the Toilet” to the list of things I’ve done in my life.
And while we are on the topic of scorpions, I would like to share that Costa Rica has debuted two new bills. They are smaller, made of a different material and with new designs. The 1,000 colon bill, I am sad to report, has scorpions on it. Why would they choose to do such a thing? It’s like if the currency for New York had a mugger on it, or a junkie, passed out on a stoop. I know what you are thinking: New York doesn’t have it’s own currency.
What’s your point?
I killed another scorpion last night. It’s not even that exciting anymore, but this particular death was kind of interesting. I was sitting on the toilet, peeing when it happened. I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye and there it was, prancing into my bathroom with no regard for my privacy. I didn’t even freak out. I just pulled up my pant leg so it wouldn’t get tangled in arachnid, stomped on the perverted critter and continued peeing.
Unfortunately, this did not get the job done. Even on the hard tile of my bathroom floor the arachnid exoskeleton held up against the soft bottom of my slippers. Still seated on the toilet, I stomped again. The second attempt did not manage to capture the tail scorpion and I sat watching as it jabbed at the sole of my slipper in an attempt to free itself.
In the end I had to stand, pull my pants up and grind my heel to immobilize the scorpion, and sweep it up and dump it into the toilet to finish off the job. And now I get to add “The Time I Killed a Scorpion While I was on the Toilet” to the list of things I’ve done in my life.
And while we are on the topic of scorpions, I would like to share that Costa Rica has debuted two new bills. They are smaller, made of a different material and with new designs. The 1,000 colon bill, I am sad to report, has scorpions on it. Why would they choose to do such a thing? It’s like if the currency for New York had a mugger on it, or a junkie, passed out on a stoop. I know what you are thinking: New York doesn’t have it’s own currency.
What’s your point?
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Blogs, Podcasts, Books and The Fall (but not in that order)
Saturday August 13, 2011
Yesterday morning I went running with Tricia and fell and ripped my pants. It didn’t hurt and I only got a little scrape and a bruise (thank goodness – all my bruises from mt. biking have faded). The painful part was that there was this guy there and the intersection where I ate it and he saw the whole thing. We ran down to the intersection, I wiped out, got up, turned around and we ran away again, me with a big hole ripped in the knee of my pants.
I tell this to Ji last night and we laugh a little. We really laugh when I confess tha they are not actually pants that I wear to run in, but long underwear. And then we keep laughing when I explain how the elastic waist is so shot I have to bunch it up and pint it with a safety pin so the pants don’t fall down, especially when I’m running downhill. Thank goodness I’ve got my bright purple, super-fly, 50% off Pumas to salvage my imagine a little. I’m not a total disaster.
When Ji finally settles down he asks, “Would you go running dressed like that in NYC?” This question never would have occurred to me. Of course I would run in that outfit in NYC! Because:
1. It can get cold in NY and long underwear, even ripped long underwear, will help me stay warm.
2. I’ve never understood why people spend a lot of money for fancy new workout clothes. I always wear my older, most beat up clothing to work out in. The clothes are going to ust get seaty and muddy (and ripped) anyway. Expensive workout clothes = poor financial planning.
3. No matter how hard I try or how much money I make I will never be NYC fashinable. I just can’t pull it off and I’ve given up trying. Hm – I reazlie not that I never have actually given a damn.
So, for Ji-Soo and the rest of you who might ask, yes I would go running in the fashion capital of the world in baggy, ripped long underwear. And I wouldn’t think twice about it.
******************************************************************************
I just finished reading Annie on My Mind by Nancy Garden. It was published in 1982 and was supposedly the first gay/lesbian teen novel, which is pretty cool, but I liked it for a different reason. I liked it because it really captured how falling in love in NYC can turn the dirty, gritty, monotonous city into a beautiful, endless playground. I was so down on NYC and then one day (really, it happened that quickly) everything changed.
I left anyway.
******************************************************************************
I just listed to and episode of The Changing World podcast: “The Kill Factor”. Pretty powerful. My thoughts:
1. So upfront, so shocking, so necessary.
2. Kudos to those who can talk to openly and honestly about their experience. I can’t imagine the courage that takes.
3. I wish they’d included women. Do women go to the front line? Do they kill?
4. Being here in Monteverde has made me realize that I’m not a pacifist, but I still don’t like war.
5. Powerful idea #1: The safety switch to keep soldiers from killing gets turned off so they can kill but how can we put it back before we send them home?
6. Powerful idea #2: We ask soldiers to do so much but then don’t support them when the come home.
7. Powerful idea #3: Hearing one of the soldiers talking about going from war zone to war zone. What are we doing in this world?
8. The word WAR – seems perfect for what it is.
******************************************************************************
I’ve been reading some new blogs lately (I never thought I’d say that):
• Neil and wife Andrea, who just moved to Hilo, Hawaii: http://haoleherald.tumblr.com/
• Ji’s sister Eunnie and The Husband, who just moved to Shenzen, China: consumateconsumer.com
• Amanda and her husband, who live in Cambodia and just had a baby. We were friends in middle school and have not spoken since, but its an interesting blog: http://amandaniel.blogspot.com/
Yesterday morning I went running with Tricia and fell and ripped my pants. It didn’t hurt and I only got a little scrape and a bruise (thank goodness – all my bruises from mt. biking have faded). The painful part was that there was this guy there and the intersection where I ate it and he saw the whole thing. We ran down to the intersection, I wiped out, got up, turned around and we ran away again, me with a big hole ripped in the knee of my pants.
I tell this to Ji last night and we laugh a little. We really laugh when I confess tha they are not actually pants that I wear to run in, but long underwear. And then we keep laughing when I explain how the elastic waist is so shot I have to bunch it up and pint it with a safety pin so the pants don’t fall down, especially when I’m running downhill. Thank goodness I’ve got my bright purple, super-fly, 50% off Pumas to salvage my imagine a little. I’m not a total disaster.
When Ji finally settles down he asks, “Would you go running dressed like that in NYC?” This question never would have occurred to me. Of course I would run in that outfit in NYC! Because:
1. It can get cold in NY and long underwear, even ripped long underwear, will help me stay warm.
2. I’ve never understood why people spend a lot of money for fancy new workout clothes. I always wear my older, most beat up clothing to work out in. The clothes are going to ust get seaty and muddy (and ripped) anyway. Expensive workout clothes = poor financial planning.
3. No matter how hard I try or how much money I make I will never be NYC fashinable. I just can’t pull it off and I’ve given up trying. Hm – I reazlie not that I never have actually given a damn.
So, for Ji-Soo and the rest of you who might ask, yes I would go running in the fashion capital of the world in baggy, ripped long underwear. And I wouldn’t think twice about it.
******************************************************************************
I just finished reading Annie on My Mind by Nancy Garden. It was published in 1982 and was supposedly the first gay/lesbian teen novel, which is pretty cool, but I liked it for a different reason. I liked it because it really captured how falling in love in NYC can turn the dirty, gritty, monotonous city into a beautiful, endless playground. I was so down on NYC and then one day (really, it happened that quickly) everything changed.
I left anyway.
******************************************************************************
I just listed to and episode of The Changing World podcast: “The Kill Factor”. Pretty powerful. My thoughts:
1. So upfront, so shocking, so necessary.
2. Kudos to those who can talk to openly and honestly about their experience. I can’t imagine the courage that takes.
3. I wish they’d included women. Do women go to the front line? Do they kill?
4. Being here in Monteverde has made me realize that I’m not a pacifist, but I still don’t like war.
5. Powerful idea #1: The safety switch to keep soldiers from killing gets turned off so they can kill but how can we put it back before we send them home?
6. Powerful idea #2: We ask soldiers to do so much but then don’t support them when the come home.
7. Powerful idea #3: Hearing one of the soldiers talking about going from war zone to war zone. What are we doing in this world?
8. The word WAR – seems perfect for what it is.
******************************************************************************
I’ve been reading some new blogs lately (I never thought I’d say that):
• Neil and wife Andrea, who just moved to Hilo, Hawaii: http://haoleherald.tumblr.com/
• Ji’s sister Eunnie and The Husband, who just moved to Shenzen, China: consumateconsumer.com
• Amanda and her husband, who live in Cambodia and just had a baby. We were friends in middle school and have not spoken since, but its an interesting blog: http://amandaniel.blogspot.com/
Friday, August 5, 2011
My Life: Summer 2011 - Last Bit
So, I got to go to Alaska for a wedding and had an amazing time and love loved it but then I left in camera in NYC and came back to Costa Rica and I have nothing to show for it. But, I will leave you with this link where my PIC has written wonderfully about it. He took most of the pictures anyway: http://have-not.blogspot.com/
And also, some pictures of the orange tree, happy with new growth in it's Brooklyn greenhouse. You can see other posts of my beloved orange tree at the link above also. This silly tree has brought me hours and hours of happiness. Oh, and it's not really an orange tree.
Background: Apt. 15C
Background: Williamsburg, Brooklyn.
Background: Joy, joy, joy.
And also, some pictures of the orange tree, happy with new growth in it's Brooklyn greenhouse. You can see other posts of my beloved orange tree at the link above also. This silly tree has brought me hours and hours of happiness. Oh, and it's not really an orange tree.
Background: Apt. 15C
Background: Williamsburg, Brooklyn.
Background: Joy, joy, joy.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
My Life: Summer 2011 - Part II
Oops - started this a month ago and never finished. Here it is:
I went upstate for a wedding. My friend's family rented a place on the south western shore of Lake Canandaigua. This is the view from the back porch, after a quick summer rain:
I love this part of the world with all of my heart and soul.
Back in NYC at Bryant Park. I also love this place, but not with all of my heart and soul.
The sun setting behind the Williamsburg Bridge. This picture does not do the scene justice. Whoever says NYC is not a beautiful place is just wrong.
Collingswood, NJ with Dad for the 4th of July. This poster claims to combine the two best things about Philly into one, but I am doubtful. Sometimes two good things should just stay two good things and not try to become one great thing.
I went upstate for a wedding. My friend's family rented a place on the south western shore of Lake Canandaigua. This is the view from the back porch, after a quick summer rain:
I love this part of the world with all of my heart and soul.
Back in NYC at Bryant Park. I also love this place, but not with all of my heart and soul.
The sun setting behind the Williamsburg Bridge. This picture does not do the scene justice. Whoever says NYC is not a beautiful place is just wrong.
Collingswood, NJ with Dad for the 4th of July. This poster claims to combine the two best things about Philly into one, but I am doubtful. Sometimes two good things should just stay two good things and not try to become one great thing.
Monday, June 20, 2011
My Life: Summer 2011
Saturday Ji and I went on a 2+ hour mt. biking adventure in Ringwood Park in New Jersey. It was my first time exercising in a month and my first time on a bike in over ten months. I was tired and out of shape, but had a great time. Ji-Soo fell and I got to wash the blood off with my water bottle. I did not fall because I have not yet bought my summer-time health insurance.
We went directly from mt. biking to Ji-Soo's aunt's house to shower and eat a pretty respectable amount of food: ribs, fish, bean sprouts, oyster kim chi, fruit, ice cream. I am grateful that Ji-Soo's family seems to have no problem with me laying on the floor and moaning as I recover from my bike ride and giant meal.
Sunday Ji-Soo and I went on another bike ride around the city (if it means anything to you: from Williamsburg, Brooklyn up Kent Ave to Vernon Blvd. into Astoria, Queens, across the Triboro bridge and back again). After our bike ride we did that same exact as the day prior (what else does one do after a long bike ride?): shower and eat Korean food, leftovers sent with us from the previous night.
That evening we watched "Street Fight", a documentary about Cory Booker's first run for mayor of Newark, NJ in 2002. Then we read as much as we could about him online, Ji-Soo focusing on his remarkable college football career and myself on his educational reforms and desire to live in the poorest, most violent parts of Newark. I highly recommend checking the man out.
This morning, Monday, I spent some time gorging myself on U.S. educational reform blogs, articles and videos. I watched "The Lottery" and it made me cry, also highly recommended. When I looked up it was almost 2 p.m. and I had to get out of the house. I walked across the Williamsburg bridge and into Chinatown and then took the subway back to Brooklyn. Here are some photos from my trek:
This is along the first stretch of the bridge. This is the bike route that I took because the first half of the pedestrian walkway is closed for repairs. I love the bridges of NYC. Love, love them. I don't know anything about architecture or art, but I do know that the lines of these bridges are beautiful. The other day I was talking about how beautiful the Queensboro bridge is and Ji said, "I'm not sure anyone else would use that word to describe that bridge." Yes, it looks industrial and a little rusty, but fantastically so.
I took this picture to show the road sign in the upper left corner. Also to show how highly used the biking and walking paths in NYC are. One day I would like to sit next to one of these bike paths and count the number of people that use them in one day. Today I also wanted to take portrait photos of the people who cross the bridge on bike. I wished Laura.d.n.c was there to launch the project with me because she is good at talking to people she doesn't know, and asking to take their pictures.
The Williamsburg Bridge is covered with graffiti, and I love it. At first I think this makes me gritty and down, but then I realize that it is easy to like colorful graffiti in a safe, hip, neighborhood.
Graffiti on a rooftop seen from the bridge.
This picture came out blurry. It is hard to see the screen of my digital camera in bright sunlight. Regardless, you can still see the teeth-tower, which I really like a lot.
More lines. More colors.
Halfway across the bridge there is a connecting point between the bike path on the north side of the bridge and the walkway on the south side. This section of the walkway was open. As I crossed a train passed under me. This is another reason that I love the Williamsburg Bridge: it has trucks, cars, pedestrians, bicyclists and subways. It is like a small city unto itself.
The train passed and I was left with more lines.
More graffiti. More color.
More trains. More lines.
The Manhattan and Brooklyn bridges to the south. To the north you can see the Queensboro bridge, Chrysler building and Empire State building. I took a picture of them, but it came out blurry.
This is maybe the most beautiful part of the bridge. This is where the bike path and walkway converge, if you are Manhattan-bound, or separate, if you are Brooklyn-bound.
It says:
CITY OF NEW YORK
WILLIAMSBURG BRIDGE
DEPARTMENT OF BRIDGES
The silver paints shines in the sun.
At this point in the bridge there is also a seemingly random art installation: the colored tiles on the cross beams. I don't know who did them or what they are supposed to mean but they decrease in number, heading towards Manhattan, until there are none, and I like them.
An unusually detailed spray paint stencil.
I have no idea what it is, but it grabbed my attention. It can't actually be a stencil. I don't know how they did it.
I tried to walk past this one, but it wouldn't let me. You could make a movie about this.
And then I was in Chinatown and buying tea and too distracted and thirsty to take anymore pictures. But here are some from last week:
Salad in bowl from Mom: lettuce, spinach, bean sprouts, walnuts, parsley, green olives, zucchini, Basic Vinaigrette from the How to Cook Everything cookbook.
Never-fail no-knead bread.
The Glove, a gift that Ji's mom brought me from Korea when she came to Costa Rica. It's made with a special scrubby yarn and can be used in the kitchen or the shower. I chose the shower and have been very happy ever since. I've never felt so clean!
Ji-Soo makes noodle soup. Same wonderful bowl from same wonderful Mom.
We went directly from mt. biking to Ji-Soo's aunt's house to shower and eat a pretty respectable amount of food: ribs, fish, bean sprouts, oyster kim chi, fruit, ice cream. I am grateful that Ji-Soo's family seems to have no problem with me laying on the floor and moaning as I recover from my bike ride and giant meal.
Sunday Ji-Soo and I went on another bike ride around the city (if it means anything to you: from Williamsburg, Brooklyn up Kent Ave to Vernon Blvd. into Astoria, Queens, across the Triboro bridge and back again). After our bike ride we did that same exact as the day prior (what else does one do after a long bike ride?): shower and eat Korean food, leftovers sent with us from the previous night.
Life
is
Good
is
Good
That evening we watched "Street Fight", a documentary about Cory Booker's first run for mayor of Newark, NJ in 2002. Then we read as much as we could about him online, Ji-Soo focusing on his remarkable college football career and myself on his educational reforms and desire to live in the poorest, most violent parts of Newark. I highly recommend checking the man out.
This morning, Monday, I spent some time gorging myself on U.S. educational reform blogs, articles and videos. I watched "The Lottery" and it made me cry, also highly recommended. When I looked up it was almost 2 p.m. and I had to get out of the house. I walked across the Williamsburg bridge and into Chinatown and then took the subway back to Brooklyn. Here are some photos from my trek:
This is along the first stretch of the bridge. This is the bike route that I took because the first half of the pedestrian walkway is closed for repairs. I love the bridges of NYC. Love, love them. I don't know anything about architecture or art, but I do know that the lines of these bridges are beautiful. The other day I was talking about how beautiful the Queensboro bridge is and Ji said, "I'm not sure anyone else would use that word to describe that bridge." Yes, it looks industrial and a little rusty, but fantastically so.
I took this picture to show the road sign in the upper left corner. Also to show how highly used the biking and walking paths in NYC are. One day I would like to sit next to one of these bike paths and count the number of people that use them in one day. Today I also wanted to take portrait photos of the people who cross the bridge on bike. I wished Laura.d.n.c was there to launch the project with me because she is good at talking to people she doesn't know, and asking to take their pictures.
The Williamsburg Bridge is covered with graffiti, and I love it. At first I think this makes me gritty and down, but then I realize that it is easy to like colorful graffiti in a safe, hip, neighborhood.
Graffiti on a rooftop seen from the bridge.
This picture came out blurry. It is hard to see the screen of my digital camera in bright sunlight. Regardless, you can still see the teeth-tower, which I really like a lot.
More lines. More colors.
Halfway across the bridge there is a connecting point between the bike path on the north side of the bridge and the walkway on the south side. This section of the walkway was open. As I crossed a train passed under me. This is another reason that I love the Williamsburg Bridge: it has trucks, cars, pedestrians, bicyclists and subways. It is like a small city unto itself.
The train passed and I was left with more lines.
More graffiti. More color.
More trains. More lines.
The Manhattan and Brooklyn bridges to the south. To the north you can see the Queensboro bridge, Chrysler building and Empire State building. I took a picture of them, but it came out blurry.
This is maybe the most beautiful part of the bridge. This is where the bike path and walkway converge, if you are Manhattan-bound, or separate, if you are Brooklyn-bound.
It says:
CITY OF NEW YORK
WILLIAMSBURG BRIDGE
DEPARTMENT OF BRIDGES
The silver paints shines in the sun.
At this point in the bridge there is also a seemingly random art installation: the colored tiles on the cross beams. I don't know who did them or what they are supposed to mean but they decrease in number, heading towards Manhattan, until there are none, and I like them.
An unusually detailed spray paint stencil.
I have no idea what it is, but it grabbed my attention. It can't actually be a stencil. I don't know how they did it.
I tried to walk past this one, but it wouldn't let me. You could make a movie about this.
And then I was in Chinatown and buying tea and too distracted and thirsty to take anymore pictures. But here are some from last week:
Salad in bowl from Mom: lettuce, spinach, bean sprouts, walnuts, parsley, green olives, zucchini, Basic Vinaigrette from the How to Cook Everything cookbook.
Never-fail no-knead bread.
The Glove, a gift that Ji's mom brought me from Korea when she came to Costa Rica. It's made with a special scrubby yarn and can be used in the kitchen or the shower. I chose the shower and have been very happy ever since. I've never felt so clean!
Ji-Soo makes noodle soup. Same wonderful bowl from same wonderful Mom.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Small Joys
This past April when I was in the states for a week I took a day trip to Philly to see my family. I wanted to get a Philly treat for Ji, so Dad took me to Di Bruno Brothers. Dad was very excited about the balsalmic vinegar, and when I was too cheap to buy it for Ji-Soo, he did. I lovingly cradled the balsamic vinegar in my lap, next to the not-as-pricey sausage I bought, all the way back to Brooklyn.
Ji-Soo and I made a loaf of no-knead bread with which to try the vinegar, and it was delicious. What more could a girl ask for?
Ji-Soo and I made a loaf of no-knead bread with which to try the vinegar, and it was delicious. What more could a girl ask for?
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Food and Bug Fotos
Ji's Mom and Aunt found this almost-dead critter in the bathroom during their visit. I took it out to the porch to take pictures while his family made jokes about how we were starting out own bug exhibition and could charge people money to come see it. After pictures the beetle went next to the beautiful dead moth we'd found that morning during breakfast. As evidenced by this episode, it was a fantastic visit. I'd never seen a beetle with bumps on its back like that.
Harmless beetle, huge claws. Funny pads on feet. The surface the beetle is resting on is Ji's shorts because he's ok with me putting almost-dead bugs on his leg to take pictures.
And then Ji's family left and I made pejivalle. It's palm fruit, and pretty fantastic. Step 1: boil.
Step 2: Peel. You'll noticed that I skipped the very important step of "let cool". Ouch.
Step 3: split in half.
Step 4: Fill with natilla, Costa Rican sour cream.
Step 5: eat/enjoy
Step 6: store any leftovers
Not a step, just organic trash, which is more times than not just as beautiful as the edible part.
Pejivalle project over, move onto to boiling eggs.
Back in NYC, time for an update
From a while ago:
Bits of White Tiger by Aravind Adiga that I loved:
(about family members) "At night they slept together, their legs falling one over the other, like one creature, a millipede."
"My father's spine was a knotted rope, that kind that women use in villages to pull water from wells...The story of a poor man's life is written on his body, in a sharp pen."
From June 8, 2011
In the a.m.: "This morning I woke to the sound of howler monkeys calling and birds hopping on my corrugated roof."
and then in the evening:
"What a funny day. Tonight I worked until 7 p.m. Walking home the fog was dense and still. My flashlight at full power could only show me the rocks right in front of my feet. The light extended from my hand in a solid cone. There were single, split second flashes of lighting, so fast I wasn't sure they had even happened.
And then to add to the already beautiful, spooky-but-not-scary atmosphere: as I approached the gate to my house to lean over and unlatch it from the other side I froze and then jumped back. There was a thin brown snake on the waist-high gate, about 2 1/2 feet long. Half of its body was wrapped through and resting on top of the gate, the other half poised, waiting in the air above the gate. If I had actually reached over the gate to unlatch it I could have given the snake a little kiss on the top of its i-think-its-not-triangle-shaped head.
I am not afraid of snakes. I think they are beautiful and interesting. Startled by them yes, scared no. Until I moved to Costa Rica and learned that there are 27 speices of venomous snakes in this small country. Did you know that Costa Rica is one of the world's top (or maybe the actual top) exporters of snake venom antidote? They have enough deadly snake venom to make lots of snake anti-venom and ship it all over the world.
Yes, I got myself educated on venomous snakes. I went to the serpentario three times and learned the difference between a triangle head and a round head, cat pupil and round pupil. I know about that nostril looking pit that venomous snakes have in their faces and it was all very interesting.But it only gets you so far when it's dark and foggy and there is a snake in your face. There was nothing about this snake that told me it was venomous but I still didn't want to kiss it.
I found the longest stick I could (a good 8 inches - great job, Ginna) and gently poked the snake with it, hoping that this would be enough to convince it to move elsewhere. No such luck. After a few more pokes at its thin, long body I remembered that young snakes can be more deadly that adult snakes because they will dump all of their venom into you at once, having not yet learned how to control their bite. This was a long but young looking snake that was begining to zigzag the top half of its body, lower half anchored firmly to the gate. David Attenborough has taught me that this is ideal striking stance. No way I could move faster than this little guy.
Finally, the thin brown snake slowly moved into the bush next to my front gate. I gingerly opened the gate and let myself in, scrutinizing every stick I could see. I turned to look at the brown snake in the green bush but could not find it. Sneaky little bugger.
Bits of White Tiger by Aravind Adiga that I loved:
(about family members) "At night they slept together, their legs falling one over the other, like one creature, a millipede."
"My father's spine was a knotted rope, that kind that women use in villages to pull water from wells...The story of a poor man's life is written on his body, in a sharp pen."
From June 8, 2011
In the a.m.: "This morning I woke to the sound of howler monkeys calling and birds hopping on my corrugated roof."
and then in the evening:
"What a funny day. Tonight I worked until 7 p.m. Walking home the fog was dense and still. My flashlight at full power could only show me the rocks right in front of my feet. The light extended from my hand in a solid cone. There were single, split second flashes of lighting, so fast I wasn't sure they had even happened.
And then to add to the already beautiful, spooky-but-not-scary atmosphere: as I approached the gate to my house to lean over and unlatch it from the other side I froze and then jumped back. There was a thin brown snake on the waist-high gate, about 2 1/2 feet long. Half of its body was wrapped through and resting on top of the gate, the other half poised, waiting in the air above the gate. If I had actually reached over the gate to unlatch it I could have given the snake a little kiss on the top of its i-think-its-not-triangle-shaped head.
I am not afraid of snakes. I think they are beautiful and interesting. Startled by them yes, scared no. Until I moved to Costa Rica and learned that there are 27 speices of venomous snakes in this small country. Did you know that Costa Rica is one of the world's top (or maybe the actual top) exporters of snake venom antidote? They have enough deadly snake venom to make lots of snake anti-venom and ship it all over the world.
Yes, I got myself educated on venomous snakes. I went to the serpentario three times and learned the difference between a triangle head and a round head, cat pupil and round pupil. I know about that nostril looking pit that venomous snakes have in their faces and it was all very interesting.But it only gets you so far when it's dark and foggy and there is a snake in your face. There was nothing about this snake that told me it was venomous but I still didn't want to kiss it.
I found the longest stick I could (a good 8 inches - great job, Ginna) and gently poked the snake with it, hoping that this would be enough to convince it to move elsewhere. No such luck. After a few more pokes at its thin, long body I remembered that young snakes can be more deadly that adult snakes because they will dump all of their venom into you at once, having not yet learned how to control their bite. This was a long but young looking snake that was begining to zigzag the top half of its body, lower half anchored firmly to the gate. David Attenborough has taught me that this is ideal striking stance. No way I could move faster than this little guy.
Finally, the thin brown snake slowly moved into the bush next to my front gate. I gingerly opened the gate and let myself in, scrutinizing every stick I could see. I turned to look at the brown snake in the green bush but could not find it. Sneaky little bugger.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Weird Things Happen When You Travel
It is true, they just do. Here are some examples from my last stint of international travel (Monteverde to NYC) to illustrate my point:
Weird thing #1: Oscar on the bus
I took the 2:30 bus from Monteverde to Alajuela on Friday afternoon because my flight left early Saturday morning. I got to sit next to Oscar, who really wanted to talk to me and tell me how pretty I was, but instead he feel asleep in the heat, thank goodness. Unfortunately, as the sun set and the air cooled, Oscar woke and chatted me up. I had no interest in talking to him but he did not seem to notice how I kept burying my nose in my book or gazing out the window. He insisted on telling me all about his world travels and even asked me if I was married. I guess he didn't notice that he was almost 50 years my senior. I was very happy to mention my wonderful boyfriend whom I was in route to visit. For the record, our old friend Oscar did nothing inappropriate or out of bounds, I just wasn't in the mood for geriatric chit chat.
Weird thing #2: Public viewing hotel room
I chose to stay at a hotel in Alajuela that myself and others from Monteverde have used regularly. They are nice, helpful, clean and pretty inexpensive. This time, however, I got a room with a shared bathroom in an attempt to save a few additional dollars. There were three windows in my room, each of them opening to an open space in the hotel, not to the outside. These windows had blinds that only partially obstructed an outsiders view, which meant that I had to turn the lights off to change, and as I snuggled into bed to read at night, I could make direct eye contact with anyone passing. Thank goodness my neighbors had the decency not to linger.
Weird thing #3: Costa Rica's new national sport
I shared my 5:15 a.m. taxi to the airport with a Swiss couple heading home after their third visit to Costa Rica. Our taxi driver was very excited to explain to us the new Costa Rican sport: fútbol vacero or something like that. Two teams, soccer field, most goals wins - nothing new there. But instead of playing with a soccer ball, they play with a COW. With horns. You are not allowed to touch the animal, but if you usher it into your goal, you get a point. Once we had arrived at the airport and unloaded our bags, our taxi driver proudly lifted his shirt to show where he had been gouged in the gut by cow horns.
Weird thing #4: Airplane adventure
The first leg of my airborne journey, San Jose to Atlanta, when smoothly. The flight from Atlanta to Newark was delayed about an hour due to poor weather in Newark. I called Ji who confirmed that yes, in deed, it was raining in his part of the world. The first hour and a half of the flight, from 4 p.m. to 5:30 p.m. , when pretty smoothly. Around 5:35 p.m., when we were over Pennsylvania, the captain explained that due to poor weather in Newark we would be entering a holding pattern over PA until about 6:15. He would keep us updated. Two minutes later he came on again to say that we were actually just gonna head right into Newark.
Then we were struck by lighting. Yeah...no one was really expecting that since we were above the clouds and had seen no rain or lighting at all. The ride was still pretty smooth when all of a sudden there was a bright flash of light, a shudder thru the airplane and a loud BOOM. People were freaked out (gasping, yelling, "of my gosh!"ing) but luckily two flight attendants happened to be standing in the aisle right next to me and I was able to observe them not flinch at all and overhear them talk about how an airplane is actually a pretty safe place to be in a lighting storm, they'd been on much worse flights than this, the plane is equipped with "static sticks", etc. Surprisingly, I did not freak out. Yes, I did feel that prickly heat that rises from your armpits to your neck after a sudden scare, but I was not nervous. This, for me, came as a surprise and relief because over the past few years I've been developing an anxiety around flying. But here I was calm as could be surrounded by a flurry of fear. Interesting.
We approached Newark, we were put in a holding pattern for awhile, then started our final descent. The sky got darker and the air bumpier as we slid beneath the storm clouds. I heard the landing gear lower. And then, all of a sudden, we were accelerating back up into the smooth, bright skies above the clouds. The captain gave us this explanation: "Folks, we came in to land but the rain was so intense we couldn't see the airport." That's all he said for a while, leaving me to wonder: and now what? but I still was not nervous. I was, however, beginning to get a little queasy due to the mild but constant turbulence for the past hour.
The captain explain further that we were going to circle around and try to land again. This process took about 20 minutes, during which time I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm my motion sickness. I was successful, but the little boy two rows ahead of me was not, and we could all hear him retching.
When we landed successfully on our second attempt three interesting things happened almost simultaneously:
1. The plane erupted into applause. This is not the first time this has happened on a flight I've been on, but it is the first time I've participated.
2. My eyes welled up with tears and I realized how stressed I actually had been. I have never been so happy to be in windy, raining, grey, Newark NJ!
3. A woman one row ahead of me across the aisle threw up, which is especially interesting since we were smoothly taxiing to our gate.
When I saw Ji-Soo waiting for me I latched on with both arms and did not want to let go.
Weird thing #5: Getting duped by a hasid
Finally, I am in NYC. Finally, I am with Ji-Soo, rushing to tell him every detail of the flight and the hotel and the past three months during which we have been apart. It is chilly out and he has brought me a vest to wear. I throw this on as we get out of the car and grab my bags. It is windy and raining but we are close enough to his building that I don't bother to dig my raincoat out of the very bottom of my pack.
We are one door away from Ji's building when a hasidic man approaches us and says in heavily accented English: "Excuse me, I can not carry. Can you carry a box for me just from here", he points to the apartment building we are in front of, "to the synagogue?", he motions across the street.
Ji-Soo agrees and starts to walk with the man, who then adds, "You just have to go up to the second floor. My son will give you the box." This was not part of our original understanding. Ji looks at me, cold and wet, a worried look on his face. We pause for a second to decide. The hasid adds quickly, "I give you one bread." I nod at Ji-Soo to go ahead not so much because I want to be nice, but because I can not turn away from what is happening right now.
Ji follows the man into the apartment building and disappears. It is only then that I realize that I've just let someone I care a great deal about walk into a locked building with people I don't know to do something I don't quite understand. I try not to get nervous, and am very relived when I see Ji-Soo approach the door, arms full with a large box. We finally make it to his apartment to enjoy our "one bread", which turns out to be a box full of chocolate bread rolls. Totally worth it. Yummy.
Weird thing #1: Oscar on the bus
I took the 2:30 bus from Monteverde to Alajuela on Friday afternoon because my flight left early Saturday morning. I got to sit next to Oscar, who really wanted to talk to me and tell me how pretty I was, but instead he feel asleep in the heat, thank goodness. Unfortunately, as the sun set and the air cooled, Oscar woke and chatted me up. I had no interest in talking to him but he did not seem to notice how I kept burying my nose in my book or gazing out the window. He insisted on telling me all about his world travels and even asked me if I was married. I guess he didn't notice that he was almost 50 years my senior. I was very happy to mention my wonderful boyfriend whom I was in route to visit. For the record, our old friend Oscar did nothing inappropriate or out of bounds, I just wasn't in the mood for geriatric chit chat.
Weird thing #2: Public viewing hotel room
I chose to stay at a hotel in Alajuela that myself and others from Monteverde have used regularly. They are nice, helpful, clean and pretty inexpensive. This time, however, I got a room with a shared bathroom in an attempt to save a few additional dollars. There were three windows in my room, each of them opening to an open space in the hotel, not to the outside. These windows had blinds that only partially obstructed an outsiders view, which meant that I had to turn the lights off to change, and as I snuggled into bed to read at night, I could make direct eye contact with anyone passing. Thank goodness my neighbors had the decency not to linger.
Weird thing #3: Costa Rica's new national sport
I shared my 5:15 a.m. taxi to the airport with a Swiss couple heading home after their third visit to Costa Rica. Our taxi driver was very excited to explain to us the new Costa Rican sport: fútbol vacero or something like that. Two teams, soccer field, most goals wins - nothing new there. But instead of playing with a soccer ball, they play with a COW. With horns. You are not allowed to touch the animal, but if you usher it into your goal, you get a point. Once we had arrived at the airport and unloaded our bags, our taxi driver proudly lifted his shirt to show where he had been gouged in the gut by cow horns.
Weird thing #4: Airplane adventure
The first leg of my airborne journey, San Jose to Atlanta, when smoothly. The flight from Atlanta to Newark was delayed about an hour due to poor weather in Newark. I called Ji who confirmed that yes, in deed, it was raining in his part of the world. The first hour and a half of the flight, from 4 p.m. to 5:30 p.m. , when pretty smoothly. Around 5:35 p.m., when we were over Pennsylvania, the captain explained that due to poor weather in Newark we would be entering a holding pattern over PA until about 6:15. He would keep us updated. Two minutes later he came on again to say that we were actually just gonna head right into Newark.
Then we were struck by lighting. Yeah...no one was really expecting that since we were above the clouds and had seen no rain or lighting at all. The ride was still pretty smooth when all of a sudden there was a bright flash of light, a shudder thru the airplane and a loud BOOM. People were freaked out (gasping, yelling, "of my gosh!"ing) but luckily two flight attendants happened to be standing in the aisle right next to me and I was able to observe them not flinch at all and overhear them talk about how an airplane is actually a pretty safe place to be in a lighting storm, they'd been on much worse flights than this, the plane is equipped with "static sticks", etc. Surprisingly, I did not freak out. Yes, I did feel that prickly heat that rises from your armpits to your neck after a sudden scare, but I was not nervous. This, for me, came as a surprise and relief because over the past few years I've been developing an anxiety around flying. But here I was calm as could be surrounded by a flurry of fear. Interesting.
We approached Newark, we were put in a holding pattern for awhile, then started our final descent. The sky got darker and the air bumpier as we slid beneath the storm clouds. I heard the landing gear lower. And then, all of a sudden, we were accelerating back up into the smooth, bright skies above the clouds. The captain gave us this explanation: "Folks, we came in to land but the rain was so intense we couldn't see the airport." That's all he said for a while, leaving me to wonder: and now what? but I still was not nervous. I was, however, beginning to get a little queasy due to the mild but constant turbulence for the past hour.
The captain explain further that we were going to circle around and try to land again. This process took about 20 minutes, during which time I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm my motion sickness. I was successful, but the little boy two rows ahead of me was not, and we could all hear him retching.
When we landed successfully on our second attempt three interesting things happened almost simultaneously:
1. The plane erupted into applause. This is not the first time this has happened on a flight I've been on, but it is the first time I've participated.
2. My eyes welled up with tears and I realized how stressed I actually had been. I have never been so happy to be in windy, raining, grey, Newark NJ!
3. A woman one row ahead of me across the aisle threw up, which is especially interesting since we were smoothly taxiing to our gate.
When I saw Ji-Soo waiting for me I latched on with both arms and did not want to let go.
Weird thing #5: Getting duped by a hasid
Finally, I am in NYC. Finally, I am with Ji-Soo, rushing to tell him every detail of the flight and the hotel and the past three months during which we have been apart. It is chilly out and he has brought me a vest to wear. I throw this on as we get out of the car and grab my bags. It is windy and raining but we are close enough to his building that I don't bother to dig my raincoat out of the very bottom of my pack.
We are one door away from Ji's building when a hasidic man approaches us and says in heavily accented English: "Excuse me, I can not carry. Can you carry a box for me just from here", he points to the apartment building we are in front of, "to the synagogue?", he motions across the street.
Ji-Soo agrees and starts to walk with the man, who then adds, "You just have to go up to the second floor. My son will give you the box." This was not part of our original understanding. Ji looks at me, cold and wet, a worried look on his face. We pause for a second to decide. The hasid adds quickly, "I give you one bread." I nod at Ji-Soo to go ahead not so much because I want to be nice, but because I can not turn away from what is happening right now.
Ji follows the man into the apartment building and disappears. It is only then that I realize that I've just let someone I care a great deal about walk into a locked building with people I don't know to do something I don't quite understand. I try not to get nervous, and am very relived when I see Ji-Soo approach the door, arms full with a large box. We finally make it to his apartment to enjoy our "one bread", which turns out to be a box full of chocolate bread rolls. Totally worth it. Yummy.
I've Done Some Traveling
San Juan del Sur
In late March the assistant director and I took a group of six high school students to San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua for a visa run. We were there for about three days.
San Juan del Sur at sunset. You can see a statue on the hill on the right. That is Jesus, and he will be featured later.
The view north of San Juan del Sur from the top of the hill with the Jesus statue. It was hot.
This is Jesus, up close. He is made out of fiber glass and is the result of a Nicaraguan man who survived prostate cancer and wanted to give back.
Miravalles
In early April I went with the 7th and 8th graders on their field trip. We went to a wind farm in Miravalles.
The approach. I think they look like gentle gaurdians. I love them.
Drivin' by.
We got to go into the control room. This is a map the entire farm. I think I remember that they have 57 windmills and can produce 50,000KW of energy. That day there were only putting out 39,000KW because of wind velocity and five wind mills out of service.
It seems like everything there was labeled with worker names.
Everything.
The bases are painted green to lower the visual impact the windmills have on the environment. So far there have been no other complaints since the plant opened for full operation in December 2010, except one woman who complained about the noise that they make. Each windmill at full capacity makes less than 80 decibels, which is the limit for harmful noise levels, so the plant did not have to change anything. The stairs in the picture lead into the base of the windmill which you can climb up into for maintenance.
Miravalles Volcanoe as seen from the bus on our way to the Miravalles Geothermal plant.
Us at the geothermal plant.
Control room.
The turbines. We had to wear hard hats and ear plugs in this room.
This turbine was out of its casing and set off to the side. When I first thought of turbines, I pictured fans. It did not occur to me that they would be so detailed. Of course now, it seems obvious.
Giant gears.
Keeping the turbines clean.
Water cooling station. The water falls towards the center of the room because of the force of the cooling fans above it.
Leaving the geothermal station, Miravalles Volcano, source of the energy, in the background.
Our hardhats, awaiting their next tour.
In late March the assistant director and I took a group of six high school students to San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua for a visa run. We were there for about three days.
San Juan del Sur at sunset. You can see a statue on the hill on the right. That is Jesus, and he will be featured later.
The view north of San Juan del Sur from the top of the hill with the Jesus statue. It was hot.
This is Jesus, up close. He is made out of fiber glass and is the result of a Nicaraguan man who survived prostate cancer and wanted to give back.
Miravalles
In early April I went with the 7th and 8th graders on their field trip. We went to a wind farm in Miravalles.
The approach. I think they look like gentle gaurdians. I love them.
Drivin' by.
We got to go into the control room. This is a map the entire farm. I think I remember that they have 57 windmills and can produce 50,000KW of energy. That day there were only putting out 39,000KW because of wind velocity and five wind mills out of service.
It seems like everything there was labeled with worker names.
Everything.
The bases are painted green to lower the visual impact the windmills have on the environment. So far there have been no other complaints since the plant opened for full operation in December 2010, except one woman who complained about the noise that they make. Each windmill at full capacity makes less than 80 decibels, which is the limit for harmful noise levels, so the plant did not have to change anything. The stairs in the picture lead into the base of the windmill which you can climb up into for maintenance.
Miravalles Volcanoe as seen from the bus on our way to the Miravalles Geothermal plant.
Us at the geothermal plant.
Control room.
The turbines. We had to wear hard hats and ear plugs in this room.
This turbine was out of its casing and set off to the side. When I first thought of turbines, I pictured fans. It did not occur to me that they would be so detailed. Of course now, it seems obvious.
Giant gears.
Keeping the turbines clean.
Water cooling station. The water falls towards the center of the room because of the force of the cooling fans above it.
Leaving the geothermal station, Miravalles Volcano, source of the energy, in the background.
Our hardhats, awaiting their next tour.
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