March 25, 2007
Originally published November 24, 2004
I´m supposed to go see Fernanda in two hours. I´m not sure I want to go. When I met her last night, I thought she was about 30 years old. She is very beautiful, with skin the color of a fresh-picked pecan and one of the brightest smiles I´ve ever seen. Her eyes are wide, limpid and very attractive. Yes, she is a goddess.
But she´s ALSO 20 years old. My goddam DAUGHTER is older, and once I learned how young Fernanda was, I really felt like a cradle-robber. That fact didn´t stop me or her from doing the dirty dance last night, but I felt bad about it today. I´m not kidding. I did.
I told her that I was an old goat. She said (as nearly as I could translate--- Fernanda speaks no English---), "You are not old. You are ALIVE!¨" I think she also said that I have a light in my eyes that shines like moonbeams on a rusty hubcap on a wrecked car in the summer night, and my smile should be dragged off and shot for crimes against humanity. My Spanish isn´t that good, but I think that´s what she said. Something about me attracted her. Hell, she liked the way I sang ¨"Hotel California."
I´ll probably be there. I´ll do that even if it´s just to say goodbye. I owe her that respect.
I walked the streets of La Fortuna today and found myself down some scruffy alley around lunchtime. I could smell something good cooking, so I followed my nose and wound up at a little cafe/bar that the locals really seem to like. All the construction workers and bus drivers showed up there to eat.
I had something called "Sailor´s Rice," as near as I could translate from the menu. I believe that they make that stuff in an industrial-sized cement mixer out back and put it on plates with a snow-shovel. They almost needed a fork lift to bring me my meal. That plate was LOADED with rice, shrimp, fish, chicken, beef, sausage and assorted vegetables. I ate until I thought I would bust and the plate STILL looked loaded when I was finished. Muy Grande.
Why aren´t Costa Ricans fat from eating such food?
Costa Rica has more pretty wimmen per square inch than anyplace else I´ve ever been. Maybe they aren´t all 10s, but the 9 and 1/2s are EVERYWHERE. My face gets tired from gawking at them.
I also see no reason to ever get in a hurry or become pissed off here. According to Rick and Georgia, I´m that way because I am a "yuppie" and I like my life scheduled. I don´t understand the REAL Costa Rican experience of clusterfuckdom, fightdom and fitdom in a rental car that resembles a kid´s purple high-topped basketball shoe, but with worse suspension. Bwhahaha!!! Whatever. They´d rather scream at each other while lost in a rental car going bat-out-of-hell to nowhere, speaking not a word of Spanish nor making any attempt to learn, stressing, yelling and making those obnoxious tooth-sucking sounds that they like so much than be a "yuppie" like me. Fine.
I don´t think I´m going back home on time. I´m supposed to be at the San Jose airport on Sunday, but I don´t believe that I will make that flight. I´m gonna hang around for another week or so, maybe longer. I enjoy "La Pura Vida" and my yuppie ass likes using the bus or a taxi to get where I want to go. As long as it´s all "scheduled," don´t you know.
I believe that I´ll see Fernanda tonight-- I just don´t know for how long or what for. I believe that I´ll be in Jaco tomorrow. I also believe that I will have a good time no matter what I decide to do.
I really like it here.
All content © Rob Smith