Farewell to the Casita!

I have finally relieved my duties at the primary house I lived at here in Vieques. I am still in care of the cat, but I have brought Milton to my new house sitting assignment on the beach! He loves it! Every day, I am so grateful for my life and I, like many, am still trying to understand my purpose. I feel like I have a home and a family, finally after many years of traveling and searching. I'm more committed to making art and now I finally have the time and the space and the beauty to make an even more beautiful life.

Last night, I went skinny dipping with Philip, my new love! The ocean was not cold.... it was perfect under the big bright moon and stars! I am currently house sitting on the beach and wake up to waves crashing ten feet away every day. Philip lives down the street, so it's a perfect set up. I will be at this house until December, and I'm still working at the salon a few days a week. We just bought my friend's 1962 Vanderstadt sailboat. She sailed it here from France, and it's a fixer-upper but it's a yacht and once it's fixed up with new gear, (even though it can sail now) it will be our way to eventually sail to Brazil, where we plan to make our seasonal second home. Phil is learning how to sail by being first mate on a charter boat here. Then, he'll teach me everything he knows and we can sail together!

With my job, I meet people from all walks of life. In Vieques, there are a lot of New Yorkers and people from Boston and Maine and Minnesota. I guess they don't like their winters :) so they are seasonal home owners. I have been working on my art at Phil's house because he has a lot of space. I hung some at his house and some at the salon. We are planning to have many art shows and to entertain people, rent the house and use those funds for daily living, along with the work we both do on the side. I can say my life is going really well right now and I am grateful for every day.

Spring finds me

Spring finds me still in Vieques. I have been working at the salon, have art up at a restaurant where there will be a show come April 11th. The medium is found wood with 15 layers of paint applied, scraped and sanded to reveal a rainbow of color.

I have a house sitting assignment starting in a week where I will live in a 3 bd. house with a pool on the beach. I have a good life! I can't say much more, as I have been preoccupied with my current possibilities. I can say that Vieques has a way of keeping people.

The Update

I've been living on the island of Vieques for about 5 months now. I found this place through a website called "mind my house". There are homeowners all over the world who post opportunities for house sitters all over the world. I stayed in Costa Rica house sitting for three months before I came to Vieques.

I began my stay in Vieques at a casita that's down a bushy, overgrown path that has no electricity or running water. After getting to know people on this 23 mile long island, word traveled quickly. Now, I'm sitting for three houses with one waiting in the wings. Needless to say, the other houses have electricity and warm water, and are securely protected by locking gates and dogs. One house has 7 dogs, 2 cats and 15 chickens. Another has 4 dogs, 2 cats.

I have also taken over a hair salon that is huge and has a view of the ocean just a block away. (I can see it from the balcony of the salon). The woman who owns the salon is having back surgery and will be in recovery for a few months and we met through a mutual friend and the timing was perfect. I have also been painting the interior of homes which I call my second job. Needless to say, I'm keeping busy.

I have painted a body of work that I will be selling in a solo show as soon as I establish a venue. I am also selling a large part of that work to a friend. I'm really excited about it. I met a friend who has a fat pad on the beach, waves lapping right at his shoreline. I've been hanging out here because, well, I get to take a shower outside and look at the ocean, watch sailboats go by, see the beautiful tropical foliage.

Updating my blog has been the least of my worries, but I know that I need to keep it up to date. You live vicariously through me.

But I'm not always in paradise. There are shootings and muggings here, drug trafficking and lots of gossip, which is the least of their problems. There is always a trade off.

I don't know where I'll be next, but I'll be sure to keep myself safe, as always and have a way to keep in touch with my loved ones.

Beaches

I have heard the Caribbean beaches are nice. I'm sitting outside enjoying my view and the sounds of the tropics when I hear a voice from the top of the canyon yelling "REGINA!!!! WANT TO GO TO THE BEACH???!!!" It's Janet, and I reply, "GIVE ME 5 MINUTES!!" -Just enough time to change into my bathing suit, grab sunblock and sunglasses, flip flops and hike up the trail. Janet is spunky as ever, smoking a bowl as I get into the car. She has a cooler of rum and juice. That's my girl!

We take a 10 minute drive toward a part of the island called Esperanza, through winding roads flanked by lush green trees. We part onto a sandy road that leads to the waterfront, a wade cove with fallen coconuts, palm trees, white sand and light green shallow water. We're at Sun Bay Beach.

The sun is direct and the natural palms are just draped enough to provide some needed shade. The beach is vacant and we have an entire cooler of drinks to work on. Janel smokes another bowl then we both take a dip in the water, which is about 80 degrees. She swims clear to the other end of the beach while I stay near our things by the shore to make sure no one gets any funny ideas. The cops eventually come around on their buggies and I wave as they pass. Another day in paradise . . .

The Routine

The routine has finally set in. I wake up, crawl out of my king-sized bamboo swinging bed that's suspended by rope from the ceiling and draped in mosqito netting. I look around the floor to make sure I don't step on a cockroach, frog, lizard or tarantula, walk down the stairs and open the wide doors unto the pristine view of the sun rising over the hills to the East. I ignite the lanterns and candles and listen to the morning sounds. Most of my days are spent in silence and in thought. I grab my recorder and make up songs or just play some that already exist. Some songs are simply impossible to play because the recorder has a very limited range. Also, it is designed for a right-handed person and being left-handed poses a problem for the left pinky.

After my lesson, I go into town, charge the computer, my camera battery, the Vado, my two phones, and download movies. I buy some food and hitch a ride home (which people offer freely and it's very safe here during the day). The sun is hot but begins to set. I make some more food. Usually, the food I eat is canned, as there is no refrigeration and carrying ice to my house is a joke considering the 50 minute hike uphill, in addition to the trail on which I have to use a machete to pass. I hate to waste food, so I give my leftovers to Ella, my new black lab who actually belongs to the neighbors (but she stays with me every night). My laptop is charged just long enough to watch an episode of Bizarre Foods. It's the only entertainment of the day.

As I wind down, I blow out my lights, climb into bed, carefully placing the mosquito netting all around, and sleep for a solid 6 hours before starting my routine around 4 a.m. all over again.

Sunrise, sunset.

Sun is shining, the weather is sweet

Occupying Time

To my surprise, I discovered a big box of paint, pens, paper, oil pastels, colored pencils, charcoal and a few blocks of wood for canvas. I found a recorder, some books, journals from past tenants with drawings and poetry. I know I finally have a way to occupy my time when the sun goes down and I'm only left with my thoughts and the stars. Rather than twiddling my thumbs, I can now paint! Many nights have been spent reading about the history of Vieques and the naval occupation during WW11. I also write, draw and paint. I simply watch the sun rise and set.

I am keenly familiar with the sounds of animals during the day and the symphony of sound from the bugs at night. Frogs hop, lizards jump and crawl, cockroaches skitter, mice are eaten by Milton, the cat. Wild horses rustle and stampede in the bushes out front, iguanas weigh heavilly on tree branches, momma and baby birds have their chirping lessons from sunrise to sunset. Crickets scream and mosquitos and bees buzz at polar octives.

The Casita

When I left Costa Rica, I had not known how it had prepared me for Vieques until I arrived.

I flew out of San Jose with a layover in Ft. Lauderdale and another connection flight to Vieques. While in the San Juan airport in Puerto Rico, I met a New Yorker whose family is from PR. He was visiting for a funeral. His flight was also not for about 8 hours so he invited me to have a couple of drinks on the beach with he and his cousin. He seemed trustworthy enough, so we took a cab and dropped off my bags at his hotel room and headed for a fun local bar that's open 24 hours a day.

After filling our cups, we head to the beach where we find an outdoor restaurant that is closed but has left out their couches in the sand. So we kick off our flip flops and enjoy the full moon with a couple of cold drinks. We walk barefoot through the sand and back to the hotel, both exhausted, and we sleep for a couple of hours before taking a cab back to the airport.

I catch my flight but they miss theirs. My plane is a puddle-jumper with only 8 seats. Just another woman and I are on the plane, so the pilot lets me sit in the co-captain's chair for the 15 minute ride. This is exquisite for me as I had never seen the world from this perspective! The controls seem remedial for such a complicated job. The hills are green, the water glassy, clouds all around.

We arrive at the Vieques airport and upon stepping off the plane, I know I'm in the Caribbean. The warm tropical air, and a new friend, Janet, greet me.

Janet is a wild and generous, friendly woman of about 55. She takes my luggage into her beaten up jeep and we head to the store for food and water for the week. After she and another woman, Carol, sit and talk about where we're from and what we're doing on the island, they drive me up a windy path to the house.

The Casita where I'm house -sitting is not visible at this point. We have to walk another 5 minutes down a narrow path of shrubs, weeds, fallen trees, stones, and dodge erosion where the rain water has washed away the mud. We finally arrive and the valley and ocean view is spectacular! I can see green hills stretch to the ocean, not a neighbor within ear shot; only about ten white homes sprinkled throughout the trees. But when I enter the house, it's a disaster. There are dead lizards, cockroaches and frogs in the dishes, the sink, on the floor and on shelves. About 200 bees are dead, waiting to be swept. They had built their hive in the corner of the living room and had to be exterminated. The hive and the honey comb and bees wax they left were long narrow strands of off-white and honey brown. Janet removes them for me, and we begin to sweep the house, and wiping down counter tops, exposing the quaint white and light green of the interior of the Casita. We open the wide doors leading to the outer deck to freshen the air, and little by little, it starts to feel like home.

After I unload my bags, I start wandering through the Casita, looking through boxes and organizing supplies. There are candles, batteries, lanterns, lights and tools, disinfectants, pots and pans and dishes. I go to use the toilet and realize not only is there no way to flush it, but there is no toilet tank. Knowing that no one in their right mind would walk down my trail to bring me a toilet tank, I come to the realization that I would be going to the bathroom outside every day for the next year. I need to charge my laptop so I decide to take a walk into town. Forty minutes later down a 95 degree paved road, I arrive at Black Beard Sports, a shop that sells camping , kayaking and snorkeling gear, but most importantly, has internet access and a fan for $5 per hour. This is a nice retreat for me, as I have no electricity.

I thought the loss of power every other day in Costa Rica was an inconvenience. I had a flushing toilet, electricity, internet and TV. I think living there was just a little "taste" of the types of weather and bugs I would see here.

Alajuela, Costa Rica

Yesterday, I took a bus into Alajuela, Costa Rica. It´s close to the airport and the hostel offers free shuttle service to San Jose, which is only 5 minutes away. I´m in the bus and it stops about 3 hours outside of Tilaran, where I was house sitting. Everyone starts to get off the bus and I ask the driver if it´s the last stop. He says yes. I get off the bus and I´m dropped on a corner in a small city with loads of vendors, stores selling everything from fruit to hair ties. I ask a cop where the hospital of Alajuela is. He tells me it´s in Alaueja. I realize I´m not in the right town. I ask how to get there, and he quickly speaks, using some hand signals, pointing out where the bus station is. All I need to know is that the bus is red. I follow his signals, following the traffic, looking for the first bus that says Alajuela on the front.

I finally find the bus station, with a 50 pound army bag on my back, a messenger bad and a purse in tote. My neck is killing me and I quickly run to ask the bus driver where the bus to Arajuela is. He points it out to me. I scramble to put my bag into the storage bin beneath the bus. The worker helps me get this monstrous thing off my back as the rest of my luggage straps are tangled and the straps of my tank top are falling off of my sweaty shoulders.

The bag is in, and I jump into the bus, almost as it´s moving, paying the driver for the ticket in Colones. I take a seat next to the window that overlooks the storage beneath (you never know if someone will steal your bag when they get off the bus). I´m sweating from running. I take a deep breath and relax. I realize I don´t know where to get off the bus. When it stops, I go to the front to ask the driver to drop me off at my location, the hospital in Alajuela, so I can catch a cab. But people boarding the bus are first priority, and I move back to my seat. I ask someone how long it will take to reach Alajuela and he tells me 25 minutes. A few minutes later, in a creepy soft voice, he asks me where I´m going. I tell him Alajuela.

Eventually, I see a sign for the hospital and leave the bus, thinking that I am close to my destination. I sit to collect my thoughts. I smoke. I sit with my gigantic bags on the side of the road while people stare at me. I have Gringa written all over me. I finally hail a cab, and get to my destination.

I´m here in Alajueal with the hostel to myself, about to leave for the San Jose airport in 45 minutes. My flight time will be long and probably exhausting. I arrive in Puerto Rico at midnight, then take a flight to the Island of Vieques at 9 a.m. and will arrive at my casita around 10 a.m., and this is where I will reside for the next year.

Should I be ashamed that I´m looking forward to eating at McDonald´s at the airport?

What I learned in Costa Rica

In the past eleven weeks, I have learned a lot about Pura Vida despite having been locked to the house at all times. This projection is all based on both experience and being told first hand by locals, so don´t get mad.

You can take a stalk of celery if you only want one at the market, have it weighed and pay for only that part. This is brilliant! People here, unlike in South American and other Latin countries, don´t litter much. I´m used to seeing trash all over the roads, and here, they encourage you not to litter. The men have a double-standard when it comes to marriage and relationships. They get to have as many lovers as they want while the wife stays home to clean the house, take care of the kids, and has no prospect of finding a job because her job at home is more important. She doesn´t go out at night with the girls, and should she cheat on her husband, he divorces her.

It´s easy to live off the land, and everyone does it. Mangoes grow, lime, mandarin, pineapples, bananas, passion fruit (maracuja), a bunch of others... They own cows and horses, dogs run wild, howler monkeys croon in the morning, birds of all types are seen and heard. Poisonous snakes are around, alligators are in the lakes, there is nature at every foot step. The people here are very proud of their country. For some reason, they are racist toward Mexicans. They say it´s because Mexicans don´t like Ticos either (Tico is an endearing term for a CR man).

The Costa Rican life, for most people, as I have experienced, and NOT ALL, is to steal. Not much to my surprise, but much to my dismay, people will take every advantage to steal because they can´t afford, or don´t want to spend the money to buy something they want. I haven´t been stolen from, but the house I watched has had 9 experiences with being robbed, despite the cameras, electrical alarms, replaced roofs, fences and locks on every door. They detach the wires, climb through the roof, poison the dogs so they won´t bark, apply for jobs, then steal equipment and sue the owner of the house for not paying them enough to be a ¨guard¨. They will have their friends gang up so that when you hear a noise, you go outside at night to see what it is, and someone comes around the other side of the house. They´re tricky little bastards.

Some are very hard-working, and this doesn´t apply to all Ticos. I have been told by Gringos who have lived there for years that Pura Vida is what people think when they come here on vacation. Real life begins once you live here, then learn to play their games better than they do.

I took a bus to another part of Costa Rica today. It´s close to the airport for my flight out of San Jose and into Puerto Rico. I had to get a cab from my bus stop to the hostel this evening. I knew he was going to rip me off, but I blocked it. I found a cab with another Tica in it, just so I could get a sweeter fare with a double-occupancy ride. He took her to her location first, and when he dropped her off, kept the meter running. She went outside the car to pay him, and I could tell she was giving him what her fare share was. When he returned to the car, he didn´t reset the meter, which is fine, as long as what I pay reflects a fair price for the distance. I asked him if he was going to reset the timer and he said not to worry about it. RIGHT. So I watched it as her cab fare and mine climbed. When we finally got to my destination (which was close, and I had already asked a local what the cab fare should be) I told him what I would pay him. He told me I´m too smart. That´s because I took cabs for 6 years in San Francisco, and although they seem to be much more honest there, I know what they´re up to.

The beautiful parts of Costa Rica is the open-arm policy of the people wanting to teach you about their culture. I had a wonderful local dish prepared by our maid, and I returned the favor with a Brazilian dish. She made fried platanos and cheese, steak with onions, black beans, rice and sausage. It was divine.... freshly patted tortillas covered with palm fronds for warmth eaten out in the backyard in the sun over-looking Lake Arenal on a warm day with bugs buzzing and dogs happily lying in the grass.... this will be one of my most amazing memories.

Speaking of which, one day, my driver, Luis, was taking me home from a hike to town. We saw thirty-something white herons flapping around one spot on the lake. They were right next to the red-soil shore, plucking the water and we knew there were a lot of fish that day. Simple moments like when those cutter ants were in a single-file line carrying pink flower petals across the green algae-covered stones are priceless. When I heard the howler monkeys for the first time, that echoing howl that blows across the lake.... AMAZING. Even the drum circle, which was so mysterious at first, that I could only hear before a storm from across the lake, when it was dusk, and placid... it turned out to be a high school band but nonetheless, it was magical.

The chicken coop was the bane of my existence because it was difficult to get used to how unimaginably filthy chickens are with their poop everywhere, dirt splattered, not to mention the smell, the possibility of finding a chicken embryo when going to crack an egg for breakfast. The reward was getting a baby chicken and watching it run around the pen squeaking, and seeing the mom so closely monitoring its every move.

Best part of Costa Rica? Being in absolute solitude with simple duties, and only the weekly visits from a selected few. Having the opportunity to relish in the natural beauty and silence of a world apart from city life is a gift. I will always be grateful for the time I spent learning, being responsible for someone else´s life and loved ones, and moving forward and upward is more than I imagined.

Now, since I have this entire hostel to myself in Alajuela (5 mins from the San Jose airport), I´m going to have a drink and maybe a can of black beans and enjoy my last night in Costa Rica. Until Puerto Rico!

Glamorous Life

What a glamorous life I have . . .putting on high rubber boots to feed chickens in their crap-filled dens, scrubbing their filthy water bowls (what are they doing in there?), taking their eggs, scrubbing the algae off of dog water bowls ah . . . the Pura Vida life. I kid. I love love love every moment here. Just thought it was a funny visual because that's what ACTUALLY happens every day. Let's get real.

2 weeks left in Pura Vida

Then it's off to Puerto Rico! I initially planned to just live in Costa Rica, making a bit of money on the side and house sitting. Turns out, there is a better house sitting opportunity in Puerto Rico. I will be caring for a casita on the small island of Veiques just off the East shore of the main island. This is a free trade assignment that will end in September of 2012.

I have really enjoyed taking care of the chickens and dogs and property, taking in the beauty of Lake Arenal, the volcano, waking up to the sounds of howler monkeys, birds, bugs hissing, and roosters. I watch amazing lightning and thunder storms, see huge poisonous frogs, snakes dangling from trees, beautiful lush mountains and trees that line the road to town, people riding their horse on the dirt roads that lead to town, workers cutting crops with machetes and being in total isolation.

Old Mexico blog I found!

well, i have been in mexico for about a week and have two to go.
nicole and i arrived in puerto vallarta and right away, found a place
to exchange our dollars and let us sleep for the night. it was so
funny getting used to the peso. $10 = 100 pesos, so when we went to
pay for the room, we gave the woman at the counter 40 pesos (still
thinking in dollars) and she looked at us, looked at the money, and
didn´t know what to say. we were basically trying to get the room for
$4. we laughed pretty hard at that one.
anyway, puerto vallarta is a pretty big city and when you fly in, you
see huge mountains, dense with jungle, and a coastline filled with
highrise resorts...
we stayed at the smaller, more local end of town, without the
pollution of the resorts, swimming pools and expensive gringo bars.
we got some beer and watched the sunset on the water from the beach,
played some pool and slept through a wonderful thunderstorm. (it has
rained every day we have been here, but it comes with a powerful
applause and leaves in no time). we went to breakfast the next
morning and i ordered something i had never heard of (chiliquiles)
just to be surprised. i ended up having tortilla chips with hot sauce
for breakfast. as you can imagine, i was pretty hungry for some fruit
when i left. we only spent one night as we wanted to move to a more
low key beach.

from puerto vallarta, we took a windy but beautiful busride down the
west coast mainland and through the dense jungle walls to melaque, a
small beach town with a few palapa (thatched roof) restaurants. we
walked around town until we found our accommodations for a few nights,
a bungalow (more like a studio apt.) just a five minute walk from
town. it was nice to have a fridge to store beer. we had a balcony
and watched the storm, and spent a lot of time getting tan on the
beach the rest of the day. an iguana made an appearance within 5 or
ten feet of our balcony and we watched him lay on the ledge, taking in
the sun. we were also greeted by a bug/animal that was as big as my
thumb, not including the wings. we screamed like little girls and
ended up mace-ing and bug spraying it until he didn´t have a chance to
walk anymore. we ate the biggest, freshest oysters on the beach-- 50
cents each! mmmm drizzled with lime and salt and hot sauce....it´s a
beautiful thing. the people working the restaurant say that since
oysters are an aphrodisiac and the owner is so old, he has to eat 24
to get a pistole (erection)...we all laughed.
we walked along the beach to this abandoned shack/restaurant on a
cliff. it was amazing. it had views of all the town and shoreline.
it was a rundown bar, accessible via a windy staircase, and had
treetrunks and palm fronds for walls. melaque has been one of our
favorite towns.

after melaque, we took another busride down the coast to manzanillo,
one of the oldest port towns in mexico, pop 130,000. what a dirty
city! by the way, mexico is the dirtiest country i have ever
traveled. twenty minutes after a shower, i feel as if i haven´t
showered for a week! the tackiness of my skin and the dirty in the
air, combined with having to cratch my mosquito bites, makes my
fingernails dirty and my clothes sticky. mexico is not for the
squeamish or priss. it´s dirty, smelly and cheap.....but we can use
them for their beaches; those that are not polluted. the people here
are incredibly helpful and we have had many encounters with men :)
wanting to show us around. i had one scary moment when an old man in
a restaurant grabbed my wrist so i wouldn´t leave. i pulled away, and
he followed me out as if he were to stop me from leaving. he was
drunk , but we were not, so nicole and i scrammed, a little shaken.
we explored manzanillo´s boardwalk, watching all the cargo boats come
and go. we only stayed for one day. there was no swimming and we
wanted to be on a beach.

so....another busride later, with someone playing the guitar and
panflute, we arrive in playa nexpa (pronounced nespa). we are in
paradise!! we stayed in a makeshift tool shed the first night because
it was cheap. we got about three hours of sleep due to the bugs and
crabs (!) in our palapa. yes, there were sneaky little crabs with
their big buggy eyeballs, scurrying across our floor. we kept the
light on so that we wouldn´t step on them in the middle of the night.
we were awakened in the morning by roosters outside our door. we
decided to spend ten extra dollars and we hooked ourselves up with the
sweetest bungalow right on the beach! there are wild horses on the
beach here (we took photos of them mating) and there are lots of
surfers......mostly mexican and brazilian.
the surf here is insane and we have befriended many of the locals.
last night, we were invited to a beach bonfire and they gave us
tequila with pineapple juice...the real deal. i was the only chick
playing soccer with our brazilian and mexican friends (and a few
kids). i played goalie and i rocked. i´m so sore today! hahaha!!!
man, our place is great. we have a few hammocks outside, beneath the
palm roof. it´s like 90 degrees, and people just come over and hang
out and chill with us. we have a.c. and are very comfortable at night
with just lizards in our room.
we hitched a ride from a couple friends yesterday and found a road
that supposedly led to a waterfall where we could swim. we got to the
end of the road and didn´t see anything, so we asked the local family,
and their two boys told us to follow them. we walked about fifteen
minutes up this really dangerous jungle wall (seriously dangerous) and
found ourselves at a fresh waterfall with a pool for swimming! the
kids just played with us and we swam around. the water was perfect;
cool and deep. the rocks were slippery with algae and everything was
wild with ivy draped over tree limbs like crystals on a chandelier.
on the way back down, we saw papaya and mango trees everywhere! our
friends byron and tim, who spoke great spanish, gave the boys a tip
and they gave us a bunch of mangos! the father of the family told us
we could visit anytime and that we are his friends. the hospitality
is just like no other place i have been (besides brazil of course) and
families are important. (you know the legal age to marry here is 12?)
we had so much fun just taking off for that adventure, not knowing
where we were going or how we were going to find it.....so worth it!

so now we are planning our trip to zihuatanejo and then down to puerto
escondido, an epic surf spot where there will be competitions.
surfers from all over the world travel there (it´s like their mecca)
and women flock from all over the world to meet surfers. it should be
really chill and lively at the same time. nicole is an open,
adventurous traveler with insurmountable patience and tolerance of my
moodiness. i couldn´t have asked for a better companion for this
trip.

overall, i have to say mexico is ripe, hospitable, available, raw,
dangerous, spoiled by pollution and obtrusive gringo buildings, and
totally worth visiting once. where there is beauty here, there is
also a pile of plastic waste that has been dumped by someone local. a
friend here told us that his new catch phrase for mexico is ¨never
trust a fart in mexico¨. i have to agree.

so, we celebrated our last night in playa nexpa by getting drunk with some gypsies and locals. big surprise right...so there were about 6 or 7 of us. one of our friends knows my next door neighbor, which is odd....our other friend was featured in a novela -soap opera- as a rescuer in the ocean. he was able to buy a new surfboard for 5 days of work. we have nicknamed him mowgli because of the way he shimmied up a palm tree like a monkey and cut down about 5 coconuts for us. ---------he was truly the mancub of the evening, the local young surfer who lived in a brick hut with only three walls and a couple blankets and bottled water....such a simple and attractive existence------ then, the dutch couple we met filled those coconuts with rum. it became a wonderful tropical sensation they call ¨coco loco¨. coconut water and any liquor would be considered coco loco. after we devoured the inside of the fruit, they cut down some more and this time, we added tequila. my GOD did i pay for that the next day, but it was sooooo worth it. we met some really enlightened cats who had been traveling for a long time and befriended like-minded people like us. they were true nomads, not the kind that wear the rebel suit and hang out in the upper haight in san francisco.

next, we took a bus down to zihuatanejo. our stay was brief, two days, but we stayed in a beautiful apt. with a view of the hills and the colorful houses perched upon it. unfortunately, the beaches were very polluted. the one we landed at was one of the 16 dirtiest in all of mexico , based on an environmental survey. they don´t show you the trash on the shores in the guidebooks. we went down to where the fishermen were taking in their morning catch, and we negotiated a twenty dollar boat ride for as long as we wanted, out in the bay. we were in paradise again. we ordered beer and food and spent all day skipping around the ixtapa-zihua bay until sunset. we even caught a fish, but released it out of fear of getting sick from the polluted water.

after zihua, we took an overnight bus through acapulco and down to puerto escondido, where we are staying until tomorrow. puerto escondido, my friends, will make you fall in love with the ocean. i´m not even a surfer but the waves are so beautiful and clear, each one so unique, that i just can´t stop looking at them. i will never tire of looking at the ocean here. the waves are about 15 to 20 feet high and break in both directions. there are always surfers and body boarders out, but the lifeguard calls them in when a storm hits. today, we saw some body boarders being towed out into the water for some big waves. it started to downpour and the remainder of the people in the water were towed in by a jetskiier. the attitude here is very chill, and where we have stayed, there have been many groups of surfers and ocean lovers. it´s a one-street-attraction town. the rest of the city is pretty much like any other town with banks, restaurants, gas stations, construction and skinny wandering dogs with swollen nipples and saggy balls...haha. there are so many starving dogs and cats here. they just follow you around and wait for food and sit next to your table at the open air restaurants, hoping for a handout.

yesterday, we went for a boat ride and saw sea turtles mating in the ocean. it was spectacular. there are no exclamation points on this keyboard, otherwise i would use them....the males have hooks on their front legs so they can hold onto the female´s shell. so this is the one month of the year they mate ,and they do it in the water for 6 to 8 hrs then in a month, will lay their eggs on the beach. those eggs are protected by the turtle lover people, whatever they´re called... we also saw dolphins, manta ray, and sea snakes. that was fun, and we didn´t even have to pay because we were supposed to fish and they screwed up the booking.

so tomorrow, we will fly back to puerto vallarta and spend time visiting the beaches just north of there. it should be fun in the sun again. my tan is bronze and beautiful, although i will probably die of skin cancer one day. my language and body language skills are improving, and i am even learning how to get what i want by using a smile and some eye contact. who knew....

After flying into Puerto Vallarta, we got a place and took the first bus to a beach about an hour north called Puntal Mita. It was a total disappointment, so I won´t talk about it much. We layed on the small rocky beach, full of kids and vendors, for about an hour, and took the bus back to Puerto. The real fun began when we did some free TEQUILA TASTING! Nicole bought some good tequila too...the thing is, tequila is considered good when it´s 100% agave, the plant from which it is extracted. So, when you buy El Jimador or Don Juan or Don Julio or whatever, it has been saturated with water by about 50-70%! The difference can really be tasted if you sip it. There is also no hangover from good tequila.

Next, we celebrated Nicole´s last night at a rad Cuban restaurant that had graffiti covering every pillar, wall, lampshade, table and napkin holder. There was live Cuban music and they served the best Mojitos and fried plantains. We walked the boardwalk, saw 4 acrobats swinging around a flagpole upside down, and watched the sunset. I took Nicole to the airport the next day and have been alone ever since. I went south about 45 minutes and this is a brief synopsis of what I experienced when I first arrived in Boca de Tomatlan, the mouth of the river that flows into the ocean:

Arriving in Boca via local bus, I walk down the main path of stone and shacks on either side, each having vendors selling goods that a passerby may need. Knowing there aren´t any accommodations listed in my handy Lonely Planet book, I´m thinking about where to stay. There´s a market, and I ask the woman inside how I can find a cheap room. I emphasize it must be cheap. She leads me to a house, goes up the stairs to retrieve keys. I follow her past a pen with two small dogs and a rooster. She leads me down a cold, dark corridor and opens the latch on the second door on the right. I go inside and it´s a jail cell, all cement floor and walls, with a twin bed and a shower over the toilet. Tweety bird will be the fresh sheets. It is only $15 but it´s a lot considering its condition. It is also the only accommodation in Boca.

I pay for the room and go out into this small town for a couple drinks, and immediately meet Fide, a crusty old local who drinks tequila from dawn to dusk. He´s crazy. He speaks 7 languages and has 5 kids from 4-38 years old, all from different women. His father was a drug Nazi in the army and his mother, 83, keeps inviting him to live with her in Mexico City. He offers me a couple swigs of his tequila and continues to try to get me drunk. I ask him how he knows so many languages and he says "me so horny". Ha ha! After he asks if I have had work done on my breasts, I decide it´s time to move along. I eat a plate of nachos (about the only thing my poor body can handle at this point in my trip) at an upstairs, open air restaurant.

It started to pour, beginning with a blast of wind that blew over umbrellas and leaves across the corrugated roofs of the shacks. The water on the river Tomatlan was ripping and flowing like when wind hits tall grass. The fisherman were walking their motorboats through shallow water, I assume, to a safer spot. The kids below the restaurant were splashing barefoot in the running water that formed on the dirt roads. People moved their cars and a man carried two bails of hay into his boat to be used on a house under construction. When the rain finally subsides enough to walk, I go back to my cell.

I am here in this cell and I want my mommy and daddy, or better yet, someone to come home to make love to. I miss civilization. I want something other than a cement floor and walls. I will make the most of this and I remind myself that this is what it´s all about...experience, gratitude, most of all, gratitude.

P.S. The top sheet on my bed might be a table runner.

From Boca, I went to a part of Mexico, only accessible by boat. I arrived in Yelapa and found a place to stay, only $20 per night, and a comfy, open air, second floor studio, equipped with mosquito netting and my own bathroom. Those little crabs are slippery fuckers. He made his way all the way upstairs into my bathroom! Scared the life out of me when I went to the bathroom in the middle of the night...he skittered along the table where I kept my toothbrush! I spent two nights and three days. I mostly layed on the beach and tried to make the most out of the rest of my trip...the thing is, since Nicole has been gone, I have been getting hit on like crazy, because I am traveling alone. Everyone seems to think I need a Mexican boyfriend and I keep getting invited to dance and have drinks with people....believe me, not the type of person I would feel safe going out with....I am not complaining, just saying I am ready to be able to sit alone and not be bothered.

That being said, I am SOOOOOOOO looking forward to coming home. I miss my cat. I miss clean water, fresh, drinkable water. Toilet paper, my clean bed and sheets, English, fruit and veggies, a new standard of clean......my own shower with a washrag, new soap that doesn´t have someone´s pubes on it...seriously, I was shown two dirty rooms. One was in Playa Nexpa. We walk in, and the beds are not made, there are about 15 empty beer cans and bottles and cans on the table, and in the toilet, there is diarreah!!!! GROSS! All in all, I have had an enlightening experience and my memories cannot really be put into words. This is just the liner note.

I lied... and cooking and lifestyle in Pura Vida

Being in somewhat solitude DOES make one think. With access to Facebook, it allows you to keep in touch with people. Living in a house that's stocked like a bomb-shelter allows creativity, if the owner lets you use her supplies.

How does one end up where I am? How do I end up not working for a year or two on end?
#1. I work while I'm not traveling.
#2. mindmyhouse.com It gives you access to houses all over the world with owners who are looking for people to care for them for free. France, the Philippines, the Caribbean, wherever. I can't promote this site enough. And no, I'm not getting paid.
#3. There is a lifestyle change that has to take place, just as one changes when he/she wants to lose weight. It's not about what you can give up for a while. It's what you need to be fulfilled.

Could you live as a vagrant? I could live with running water, toilet paper and access to food. I'm exaggerating. You don't have to live as a vagrant to travel on a budget. You just have to give up the things that made you fulfilled before you realized that travel is the number one, with a bullet, way you want to spend your time.

Other people could have saved money all of their young lives to retire and buy a house in the Bahamas. I applaud anyone who has the patience to do that because it takes integrity, commitment, a bit of planning and sacrifice as well. But as a person with not much money, who will never be able to buy a house because I spend my money on travel, and will probably have to live as a fugitive, traveling with every last penny is the best thing I have ever done with my life.

The other day, I had a home-cooked Costa Rican meal. It was your basic rice, black beans, fried plantanes and fried cheese and steak with onions, but the woman who cooked for me (my house keeper) made tortillas out of a kind of instant masa and cooked them over my burner, then tore banana leaves from the garden and roasted them over the fire, then used them to keep the tortillas warm. These are the things that interest me. You don't see that living in the States.

I am learning about the "Pura Vida" lifestyle here. The people here are happy, which is why you don't see many CR immigrants in the States. The economy is good here, they work about 7 hours a day, it's beautiful and rent and housing is cheap. You can rent a place here for $160 a month. The food and sundries are not much cheaper than in the U.S. but you can live off of the beautiful land, which is what makes Costa Rica astounding. People raise cattle and use horses for transportation, along with cars and scooters. There are mango trees, coffee trees, fish to be caught and game to be hunted. This is a land of opportunity and it's a well-kept secret.

I just ate a huge grasshopper that I caught and fried. Not totally bad.

Irony

Last night, in the dark buzz of this wild place, I heard a distant drum circle echoing off the Lake Arenal. I lived in San Francisco for years and there would be a drum circle every day at Golden Gate park on "hippie hill". This never really appealed to me because it just reminded me of 20-something upper-middle class street urchins who don't want to get a job and spend other peoples' money getting high and getting tatoos and piercings just to spend another day peddling, getting high and being annoying, then going home to their Upper Haight Street apartment that costs $3000, a price tag I could never afford on my hard-earned budget. You can see I am a bit biased, and I'll accept that.

But in the dark of night, with a buzz of insects, bird chirps and howler monkeys, sitting in a remote house in solitude, knowing it will be a 2 hour walk over rocky dirt roads just to get to the nearest "town", hearing the beat of drums across a placid lake is surreal. I wonder who they are and what they're doing while they're beating their drums. Are they just getting high? Is there a ceremony? Is there a Shaman? Is there any healing power to it? And how could I be included? I don't see lights, I just hear the sound. I'm so curious because it's the second time I've heard the drums, and hearing something I cannot see, of course peaks my interest. I have no kayak, no boat. Since Lake Arenal is filled with alligators, my teaspoon of cleansing is untouchable. How ironic.

solitude

For 17 years, I did what psychologists and bartenders do: listen to peoples' problems all day. Only I did it while doing their hair. At the end of the day, all I want to do is come home and be with my own thoughts.

But these thoughts that couldn't escape throughout the day kept me from sleeping. The mind needs time to assess life, to recap the day, etc. If that time is not available during the day, it will take what it needs when it can. For this, I had always had sleeping problems. I couldn't get to sleep, I would wake up and my mind would run. I couldn't even dream of taking a mid-day nap.

Since I've been in Costa Rica for three weeks with no one to talk to, I have slept better than I have in my entire life. Even as a child, I was a morning person, and I still am, waking up at 6-6:30 a.m. I have the time I so dearly need to just be alone, without anyone needing something from me, without the phone ringing, not seeing more than two or three people for weeks. I kind of imagined I could be this content, which is why I seek solitude. I'm not exploding with creativity and I'm not going to come up with the next theory of evolution. It's simple. Even though the thousands and thousands (yes, thousands) of people I have met in the 17 years of doing hair have given me wisdom, growth, enriched my life and given me humility with their stories of where they come from and who they have become, I am not afraid of dying alone because I would want to stay with myself for eternity. Does that make me a narcissist?

It's 5 a.m.

I'm awake because the dogs like to bark at random animals and things on the road. It's good that they pay attention because they protect the property but my sleeping schedule is rearranged, along with being in total seclusion.

I turn the hot water fuse to "on" and hope for a hot shower a few hours from now. I can hear the hens calling for the sunrise and I check all the dog bowls for food and water. Later, I'll go out and check on the chicken eggs. Life here is simple. The sun rises, the sun sets. I speak to no one, I learn more Spanish from TV, I bask in my own thoughts and the sun. I cook fresh food, I bathe the dogs, I pull weeds and water the plants. Is there anything to blog about?

Thoughts

I have heard people say that when you're in seclusion, you are left with your thoughts, as if it's a contemplative time, a reflective opportunity. I haven't been thinking much, to be honest. I have been taking care of 11 chickens, six dogs, keeping the plants in the yard healthy and enjoying the view while listening to the TV in the background to improve my Spanish.

I am all alone in a place that is a two hour climb over rocky hills to get to town to buy food and sundries. I know four people here; my cab driver, the gardener, the maid and the woman who watches the house while I go to town with the driver. I've been invited by the gardener to have dinner with his family. He's 18 but I'm looking forward to his mother's Costa Rican cooking. The following week, I will make a Brazilian dish for her.

I have been taking some fun video footage along the way. It will be a part of the low-budget narrative film about traveling solo on a shoestring budget. I wonder where the term "shoestring budget" comes from. I could google it, but it's more fun to imagine someone carrying a wad of cash by a shoestring, or having their cash in their shoes so they have to untie them to get to it. Or what if people used to be so poor that they couldn't buy shoestrings, or they sold them on the street for extra cash, or traded them for food? Wow. That was a waste of time. And I told you I wasn't thinking. What can I say? It's 4:35 in the morning and I was awaken by the dogs barking. I went to look outside and almost stepped on a poisonous frog the size of my fist. That woke me up.

The thing with all the animals and critters here is that I always feel like something is crawling on me. I hear insects buzzing, see wasps and beetles and moths stuck inside the house, trying to get out through the window (they're so stupid) and sadly, I just let them die. I don't like to interfere with nature. If you're going to come into my house, unless you can kill me, I'm just going to let you die. Then I sweep their bodies off the floor once a week. With that comes piles of dog hair.

Speaking of dogs, bathing them is fun. They hate it so I have to tie them up outside so they'll stay still. They are pretty subservient to me because I give them rewards. Besides, what is better than getting a massage on a beautiful cliff in Costa Rica in the sun? Being doused with cold water. The dogs love me. They really do. They protect the house and I. I'm sure they won't remember me when I leave. I wish I could live so "in the moment". Like a dog.

The beetles are flapping around me, my internet connection is gone, the hens are screaming for the sunrise, and I have nothing left to say for today.

new stuff

I have not met many people because I stay at the house all the time, which is totally fine for me. The people I meet are my driver, the gardener, the maid and the house-sitter (for when my driver takes me to town). I am asked where I learned to speak Spanish, to which I reply, "first, school, then language-learning CD's, TV, Argentina, Chile, Spain, Mexico, then add the mixed Portuguese vocabulary and you have my Spanish." They reply, "oh".

I was invited to dinner with a Costa Rican family here. I can't wait! I'm going to cook Brazilian food and they're cooking a traditional CR meal which is going to be most likely the same as what I'm cooking which is rice, black beans and meat.

I awoke to the sound of howler monkeys and cayotes. It's really invigorating to live in such a wild place! Tending to chickens, caring for 6 dogs, keeping the yard watered and being constantly on guard for potential thieves is a job, believe it or not. I'm loving my experience here and am grateful every day I am able to sit and look at this beautiful view and be in this beautiful place where every day is a perfectly warm temperature and the rain is cooling, making all the scents of the earth come alive.

On lockdown

I'm in the Northwestern part of the country of Costa Rica. My time here in the small village of Tilaran is waged in Colones, the national currency. I have not spent much money since I've been here. I have only spent it on groceries I buy at the market just a 30 minute car ride away. How is this possible? With mindmyhouse.com, I found Terrilynn, a woman who wants to get back to the States for a while and is looking for someone to watch over her house, her 6 dogs and tend to her chickens.

I arrived a week ago, and I am situated on the lake Arenal, a 20 mile lake whose only road to town is a rocky dirt trail. Terrilynn tells me that her house has been robbed several times. I guess it's a way of life here. So I am here to protect her house and her possessions while she's away.

The weather here is warm and a bit humid, with daily rain that lasts about an hour. It's cloudy and there's a constant buzz in the air from the sacaidas, birds, howler monkeys and many insects. The night chirps with the sounds of animals, and the days are lazy. Most of my time is spent keeping in contact with friends on the internet, drawing, watching TV and tending to the animals. My Spanish is improving as I talk to the driver, the maid and the gardener once a week. Life is rough.

My plans are to stay here for ten weeks, then leave my things and run to Nicaragua to ensure my stay here without a visa. From there, I may continue traveling throughout Central America, maybe go to El Salvador for the New Year and hit Honduras and Guatemala. My time in Costa Rica ends when I fly out in May of 2012. At that point, I will stay in San Francisco, Ca. for 6 days, then it's off to Puerto Rico. I don't know what awaits. I just know that these are the things I have to do to lead an unimaginable fulfilling life.