Stuck in Time

Trip Start Jan 10, 2007
1
15
34
Trip End Ongoing


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Flag of Costa Rica  ,
Wednesday, June 6, 2007

So Iīm back in Orosi after four months, and itīs weird.  Everything is the same - the Coto still overcharges for beer and OTIAK even has that same brownies mixed with cigarettes smell.  Iīm back in my old house with my first host family, who are just as fun as ever.  I find myself slipping into my old Orosi habits, relishing the easiness of this little Pleasantville, this break from my new reality being Teacher.  It feels like a fantasyland here, that first month a sweet but distant dream now suddenly brought back into my consciousness.  I remember at the time thinking that there was no way that my Orosi memories would fade, that it was just a "drop in the bucket" as we were told it would be.  But now I understand.  It was a great month, an easy month, but not how I will remember my time in Costa Rica.  Orosi is a vacation, a great vacation but not real life.  Good times are always had here...even while simply crossing the street.

In my new position of authority, Orientation Assistant, I have been in charge of cleaning up after lunch as well as teaching classes.  Yesterday we went down the street to a pizza place, and after clearing tables and paying the bill, Steve (Orientation Coordinator) and I were making our way back to OTIAK with a pizza box and liter of juice that we hadnīt finished.  Unfortunately the streets were being paved and we were going to be forced to go five blocks out of our way to get back, not something we were exactly in the mood for with our awkward box and bottle.  So, in a moment of inspiration, Steve dashes across the tar to the other side of the street.  And I follow...for about two steps.  You see, the problem was that Steve was wearing tennis shoes, while I, incredibly smart person that I am, was wearing flipflops.  His shoes were actually attached to his feet, while mine were not.  I was soon hopping on my tip toes trying to get the least amount of the sticky tar on my feet, while pulling my lost shoes from the muck.  And of course, squealling the entire time.  By the time I finally got to the other side of the street, a giggling crowd had formed to take in the gringa stuck in the road.  And the sight of my black feet just sent them into hysterics.  But I was quickly rescued by the road crew that had laid down the tar.  As I balanced on one foot clutching Steveīs arm for support, a very nice man poured diesel on the other.  Two others offered clothes and I even attracted the attention of a drunken Canadian whose advice was to go home, eat pizza, and kiss someone.  After this helpful little tidbit, he then told me that everyone was in love with me and now in love with each other because everyone was kissing, so I should kiss someone too.  He told me to use my feminine wiles, though at that moment, with one tarry (and now diesel-covered) foot in the air, observed by a still-giggling crowd, I wasnīt feeling so sexy.  But pretty soon, I was tar-free and sporting some new perfume - eau de gasoline.  We thanked my helpers, now back to work on the bettering of Costa Rican roads, and went on our way.  Just another day in the life of Teacher Lacey.       
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Comments

dadofdivaboots
dadofdivaboots on

You are a...
...(s)TAR! Ha Ha Ha. Great story!
Love
Dad

lenasgirl311
lenasgirl311 on

This is forever!
You will not forget this one -- my sister (now 56) is still referred to as 'tar baby' when the sibs all get together, because of a similar incident when she was 8 years old. Glad to be connected with you now. Cheers! amy j.

RedPalmVillas on

Good blog!

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