We're drinking the water

At 2:15 p.m. on July 13 (my 30th birthday) Stacy and I met at the Southwest Ticket counter in the Phoenix airport to begin our adventure. We boarded a flight to Los Angeles, where my sister Alia picked us up to hang out before our 1:30 a.m. flight to Costa Rica. We spent the evening hanging with Alia and Eric and ate dinner at a great Thai restaurant (which was Stacy's first time eating Thai food - she loved it!) Since it was my birthday, the group decided to order the special birthday ice cream and sticky mango rice, which was brought to our table by our sassy tamberine-shaking waitress. 

We boarded our first flight (to San Salvador) on TACA Airlines and were seated in the final row of the plane (right near the shitter) and the man next to us belched loudly as he sat down. Stacy and I looked at each other and agreed things were off to a great start. After a lousy attempt at sleeping we were served a full breakfast (yay international airlines) and on our next flight (to San Jose) we found out that TACA serves alcohol for free. It was too late to take full advantage of that so a morning bloody mary was all we could do.

Got our bags, customs officers could have cared less about what we were brining in so we walked out the doors. Then we saw David holding a card up with my name. He drove us the two hours to Jaco, stopping along to way to take in the views and walk across the crocodile-infested river. 

As we entered Jaco and drove to the house we asked David "how much farther is the house" because the craigslist ad read "5 minute walk to the beach". It's a little farther than that to say the least.

Upon arrival we are greeted by Gabriel, the six year old son of Kathia (the woman who owns the house) and then Chino (who's real name is Gerald but they call him Chino because his eyes are slanted: welcome to Latin American culture). He helped us take our bags up to our apartment where we were immediately greeted by large, color-printed signs taped to our apartment windows that say:

NO SE PERMITEN PUTAS EN ESTA PROPIEDAD = NOT PROSTITUTES IN THIS PROPERTY

NO SE PERMITEN DROGAS EN ESAT PROPIEDAD = NOT DRUGS IN THIS PROPERTY

Then we met our neighbors (from Phoenix) Melissa and Brian, who apparently are responsible for those signs being posted. 

A few weeks ago they were sitting on the balcony enjoying some beers with "friends" they met at the bar. One of the girls ended up being a PUTA but they had no idea. Kathia was not pleased.

We spent most of the afternoon (dazing in and out of sleep deprivation) talking with Melissa and getting the lay of the land. We sat on the balcony in the sweltering humidity and just kept sweating. On the street below, it seemed like everyone has a bicycle and the traffic never stopped. Noises you would expect in a big city; loud motorcycles, large tractor trailors sputtering, people honking their horns at each other for a multitude of reasons we have yet to dicipher. She gave us advice on where to grocery shop, which ATMs to use and how to recognize the PUTAS. 

At 6 p.m. we walked to Los Amigos to get some dinner (we hadn't eaten since 5:30 a.m.) and enjoyed the quieter sounds of night. Walking along the dimly lit street down to the main drag, our quiet, country road and the sounds of the crickets were interrupted by shoddy motorcycles whizzing by and people honking. But in between the bursts of sound it was just so beautiful. There is a lot of undeveloped land surrounding the area and felt like for a brief time we weren't in a city anymore.

On the walk home we stopped at Frutastica to pick up some cerveza and hung out on the balcony with our new Phoenix friends, including Chino. Chino only speaks Spanish, so I interpreted for Stacy and the group and vice versa to Chino. It was a fun cultural exchange and Stacy and Chino both expressed frustration that they couldn't understand what the other was saying. The first day being immersed in a new culture and not understanding everything being said by the locals was a little overwhelming for Stacy, but I know after 37 days she will have a much better grasp on the language and be able to understand the slang of the youth (read Pit Bull/Daddy Yankee).

Late into the night we finally went to bed (after 24 hours of not sleeping). We slept soundly through someone knocking on our door and woke up around noon. It's freaking awesome to not have cell phones, an alarm clock or anywhere to be really. We ventured out just the two of us for the first time to find some breakfast and hopefully get some groceries/supplies. Luckily, we found a sweet breakfast joint called The Coffee Shop, where they make homemade whole wheat bread (of which we will be buying loaves for use in our apartamento). After some breakfast we stocked up on supplies (water, sponge, cleaning supplies, ice cube trays) at Frutastica and came home just in time to avoid the torrential downpour of rain. It was very lucky considering we are two hot babes and were wearing white t-shirts.

That's it for now. We are off to Mas X Menos for groceries.