And hostess of the year award goes to. . .

The banana bread had about 5 minutes left to bake when my phone rang.  My first guest had arrived a bit early and the front door of the apartment building was locked.  I ran down to let him in and it wasn't until we got back upstairs that I realized I'd shut the door behind me.  I was standing on the landing in stocking feet, no one was home, more guests were going to show up any moment, and we were locked out.  Oh, and the banana bread was close to burning in the oven.

I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and looked at it hopelessly.  Somehow I keep neglecting to ask my roommates for their numbers, so I couldn't even call and see if one of them was nearby.  As I was laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation, and contemplating entertaining my guests on the landing, the automatic timer on the hall light went out, leaving us in the dark.

Li flicked it back on as I kept trying to come up with some solution, any solution that was better than the stairs in the dark.  And then, I thought of something... when my flatmate left, she had the bag she takes with her when she's headed to sauna.  Maybe, just maybe, she was at the sauna.  And maybe, just maybe, if I knocked on the door she'd hear me and lend me her key.  So,  I left my guest, shoeless and coatless, stranded on the landing, as I ran off through the dark in his much-too-big-for-me shoes and jacket to knock on another friend's door. With her keys in hand (so I could get into the locked building where the sauna is) I headed to the other side of the complex.

I pounded on the door, calling my flatmate's name.  If it really was her in there, I  hoped she'd hear me. And if it wasn't her in there, I really hoped no one would answer.  No response.  But my banana bread was burning and more guests were on their way, so I tried again, and then, wonder of wonders, the door opened.  And it wasn't an angry stranger, but a confused flatmate.  A quick explanation later she handed me her keys, and I dashed off again to let my guest into my apartment.

"Make yourself at home" I said, and then immediately ignored him as I flew to the oven to take out the banana bread.  "Sorry to be rude" I said, and then headed back into the night (this time with 3 sets of keys), leaving him sitting alone in my apartment (hey, at least this time the lights didn't keep turning out on him).  Keys returned to both lenders, I made it back before any other guests arrived, and guess what?  The banana bread didn't even burn.

The wedding crashers (or,Three weddings and a pick-up truck)

We ran into Georgin at the bottom of the hill, and hitched a ride with him when a friend of his with a truck passed.  "My brother's getting married on Saturday, you should come" The comment was mostly directed at Edwin, his cousin, but I was included too.  "Do you know what I'm thinking?" I asked Edwin.  He started to say he didn't, then I think he realized he did.  "Yes, there will probably be dancing,"  he answered my unasked question.  That was all I needed to know.  

It turned out that the wedding was the day after Evie and everyone else arrived, and since Evie actually had known the groom for years, we all decided to go.  What better way to arrive in style than to stand in the open bed of a pick-up truck?

Admittedly, I felt a bit awkward at first.  I didn't know the bride, or the groom.  At least I had met a fairly large percentage of the guests- I came with them, and most of them were family of the groom.   

I still hesitated to take any photos, until we almost burned the house down.  There's nothing like a near catastrophe to break the ice.  It started with a Chinese lantern.  We lit it, and sent it up into the sky with good wishes for the newly weds.  

Or at least, that was the intention.  The only problem was, there must have been a hole in the lantern.  It started off just fine, then drifted towards the roof of the house. We watched as it gently bumped the roof, and then, landed there and fell to its side.  

A hose was found. . .  It didn't reach the roof.  They climbed on the porch, and stretched it a bit further. The trickle of water that came out would have been laughable, except (despite the fact that I thought the roof was made of tin) apparently these roofs are highly flammable. . . 

Just as it was getting a bit tense, the lantern burned itself out.  Disaster averted we did what I'd been wanting to do- we danced.

Take-away for my own hypothetical wedding someday?  Chinese lanterns and dancing salsa?  Yes.  Burning down the house? No.

(Oh, and just to keep the title accurate, here are the other weddings I was at in December and January.)

 Claudia (from Colombia) and Lukas' (from Switzerland) wedding on December 1st
Take-away (again, for my own hypothetical eventual wedding) Beautiful outdoor location? Yes.  Starting 3 hours late? No.

Emily (from the US) and Julio's (from Venezuela) wedding on January 19th

 And, one last take-away- Flowers in glass jars hung from twine look really cute.  Wearing heels on a hillside is a decidedly bad idea (ok, that one is just common sense, but sometimes I need to prove things to myself even when I know they're true.  Like the time I touched the electric fence. And then did it again.)

The trouble with vowels

If the language we learned first doesn't discriminate between 2 vowels that exist separately in another language, it can lead to some awkward mispronunciations. The difference between the long e sound and the short i sound is hard for a lot of non-native English speakers. I have more than one latino friend who has told me about their weekend at the bitch. And my proper and well-educated professor from Korea always made me giggle inside each time she told us to take out a shit of paper.

For me, there's very little difference in sound between e and ei in Spanish. So these 2 words, for example, sound almost identical to me: peine=comb pene=penis

The other day, I was reading aloud a story to my first and second graders. In the story, the man brings home a comb to give to his wife as a gift. When I read that, I got some startled looks. "A WHAT?!" asked one little girl. "One of these" I answered, chagrined, pointing to the picture. After that, any time the word comb appeared in the story, I substituted the word brush.

Did I really say what I think I did? Guess what word I'm cutting out of my vocabulary in Spanish.

The saga of the missing credit card

Last Monday, I went to the bank to withdraw money. My receipt came out and I looked at it, desperately hoping I’d calculated correctly and 100,000 colones was not as obscene an amount as it sounded. When I saw my remaining account balance and noticed that I was actually a millionaire I got a bit distracted. So much so, that I didn’t realize I never took my card back out of the machine until I got back to the base.

I made a quick trip back to the bank where I had a frustrating conversation with a guy whose accent was almost impossible to understand. He eventually gave me a phone number and told me who to call. Have I ever mentioned how much lower my Spanish comprehension is when talking on the phone? It’s pretty low. And it took 3 phone calls to figure this out. Fortunately there are quie a few bilingual Costa Ricans on base, so they helped me with 2 of them. I was on my own for the last one though. Taking down the address to the place where I went to pick up my card took forever. Addresses here are crazy. Apparently there are no street numbers. I’m not even sure all the streets have names. The address she gave me ended with “edificio esquinero”, literally, “the building on the corner” (and that was the address, NOT directions).

So, Scott (the school director), Breeana and I set off in search of the building. Driving in Costa Rica, if anything, is even crazier than their address system. Lanes are optional, as are stop signs some of the time. Left hand turns across 3 lanes of traffic are a part of life. Taxis drivers all seem to have a death wish. Vendors walk up and down between cars trying to sell things at lights. We bought 2 coconuts with a hole cut in them and straws to drink the milk. Not my all time favorite, but definitely worth the dollar.

We finally spotted the building on a corner, but not one we could really get to. So, after several quite possibly illegal traffic maneuvers and more lane changes than one should really make in 5 minutes, we pulled into the parking lot only to be foiled by the doors. Here’s a tip- if you’re walking into the ATH building in San Jose, push the button by the first set of doors, then pull them open. Wait until they close completely. Then open the next set of doors. That little bit of info will make you look less like a fool than I looked. Once we got in, getting my credit card back was easy. Let’s hope keeping it proves even easier.