Photos Galore

There’s very little reason to have a blog if I can’t post gratuitous photos of myself.

Here are some photos of us at Prospect Park in Brooklyn and Coney Island…

Audubon Center, Prospect Park. It’s a very photogenic building–can’t take a bad picture of it.

Alistair standing in front of the Audubon.

Now it’s my turn!

So green.

Been a while since you’ve seen my nails…

Off to Coney Island…

I love a good boardwalk.

The Wonder Wheel

We sat down for a bite at the famous Nathan’s. Someone coughed near our food.

I am not saluting in this picture! Just shielding my eyes from the sun. But it’s pretty ra-ra America, right?!

This is a character named Tillie, apparently. He is the “funny face” of Coney Island.

A likeness?

This man was happy to see me.

A picture within a picture.

Flashing lights

Aw, sunsets.

Nathan’s has been open since 1916!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NYC ’13 Pt. 3

I’ve been really fortunate in that I’ve seen some amazing productions during our visits to New York. But, as we discovered, late August till mid-September seems to be a sort of cultural wasteland in this city; galleries are between exhibitions, live music listings were a bit scant, and fall theatre previews hadn’t yet begun. So, as I was unwilling to spend $300 a ticket to see Book of Mormon, I selected an off-Broadway play by Tennessee Williams called The Two Character Play. Tennessee, apparently, considered this his finest play aside from Streetcar. Look, I have a great patience for experiential theatre efforts, I really do, but I’m afraid that I have to disagree.

Within the first ten minutes I thought to myself, “I’ve made a terrible mistake”. It goes something like this: A pair of involuntarily retired actors(a brother and sister) avoid facing their current circumstance by indulging in a form of escapism as they enact a performance for an imagined audience. They dip in and out of the play and the line between reality and illusion become quickly blurred leaving everyone wondering what the hell is happening and why am I meant to care. The play starred Brad Dourif–he played Billy, the kid that slits his wrists in One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest– and Amanda Plummer–Hunny Bunny in Pulp Fiction. I was happy to see the two of them though I wish it were under a different circumstance.

I found nothing poetic, moving, or compelling about their fears, codependence and coping methods. It was a play within a play and neither was particularly good. I really do feel the fault lies with the text itself and not the actors or even this particular production.

If I wanted to watch two batty cuckoo-birds yammer incoherently at one another for two hours, I could have just stayed in Parkdale.
—

Comedy Cellar

Having had a good time at the Comedy Cellar on Monday, we returned for the late show the following night for lack of any better evening plans. This time we were seated in the front row–a different experience as you are opening yourself up for interaction with the comedians. We saw some funny people and some not so funny people…it was a Tuesday show after all. But that’s not what I’m interested in talking about. The last comedian of the night was finishing his set when he looked towards the stairwell and said “oh shit man, you coming up here?”. I heard the response “Yeah, I guess” and turned around to see Jeffrey Ross making his way to the stage. If you’ve ever watched one of those Comedy Central roasts, then you’ve seen Jeff Ross–he usually hosts, or is at least featured. Just the night before he had successfully stolen the show at the roast of James Franco. My point is this: he’s very good at what he does, and I was excited that he dropped by for this impromptu visit.

It’s hard to articulate, but I’ve never seen a more vulnerable failure–it really affected me. He got on stage and made a couple casual jokes that received only light chuckles and that was the beginning of the end. You know the dream where you’re on stage naked, or you’ve shown up to a test unprepared? That’s the look I saw on his face. Just utter helplessness. He called Hannibal Burress to the stage as a wingman of sorts; they remarked that they had just played a show to a stadium of 20,000 people and that they are both currently touring as opening acts for Dave Chappelle. Playing to an audience of thousands has got to yield a greatly different sound than the silence that 63 people can produce. He could see all of our faces. He looked directly into my front-row eyes over and over again–he wasn’t panicked, just lost and resigned to failing. He didn’t chastise us for being a shitty audience the way others that preceded him had done when a joke didn’t go over well. He repeatedly apologized and said we could leave if we wanted. The thing is, we all wanted nothing but the best for him. I looked up at him with the most reassuring of smiles. Someone shouted out “go into roast mode”, but he looked into my eyes and the other expectant faces and just shook his head. It was like he didn’t want to make fun of us for some reason. Really, it would have been less painful to have something potentially hurtful and embarrassing said to me than to have to feel sorry for him. I guess making fun of celebrities is one thing, but being a dick to regular folks is a harder task. Still, it was baffling. He must have an arsenal of jokes he could pull out of his back pocket. But he didn’t. He was just self-deprecating and apologetic–far from what I would have expected from an ‘insult comedian’, the ‘Roastmaster General’.

I will never in my life forget looking into those eyes. I think getting on stage and trying to make a group of strangers laugh is incredibly brave, and there’s something especially brave at failing to do so as well. The next time I’m nervous before an audition, I’m going to think of that face.

It taught me a valuable lesson; no matter what level of success you achieve, you can be humbled in an instance.

—

I wish I could be the person I am on vacation– y’know, someone that leaves the house and does things. It should be easy enough to do, but so far it’s never worked out that way. In any case, I’m happy to be home and anxious to get going on this whole ‘real life’ thing again.

Next time: beautiful pictures…

NYC ’13 Pt. 2

I only have wifi in the hotel lobby, so I’ve been roughing it like a pilgrim out here–getting lost and eating at restaurants that we haven’t even been able to google.

Monday

It had been threatening to rain since the moment we stepped off the plane, but somehow it had held off…that is, it held off until we were meant to attend an all-day outdoors hip hop show in Brooklyn. Then it rained.

It was a free event put on by Fools Gold Records at Williamsburg park. I’m glad we went; I saw a few people I hadn’t heard of before and some that I already loved. I bounced around in a crowd of people to some great music and had a grande old time.

We had reservations to see some stand up at the Comedy Cellar, so we had to leave before a lot of the main acts which was a big bummer, but I laughed a lot and saw Hannibal Burress–one of my favourite comedians–so, really, it alllll worked out.

We returned to Comedy Cellar the following night and I had an altogether transformative experience that I’ll have to save for a separate entry when I have a bit more time…
—
Tuesday
I met a salesgirl named Yesenia in a SoHo shop who advised us against visiting Coney Island. She said it was “ghetto” and directed us towards a rooftop, salt-water pool in Willuamsburg instead, she said that it was her other hustle and that she would hook us up if she saw us. Still…I’ve got this sort of romanticized vision in my mind of a carnivalesque boardwalk with maybe just the “right” amount of ghetto flair. It’s a place with a lot of history behind it and that counts for something; it’s like I expect to show up and see a Weegee photo come to life. I’ve been to Williamsburg plenty, it’s time to branch out.

In short, both Yesenia and myself were correct. Coney Island is both ‘ghetto’ and perfectly charming. It takes close to an hour to get from Manhattan to Coney Island by subway. We stopped off at Prospect Park along the way to take scenic photos and wander a bit–it was worth the detour.

By the time we arrived at Coney Island, I was feeling dehydrated and mean. There were sandy-faced children and disgruntled vendors everywhere. As we showed up on a weekday, post Labour day, there was very little that was operational at the time. Everything had an air of melancholy abandonment; the beach was sparsely populated, but the boardwalk was still bustling. We walked from one end to the other, taking photos and sitting on benches in the sunset. Charming, right? Now, we missed out on a brightly lit Ferris wheel, but instead got the vaguely creepy, ghost-town version.

We have so many beautiful photos that were taken on a proper camera, but for now I can only offer you my Instagram photos until I return home…

NYC ’13

Friday
It turns out that I do essentially the same things in New York as I do in Toronto. We got in early on Friday and started the day by having a coffee in Bryant Park, not far from where we’re staying. Its a quaint tree-lined park with a lawn in the centre and a charming little carousel for kids, playing Edith Piaf songs. Carousels are insta-romance in my books.

From there, we headed to the International Centre of Photography. I’ve seen some incredible exhibits in the past, but I have to admit that I found this one a bit underwhelming–nothing really grabbed me. I think the only exception was a three-piece lightbox called Windows, Doors, Televisions by Mikhael Subotzky, in collaboration with Patrick Waterhouse.

The pair took on the task of photographing every window, every internal door, and every television-set in Ponte City, Johannesburg. Up close, you see the incredible detail in each photograph but if you take a step back it looks more like an abstract stained glass window.

Have you noticed that tacos have made a big come back in the last couple years? They’re delicious and inexpensive, that’s why. In Toronto there’s Grand Electric, and in SoHo there’s La Esquina. Look, I don’t care about food and fine dining, but I ate some scallops that I would gladly give my first-born child for, or–at the very least–I’d trade our dog Emma. I ordered seconds, actually.

We spent our first night at the Bowery Ballroom listening to an oddly Californian lineup of musicians. Chris Cohen and his band opened for Ty Segall. Both have that ethereal, sunny, Beach Boys sorta feel; it’s perfect music for those melancholy, end-of-summer days.

The only downside was the obnoxious pair of drunkards stationed next to me for the evening. To their credit, they were totally passionate and knew the words to every song which they scream-sung into each others mouths all night long. From the balcony, they spilled their beer all over the people below and screamed “I don’t give a fuck” when people had the nerve to complain, then they threw themselves into the mosh pit where they belong. I’ll admit, I got some amount of pleasure at seeing them get trampled and tossed around. I later saw them screaming at each other in the street like Sid and Nancy. I think they had fun.

Saturday and Sunday
Today was a shopping day. We went back to SoHo and I bought a versatile cute little blue dress, as well as a pair of zippered army-green pants that I feel make me look as though I’m ready to take on the zombie apocalypse and carry a gun…and I have just the boots for that sort of thing. I bought them from a (new?) store called Piperlime–it’s amazing, not overly pricey and I wanted alllll of the things.

We headed to Williamsburg to meet up with a couple we know–Alistair’s oldest childhood friend and his wife. We ended up at a seafood restaurant/Oyster Bar called Maison Premiere. This place looked like it was staffed with the cast of Boardwalk Empire, it was all very precious. I’m not much for drinking but I felt obligated while sitting at this fancy little bar so I ordered some $14 Julep called the “foreign legion” which consisted of “Chartogne Taillet, Framboise Eau de Vie, Spiced Strawberry, Fresh Mint”… I don’t know what half of those ingredients are, but it sounded vaguely fruity and inoffensive. Let me tell you, I’ve never been handed something so pretty and it tasted like goddam magic.

Just look at it. Strawberry on the rocks.

I’m having the hardest time trying to blog from my phone. The formatting is impossible and tiresome. Anyway, more soon. In the meanwhile, photos!

Costa Rica – Adventure Day #2

It’s funny to write about my vacation as it’s happening as opposed to a week from now when everything will be tinged with the rosy glow of nostalgia. And months from now, our photographs will take the place of memories…

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

There are no big hotel chains or resorts in Santa Teresa, just hostels and plenty of beautiful  rental apartments and villas. Aside from the fantastic restaurant and yoga facilities, the best part about Nautilus has been the family that owns and operates the property. They have been so helpful in arranging anything we might need–taxis, dinner reservations and day trip adventures to places that aren’t listed in guide books or online.

Today we set off on our ATV towards the mouth of the Negro River, between Manzanillo and Playa Hermosa. There are three points of access to the river off the beach. We were told the first two are great, but the third has Crocodiles…best not get mixed up, I guess.

We hung out here for for a few hours and encountered only group. They asked us a question, no hablamos español, and then we played charades. The older man scissor-snapped his arms, open and shut, asking if there are Crocodiles. We answer no, but turn our arms into wiggly snakes–I spotted a biggish snake with it’s head poking out of the water, making it’s way from one side of the river to the other. The man laughed and wagged his finger, indicating that snakes are a deal-breaker and that he would not be swimming. I’m not into swimming in waters where I can’t see what’s below me, so I wade about the shallow end, keeping my good eye open for anything living. I could hear the Howler Monkeys in the jungle around us, but I still haven’t seen one.

We lounged on our blanket, noticing a vulture in the trees overhead. We haven’t moved for a while, so he’s probably just keeping his good eye open for a languishing prey. Speaking of snacks, that tupperware was finally put to good use!

Note my inventive use of wooden plank for a table, and coconut husks for cutlery holders. I think all those years of watching Survivor are finally paying off.

This is the beach that led us to the river…not too shabby.

After our picnic, we packed up, hopped on our quad and took off in search of waterfalls. The directions we were given were to pass two shitty shacks, an impressive and beautiful gate–under construction, and then go through the wooden gate. Of course we got lost.

There was an old man with golden teeth and a young girl, standing in front of a house. We stopped to play charades again. Alistair asked “cascadas?”, and the little girl pointed back in the direction we had come from–we had gone too far. Then the man said a good many things with hand gestures and sound effects. He was amused and enjoying the whole encounter, I could tell. On our first taxi ride into town, our driver had taught us a couple words of Spanish that now proved most useful. Alistair picked up on the word “vaca” and repeated it. The man nodded sagely as though he had given us the secret password. Vaca…sure enough, we headed back down the road and found the cows and the wooden gate that ultimately led us to the waterfalls.

 

 

There were waterfalls as far as the eye could see; one pooled into another, and then another, and so on…

 

It ocurred to me that if something happened to us, we would never be found again, out in the middle of the jungle. Frolicking in waterfalls…it was all too surreal.

The rapid water movement makes this picture look like a painting with tiny brushstrokes.

 

We leave bright an early tomorrow morning, heading back to snowy Toronto…

Costa Rica – Santa Teresa

Our trip is winding down, just as I’m finally feeling as though I’ve got this place sorted! I figure I ought to do at least one post with relevant and practical information for anyone that is actually planning to visit Santa Teresa.

So here are come casual observations from a North American perspective:

Meals:

– A 10% gratuity is automatically added to all meals. Tipping beyond that isn’t customary, but you might add a little extra for an exceptional meal or service.

– There is no dress-code. Anywhere. Even at the more “expensive” restaurants, no one is wearing long pants and collared shirts. Women wear sundresses, or shorts and tank tops and the men are wearing shorts and t-shirts. The one main road that encompasses all of Santa Teresa is very dusty; whether walking or riding an ATV, you’re bound to get dirty, so leave your finery at home.

– We’ve dined at every “good” (according to TripAdvisor and local reviews, I mean) restaurant in town as well as more casual lunch spots. Service operates at a very relaxed, pura vida pace. My father, for instance, is an impatient diner and would have a hard time with dining at this pace. Also, meals aren’t necessarily synchronized the way we’re used to; at home, everyone’s meals arrive to the table at approximately the same time, but I’ve found that there can be up to 10-minutes between my meal arriving and Alistair’s.

– Favourite restaurants: Habaneros for it’s fantastic grilled lobster and tuna steaks. Koji has the best sushi–sooo good. And Olam has the best breakfast and brunches (all vegetarian); fresh fruit, nuts and grains, and delicious sandwiches and salads. I’m going to miss this place.

Lobster from Habaneros. The flash has made it look far less appetizing than it was.

In-town Travel:

Lots of fun, like a high-speed golf cart.

– As I previously mentioned, ATV travel is the way to go and it’s how everyone gets around. You can rent a car but it seems to be more trouble than it’s worth as the roads aren’t very wide. Drivers are on the aggressive side, but they’ll just drive around you if you’re slow or seemingly lost. You absolutely need a handkerchief and sunglasses/goggles or you’ll end up with a face-full of dust. ATV rental is about $80USD a day, but I’m sure you can get lower rates for extended rental periods.

Money:

Colones!

– The local currency, Colones, and American dollars are both equally acceptable.

– An easy conversion trick: drop the last three zeroes and double the Colones to get the USD rate. 5,000 Colones = $10 USD. Our bill at Koji, the “expensive” sushi restaurant was 35,000 Colones…so that’s $70USD.

– Most places accept cash only.

– There’s only one or two bank machines in town and they frequently run out of money–USD in particular. So stock up on funds before you arrive or, like us, you’ll be stuck paying international ABM fees every time you want to make a withdrawal.

Santa Teresa Beach:

– I swear, everyone on this beach is under thirty. The median age looks to be about 23. Everyone is in incredible shape–most are here to surf. Where are you hiding your old people, Santa Teresa? Maybe they’re less inclined to lounge on the beach in sweltering heat, tanning. None of the women go topless, but as I’ve previously noted, there’s plenty of ass to go around as everyone seems to wearing thong bottoms. We noticed almost immediately that there is an incredible gender divide amongst those hanging on the beach; large, roving packs of boys and great gaggles of girls…and the two don’t mix much. I don’t know why? Maybe an age thing? A cultural thing?

– There’s a lot of waves on this beach, so if you’re like me and don’t like getting smacked in the face with a wall of water, then wait till low tide and hang out near the tidal pools that form around the rocks. This has been my favourite thing to do. Hundreds of crabs scurry around the rocks! I watch them for hours…

Obligatory sunset pictures…

oooooh. ahhhhhh.

Assorted Observations & Tips:

– Bring a ton of sunscreen. We brought 4 mostly-full bottles and went through them in no time at all. We just had to pay $20USD for a bottle of sun tan lotion in Montezuma.

– Roosters crow at all hours of the day, not just at sunrise…as a city person, this was news to me.

–  A friend who had recently traveled to the region had told us that “everyone speaks English”. This is absolutely not true. Aside from restaurant staff, I wouldn’t count on anyone speaking English. So grab a Rosetta Stone and brush up on your Spanish.

-If you don’t like dogs, don’t visit because they are EVERYWHERE. They’re not strays, they have owners, but they are not on leash and they just wander about freely. There are all varieties of mutts, but also a lot of really beautiful sweet-faced pitbulls…we miss our Emma.

This cat had been chilling on our porch. I adore it. Apparently, the guests prior to us had fed the cat 3-times a day. We must have been an incredible disappointment.

I’ve been spending my days marinating in ocean water and my lips always taste like salt now.

Costa Rica – Adventure Day

It’s been a loooong day, so it’s picture time! I’ll write something charming tomorrow…

We rented an ATV/quad for the day which costs about $80USD for a 24-hour period. It’s seems to be the primary mode of transportation in Santa Teresa.

 

The roads are very dusty so we wear handkerchiefs, sunglasses and hats. BANDIDOS!

 

 

It’s a lot of fun, like driving a very fast golf cart. We took off towards the Montezuma Falls, but stopped along the way to take in the glorious vistas, of which there are many.

 

We arrived in Montezuma–a nice little beach town–where we had lunch, parked our quad and started walking along the trails to the falls. You can hike up the hillside, or walk along the rocks. In either case, wear sensible running shoes cause it’s a real bitch when your ankles keep twisting in the stupid sandals you thought were a good alternative. Also, be sure to bring a boyfriend to carry your bags, because bags are also a drag…

I swear that’s his Victoria’s Secret tote.

After about a twenty minute walk, we made it! The water was crystal clear and fresh, and oh so refreshing.

After spending some time at the falls we hopped back on our trusty ATV and headed towards Cabuya. Just before Mal Pais, by the Cabo Blanco Nature Reserve, there’s a beach and that’s where we spent the remainder of the day.

We set up our beach blanket, nestled in the shade.

 

This is my beachy glamour shot. It only took 8 attempts.

 

And now it’s bed time. There’s nothing like travel to make you feel so very small in the world.

Goodnight…

 

 

Costa Rica – Getting settled…

So we’re a few days in at this point and I’m settling nicely into my new life. I don’t wear makeup anymore. I don’t do my hair. I barely even get dressed.

By the Pool…

The Santa Teresa waves are a bit much for me, and I find the beach crowded so I’ve been spending a good amount of time poolside, which has been mostly delightful when I can have it to myself or in the company of other quiet ladies. This morning I watched an adorable little girl with curly hair blow her nose into her hand and rinse it clean in the pool. After about the third time, her mother scolded her–presumably, I don’t speak Spanish, but a mother’s disapproval is universal–but she repeated the action, regardless. Mikayla is clearly a  brat; this is evident by the fact that I know her name. No parent says their child’s name with such frequency unless they are behaving badly. I find myself quietly hating this three year-old and I can’t wait for her to leave.

I’m in a losing battle with the sun–it’s a redhead’s natural enemy. Speaking of redheads, I’ve seen two others so far! I read somewhere that people with red hair have a natural affinity for one another; it sounds like nonsense to me, but why else do I keep pointing them out to Alistair like we’re playing some bizarre version of ‘Where’s Waldo’? We really do stand out like pale beacons in a sea of tanned brunettes. It’s so hot I can barely keep the sun tan lotion from gliding away, and my belly-button keeps filling up with sweat.

When not resenting children, I am fully immersed in my book — Jennifer Egan’s A Visit from the Goon Squad. If I were to write a book, I would dream that it would turn out like hers. It’s told from multiple perspective, with interconnected stories, spanning time; this has all been done before, but here it’s done really well. The scope and detail of this book is dizzying and yet, somehow, always engaging. Each character is vivid and interesting with fully realized lives that I care about. I read that HBO has optioned it to be developed as a series–I think that would be brilliant. It won the 2011 Pulitzer Prize, so it hardly needs my praise as an endorsement. You should read it. My only complaint – the Costa Rican heat is melting the book’s spine and the pages are falling out in chunks.

Mikayla now blows her nose into a towel–an improvement, certainly. She is now joined by several other children who start making howler monkey noises and belly flopping into the pool. I wonder if I can outlast them and finally have the private oasis I found first thing this morning. One of the dads ask me if I have children and I tell him that I do not. He apologizes for all the disruption and I, of course, scoff and say it’s no trouble at all. He says it’s entertainment at least. I smile and say yes…it’s something to look at.

Costa Rica – To start…

Three taxis and two plane trips later, we have finally arrived in Santa Teresa, Costa Rica!

I really am such a drag to travel with–at least the getting there part. I was feeling fine until we landed in San Jose and boarded this little plane for our 25 minute flight into Tambor. Look – darling little thing, isn’t it?

Fortunately, I made it off the plane without vomiting, but all that caught up with me on our one-hour drive through the winding, bumpy, dirt-roads that led to our final destination. Luiz, our taxi driver, was very lovely about the whole thing…probably just thankful that I didn’t puke in his car. After I stumbled out of the bushes, I was struck by the amazing smell; the air tasted warm and lush and maybe a bit like weed, but it wasn’t.

By morning, I was feeling much better! Our hotel is fantastic and spacious–it’s probably about the size of our apartment in Toronto. The hotel has a breakfast/lunch restaurant called Olam that offers raw and organic foods. I had a delicious breakfast of fresh fruits and Alistair had scrambled eggs and a smoothie. So filling and good.

We spent most of today lounging on the beach. It’s full of 19 year olds with great tans, wearing thongs. I actually felt like I was old and very pale in comparison. It has a Wasaga beach feel to it–for those of you from Ontario…and by that I mean it looks like it’s spring break.

Santa Teresa is known as the best spot for surfing in all of Costa Rica as there are waves breaking on the beach at all hours of the day. This suits Alistair well as he’s dreamed of surfing all his life. Not me. There is nothing about surfing that appeals to me–it just looks terrifying. A placid, crystal clear ocean is more the type for me. However,  I ventured into the ocean and was rewarded by being thrown into a beastly rock by a wave.

Sigh…so much for sexy beach legs. It’s not like I even have a cool story–like surfing, or racing through the jungle–just a rock. Alistair says it makes me look tough, so we’ll stick with that.

This morning I woke up at 8:30am and by 9am I was at yoga — which is literally 50ft from our front door. I plan to go once a day so I can look like the fit 19-year olds.

We were walking back from dinner on the long road that essentially encompasses all of Santa Teresa and suddenly all the power cut out — it seems to be a common enough occurrence — and suddenly it was pitch-black. No street lights or lit store fronts, just total darkness. It’s not something city-dwellers experience often, if at all. The locals lining the streets and the tourists sitting in front of their hostels started hollering and laughing the way an auditorium full of high school students might, and then pulled out their cell phones which provided tiny pockets of light along the dirt road. It wasn’t until that moment that I really felt like I was somewhere far from home. Surrounded by darkness, I looked up to the sky and saw nothing but stars. Who knew there were so many?

Packed

I dare you not to be impressed with this slick packing job.

Just look at this readiness!

Just earlier today I scoffed at the enormous pile of clothes I had on the floor and said to myself, “there’s no way all this will fit in one suitcase”…but it did, and then I added even more stuff.

That’s right. I’m bringing tupperware. I barely cook in my real life, but in Costa Rica I’m planning on preparing meals that will have leftovers. We’ll have a kitchen, so I’m hoping we can cut costs by at least having breakfasts/lunches on the cheap.

Normally, with this little time before traveling, I would start my whole chills and nausea shtick – it’s my body’s hilarious way of processing excitement/anxiety. BUT I’ve taken a preemptive measure –a coutner-attack, shall we say– and downed a bunch of Gravol to make myself good and sleepy.

We are planning to go to Costa Rica, love it, and never come back. I’ll become a yoga instructor or braid hair on the beach for money. I’ll cook good and cheap meals made of rice and beans and whatever else they eat in Central America. I really have no idea, but I’m bound to figure it out. I think you should all prepare for this eventuality and consider how you might continue your lives without me…I won’t be able to afford Internet in my new pared down life.

También voy a tener que aprender español. Hasta entonces, voy a confiar en Google Translate.

—

I painted my  nails to match my bathing suits. It’s nice to bust out of my winter colours and revisit summer…