As the lovely ladies of CYF know, wedding season is the most important period to be noted in a seasonal calendar, being even more important than the time of year in which white clothing is no longer tolerated. Following that lead, it only makes sense that April contained a wedding. Well, not the whole thing mind you. This wedding included the cake, decorations, music and invitations sure enough, but notably absent was the groom who is living in the United States and who i'm sure is blissfully ignorant of the whole hubbub. April was the month where we were suppose to be montando a project with kids in a civics class in the local colegio about peace (apparently?). Anyone with experience in any kind of school has already guessed that this meant lots of time waiting at the front entrance for the teacher or director or assorted henchmen to show up to collect us. In one of these sessions, we planned Tiffany's upcoming wedding. I got dibs on the cake, and its going to be awesome. Without giving too much away, with two years to practice (unless she jumps the gun this December which we're all rooting for) this cake will be so epic people who see it will be getting married left and right just to have one of their own. I take no responsibility for what that will do to social security when my cake fueled baby boom generation retires.
April, I guess, is also fall. Leaving summer behind and moving ever so reluctantly (for the people who know whats coming) towards winter, that sort of makes April fall right? Fall being my favorite month here, it only makes sense that my family would go out for an idyllic day in the Parque de la Paz. Idyllic because it included all the activities that comprise precious childhood memories such as kite flying, (Costa Rican) snow cones (which are made "Costa Rican" by the inclusion of obscene amounts of fat and sugar for "taste"), observing works by local artists in the form of poorly done graffiti and of course, sliding down a steep hill in a cardboard box. I thought it was strange at first to see hundreds of small children running up a hill with cardboard boxes before I realized that this is really much more dignified than rolling down it, and moreover, is kinda like recycling.
Along with the cultural patronage I had received at the hands on my host uncle and his spray can, I was also blessed in this month with the opportunity to expand my knowledge of classic film with a film almost rivaling in sheer awesomeness anything Smith College Film Studies 101 deems important. Would you believe that up until this point in my life I had never seen Saw? Sadly I wont be around to see all seven which my host parents are dead-set on doing, (get it, DEAD-set??) but if they're anything like the first one, I can't possibly understand how the Oscars could have passed up these masterpieces of cinematography! (Also, I finally saw The Princess and the Frog and was pleasantly surprised)
Unfortunately, as it always does, the hyperbolic curve of my life contrived to destroy me again. (here's a visual: http://www.revisioncentre.co.uk/gcse/maths/1overx.gif) As potential to have lived in a place long enough to be settled in and happy reaches infinity on one side, the time I spend in a place without making a fool of myself also reaches a tipping point at which the probability that i'll do something stupid to ruin myself in everyones eyes tilts sharply towards the impossible to avoid angle. And thus, my worst fears were nearly realized. Would you like to know about the boogeyman of CYF? The one we all hope and pray we'll never look in the mirror and realize is us? It was some dude who dated an underage girl. A person who came to this country to protect children only to (in the eyes of the law and anyone with morals) do the exact opposite. Did you also know its almost impossible to tell ages in this country? People who look 16 end up being 25 and people who look 25 end up being 16. Nothing more needs to be said on that front, except that I realized that to successfully keep myself out of jail these next two years I should never allow myself to find a Tico handsome lest the 'Peace Corp tragedy' that showed up on my MASH sheet comes true.
Speaking of Peace Corp tragedies, another near miss on this author's part inspired an urban legend called "Los Aspirantes a la Deriva." Based on an almost true story, it details the events that happen to a band of foolhardy volunteers who against the warnings of the ghost of JFK, wander into the jungle in search of a prophesied waterfall only be meet by and be done in by a mysterious man with a machete. As I said, this is very nearly true except for the parts that aren't, most important being that the man with the machete did not do anyone in, but instead was content to hang out and be half naked. (But very amiable!)
So while yours truly aptly avoided being the opening credits for a crime show once again, I'm happy to report that in my host family, health and well being were also the buzzwords of the month. Judith, since my arrival, had been suffering a painful and profound back injury that left her in constant pain and unable to walk at anything more than feet-shuffling speed. Concerned, she managed to get a date at the hospital for a back surgery that happened to fall roughly a week before it cured itself of its own accord. You didn't read that wrong by the way. Roughly a week after having her surgery, Judith participated in a prayer session in front of her whole church where she was magically cured of that same injury in what the preacher could only describe as a miracle and I can only describe as rather incredible. Long story short, people were weeping. With great passion.
With that powerful dose of the power of positive thinking, Judith's recover was swift, and she was soon her chipper self, but now walking at normal speed. Elated, she immediately set out to plan the rest of the life God had given her a second chance at. From what I could garner from her excited and far too rapid spanish, this mainly consists in having Cristiano Renaldo's babies.
Well that nearly concludes the list of things that happened that month, except of course for that day that I hung out in a bullring with prostitutes while we ran away from charging bulls. Which is kinda self explanatory as thats exactly what happened. Whats much less obvious than that is the fact that for some reason my spell check tries to correct the word prostitute to prostate. Will wonders never cease?
Till next month!
Spell check is clearly misogynistic.
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