Life After Death, Winter to Spring

The lotus flower emerges out of murky, muddy waters, rising up from the darkness to bloom in it's all remarkable beauty.

Sometimes, we too bloom from our own dark, muddy waters.

I am coming out of a season of death, the most prominent mark being the loss of my mom on February 16, 2018. She died from lung cancer at the age of 64 and there was no way for me to go through that loss without everyone knowing about it.

But losing my mom was just one event that took place during my season of death. For me, that season began on March 7, 2015, when I suffered a miscarriage. I was only 11 weeks along, not even far enough along to have had an ultrasound here in Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica. I had been to one doctor's appointment and was scheduled to have my first ultrasound in the hospital in Limon after my 12-week mark. I never made that appointment.

I lost my baby and at that moment I entered a very dark phase where I ended up losing everything that I had thought I had known about my life and where it was going up until that point. I didn't tell many people that I was pregnant—I was waiting to pass my first trimester since I knew the odds of losing the baby before then and I didn't want to go through the process of telling people until I was "out of the woods". But I never made it out of the woods, instead, I got lost in them.

Because I hadn't told a lot of people that I was pregnant, I didn't tell a lot of people about my miscarriage. I can't say I regret the decision because it was the one I made and there's no looking back. But it made grieving the loss of my child that much more difficult because I didn't allow myself to grieve openly. I wasn't a very open person at that point in my life and I tried my best to just move past it, get over it. I mean, I hadn't even been very far along, so why be that upset, right?

But the veil had been lifted and as the sadness of that loss overtook me, other parts of life began to fall apart. My partner of eight years cheated on me. The pain that we both suffered after losing our baby was too much and neither of us knew how to handle what was happening to us. Our relationship suffered and in the end, we couldn't reconcile what had happened.

I lost my baby, then my best friend. I was devasted. But my season of death wasn't done with me yet. More loss was to follow and with each part of my old life falling away I thought it couldn't get any worse. Until it did.

I ended up walking out of my job one night, on shift. Something I had never done and most likely will never do again. I had worked at the same bar and restaurant for four years and the friends and co-workers I had through that job had become my family here in Costa Rica, except I started to lose them too. Not because of malice on anyone's part, but because change is messy, it's painful, it's awkward and when things fall apart, they tend to shatter.

So, no baby, no boyfriend, no job. But we weren't even to the worst part yet.

Before I walked out of my job, I lost my grandmother, my mom's mom. I got the news while I was at work one night and though we'd known the end was coming soon, it still rocked my world. Grandma Kennedy had been the reason I was living in Costa Rica after taking me on a trip to South Africa when I was sixteen and showing me that the world was a big, magical place and that I could live any kind of life I wanted. So I had. And then she was gone from this big magical place. And there was one more loss to add to my list.

But it didn't end there. Shortly after my Grandma Kennedy died in April, my Grandpa Duncan passed away in May from prostate cancer. The cancer was aggressive and it was so painful to watch this lively, vibrant man waste away to nothingness. Death was persistent in my world and it seemed like everything I loved was slipping away from me.

What made it all the more painful was the one person I had grown to used to calling on when I was sad and going through difficult times was no longer in my life. I missed my partner and with each loss, I felt more and more alone. Like a darkness was circling around me and I couldn't stop it from consuming every part of my life.

May of 2017, just after my Grandpa died, my mom was diagnosed with cancer. Surgery, chemo, and she'd be fine. That's what the doctors said. That's what my dad said. That's what I believed. Because no fucking way I was going to lose my baby, my boyfriend, my job, my grandma, my grandpa, AND my mom. No way.

Way.

From diagnosis to death, my mom had nine months. And it was a terrible nine months. She had surgery to remove the tumor in her lung, followed by chemo. She had a horrible reaction to the chemo that landed her in the ICU for ten days. After that, the doctors suspended chemo, but she never really recovered. The cancer was there the whole time. I went back to help care for her three times and each time it was more painful, more difficult to watch the woman who had raised me not be able to walk on her own, not be able to shower on her own, to use the bathroom by herself. Her hair fell out, she lost weight, and in the end, she died, in a hospital bed, in our living room, as me and my dad helped the hospice nurse change her diaper. I was holding her as she took her last breath. And just like that my season of death reached a new low.

But death wasn't done with me yet.

Everything dies. Everyone dies. All cycles end. It's necessary for new beginnings, but when you're in a season of death, it doesn't feel like anything good can possibly come from all the loss.

I returned to my home in Costa Rica after saying goodbye to my mom and I thought that I was finally out of the shit. Only I wasn't.

I decided it was time to move out of the house that I had shared with my ex. I had been there for four years and in that time I had lost so much and the house held too many painful memories for me. So I moved. I moved to a house up a road, into the jungle, with no neighbors close by. This was my dark night of the soul. The place where I could fall apart, cry, scream, grieve as loud as I needed to with no witnesses and I did just that. And nature played her part in helping me hit rock bottom.

I lived in that house, deep in the jungle with no neighbors for two months, June and July of 2018. During July, Costa Rica experienced one of the craziest storm cells with thunder and lightening, rain and flooding that wiped out homes, knocked down power lines, and caused landslides, crippling the country. I was without power, stuck in my house from a mudslide, with two old, neurotic dogs, falling apart emotionally and physically. And as if that wasn't enough, my last living grandparent, Grandma Duncan, the matriarch, the most vivacious woman I've ever known, past away from old age and a broken heart.

And then, that was that. I still had things to lose obviously—my dad, my sister, my nephews, my dogs, my friends. But it felt as though Death had taken so much from me I was split open, torn apart, nothing left to give, no deeper hole to fall into.

And then the season began to change.

When I first lost my baby and my relationship ended, my friend Connie told me that I was in a dark season. She said it happens to all of us at some point and we can never know how long these seasons will last. Mine lasted four years.

I moved closer to the main road in August of 2018 and I slowly began to live my life again. I started salsa dancing, making new friends, going to events in town and little by little the coldness of my winter started to thaw. I learned how to ride a motorcycle, how to surf, I said yes to anything new and I did my best to remember what it felt like to be alive, to enjoy living.

The thing is, when so many things die, fall apart, leave you, you start to live in fear, knowing that everything will eventually end, so why bother getting attached? There is an anxiousness that life takes on, a mistrust of anything that seems enjoyable, knowing that sadness is waiting on the other end of that happy moment. And as much I did my best to enjoy the happy moments, I was still waiting for the sadness to come back. I didn't realize how hardened my heart had become. Like a stone wall had been built around it to keep any more sadness from creeping in. But that stone wall was also keeping the happiness out as well.

In March of 2019, just a few months ago, I was invited at the last minute to participate in a women's retreat here in Costa Rica. Two women that I had known for the past several years were leading it and they had had a last-minute cancelation. Last-minute as in the night before the retreat was happening. They thought of me. They asked if I would be interested in participating at no cost in an eight-day intensive. Sticking with my theme of saying yes and doing my best to actively live, I said yes. My wonderful friends took shifts watching my thirteen-year-old dogs so that I could spend eight days on my other friend's amazing permaculture farm deep in the jungle. And even though I knew I was being invited to participate in an amazing experience, I couldn't help but feel out of place, like I didn't belong and that the other women participating were going to realize that I was out of place.

That intensive broke me open. That stone wall that had been keeping my heart safe cracked open one night after a ceremony that we did. I thought I had cried all my tears, that I had done my grieving and had finally moved on from my season of death, but the truth was I hadn't, and I probably never will. I lost so much in such a short amount of time and I still acted like I was fine. But nothing about what had happened was fine and no matter how strong I tried to make myself seem, I was hurting, and I was hiding it. Until that ceremony where I feel apart and cried on the floor, in the arms of my friend Ivana for so long, the platform empty except for us, the other women all gone to dinner. Just the darkness of the jungle, the murmur of the insects, the sound of my sobs, and the arms of my friend holding me, as the stone finally crumbled and I realized it was okay to be sad, to be weak, to be soft, to be broken, to be a mess of a human being. I didn't need to hold myself together anymore. And in that epic breakdown, I was finally able to start putting myself back together again.

I still get sad about all that I've lost. I still think about what my life was like four years ago, before I took a sudden left turn that put me on a completely different path. I wonder who that woman would have been, with a baby, with a partner, having my mom come to Costa Rica to spend time with her grandchild. That version of my life plays out in my mind sometimes. But then I come back to this life that I'm living and while it's not the life I thought I'd have, I do love it.

While I was participating in that women's retreat—a true gift from the universe—I had an idea. I messaged two of my best friends, women who helped me get through all of my loss and transformation and I suggested that the three of us do a retreat as well. That the three of us help other women get through their own murkiness and bloom. Just a message one night, an audio clip sent to our group chat on WhatsApp. Nothing more than a passing idea. But like the lotus rising up from the darkness, this idea bloomed.

This October, me and two of my best friends, Mel and Dannie, two of the most amazing, fierce women I know will be leading our own retreat in the jungle of Costa Rica. This same jungle that has seen me fall apart, crack open, turn to seed and bloom again, and now I can see how this season of death is finally turning into spring.

With that, I thank you for reading and I'll simply leave you with this quote by Mary Oliver:

"Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift."

After The Fall

When I was 21 years old, after graduating from college, my boyfriend Corey and I traveled for three months. We visited Costa Rica, Guatemala, Peru, Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos.

During our time in Nha Trang, Vietnam we decided to rent a motorcycle one day and explore the Palace of Emperor Bảo Đại as a day trip from our beachside hostel. Growing up, my dad had always ridden motorcycles and I can remember going on one ride as a young girl and being terrified. I didn't know until this day in Nha Trang that my boyfriend could drive a motorcycle. We'd been together for three years and motorcycles had never been part of our life in Santa Barbara. But rent one we did.

We drove along the coast, breathing in the smell of fermenting fish. Nha Trang is a major production center for fish sauce, an ingredient as important to Vietnamese cuisine as salt is to the Western world. In order to produce fish sauce, hundreds of barrels are filled with fish and left to sit in the tropical sun as the fish dries out and the liquid drips from the carcasses. You can imagine the odor as you pass through this production site.

We drove through the rotting fish and made our way to Bảo Đại's Palace, toured the site and started back for our hostel. We had to stop and get gas before returning the moto and there was a little roadside stand selling gasoline in plastic bottles close to where we were staying. It started to rain as we drove and just as we turned to stop at the gasoline stand, the bike spun out and we fell over.

In hindsight, the accident wasn't anywhere nearly as bad as it could have been, but my leg did get stuck under the bike with the tire still spinning and the result was a very nasty case of road rash. Seeing as we were in a small fishing village, didn't have great skills communicating in Vietnamese, and had no idea where a clinic or pharmacy was, I walked back to the hostel while  Corey returned the bike and to I set to handling my injury.

My 21-year-old way of dealing with the rocks and debris now burned into my flesh was to take a Vicodin that we had brought with us, open a bottle of wine, and get into the shower with some tweezers to remove as many stones, pebbles, and dirt as I could. Afterward, I slapped some gauze on it and called it a day.

My wound healed just fine and our trip went on unaffected except for me swearing that I would never ride on the back of a motorcycle again.

And I didn't for 11 years.

Years later, I moved to Costa Rica when I was 28, new boyfriend, new trip, new experience, but still, I refused to ride on the back of a motorcycle. I swore them off completely, terrified to get back on one of those metal beasts.

Seeing as motorcycles are a convenient and affordable way to get around small, beachside communities, it was no surprise that many of my friends in Puerto Viejo had them. After a couple years of getting up the nerve and some encouragement for a couple trusted friends, I decided to get on the back of a moto again and that started a chain reaction.

The more I rode on the back of other's motos, the more I wanted to drive one myself. My fear turned into curiosity, which turned into determination. It didn't happen quickly. In fact, it took almost two years of riding infrequently on the back of other's motos for me to get up the courage to ask my friend Stacey to teach me how to ride her moto.

After three lessons and a lot of confidence coming from her end, I was riding her moto and determined to buy my own.

Thirteen years after falling off a motorcycle in Vietnam, I bought my own Suzuki 125cc here in Costa Rica.

Today, I rode that motorcycle into town to put an offer down for a house that I want to buy. This is a sentence that I never thought I would say, ever in my life.

Sometimes when we fall down, it can take a very, very, very long time to get back up. Months, years, decades can pass before we finally are able to face those fears that take hold of us. Sometimes we don't even realize at the moment just what kind of ripple effect those falls can have on us. Seemingly small events can paralyze us from acting in areas of our life without fully understanding the connections between what happened and what we are afraid will happen.

But this is life. Trying something new, falling down, and eventually, when we find the strength, find the courage, find the support, WE GET BACK UP.

We may not spring back up into action. The older we get the more timid we become, having been hurt, again and again, having been let down by life, by others, by ourselves, we can become hardened, overly cautious, convinced that the next fall will be more painful than the last, and that we might not recover from it.

But as long as we are still alive, we must get back up. When a toddler is learning to walk and inevitably falls, we don't focus on the fall, we focus on the successful steps taken before the fall, and the next steps that will surely come. As adults, the falls seem to take more of our attention and those baby steps that we take, every day, do not get the credit they deserve. Our recoveries from our falls are small works in progress, day by day. Asking for help, crying, making mistakes, these are all steps to getting back up, and they are all important.

I have a very dear friend here in Costa Rica who consistently reminds me to praise myself and each other for our small victories and for that reminder I am eternally grateful. For each day that we decide to get up, out of bed, and face our fears, no matter how silly or insignificant they may seem to others, we are choosing to live in love, not in fear. We are choosing to get back up, no matter how many times we fall down.

I have fallen a lot over the years. And the falls are never graceful. But each time I get back up with a new scar that marks my attempt at living a full life, I am reminded of the times I have succeeded, of the moments when things have gone right, worked out, and ended up so beautiful that I am motivated to continue on with this wild ride.

I don't know if this offer on the house that I want will go through. It might not. I might be crushed, disappointed, and unhappy with the result. But what I do know, is that if I fall down after taking this chance, I will most certainly get back up again.

Livin' The Dream and Waking Up Sweaty

Livin’ The Dream and Waking Up Sweaty

Part 1: Na Zdravie!

My new-found Slovakian friends, painting Na Zdravie on the wall.

It’s true, I live in paradise. The jungle is my front yard and when I wake up some mornings to the sounds of howler monkeys in the trees above me and exotic birds of all varieties singing songs as I make my local, shade grown, fair trade Costa Rican coffee which I buy from my coffee shop that is a one-minute walk from my house, you may get the impression that my life is heaven on earth. The sun illuminates over a hundred shades of green on the thousands of leaves that fill my vision in any direction and while the air is always warm, the canopy of trees provides a cool shade that makes it almost the perfect temperature, all the time. And yes, I live here. Yes, I am livin’ the dream.

But there are days, weeks, where reality comes in a whole new form, and the dream starts to look more like a nightmare. Where large spiders and scorpions take up residence in what I imagine is my home, because the truth is, the jungle is not my home. I do not live here, no matter how much I think I do, no matter how much time passes, I am not of the jungle, I am merely a long term guest. Snakes, bullet ants, cleaner ants, and about 50 other species of ant that can leave a bite almost as painful as a snake, rats, toads, cockroaches of all shapes and sizes, mosquitoes, bats, and other creatures which I cannot identify may all find their way into my house, any day or night. I share this space with them. This is one of the, at times, harsh realities of life in paradise. Another is the rain.

We’ve just finished a 5 day rain spell, which my friend will tell you was due to the full moon. I realize there are parts of the world in serious drought and I understand the predicament of the situation, after all I grew up in California during one of the driest times the state has seen, until now. But, when it rains, and not just your average rainfall, but tropical-downpour-rains for 5 days at a time, life can become challenging. The roads flood, mud covers everything; the storm can knock down trees and branches which in turn take out the power for hours at a time. All of this is normal life for me now.  And while at times it is challenging, I do love living here. 

To know what it’s like to live in the jungle, you’d simply have to live in the jungle. There is no amount of reading or preparation you can do to feel as though you have a grasp on this scenario until you arrive and stay for awhile. Not just a two week or two month trip, but really stay, long enough to know when termites are eating your house, long enough to change your own gas tank, long enough to identify the sound of death at night and sometimes the lingering smell of death if the event took place near or even in your house. If you stay that long, you might start to have a feel for what life is like in the jungle.

So, yes I am livin’ the dream, but at times I am waking up sweaty, uncomfortable, scared, and out of my element. Luckily there are reminders of why this place is so special, why I dreamed of living here for so long, and why I am still here now.

The other day at work, while the rain fell and I stared at a mostly empty street outside of my bar, I was counting down the minutes until I was off work, dying of boredom. Less than 10 customers had come in during the first 5 hours of my 6 hour shift and I couldn’t wait to be released from my liquor-filled cage. Around that time my British friend, Aisha, stopped by. She’s lived here for some years now, has built her own house here and is now pregnant with a child who will soon be born here. As she sat waiting for some food, she and I discussed various bits of nonsense when a car pulled into the driveway. The car had been by earlier in the day, filled with 4 men of Eastern European origin, although from where I could not say. The first trip had been for 4 beers for the beach and nothing more. Now, returning from the beach, the men were back and with only 45 minutes on my shift I was ready to ride it out.

The men came into the bar and ordered 4 beers. Aisha and I continued our conversation and the men drank their beers, speaking a language that, to me, sounded Polish or in that realm. Four more beers, and then 4 more, until finally the inevitable shots of guaro were requested. The men offered to buy a shot for me and now with only 30 minutes of work remaining I accepted but under the condition that they teach me to say cheers in their language. Well, it turns out the men were not speaking Polish and were not from Poland, rather they were Slovakians, speaking Slovakian. In all my travels around the world in the past 15 years, I cannot remember ever meeting a Slovakian and with this first encounter I was excited. I leaned the cheers, Na Zdravie!, after much practice and vocal coaching from my new-found friends. After several rounds of guaro (they wanted to make sure I had the pronunciation just right) my new Slovakian friends asked if they could play a Slovakian song on Youtube. I set them up on our iPad and they found the song and video they were looking for, leading to a whole new strange and small world.

The song they played is by a Slovakian band and the theme of the song is home. The video shows different small villages throughout Slovakia and references these locations as great places to call home, a la 2Pac and Dr. Dre's  “California Love”. When each man’s home town was referenced, a celebration ensued. The video also shows the Slovakian band performing at a festival, the largest festival in Slovakia. Well, remember my British friend Aisha, who is still sitting at the bar with us? It just so happens that when she is not living in Costa Rica, she is building festival stages throughout Europe and she built the festival stage where this music video is taking place! Talk about a small, fucking world. 

So here we are, a Brit, a Californian, 4 Slovaks, at a bar in Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica, drinking guaro (Aisha has water, come on now, she’s pregnant) saying Na Zdravie to reinforce our new-found and of course, short lived friendship and I remembered why I wanted to live here in the first place. While it may seem in-congruent with my current profession of part time Caribbean bartender, I actually hold a Bachelor of Arts Degree in Global Studies with an emphasis on Socio-economic and Political Issues in Africa from the University of California and there was a time where I believed my path in life would lead me to work at The United Nations or with an international NGO such as Oxfam or Doctors without Borders. While things didn’t quite go as planned (but really, how often does that actually happen) my desire to surround myself with people from all over the world, to constantly learn new customs, new cultures,  and new ways to say cheers, did  not fade away. I have an unrelenting passion to know more about this world we live in, to meet more of the people who live here, to ask them where they are from, what’s it like there, to understand the billions of different possibilities for life that are all happening simultaneously at this very moment. And that’s why I first fell in love with this place.

When you travel you are exposed to new places, new people, new experiences, but to constantly travel takes a lot of money and can start to get lonely. For me, I can be on the road for about 2 months before I long for a familiar bed and some shelves to set my belongings on. But, by living in a place that continuously has travelers passing through, I can continue to meet new people and have new experiences while standing still, at least for a while. 

The experience I had at work the other day was so strange and beautiful and hilarious that it had to be real. There is no way to make up a scenario like that, I don’t care how good you are at writing fiction. Something like that is unique and I got to live it, the perfect moment of worlds colliding, a brief glimpse of connection, a reminder that we all do share something that unites us, that makes us partners in this human roller coaster of life. 

As I lived the event, I was happy, truly happy. As I told the story of the event to my friend last night, I was laughing at the absurdity of it all. And as I write the story now I find myself crying a bit because I know I will never see those men again. And it’s beautiful and sad and poetic all at the same time to know that these fleeting moments are what make up life. Each moment is like a butterfly, passing by you, beautiful and right in front of you for just a moment, and then gone, forever, unattainable, unique, and mysterious.

So, while the men are gone now and the moment has passed, I am left with the memory. Another to add to the archives of this strange life that I’m living. This life that so far, has taken me to over 20 different countries, introduced me to people from all over the world, taught me that you never stand still in the jungle for too long, you never cage a river minnow, and you never know what’s coming next. 

At some point today, take a moment, raise your glass and say Na Zdravie (just try your best) to honor this weird little thing we call life. 

Here’s to livin’ the dream and waking up sweaty!

Puerto Viejo Nightlife Part 3: Tasty Waves Cantina

For this blog, you now gotta go here, and read all about Tasty Waves Cantina on my new website, Party Puerto Viejo! Stay up to date with Puerto Viejo Nightlife and Enjoy!

Puerto Viejo Nightlife Part 2:The Lazy Mon

To read this blog about all the awesome stuff happening at The Lazy Mon please go here, and while you're at it, check out the rest of our site, Party Puerto Viejo to stay up to date on Puerto Viejo Nightlife

Puerto Viejo Nightlife Part 1: Mango Sunset

Here's the deal. Jahsiah and I have recently decided to start a new business and website called Party Puerto Viejo. All of the blogs that I have done and will do concerning Puerto Viejo Nightlife will now be featured in the blog section of Party Puerto Viejo, so to read about Mango's Sunset, please click here!

Puerto Viejo, How I Love Thee

I gazed out the window as the plane began it's descent into Juan Santamaria International Airport in Alajuela, just outside the capitol, San Jose. Even though this was the biggest metropolitan area of the country, it was so green and lush. From every angle there were hills covered with trees, framing the Central American excuse for a big city. Memories of family vacations to Hawaii surfaced and I knew I was going to like this place. Getting off the plane and out of the airport the air was so thick and heavy, like a blanket draped over your shoulders, which produced an almost instant layer of sweat, making me stare in wonder at the taxi and shuttle drivers clothed in button up shirts and long pants. The chaos of cries from every direction was overwhelming. "Taxi! Taxi! You need taxi?!". No, I did not need a taxi as I was part of a volunteer group and our shuttle arrangements to take us to our hostel were already set. I liked this place. I liked the thick air, the pushy taxi drivers, the chaotic small airport.

That was my first impression of Costa Rica. I came here when I was 18 on a volunteer program with International Student Volunteers. One month in Costa Rica, which included a two week home-stay in a small community in the Alajuela Province, followed by a two week eco tour of the country, starting on the Pacific side and ending on the Caribbean. I was captivated by everything I saw and I knew within minutes of my arrival that I would end up living in this funky little country. The long bus rides through mountainous forests, stopping for snakes in the road, monkeys in the trees above, passing through small communities with nothing more than a soda as the center of entertainment, arriving at beaches that made you think you'd fallen into a postcard. I drank it all in and I couldn't quench my thirst. After that one month, I returned home and the only thing on my mind was how and when I could get back to Costa Rica. For the next ten years it was all I talked about. Everyone who knew me knew how obsessed I was with this place that some had heard of, since their cousin or their aunt had been there for their honeymoon or on vacation a few years ago.

And so, over the next decade I returned to Costa Rica every few years, falling more and more in love. The gallo pinto, the guaro, the Imperial, the friendly disposition of Costa Ricans, the lush vegetation everywhere you looked, the laid back vibe, the wildness of it all, I feel more and more deeply in love with each visit. Every time I returned I would go to a part of the country I had been before, like Arenal or Monteverde or Tortuguero, and I would also visit a new place. It wasn't until my fourth visit that I discovered what is now my home, Puerto Viejo.

To be honest, I didn't really like Puerto Viejo the first time I came here. The place we stayed was run down and some bummy surfers who were staying there as well stole our food out of the communal kitchen. The vibe was a bit aggressive and the town didn't seem to have much to offer if you didn't plan on surfing your days away. So, after a few nights we headed down to the end of the road, Manzanillo. Much quieter and much more removed, we found Manzanillo to be to our liking. We made friends with a guy who was building a hostel and the plan was hatched that if we moved down we could stay with him and help run the place. So set in motion the events of the next 4 years of my life.

We'll fast forward a bit, past the story of our attempted drive to Costa Rica and our homeless stint on the beaches of Mexico, that's for another time, but in the end we landed in Puerto Viejo and all of my dreams came true. I had accomplished the largest life goal that I had set out for myself thus far. I was finally living in my happy place. I was worried that when I got here, reality would get the better of me and I would realize that this place wasn't as great as I had made it out to be for all these years, that the vacation would be over and in the end this place would be just like any other place, stagnant, boring, fake. But, thankfully, after one year of living here, I find that I am still in love, with not just this country, but Puerto Viejo specifically. I've been with my boyfriend for 5 years, I've had my dogs for 7 years, and I've been in love with Costa Rica for 11 years, so this is the longest relationship I've ever had, and I'm proud to say it's still a healthy one (minus all the guaro).

For the sake of the Buzzfeed and Facebook generation, I would like to list the reasons why I love Puerto Viejo. I will use bullet points because I think it makes it easier for people who like to skim ahead and they also give off the air of importance.

• Great Weather Year Round Sure there are days and weeks of torrential rain, but for the most part, you can live without ever wearing anything other than shorts and a tank top. It's always warm, if not down right hot, which makes every day a beach day, a great day for languidly lounging in a hammock, walking dogs, and drinking cold beer. Flip flops are the only shoes you'll ever need and you don't need to worry about whether or not you need to bring a jacket when you go out for the night.

• Street Food is Abundant and Cheap I'm a sucker for street food; from pad thai on the streets of Bangkok to bacon wrapped hot dogs in the Mission, I love buying food from street vendors and sampling some of the finest local cuisine for the most affordable price. Here in Puerto Viejo we are blessed with pattys, meat sticks (more eloquently known throughout the world as kabobs), empanadas, fried chicken, and my personal favorite taco chinos, or simply put, egg rolls. There are even more options as well, usually being carried around by some traveling gypsy Argentinians, but I'm not sure what to call most of these items. All I know is that for one or two dollars you can have your hands on some awesome piece of food and you don't even have to get off your bike to complete the transaction.

• You Can Bike Everywhere When we first moved here, we lived in what I like to call The Jungle Mansion. It was far from town and we had to drive most places, especially at night since the 3 kilometer road through the jungle wasn't exactly easy to navigate on a bike. But, once we moved to town we entered the world of beach cruisers and I have never looked back. I love biking everywhere, to work, to go grocery shopping, to go to dinner, or meet up with friends, biking makes me feel like a kid again. Riding bikes has got to be the most enjoyable way to commute ever, and I think everyone in the world would be much happier if we all just rode bikes more often.

• The Absence of Parking Tickets and Smart Phones My biggest grievance with "civilized" society is the smart phone and second to that is the infamous street sweeping ticket. Aside from fresh off the boat tourists at my bar asking for the wifi password, you don't see many smart phones down here. A lot of the locals have them, but they don't dominate social settings as they do in California. When you spend time with your friends, you're not constantly interrupted by Facebook notifications, text messages, or Instagram updates. It's nice being in the company of your peers and actually having conversations. The other absence I am incredibly found of in Puerto Viejo is the parking ticket. Tickets from street sweeping, expired meters,and expired registration do not exist here and this makes me profoundly happy. Trying to remember that you can't park your car in front of your house or apartment on the 2nd and 4th Thursday and the 1st and 3rd Wednesday is something that I hope to never experience ever again. Whenever a bat flies into my head, or a giant spider turns up in my bathroom, I just remind myself that it's been over year since one of those stupid little Interceptors has placed a $72 ticket on my dash right as I'm running outside to move my car.

• Monkeys and Sloths, Oh My! I'm sorry, but there is really nothing cooler in life than waking up, rolling over in your bed and seeing a sloth, silently and stealthily passing by your bedroom window. And how about troops of monkeys playing in the trees above you while you work at a beach bar? Sorry, but my life is cool, probably cooler than yours.

• Characters, Everywhere You Look This place is bizarre and as such, it is filled with many bizarre people. From the locals who have grown up in this removed and slightly isolated corner of the world, to the foreigners who have flocked here for a variety of reasons like retirement, entrepreneurship, or avoiding felony charges back home, everyone down here is a little weird, myself included. People here are different and I like to think of this place as the Island of Misfit Toys, although it is a not an island, even though lots of people who vacation here still sometimes think it is. I love it, traveling salesmen that offer up pillows and back scratchers, wizards, old surfers who got lost in the waves, musicians, bar and restaurant owners, everyone here has a different story, and each one is just as interesting as the next. There is no end to the entertainment that can come from striking up a conversation with a random person at the bar or at the bus stop. It's like constantly living in one of those comedic movies that tells vignettes of different characters and then has all of the stories intersect at different times. 

• Endless Hours of Free Entertainment Aside from talking to the myriad of characters in town, this place can also offer up endless hours of free activities and entertainment. Spending the day at the beach, walking through the jungle, or exploring what's further down the road costs nothing and no matter how many times you visit the same place, there is always something new to see. Butterflies, iguanas, monkeys, sloths, birds, caterpillars, snakes, frogs, and horses are plentiful and you never know what you will encounter just off the main road if you venture in a ways. For a little bit of money you can buy a bike and take yourself on countless expeditions, exploring new paths. The rivers are always changing, as is the ocean itself and you can bear witness to new waterways and shorelines every day. Fruit grows freely and as you explore you can dine on some of nature's finest offerings, all without ever spending a penny. Maybe I didn't know where to go back home, but I never felt like there was so much to do without costing anything. I think the freedom this place offers is what is so appealing to so many of us freaks and miscreants. Wandering in the quiet beauty of a place like this, you can truly let your mind go and be open to any inspiration that comes your way.

 I know this place is not for everyone, and I'm happy about that. If we all loved it to the same degree, it would be overcrowded and overrun with people from everywhere flocking to Puerto Viejo and then it would lose its charm. I know that I may outgrow this place, I may change and evolve and this place may no longer suit me, my wants, dreams, or desires. As with all relationships, change is inevitable. And I'm OK with that. I love this place for what it is right now, and for who I am while I'm here. I'm content knowing that I made it, and that it was, in the end, what I wanted it to be, and so much more. More and more I think of this place as Never Never Land, the place where we come to never grow up, to stay young, to live as if we have no cares in the world. Maybe one day we'll have to leave, have to grow up, have to get "real" about life and responsibilities, and street sweeping tickets. Maybe one day I'll decide that riding a bike is silly and something that only kids should do, that laying on the beach is a waste of time, and that watching monkeys play in the trees isn't that cool. But, somehow I doubt that very much.

So, if you need me, or you want to find me and you're not quite sure how to get here, to Never Never Land, just follow the second star to the right, and I'll be here, falling deeper and deeper in love with my life.

"The second star to the right, shines in the night for you

To tell you that the dreams you plan, really can come true

The second star to the right, shines with a light so rare

And if it's Never Land you need

It's light will lead you there"

Puerto Viejo: A Visitor's Guide

A week ago, my parents came to visit me and Jahsiah. We've had other visitors, a handful of friends who came down to see us in Puerto Viejo last summer, about 5 months after we had arrived at our paradise destination. But, the parental visit presented different opportunities.

We've been living in Puerto Viejo for just under a year now. In fact our one year anniversary of

No, this is not our parent's hotel. This is where we live!

moving to Puerto Viejo de Talamanca, Costa Rica is coming up on January 29th, the day we first moved into our Jungle Mansion in Cocles. For this visit, we knew a bit more of the area, knew more people, and had the ability to take time off work to spend the week playing tour guides. When our other friends had come to visit, I wasn't able to take time off work for financial reasons, so my friends did a lot of exploring on their own. Also, they stayed with us in our Jungle Mansion located about 3 kilometers in the jungle, so not exactly right outside of town. But, since we live closer to town now, we had the use of my parents rental car, and I was gleefully on sabbatical for one week, we decided to make the most of it and show the folks everything Puerto Viejo has to offer.

Finding a balance in Puerto can be tricky; just ask anyone who lives here or has visited for a prolonged period of time. This small town has a lot to offer, but it's easy to get sucked into a routine, a small click, a pattern of eating at the same restaurants, swimming at the same beach, and drinking the same beer at the same bar night after night. Of course we wanted to show the folks the usual hang outs, Tasty Waves, Lazy Mon, Flip Flops, but we also wanted to give them a taste of the finer things that we usually don't partake in. This world is split into things locals can afford, and things tourists can afford. After one year, we are more like locals than we are tourists, and so we needed to branch out a bit, rack our brains with activities that don't normally make the weekly cut, and really try to give my parents a glimpse into the wonder and magic that is Puerto Viejo.

You see, one of things about this place is that everything moves slowly. And witnessing some of the magic that can happen here is a matter of moving just as slowly, and being in the right place at the right time. With only week to experience this town, it can be tricky to have those remarkable experiences that make it so special. Seeing a troop of Howler Monkeys play in the trees above you, or spotting a sloth making his way from tree to tree, or having a hummingbird fly up to you to say good morning, these are things that make me love this place, but you can't book a tour to ensure you have these moments. And even if you could, there's a good chance it would get rained out the day you booked it for, or that you would wake up, suffering a bout of the dreaded Cocles Cleanse (read Montezuma's Revenge for those of you who aren't familiar with this term). Capturing the beauty of this funky little spot is about as hard as taking a picture of a blue morpho butterfly in flight; the odds are not in your favor.

But, we did our best and I think the folks enjoyed their time here, despite the rain, despite the stomach bugs, despite the heat, the mosquitoes, the sometimes painfully slow pace of life, despite the secondhand weed smoke, the rarely maintained bathrooms, the ants than can inflict more pain in a single bite than you can ever imagine.

So, the next time you have visitors in town and you're wondering how you can try and show them all the great things this place has to offer, refer to this guide as a quick reference. One thing I was reminded of, playing both tour guide and tourist during my parent's stay, was just how much there is to do here. In one week we covered the main highlights, but in reality, there a lot of things we missed out on based on weather, time of year, and other factors out of our control. Guess that means they'll just have to come back for another trip.

Things to Do in Puerto Viejo When You Have Guests, or When you Are the Guest:

The view from the chocolate tasting lounge.

• Caribeans Chocolate Forest Tour: I've done this tour twice now and I loved it even more the second time around. This has got to be one of the best things to do while in Puerto Viejo. You learn so much about the history of cacao, the history of the area, and of course you get to eat a  lot of chocolate. And I really mean a lot! The tour takes place on Tuesdays and Thursdays at either 10am or 2pm and on Saturdays at 2pm. It's such a great experience for anyone, really something that the whole family can enjoy so it's a great thing to do with anyone who visits.

• The Jaguar Rescue Center: 5 years ago, when Jahsiah and I first came to Puerto Viejo on vacation with our two friends, we ended up at The Jaguar Rescue Center, but it wasn't what it is now. Back then, it was simply a house and the couple who lived there were working to educate people on the wildlife of the area, rehabilitate animals who had been hurt or suffered some injury or misfortune with the intention of releasing them back into the wild. A few volunteers helped out and you mainly made a donation to hang out in the yard for a few hours, play with monkeys, meet sloths, and see all the snakes that live in the Caribbean. Now, The Jaguar Rescue Center is a full blown operation, doing great work in the area, and acting as a wildlife vet and invaluable resource in the area. For $15 you can experience a guided tour of the facility, which takes about 2 hours. During this time you will see monkeys, sloths, a crocodile, a caiman, all of the snakes of the area, deer, anteaters, owls, toucans, and a variety of other animals that the center is currently caring for. Actually, I don't know what you'll see, because the residents of The Jaguar Rescue Center changes frequently as rehabilitated animals are released back into the wild and new critters arrive. Either way, this a great place to learn about the environment, the animals, the impacts of humans and tourism, and support a great cause. Tours take place daily at either 9:30 or 11:30am and are available in English or Spanish. 

 

One of the many sloths at The Jaguar Rescue Center

Meet Toucy Toucy, a noisy but endearing resident of The Jaguar Rescue Center

• Manzanillo Adventure Tours: If you don't have time to take a 5 hour taxi up to Tortuguero to

  

  Getting ready to explore the mangroves after a bit of ocean kayaking.

  
  

  kayak in the mangroves, don't worry. In Manzanillo, literally the town at the end of the road, just 13 kilometers south of Puerto Viejo, you can experience a real life Jungle Cruise (you know, the Disney ride, right?). Our friend Ferguson, who we meet on that trip 5 years ago, is the owner and operator of Manzanillo Adventure Tours, a small company taking visitors on kayaking, snorkeling, and hiking excursions through The Gandoca-Manzanillo National Wildlife Refuge, a truly wild area with 10 kilometer beach strip, a 740 acre forest, a coral reef and 2 swamps. We weren't able to snorkel as the water was too murky from all the rain we've been experiencing, but we did ocean kayak, which was so much fun, down to a the river mouth. From there we went up through the mangrove as far as we could, until we reached a fallen tree that blocked our way. The water was so still and glassy that the reflection on the water looked an exact mirror image of the jungle, with the only disturbance coming from our paddles. I really felt like I was on the Jungle Cruise, but for real. The Jungle Cruise is one of my top 5 favorite rides of all time, so I was super happy, as you can imagine. Afterwards, we hiked out to the point in Manzanillo, a great look out spot, where you can look up mile after mile of dense jungle. The Gandoca-Manzanillo Refuge is just that, a Refuge, not a National Park, so there isn't the same kind of infrastructure here as in Cahuita. No visitor center, no park officials, no maintained path, so exploring this area is either a DYI affair, or you can go with Ferguson, a local guide who can help make the day that much more memorable. I can't wait to go back and play with the kayaks more. Ferguson is great as making sure everyone has fun, and pushes their limits, doing things they might not think they can. He really does make it an adventure tour. Check him out on Facebook to set up a tour. Or just roll through town and ask around, Manzanillo is only about 3 blocks by 3 blocks, so it's not hard to find people. 

  

  Sergio Ferguson, our first friend in the Caribe Sur. Our connection with this guy is what spawned this whole adventure! Thank you Ferguson!!!!!

• A Day At The Beach: This seems self explanatory, but let me elaborate. Depending on what time of year you visit Puerto Viejo, the beaches can have different personalities. If you come down in the fall, Playa Cocles is just perfect for swimming. If you come in the winter, watch out! You're not getting in the water at Playa Cocles unless your a semi-pro or pro surfer, or the lifeguards are on duty. The undertow is strong and the current is fierce. So, you have to know which beach to visit when. A good standard year round is Punta Uva, just south of Puerto Viejo, but north of Manzanillo. Punta Uva is gorgeous, the water is great for swimming year round, and if the water is clear you can snorkel right off the beach, no tour necessary. The beach in Manzanillo is other great place to lounge about, relaxing and playing in the small, gentle waves. Cocles can be a fun place to watch surfers, and the beaches in town are a great place to hang out with small kids, as the reef system off shore stops any waves from reaching the shore. When you have limited time in town, you might have to rearrange your plans when a sunny day pops up. If it's the rainy season, take advantage of sunny days to hit the beach. We only had one true beach day, since the weather was off and on, and we had so many other activities planned. 

  

  Punta Uva, straight off a postcard.

•  Cahuita National Park: Make the effort to take a day trip to Cahuita and visit the National Park. It's just a 30 minute drive or bus ride north of Puerto Viejo, and yes it's another sleepy little Caribbean town with great beaches, friendly locals, and good food. But, don't count it as redundant just yet. Every time I have walked in this park, which is now about 6 or 7 times, I have seen monkeys, sloths, birds, and other animals in the wild. Sure, you just saw them at The Jaguar Rescue Center, but now you get to see them in the wild, which really is a lot cooler. During our 2 hours in the park, which was interrupted with sprinkles on and off, we saw a troop of Howler monkeys, a troop of white-faced Capuchin monkeys, two sloths, an iguana, a raccoon, butterflies, and birds. The entrance to the park is donation based, and the bus only costs a couple of bucks, so it's a cost effective way to experience life in the rainforest. Take a day, sober up, and get your hike on!

  

  Mom drinking a CocoLoco before exploring Cahuita

   National Park.

And then there's eating. I won't bore you with the details of where to eat in town. There are so many great restaurants to try out, its unbelievable. For such a small town, you really can experience a wide range of culinary treats. Do yourself a favor, pull up the list of places to eat on TripAdvisor, and make your way down. My top picks? Malbecs, Koki Beach, Tasty Waves, Lazlo's Catch of the Day, and of course Bread and Chocolate. 

I won't go into the details on the nightlife in Puerto Viejo just yet, we'll save that for another day. But, feel free to use this as a guide for what to do with friends or family come to town. It's a strange little place, filled with odd people who have decided that this is where we want to live. I know it's not for everyone, I know a lot of people think we're crazy for trading in good roads, movie theaters, Starbucks coffee, and consistent trash pick up in exchange for spotty internet, sporadic down pours, 4am wake up calls from Howler monkeys, the chance of dengue, and seemingly random inventory at all restaurants, bars, and grocery stores, but what can I say, I love this town, and I want people who visit to love it too. Or at the very least, glimpse a bit of the magic that we are fortunate enough to experience daily.

Don't Worry, Be Happy

I thought that upon moving to the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica I would undergo an artistic awakening, elevating my status of creativity to that of Van Gogh, Jackson Pollock, Salvador Dali, and Timothy Henry. I imagined that the lush jungle, filled with vibrantly colored flowers, exotic animals, and rare and exquisite birds would inspired in me paintings and art projects of epic proportions. The drive from California to the end of the road in Manzanillo was meant to stir to life hidden talents and untouched magic dwelling deep inside my self conscience.

This was not the case.

In my old apartment in Oakland, I spent many a nights sitting around with close friends painting anything and everything we could get our hands on, but I didn't feel like I was making any art that was truly great. Night after night, sitting on the floor, re-purposing someone elses trash into useful, colorful items for my house, I still felt stifled. It was like I couldn't breath. But in hindsight, the out pour of creative energy was massive. My friends and I would sit there for hours, listening to music and creating, so many different things that the house began to overflow with items we had painted, sewn, modge-podged, cut-up, and glued back together.

I have begun to realize why I was so inspired in Oakland and can't seem to pick up a paint brush in the Caribbean. I'm happy. I don't want to make a huge generalization about artitsts, but a large majority of great art is born out of great strife. Pain, misery, discontent, frusturation, these emotions lend an edge to us, which greats a dynamic, whereby we feel the need to express ourselves. For me, being unhappy in Oakland pushed me to create, and to write. It's this same, strange feeling of happiness that has lead to my writer's block. If I'm not complaining about the state of the world, the state of my country, or my city, or the state of my own mental health, what am I really talking about? And why? Who wants to read about someone who is so damn happy?

Another identity crisis has been born out of my newfound joy. For years I have been the friend that you come to with your problems. I'm really good at listening to people's problems, issues, helping them through hard times, giving them advice on how to change their life. My ability to empathize and relate to my friends through their dark times felt like my greatest talent that I had to offer, and I believe (who knows, though I could be wrong), that I helped a lot of people kickstart the next chapter in their life and deal with some of the challenges they were facing. Since leaving behind my own angst and dispair, I feel I am also losing this talent as well.

It's not that I can no longer empathize with others about their issues, it's just that I can't relate as much anymore. When I hear my friends complaining about their problems, I feel a disconnect.

I don't have anymore problems.

Sure, some things happen, like my dog getting sick and throwing up all night long. Or rain the day I did laundry so my clothes have to stay on the line for another sunny day. Sometimes the internet goes out and I have to go to my friend's hostel to do my online work, but other than that, I have no problems. My relationship is great. My house is great. My job is great. I love my life. My family is happy and healthy. My dogs get a walk to the beach everyday. My life is good. I live in the Caribbean and I ride my bike around this whacky little town that I now call home.

The only thing I have to complain about, is that I have nothing to complain about. And so begins the deconstruction of the narrative of my life as I have known it. Growing up in the United States it seems there are always problems. Big problems, national problems, crime, unemployment, poverty, over-crowded prisons, natural disasters, political scandals, divorce rates on the rise, illiterate children, teen moms, the list of horrible problems goes on and on. So, we as individuals are conditioned to believe that our lives are filled with insurmountable problems that also need solving before the next problem arises. My existence, up until now, has been problem solving, for myself and my friends. And when a problem was so great that I could not solve it, the emotions associated with that problem spilled out in the form of paint, poetry, and passion.

I'm not saying moving to a new place will immediately solve all your problems. A new location doesn't mean all your deep-seeded issues just melt away, but it can change the narrative that you've created for yourself. I'm not endorsing running away from your problems, either. That doesn't tend to work. But if there is a life you've envisioned for yourself, and you're not living it, find a way to make it happen. Define your own reality.

Maybe it's all the sunshine down here, all the tanned, attractive people biking around in bathing suits, or the fact that it's always happy hour at some bar in town. Maybe it's the organic vegetables and chicken that I eat, or the fresh seafood. Maybe it's the hummingbirds that come and say good morning every day while I sit on my porch. Who knows what is responsible for all this damn happiness. All I know is life is good. Now, I just need to find a way to create art out of this new-found happiness and see if joy can be just as responsible for great works of art as angst is.

Have a listen to this today, and Don't Worry, Be Happy.

I'm going, going, back back to Cali, Cali!

Plane tickets are booked and my affairs are in order. Well, that's not true, I have a lot of affairs to handle before my trip home in a few weeks. I have to change my bus ticket that proves I'm leaving Costa Rica after 3 months, per the law, book my shuttle and my hostel for my two nights in San Jose on either end of my trip, and move to a new house, but that will all take care of itself somehow, I'm sure. So, at least the plane tickets are booked!

My little nephew!!!!!!

My 2 week California adventure begins in Irvine with my sister, my brother-in-law, and my new nephew! I get to meet the little guy for the first time. He was born on July 5th so he will officially be 2 months, minus 1 day old, when I meet him. So excited to hold the little guy! I get to spend one week with the little man and begin my role as Cool Aunt Liz, or Crazy Aunt Liz, whichever seems more appropriate.

After my week in Irvine, I book it to Oakland and Martinez for a week of quality time with friends and parents. I'll stay in my old apartment, which 2 of my friends moved into when Jahsiah and I left for this crazy adventure. I'll get to go through some boxes of stuff that I left behind and determine if anything is worth bringing back down to the jungle. See friends, see folks, eat food that I've been missing, and be a city girl for a few days, before returning to my funky little beach town, hidden in the jungles of Costa Rica.

I did a whirlwind trip to Southern California back in March, returning for a family birthday party, for both my Grandpa and my Aunt. I was only there for 3 days, still managed to see almost my whole family on my Dad's side, and 2 of my best friends, Kat and Joanna, who happened to be in LA for a wedding event that weekend. It was crazy and fast paced, and while 2 weeks isn't a very long trip, it's going to seem like ages compared to the 3 days I spent in California a few months ago.

Me, Kat, and Joanna, lucky enough to spend one day together back in March.

Celebrating my Grandpa's and my Aunt Marilyn's Birthdays!!!!

I'm a little worried that I'm going to feel totally overwhelmed by life in California after almost 8 months living in the Caribbean. Life moves slowly down here, there is only one road, off of which all points of interest are located. I haven't seen or heard a commercial or a newspaper in a long time. There are no homeless people harassing me on the street when I have to go run an errand by myself. No parking tickets, no stop lights, no car alarms, no Starbucks, McDonalds, Chevrons, or any chain of any kind.


I might freak out. I probably will freak out. But I'm excited for a few things that I've started to get homesick for. While there a lot of things that I don't love about California and the Bay Area, there a lot of things that I do love, and miss, so here's a little list of things I want to do when I'm home:

• Drink good beer! In Costa Rica, there is a very limited selection of beer. Imperial, Pilsen, Imperial Silver, Pilsen Frost, Imperial Light. They are all very light, and I believe they are actually all the same beer, with different labels to make you feel like you have options. I can't wait to go to a bar, order something strong, an IPA, a red ale, a porter, a brown ale, probably one of each. Something on tap, not in a bottle and sip that beer, hopefully sitting outside feeling the California sun on my shoulders.
• Sip on some whiskey. Don't get me wrong, Guaro, Costa Rican cane alcohol, has it's time and place, and doing shot after shot on a Tasty Tuesday can be fun. But man, I'm ready for a shot of Maker's Mark that I can slowly sip on while sitting with my good friends and hearing about their lives over the past few months.
• East Chinese food. I want an egg roll. Enough said.
• Sit on my old stoop. My apartment in Oakland was home for 4 years, and while I was super ready to leave after those 4 years, that stoop holds many great memories for me. Long nights with friends, watching the sun come up, talking to the neighborhood folk as they pass by at all hours of the nights, mini therapy sessions to help everyone work out the awkwardness that are our 20's, hearing the mailbox vibrate from the music that is playing from Jahsiah's old studio, admiring the garden that we built with the help of so many people. That stoop, more so than any other place in Oakland, represents home. And I want to sit on it with my friends!
• See a play at Altarena. For over 3 years I worked as the Box Office Manager for the Altarena Playhouse in Alameda. I LOVED that job! Being surrounded by people that love the arts, that are passionate about what they are doing, the energy there was great and through that job I meet so many wonderful people, too many names to list. High up on that list is Star Valdez. And it just so happens, serendipitously, that I will be in Oakland for the closing weekend of The Odd Couple. I already have a date night planned with Kat to volunteer as wine pourers and see the show one night. High Street, my old stomping grounds! Get ready, I'm coming!
• Backyard BBQ. Fall in the Bay Area is the best time of year. Summer doesn't really hit until September and October, when the weather is at it's best, which means BBQs. My friends don't know this yet, but someone is going to throw a BBQ for me in their backyard, or maybe their front yard depending on who the lucky volunteer is. I want to have a day, since I really only have 1 week and that's not a lot of time to try and see everyone I love, where all my friends can come over, hang out, drink beer, play games, shot the shit, and eat good food. All the things that we do best. I have already been imagining this day and how much fun it's going to be. SO. EXCITED.

Now, there are a lot of other things that I really want to do while I'm in California. I want to see as much of my family and friends as is possible. I want to eat frozen yogurt with my sister. I want to go to the secret, silent hot tubs in Berkeley. I want to meet Kat's new dog and take her for a walk. I want to meet Joanna's roommates and see her new apartment. The list is getting pretty long the more I think about it. But, since I'll be arriving with just a backpack, not a lot of money, no wheels or mode of transportation, I'm going to be up for whatever. I figure I'll be like a pinball, and just bounce around wherever other people push me, and that's totally fine!

When I left Oakland, I was burnt on the place. But now after so many months and my upcoming trip, I'm becoming nostalgic for certain Oakland experiences. That's one of the greatest parts about traveling, you remember to love your home again. As always, I'll be sad leaving my dogs, and this time my boyfriend as well. But I think this trip will be really good for me to gain some more perspective as to what I'm doing in Costa Rica in the first place and what I hope to accomplish in the next few years of my life. Regardless of how it all works out, it's going to be a fun trip.

So mark your calenders, California! Liz Moore touches down on September 4th in Irvine and September 10th in Oakland. Get ready!!!!!!

P.S. Who wants to pick me up from the airport?