Category: Travel

We’re in Costa Rica!

We are in Costa Rica and the place we are at tonight happens to have wifi, woohoo!
We landed in the afternoon, it was raining, but by the time we got outside it had stopped. We didn’t see much yet, as the sun sets slightly before 6 p.m. But we hear a lot from the outside! Insects, presumably. Many of them.

Right after sunset, Alajuela
Right after sunset, Alajuela

The flight was long but OK. Entertainment wasn’t so much provided by the in-flight TVs –there was one every five rows, attached from the ceiling, and while the list of films was impressive on paper, they showed only a couple. Instead, some of the entertainment was provided by a group of eleven Russian next to us, all males. The stewardess even took from them a big bottle of alcohol, and kept coming back, asking them to not stand in the aisle. There was this one massive guy, one as we see in movies, and he acted very much like he was either a body guard, or a handyman –or both. All of them looked Russian, to the exception of two old men, who looked British, and one teenager. The boy didn’t look like any of them, except he had blue eyes. The rest of our entertainment came from eating tray food, playing Angry Birds, listening to music, and sleeping. Sleeping wasn’t an issue. We went to bed real late the night before and woke up entirely too early.

Fast forward to the car rental place at a five-minute drive in shuttle from the San Jose airport. The people wanted us to rent a GPS and were amused that Vladimir refused because we’re using the program *he* wrote. Amused and doubtful. One of them repeated that there is only one GPS program that works in Costa Rica, because they don’t really have addresses there. Anyway. It took us where we wanted, all right.

Porcelaine rose
Porcelaine rose

Where we wanted is Tetual Norte, in Alajuela, not far from San Jose, and thirty kilometers away from Volcan Poas –where we’ll go tomorrow. We arrived shortly after sunset. The colours were really pretty and the noises from trees and bushes were pleasant. We ate an early dinner of Indian cuisine.

Insect with rear legs like leaves
Insect with rear legs like leaves

Here is an overview of our holiday:
Volcan Poas tomorrow morning and then to the Arenal where we’ll stay three days. Followed by two days near the Manuel Antonio Park, two days near the Parque Nacional Los Quetzales, three days in the Osa Peninsula near the Corcovado Park. We’ll then spend one last day near San Jose before we fly back in two weeks.

Hummingbird
Hummingbird

See my Flickr album (241 photos).

Visited 21 countries (9.33%)

[This post originally appeared in Dullicious, where I blogged as Barbie-dull for several years.]

Visited countries: 21 (9.33%)

Visited countries: 21 (9.33%)

I added Czech Republic to the list of countries I visited. That was last Summer. Updating the map of visited countries is a pretext really, as I meant to blog about travels, after chatting with an old friend of mine.

He realized he didn’t know me as well as he thought when I told him I wasn’t actually seeking to travel. I consider myself extremely fortunate that my work took me to many incredible places. And I’m very grateful to the friends and lovers who engineered my personal travels.

I like to be somewhere else. It is all that is around travelling that is stressful. Getting used to the idea of it first, which takes some time. It is like a quiet struggle between the curious me and the stay-at-home me. This struggle may last until the very last moment. The curious me knows it is going to be wonderful and how this should be a motivation. The other me knows it will be tiring, expensive. The other me knows the amount of work that will await upon returning.

Then there is packing. An additional burden that would not happen if I were to stay home. I pack lightly, quickly and most of the time efficiently. I have learnt that after years of travelling for W3C. Of course, unpacking is equally burdensome. It means laundry.

Also, there is the stress of the journey, be that flying or driving or else (we took a ferry recently for our holiday in Corsica and Sardinia). Flying is the worst. Not that I’m afraid to be on a plane. It’s rather that I hate airport so-called security. What a gigantic waste of time and what a monumental buffoonery. I am exaggerating for emphasis.

At least, none of my anxiety was ever turned towards dreading any danger, or fearing I wouldn’t like the place. I have enjoyed all of my travels so far.

So at last, there is being somewhere else. Enjoying different settings, foods, climate, a different culture, sometimes a different language. Taking photos. Thinking how incredibly lucky I am to be there. Enjoying the compagny. Taking a break from the everyday life. Feeling how tangibly time passes faster.

“Gipsy, give me your tears”


“Gipsy, give me your tears!”

On my way back to the pharmacy just now, a gipsy talked to me. Dude, that was so weird!

I *must* blag about it 😉

She said I would travel abroad, but not just now. Well, I didn’t say, but the taxi picks me up in 10 minutes to go to the airport; I’m going to Boston for a few days, for work.

She told me to remember the number “19” because it is going to be important in the upcoming months.

She asked me if the initials M J F meant anything to me and I said no. But she said I should keep them in mind because they will matter soon.

Then she gave me a white plastic “stone” from the Saintes-Marie de la Mer, where she comes from). It’s ugly. She said people must treat gipsies right (and she meant “generously”), so I gave her 5 euros. She must have thought she was in potentially good compagny, so she went on and read my palm.

She said I was lucky and other stuff and that I had an excellent memory (wrong!)
She asked me if I had undergone surgery in my life and I said no, and she said I never would. Amen.

That’s when she said it usually costs EUR 20 to 30 for palm reading. She was _that_ close to add “otherwise the predictions don’t work”, I’m sure.

I didn’t give her any more money but I’ll slip the plastic thingie in my bag, just in case 😉

Update: I just thought I’d mention that the flight attendant, seeing I was pregnent, moved me from a seat at row 11 (exit) to row… 19!
No update on MJF.

Language barrier, problems reaching out

My parents sent me to the UK for 3 weeks, one summer, when I was 10. I stayed at the Carvers’, in Frome, not far from Bristol and Bath.

I don’t know why, but today I was reminded of watching TV during a weekend afternoon with their daughter, who was 13 years old. A soap opera was on and I was struggling (and quite failing) to understand what was going on.

I thought I had figured out the main female character was in early pregnancy. At this point I was barely paying attention to the show. I was looking for ways to speak to my companion. So I was rehearsing my side of the conversation, over and over.

Is she waiting for a baby?

That was the translation of “elle attend un bébé?”, which is the French for “is she pregnant?”, which I had never learnt to say.

And I rehearsed it (and other variations) for so long that eventually, it wasn’t worth saying anymore.

I had been concerned not only with the language barrier –I suspected my words weren’t right–, but also it was difficult for me to initiate the conversation. Yet, I wanted to. I didn’t.

I am not sure whether I wanted to find out if the woman was actually expecting, or if I simply wanted to talk.