just piss on it

If you get tangled with a jellyfish, the poison is a base. Remember chemistry class in highschool? Remember the experimental volcano of vinegar and baking soda? Well you should.

Now, recall that beloved croc enthusiast. Yeah, you know him. Crikey! He´s really pissed off now! The world mourned him when he tragically pissed off a sting ray. Startled, the large sting ray whipped the spike on its tail right into his sternum...and his heart.

It must have been painful...the poison, slowly seeping, spreading, making things numb and unbearingly fiery at the same time...similar to a jellyfish sting. I know. But the ray, missed my heart...that bastard.

At remanzo beach yesterday, i realized my surfboard didn´t have enough wax on it, so i walked back into shore. At first, it felt like a bite upon my ankle...like teeth, then for a split second...nothing. then Wham! Something sharp drove itself about a half inch into my ankle. It was worse than falling down wet tile stairs in your hostel. The water was a tad above knee deep.

I limped out and saw oxygen rich red blood spurting out. I probably should have gone to get help, or perhaps even asked more people what to do. Not me...i manned up, waxed the board, then headed back out.

If you get tangled with a jellyfish, the poison is a base. Urine is an acid. If you drink water, eat food, are alive, you likely have a supply of it.

Two hours later, i could barely walk, a swedish girl told me you should pee on it. Its much easier for a guy to pull off, than a girl. Or perhaps a girl can squat and piss on my ankle. I didn´t find any takers. Lotta, the swedish girl once got stung on her face...she made her friend squat and neutralize it. A lovely golden shower.

Perhaps beer would help. In the Canadian owned bar, Republika, i tell them my woes... Remember high school chemistry? Remember mixing vinegar and baking soda to create a volcano? well you should. They suggested vinegar...i reached for a lime.

Squeezing and rubbing half a lime over my ankle looked like a better alternative to pissing on myself. After 10 mins of intense throbbing pain...and 3 beers later...i suddenly realized it was gone.

(Dude, look at this thing, this drink is tropical. Look at the limes, look how they float. Next time i´m in a boat and it capsizes, i will reach for a lime. )

Next time i´m stung by a stingray, i will...

Me Encanta la LLuvia

In costa rica, it consistently began raining in the late afternoon. In nicaragua, it consistly pours in the morning. Me encanta la lluvia.

The rain washes the dog shit off the cobble stone streets. It pits the dirt roads. It wets the tile side walks. My new pair of flip flops don´t do so well on wet tile. Its more like trying to walk across ice in sneakers. The rain also wets the tile stairs.

I slid down the stairs in my hostel, CasaOro, this morning...it wasn´t fun, but it was funny...to others. It was a slide of about 5 feet, and 7 stairs...however, going down, i said ¨motherfucker¨instead of ¨weeeeeeeeeee¨.

(As an adult, if i find myself at the top of a slide, i have to pretend i got there by accident. Oh well, guess i´ll have to go down. When having fun, its also common to refer to yourself and other people. - MH)

I met a local in a bar, Luis, who knew a little more english than i knew spanish. We helped eachother out...in exchange, he took me to a late night local bar where we drank with 20 other locals and 1 girl in little black shorts and a revealing white top who enjoyed gyrating against a stone pillar that supported the wood planked ceiling. In exchange, i gave him my pair of reef flip flops...the ones with a bottle opener on the bottom. Turns out he´s the local salsa teacher and hosts classes for two hours each day. In exchange for being a good drinking buddy, i get free salsa lessons...my first one is today.

I only meant to stay here 2 days as a restover after being treated like a beached carcass torn apart by hermit crabs as i crossed into nicaragua. My backpack makes me a huge target. I had up to 8 people following me around, selling me ¨services¨. It was an entourage without the perks. But now, after meeting so many amazing people...locals, travellers, ex-pats...i keep finding an excuse to stay another day.

San juan del sur has delved its hooks into me. I hope to writhe and wriggle free tomorrow, head north to granada...and perhaps take a week of language courses in Esteli before heading into honduras. Peace.

to Killer Yo

I find myself stuck in san juan del sur, nicaragua. I only meant to stay for a couple days, but now its 4. I suppose its the people that make you stay, not necessarily the place. However, i´m still searching for a companion as awesomely positive as killer.

Killer was my dog in quepos. He was a superior mut to all the other muts out there. After the night of being in a discoteca with a frog, a german, a whore, and her friend...surrounded by disapproving locals (they all knew she was a whore...they all knew we were turistas, we all knew we were drunk)...i headed off with the frog to wander the streets til dawn.

Thats when killer befriended us, wide eyed, panting tongue...hopeful. Leading us through the streets he would look back every so often to make sure we were still alright. He warded off any other dogs with a ferocious bark and would be muggers with a fiery sneer. I´ve never seen a dog so happy.

Sitting next to us on the beach, he dug around in the red dirt, licking it for minerals, then finally laying beside us. Heading back to the hostel however, we lost him to a trash can that held more promise for food than we did. He found a new friend to protect with his ferocious bark and billy idol sneer.

I miss him. To killer B!

Its somewhat hard to leave costa rica.

I´m staying now for a 3rd night in La Fortuna. I missed the bus at 8 am this morning to Tilaran, which from there, i can take north to Liberia, and then the Nicaraguan border. I did a "don´t attempt to bike to the waterfalls unless your Lance Armstrong" (lonely planet) trek to la catarata...using a bike i rented that had stickered to its side, a decal that read, "Born to Be Wild". On the way, people around us would scream "animales!", "ustedes locos", or just shake there head, laugh and wave as they would pass us by taxi. All i could do was grin and let the seeping nicotine and alcohol roll down my cheeks and soak the ground. I slept well.

There´s a place called Gringo Pete´s, owned by this portly guy in his 60´s who strikingly resembles David Crosby...$3 a night. Lovely Lovely. I stay, because tonight, there is a Feria de Turista which in spanish, means drinking & dancing. I need to get the hell out of here...i hear its less expensive as i head north.

I don´t have a usb cable for the camera...no pictures...sorry. I´d love to write more about the characters, clowns, whores and slut puppies...but perhaps i´ll have to tell you myself. Ahora, voy a una fiesta. Peace.

This won´t have any pictures. This won´t be pretty. By the time you read this, i´ll have been in Costa Rica for 6 days. I´ll have spent 6 hours on planes, 9 hours on buses, 1 hour on a surfboard. I´ll have drank an average of 7 beers a day, taken 4 shots of tequila, smoked 4 joints, self-administered 2 anti-nausea "tokacitas" and have met numerous characters/clowns/slut puppies/dogs/frogs/whores from around the world.

By the time you read this, Quepos, a fishing town with a population of 13000, where the curbside gutters are 2 feet deep, the local crackwhores have a combined 5 teeth to bite with, and mujeres carry sombrillas while hombres carry paraguas...will be flooded. I am to blame.

By the time they read this, i´ll have left quepos by bus to San Jose, headed north to La Fortuna, side tracked to Monteverde, then escaped across the border into Nicaragua.

By the time this is read, quepos with its drainage system unable to handle heavy rains and its sewage system unable to handle heavy solids will be looking for the man who caused this all. A man who through force of habit, put his TP into the toilet bowl, even though when you sit on the throne, the sign hung on the door facing you reads "do not throw your paper in the toilet, the system can´t handle it." Its my fault. I can´t even claim not to have read it. I flooded quepos. Pinche gringos.

By the time this is finished, i´ll have spent 6 days in Costa Rica. I´ll have spent 40000 colones, gone to a discoteca with one whore, one german and one frog, danced with 2 local girls, and learned the difference between a ketch, a schooner, and a sloop. I´ll have seen 3 lemurs, 2 sloths, 1 monkey fall from a tree and an iguana doing push ups for 3 cameras belonging to japanese turistas. I´ll have eaten 37 plantanas fritas, 6 empanadas, 7 camarones, 2 piñas, 1 PB&J sandwich, and drank 8 cups of costa rican coffee. Here it is awesome. I´ll have also played a guitar purchased in India for 3 hours and most importantly, gained confidence in my spanish.

Costa Rica is beautiful and the short amount of time i have to spend here i must measure out carefully. It is not nearly enough. Which quite gleefully means i must one day come back.

Manu Chao was playing over the stereo in the Hostel Pangea when i first walked in. 6 days later Led Zeppelin plays. Peace.