We're moving
There’s really no way to sugarcoat this: we did our best, but now, we’ve had it.
Had it with the internet going out
Had it with fuzzy cable and uncomfortable furniture
Had it with broken stoves and broken coffee makers
Had it with dogs barking outside our window at all hours
Had it with the construction next door
Basically, we’ve had it with living on our own in a foreign land
So, we’re moving… in with a family here in Sabanilla. (What, you thought we were coming back to the states? Ah, how cute.)
It took a few weeks of searching, but we’ve finally found a great family to live with. Actually, we found two great ones, which made our decision really tough. But in the end, I think we made the right choice, and I think you’ll agree. Why? Well, for starters, there’s the 50-something-year-old mom with humongous breasts that hang down to her belly-button who never stops talking and is so full of positivity that she pulled me up to dance with her while we were visiting earlier today. There’s the 18-year-old daughter who shared her birthday cake with us, loves her parents (and Shakespeare), and finishes our sentences for us when we don’t know the words. And then there’s the coup de gras: the 6-foot-5, 250-pound 60- or 70-something-year-old Italian dad who speaks eight languages; has a gray beard halfway down his chest; collects, buys, and sells antique maps and books; has no idea what the internet is; and whose voice is so low that it puts James Earl Jones to shame.
I wish I could describe to you just how hilarious (and awesome) this family is, but I just don’t have the words. (Did I mention that the mom claims that she has 59 brothers and sisters?)
As you can tell, I’m pretty excited about the move. In addition to the family, we’ll also have our own bathroom; actual hot water throughout the house (instead of a death-inducing electrical device hooked up to the shower head); breakfast, dinner and laundry done for us; cable TV in our room; and cable internet that is said to be much more reliable and up to four times faster. The only negative is that the room is the size of a box of sardines. But I like it salty.
We’ve already paid through Dec. 6 at our current place, so we won’t be moving for a few weeks. Until then, I’ll be dreaming of dancing with Doña Nora.
In other news around Costa Rica, Heather and I went to church today. Heather’s friend (Shirley) from work invited her, and I promised to tag along, so from 10 to 12 this morning, I was giving all of my glory and praise to the lord. Or something like that. Anyway, the “church” was actually single a room above Shirley's house, which her family also owns. After some awkward introductions, we started out with a little Bible reading and then launched into about 45 minutes of song, in Spanish. Now, I don’t want to overstate this, but 45 minutes of singing, all while standing, in a small upstairs room without air conditioning… let’s just say I wasn’t sure I was gonna make it.
But that paled in comparison to the 75-minute sermon from the pastor, who spent his time railing, at different points, against homosexuality, feminism, and abortion, emphasizing that the husband is the head of the family and that the wife should always be subservient to his will, and blaming women for sin (you know, since Eve gave Adam the apple and all).
I haven’t talked to Heather about this, but I don’t think we’ll be going back.
…
Two quick-hitters:
1. Last night, on our way back from dinner, we saw a hooker with her, um, upper torso area completely uncovered as she walked across the street.
2. It probably won’t surprise you to find out that I watched the Michigan-Ohio St. game yesterday. No. 1 vs. No. 2, both undefeated, Big 10 title and trip to the national championship game on the line. And for the most part, the game lived up to the hype: great players making great plays in the biggest game of the year. But I won’t remember the game for what happened on the field. Nope, it was something that one of the announcers said that will stick with me as a reminder of what can happen when you give microphones to former players and coaches. The offending party this time was Bob Davie, ABC commentator and former Notre Dame coach. While trying to explain what happened on a play where two players collided, Davie said, “You can see right here when he collisioned him.” WHEN HE COLLISIONED HIM?! I’m sorry, I just can’t let that one go. When he collisioned him??? Shame on you, Bob Davie. Shame.
Until next time, try not to collision anyone.
Had it with the internet going out
Had it with fuzzy cable and uncomfortable furniture
Had it with broken stoves and broken coffee makers
Had it with dogs barking outside our window at all hours
Had it with the construction next door
Basically, we’ve had it with living on our own in a foreign land
So, we’re moving… in with a family here in Sabanilla. (What, you thought we were coming back to the states? Ah, how cute.)
It took a few weeks of searching, but we’ve finally found a great family to live with. Actually, we found two great ones, which made our decision really tough. But in the end, I think we made the right choice, and I think you’ll agree. Why? Well, for starters, there’s the 50-something-year-old mom with humongous breasts that hang down to her belly-button who never stops talking and is so full of positivity that she pulled me up to dance with her while we were visiting earlier today. There’s the 18-year-old daughter who shared her birthday cake with us, loves her parents (and Shakespeare), and finishes our sentences for us when we don’t know the words. And then there’s the coup de gras: the 6-foot-5, 250-pound 60- or 70-something-year-old Italian dad who speaks eight languages; has a gray beard halfway down his chest; collects, buys, and sells antique maps and books; has no idea what the internet is; and whose voice is so low that it puts James Earl Jones to shame.
I wish I could describe to you just how hilarious (and awesome) this family is, but I just don’t have the words. (Did I mention that the mom claims that she has 59 brothers and sisters?)
As you can tell, I’m pretty excited about the move. In addition to the family, we’ll also have our own bathroom; actual hot water throughout the house (instead of a death-inducing electrical device hooked up to the shower head); breakfast, dinner and laundry done for us; cable TV in our room; and cable internet that is said to be much more reliable and up to four times faster. The only negative is that the room is the size of a box of sardines. But I like it salty.
We’ve already paid through Dec. 6 at our current place, so we won’t be moving for a few weeks. Until then, I’ll be dreaming of dancing with Doña Nora.
In other news around Costa Rica, Heather and I went to church today. Heather’s friend (Shirley) from work invited her, and I promised to tag along, so from 10 to 12 this morning, I was giving all of my glory and praise to the lord. Or something like that. Anyway, the “church” was actually single a room above Shirley's house, which her family also owns. After some awkward introductions, we started out with a little Bible reading and then launched into about 45 minutes of song, in Spanish. Now, I don’t want to overstate this, but 45 minutes of singing, all while standing, in a small upstairs room without air conditioning… let’s just say I wasn’t sure I was gonna make it.
But that paled in comparison to the 75-minute sermon from the pastor, who spent his time railing, at different points, against homosexuality, feminism, and abortion, emphasizing that the husband is the head of the family and that the wife should always be subservient to his will, and blaming women for sin (you know, since Eve gave Adam the apple and all).
I haven’t talked to Heather about this, but I don’t think we’ll be going back.
…
Two quick-hitters:
1. Last night, on our way back from dinner, we saw a hooker with her, um, upper torso area completely uncovered as she walked across the street.
2. It probably won’t surprise you to find out that I watched the Michigan-Ohio St. game yesterday. No. 1 vs. No. 2, both undefeated, Big 10 title and trip to the national championship game on the line. And for the most part, the game lived up to the hype: great players making great plays in the biggest game of the year. But I won’t remember the game for what happened on the field. Nope, it was something that one of the announcers said that will stick with me as a reminder of what can happen when you give microphones to former players and coaches. The offending party this time was Bob Davie, ABC commentator and former Notre Dame coach. While trying to explain what happened on a play where two players collided, Davie said, “You can see right here when he collisioned him.” WHEN HE COLLISIONED HIM?! I’m sorry, I just can’t let that one go. When he collisioned him??? Shame on you, Bob Davie. Shame.
Until next time, try not to collision anyone.
posted by Higgity Heitner at 5:22 PM
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