When I started writing this post, it was going to detail our vacation and the travails of traveling with at 2-year-old who doesn't know better and a 72-year-old who just doesn't care.
But the more I wrote, the more it rambled and the longer it got. And really, I could go into every detail of dealing with Gina's dad on the trip and it would've never gotten to the point.
The point being that while his mother, who turned 100 on our trip, is a woman who is old, Gina's dad is a guano-crazy Old Man.
The problem is, in reality, that he isn't really crazy. He just likes playing with people.
And it's gotten him trouble now. And by extension, us too.
His doctor has diagnosed him with dementia caused by Alzheimer's. And the doctor thinks Gina's dad belongs in a home - to the point that he's searched and found one that will take him and his insurance.
Dementia, we buy. He has massive anxieties that cause him to act irrationally. He has delusions that he's still a virile young man who should be desired (or, at the very least, *ahem* serviced).
But the Alzheimer's? We're not so sure. He is still pretty sharp, especially when it comes to the way he lays down the guilt, weasels the things he wants or doles out the verbal punishment for anyone who dares cross him.
The doctor based his opinion on a couple of encounters with Gina's dad at appointments, and by the fact that he won't take care of himself.
The first encounter came one day when Gina's dad rode his four-wheel scooter to the appointment, when his county-paid-for caregiver was supposed to bring him. When they asked where the caregiver was, and how he got there, he lied rather than face the scorn.
The second came when Gina's sister came with him to another appointment. Being sort of polite, he reintroduced Gina's sister to the doctor by saying, you remember my daughter? Gina's sister heard the doctor's response under his breath "He doesn't remember he's introduced her."
And not taking care of himself? That's nothing new. He's never taken care of himself. He's always had someone around who could do it. Gina's mom endured years of verbal and physical abuse and stayed to help take care of him until her dying days. His gratitude: One visit to the hospital in her final two weeks.
Since her death, he's had his share of people who have pitched in to help, from family to friends to government agencies. It finally got to the point that he got the caretakers who were to help cook and clean and take care of him for the past year-plus. Well, until just before we left.
Just before we left, his latest caretaker quit. Of Mexican descent, she couldn't take the racist she was caring for (oh, he hates the Mexicans - never mind his granddaughter is half-Mexican). Or the sexual harassment he was doling out. I told you he still believed himself to be a virile stud - he has porn scattered around his bedroom.
But most recently, he's had Gina's sister, who moved in to help her stem the financial tide in her life. He's leaned on her, using her so much, it's not fair to her, her husband or their 8-month-old daughter. So, they're getting ready to move out, and he's upset.
He's on a bevy of medications, and he knows what he's supposed to take and when. He handled all of them while on the trip to Costa Rica. But because he never took care of himself after having bypass surgery to clear clots in his legs, he's back to the point he was before the surgery - hurting and having troubles walking (he moved like a glacier when he did walk). I would bet he's in danger of losing his feet at some point as well.
Which leaves us in a quagmire. What do we do? The way I see it, there are four options.
1) We take the doctor's advice and we put him in the home.
There are days when I've had enough and I'm ready just to do it. But in our hearts, we know it's not right. He's still sharp enough to get himself around. At one point, the doctor had enough and signed him into the psych ward of the hospital on a three-day mandatory hold. That scared him some, because the people in there were actually insane.
But it didn't scare him enough that he started following the doctor's advice, which leaves the doctor positive he can't be trusted (he can't) to take care of himself and needs to be in this Alzheimer's specialty home. We worry, though, that being trapped there will lead to his death sooner rather than later.
2) We get him into a private senior living home that will give him freedom, but also have staff around in case.
This option is probably the right one ... but how? Most of those won't take his state or federal insurance (that is if the state hasn't already cut it).
And lets look at the finances of his kids. Well, there's Gina and I, two journalists who had their pay cut and have a 2-year-old. His other daughter, who has the young baby and a stepdaughter to take care of every other weekend, and who's husband has been looking for work. And there's his son, the bouncer at the strip club, who's trying to go to culinary school and better his life.
Not a lot of extra money floating around. Especially when in that environment, we think he'd thrive and live a lot longer.
3) We ship him off to Costa Rica.
Most of his family is still there, and have told us not to worry, they would look after him. He likely would thrive having all the family around him. Being back there would probably be good for him, as well, because it wouldn't cost him much to live.
But, if he went, he'd probably lose all the Social Security he gets now (admittedly, it's not that much, but it's enough he'd freak out about it) and any of the other government help he gets.
And then there's his kids. It's not like any of us can drop everything at a moment's notice and get to Costa Rica (see: finances) if something were to go wrong. Though, if we're to believe him, when he does die, there's a huge inheritance waiting in Costa Rica. We just have to go get it.
4) The last option is just to leave things the way they are.
Gina's sister is moving out, in part, to help him. If she's there when the county housing inspectors come, he'll lose some of his housing help. And lord knows, in this state, they'll be looking at everything to make cuts.
But once she's gone, she won't be there at his beck and call. We're out in Colton (with Gina working another hour out in Palm Springs). And Gina's brother can't/won't pitch in because of a lot of issues between the two.
So, this is our problem. Piling on top of all our other problems. We run through each of these scenarios and their pros and cons and never come to a viable conclusion (because winning the lottery isn't one - and lord knows Gina's dad tried to gamble his way to prosperity many times).
What to do? *Shrug* Got me. I'm looking for suggestions. Got any?
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Summer Puckin'
So, there has been one consistent good thing about being off Tuesdays this summer.
Kings hockey.
Prime Ticket, in need of filler programming, spends Tuesday night showing classic hockey (yes, including the Ducks), and it's a nice respite from the rest of the stuff on television.
This past Tuesday's Kings game was Game 6 from the 1990 playoffs, when the Kings knocked off the Calgary Flames in double overtime. Mike Krushelnyski's goal from his backside is still as classic now as it was then.
But watching, there were quite a few things that stood out.
First off, this was a pre-Ducks world. Which means that many of my friends who are now Ducks fans probably didn't watch that game. And probably didn't watch any hockey. It's a good thing Gretzky and the Kings were good enough to make enough runs deep into the playoffs proving hockey was viable in Southern California.
Second, you realize how much the game has changed. There were muggings on the ice that weren't called by the one referee. Calgary gave the Kings 10 power plays in the game, and that's not counting all the interference penalties that would be called today.
Seriously, the game was skating north-south, with defensemen carrying the puck into the zone, with very little dump and chase. Filled with players interfering every time the puck came within five yards of them. Oh, and even worse, was the times when players were actually dragged down with no penalty called.
And Gary Roberts of the Flames absolutely lost his mind at the end of regulation. He didn't like getting called for a penalty, and he pushed over another King as he argued. And he argued. And argued all the way to the penalty box. In today's game, he probably would have picked up another two minutes and probably a 10 minute misconduct.
Oh, and in today's game, the Kings probably would have lost the game. The apparent Calgary goal in the first overtime might have been upheld with the use of video replay, especially with all the extra camera angles that are available these days. The angles they had available on the Prime Ticket broadcast in 1990 could not conclusively make the call, but I bet they could've today.
That game, by the way, I remember watching live. I was still living at my parents house (I was less than a year out of high school at that point), sitting in the same space on the couch I always did when I watched Kings games (superstitious much?). It was the Saturday before Easter, and the game ended just after midnight on Easter Sunday. And I was celebrating the win while trying not to be too loud as to wake up the rest of the family.
Watching the games has been a nice holdover to the real hockey season. Especially since I can watch the games without the stress of wondering if they're going to play well enough to win (because as Bob Miller said during the studio parts of the broadcasts, they're not going to show a Kings' loss during Kings Classics).
And just think, training camp is a little more than a month away.
Kings hockey.
Prime Ticket, in need of filler programming, spends Tuesday night showing classic hockey (yes, including the Ducks), and it's a nice respite from the rest of the stuff on television.
This past Tuesday's Kings game was Game 6 from the 1990 playoffs, when the Kings knocked off the Calgary Flames in double overtime. Mike Krushelnyski's goal from his backside is still as classic now as it was then.
But watching, there were quite a few things that stood out.
First off, this was a pre-Ducks world. Which means that many of my friends who are now Ducks fans probably didn't watch that game. And probably didn't watch any hockey. It's a good thing Gretzky and the Kings were good enough to make enough runs deep into the playoffs proving hockey was viable in Southern California.
Second, you realize how much the game has changed. There were muggings on the ice that weren't called by the one referee. Calgary gave the Kings 10 power plays in the game, and that's not counting all the interference penalties that would be called today.
Seriously, the game was skating north-south, with defensemen carrying the puck into the zone, with very little dump and chase. Filled with players interfering every time the puck came within five yards of them. Oh, and even worse, was the times when players were actually dragged down with no penalty called.
And Gary Roberts of the Flames absolutely lost his mind at the end of regulation. He didn't like getting called for a penalty, and he pushed over another King as he argued. And he argued. And argued all the way to the penalty box. In today's game, he probably would have picked up another two minutes and probably a 10 minute misconduct.
Oh, and in today's game, the Kings probably would have lost the game. The apparent Calgary goal in the first overtime might have been upheld with the use of video replay, especially with all the extra camera angles that are available these days. The angles they had available on the Prime Ticket broadcast in 1990 could not conclusively make the call, but I bet they could've today.
That game, by the way, I remember watching live. I was still living at my parents house (I was less than a year out of high school at that point), sitting in the same space on the couch I always did when I watched Kings games (superstitious much?). It was the Saturday before Easter, and the game ended just after midnight on Easter Sunday. And I was celebrating the win while trying not to be too loud as to wake up the rest of the family.
Watching the games has been a nice holdover to the real hockey season. Especially since I can watch the games without the stress of wondering if they're going to play well enough to win (because as Bob Miller said during the studio parts of the broadcasts, they're not going to show a Kings' loss during Kings Classics).
And just think, training camp is a little more than a month away.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Joining the Human Race Again
Tuesday was a good day.
Best I've had in, I don't know how long (vacation excluded).
Tuesday's are the end of the weekend for me, and they're always difficult to deal with, usually because I end up alone.
I normally end up shopping. Costco. Target. Stater Bros. Making sure that the house has enough food and supplies to last the coming week. And that's if I haven't already done it on Monday. Then it ends up with me dropping off Luc and coming home and catching up on rest.
But after the week back from vacation had, I needed to do something - anything - different.
Some of the highlights from the week back:
The car broke down. A new battery and starter later, and it's back on the road.
Housing issues involving Gina's family, that somehow involve us. Somehow, we always end up involved.
My 20-year high school reunion was this past Saturday, along with a big side event the Friday before.
Then there's Gina's dad, and his mess.
That mess is one I started writing about the other night, hoping it would make me feel better, and it wasn't. It was going nowhere and meant nothing.
But there is a post in there, and it's coming soon.
Anyway, the past week has been hell. And it's come down on me as hard as ever. You come back from a vacation, and you want to ease your way back into the grind. I got ground up from the very start. It left me angry, depressed and bitter. And it showed.
I spent the entire last weekend moping about my lack of a life. Let's face it, Mondays and Tuesdays are not exactly the best days to have off, because you're among the minority of people with the time off. And the work hours don't leave room for much after work to go hang out.
Take the reunion for example. I had been on the fence about going from the start, mostly because of the $80 per person cost. But the Friday night bar bash? I so would have been there.
But I couldn't. I had to work. Having just returned from vacation, and having spent half of my first day back dealing with a broken down car, not going in wasn't an option. And getting off at midnight, going from Riverside to Anaheim would have been probably a 45-minute drive (even with no traffic, remember the city streets), getting me there just in time for last call. Then it would have been another hour back home to Colton.
So after all that crap, I needed some time to find a way to unwind and decompress.
I went bowling.
Not particulary well, mind you. My first three rolls went straight into the gutter. I haven't been in at least three years, probably more.
For $8 and change, I got three games of bowling, shoes and a refillable drink (which I got two refills). And I got rid of some of my frustrations. For that price, I may have to find my bowling ball and make a few more return trips this summer.
And rather than just run another errand, I went to Best Buy to *ahem* browse. Really I went to see the video games and try them out, namely the Wii and Punch-Out. It was my first time playing anything on the Wii. And gotta say, I'm impressed with the system. And Punch-Out is pitch perfect to my memories (I played without the nunchuks, opting for the classic controller).
So I feel almost human again.
Of course, there's a fix to all this. Get another job. But that's easier said than done. One went up on a job board that would be great - except that it's in Santa Monica ... and features the same nights and weekends ... sigh.
I think in the end, the realities of my life have changed. I'm no longer OK with having to choose between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Or Halloween or Easter (which, aren't paid holidays).
Obviously having a child changed a lot of that. But it's not just that. It's just the feeling around the office. It's nowhere near the same as it was 10 years ago. Hell, even three years ago.
But that's a dissertation for another time. I've droned on about my life long enough.
Besides, I have to go to work later this afternoon.
Best I've had in, I don't know how long (vacation excluded).
Tuesday's are the end of the weekend for me, and they're always difficult to deal with, usually because I end up alone.
I normally end up shopping. Costco. Target. Stater Bros. Making sure that the house has enough food and supplies to last the coming week. And that's if I haven't already done it on Monday. Then it ends up with me dropping off Luc and coming home and catching up on rest.
But after the week back from vacation had, I needed to do something - anything - different.
Some of the highlights from the week back:
That mess is one I started writing about the other night, hoping it would make me feel better, and it wasn't. It was going nowhere and meant nothing.
But there is a post in there, and it's coming soon.
Anyway, the past week has been hell. And it's come down on me as hard as ever. You come back from a vacation, and you want to ease your way back into the grind. I got ground up from the very start. It left me angry, depressed and bitter. And it showed.
I spent the entire last weekend moping about my lack of a life. Let's face it, Mondays and Tuesdays are not exactly the best days to have off, because you're among the minority of people with the time off. And the work hours don't leave room for much after work to go hang out.
Take the reunion for example. I had been on the fence about going from the start, mostly because of the $80 per person cost. But the Friday night bar bash? I so would have been there.
But I couldn't. I had to work. Having just returned from vacation, and having spent half of my first day back dealing with a broken down car, not going in wasn't an option. And getting off at midnight, going from Riverside to Anaheim would have been probably a 45-minute drive (even with no traffic, remember the city streets), getting me there just in time for last call. Then it would have been another hour back home to Colton.
So after all that crap, I needed some time to find a way to unwind and decompress.
I went bowling.
Not particulary well, mind you. My first three rolls went straight into the gutter. I haven't been in at least three years, probably more.
For $8 and change, I got three games of bowling, shoes and a refillable drink (which I got two refills). And I got rid of some of my frustrations. For that price, I may have to find my bowling ball and make a few more return trips this summer.
And rather than just run another errand, I went to Best Buy to *ahem* browse. Really I went to see the video games and try them out, namely the Wii and Punch-Out. It was my first time playing anything on the Wii. And gotta say, I'm impressed with the system. And Punch-Out is pitch perfect to my memories (I played without the nunchuks, opting for the classic controller).
So I feel almost human again.
Of course, there's a fix to all this. Get another job. But that's easier said than done. One went up on a job board that would be great - except that it's in Santa Monica ... and features the same nights and weekends ... sigh.
I think in the end, the realities of my life have changed. I'm no longer OK with having to choose between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Or Halloween or Easter (which, aren't paid holidays).
Obviously having a child changed a lot of that. But it's not just that. It's just the feeling around the office. It's nowhere near the same as it was 10 years ago. Hell, even three years ago.
But that's a dissertation for another time. I've droned on about my life long enough.
Besides, I have to go to work later this afternoon.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
High School Confidential
Recently, one of my friends on Facebook, and a former classmate, had been scanning in and posting photos from high school, and it stirred some memories.
But I don't have any photos easily at my disposal. Now, I know what the Loara grads reading this are thinking: "How can the guy who carried a camera with him for two years during high school not have photos?" Well... I think I tossed all the negatives. Besides, they were all in black and white. It's either that or they're at my parents house, so they're not going to be easy to find.
And seeing as my 20-year reunion is this weekend, I figured I'd throw out some of the memories that have stuck in mind all these years.
First off, lets get one thing straight, looking back, I was a lot like Jason Biggs' character in "American Pie," I was a lot like a band geek, but was never in the band. I did play sports, and was on the newspaper, but I was a bit of a geek. Oh well, what are you going to do?
Anyway, on to some of those memories, most of which are worth looking back and laughing. Oh, and in some cases, I'll omit the names to protect the sorta innocent.
* Freshman year of baseball, and we played a game at Mater Dei. On the way back from Santa Ana, we were stuck in traffic. Alongside our bus pulled a car with a, for lack of a better term, hot blonde inside. Everyone took their look and was pretty pleased. And apparently she was reveling in the attention to a certain degree. Well, until one person (and yes, I remember who) took it a step further. He started communicating the woman with sign language. And he asked for a little *ahem* sexual favor.
At that point, she had a bit of sign language for him: The Bird.
* The soccer team had its share of adventures. There were the brawls with Los Al (including one that involved some food being thrown from our bus). There was one player finding relief on the sideline at Esperanza. And speaking of Esperanza, Eric Smith took out some frustrations by stepping on the back of one of the Aztec players. And Matt Drager helping lead the group trying to get the bus driver to leave without a coach freshman year. And we nearly made it out of the school's parking lot, too.
* The day after the junior-senior Powder Puff war (why did they ever cancel that game?), one of the participants was mulling the results of the night before. And our cheerleader/songleader was disappointed that many of the water balloons she filled didn't pop when she threw them. I mean, why wouldn't the condoms she was using as water balloons break? By the way, how cool was it that our class swept the two Powder Puff games (well, except for all the serious injuries suffered)?
* Watching the baseball team implode in 1987 after the two players were busted on the Lompoc trip. That was probably the best major sports class while we were there, with their football and wrestling league titles. They probably would have won the baseball title if not for the transgressions. The football team's Empire League title was the last by a school not named Los Alamitos or Esperanza until those two schools were moved out to a higher league.
* Seeing the reaction of everyone the morning of the Northridge earthquake. I was in zero period baseball that morning, and we had gone a long run, so my legs were a little wobbly any way. But standing in the junior court it was pretty funny to watch everyone react. All at once, everyone abandoned their lockers and ran to the center of the court. It all happened in an instant, but it was a sight to see.
* Freshman year having Coach Conroy as my history teacher. The man was, how do I put this delicately, the worst teacher ever. The first semester, we were using Mrs. Wilcott's classroom during her conference period, and she hated him. There were only like 14 of us in the class at the time, so it was hard to miss any of the things that were happening. His personality alone made you feel a little uncomfortable around him, almost like he was gay, but overcompensating for it by wanting to seem interested in the girls in the class. It was creepy.
One day, he made a bet with some of the people in the class (I was Switzerland, and was to be the judge in the bet) over "Little House on the Prairie." To settle the bet he sent me to the coach's office to track down the TV and VCR so we could watch it in class. As a freshman, going into the coach's office (and seeing Coach Hill there) was quite intimidating. But I brought it back to the class and we watched. Second semester we were in Mr. Braun's class and then he was gone at the end of the year.
* Then there were some of the other teachers.
Mr. Barron and his whole Chester A. Arthur obsession.
Mr. Sadler's poor woe-is-me monotone voice that I had to sit and listen to during fifth period (after lunch) for two straight years. That was a struggle staying awake.
Mrs. Kretsinger's sharp knowledge of the English language and diagramming sentences. To a degree, she sent me on the way to my life as a writer. And the class was great because we didn't read any of the books the other English classes were reading.
That's all I have for now. If I come up with any others, I'll add them. And if you have any stories, feel free to post them here in the comments.
But I don't have any photos easily at my disposal. Now, I know what the Loara grads reading this are thinking: "How can the guy who carried a camera with him for two years during high school not have photos?" Well... I think I tossed all the negatives. Besides, they were all in black and white. It's either that or they're at my parents house, so they're not going to be easy to find.
And seeing as my 20-year reunion is this weekend, I figured I'd throw out some of the memories that have stuck in mind all these years.
First off, lets get one thing straight, looking back, I was a lot like Jason Biggs' character in "American Pie," I was a lot like a band geek, but was never in the band. I did play sports, and was on the newspaper, but I was a bit of a geek. Oh well, what are you going to do?
Anyway, on to some of those memories, most of which are worth looking back and laughing. Oh, and in some cases, I'll omit the names to protect the sorta innocent.
* Freshman year of baseball, and we played a game at Mater Dei. On the way back from Santa Ana, we were stuck in traffic. Alongside our bus pulled a car with a, for lack of a better term, hot blonde inside. Everyone took their look and was pretty pleased. And apparently she was reveling in the attention to a certain degree. Well, until one person (and yes, I remember who) took it a step further. He started communicating the woman with sign language. And he asked for a little *ahem* sexual favor.
At that point, she had a bit of sign language for him: The Bird.
* The soccer team had its share of adventures. There were the brawls with Los Al (including one that involved some food being thrown from our bus). There was one player finding relief on the sideline at Esperanza. And speaking of Esperanza, Eric Smith took out some frustrations by stepping on the back of one of the Aztec players. And Matt Drager helping lead the group trying to get the bus driver to leave without a coach freshman year. And we nearly made it out of the school's parking lot, too.
* The day after the junior-senior Powder Puff war (why did they ever cancel that game?), one of the participants was mulling the results of the night before. And our cheerleader/songleader was disappointed that many of the water balloons she filled didn't pop when she threw them. I mean, why wouldn't the condoms she was using as water balloons break? By the way, how cool was it that our class swept the two Powder Puff games (well, except for all the serious injuries suffered)?
* Watching the baseball team implode in 1987 after the two players were busted on the Lompoc trip. That was probably the best major sports class while we were there, with their football and wrestling league titles. They probably would have won the baseball title if not for the transgressions. The football team's Empire League title was the last by a school not named Los Alamitos or Esperanza until those two schools were moved out to a higher league.
* Seeing the reaction of everyone the morning of the Northridge earthquake. I was in zero period baseball that morning, and we had gone a long run, so my legs were a little wobbly any way. But standing in the junior court it was pretty funny to watch everyone react. All at once, everyone abandoned their lockers and ran to the center of the court. It all happened in an instant, but it was a sight to see.
* Freshman year having Coach Conroy as my history teacher. The man was, how do I put this delicately, the worst teacher ever. The first semester, we were using Mrs. Wilcott's classroom during her conference period, and she hated him. There were only like 14 of us in the class at the time, so it was hard to miss any of the things that were happening. His personality alone made you feel a little uncomfortable around him, almost like he was gay, but overcompensating for it by wanting to seem interested in the girls in the class. It was creepy.
One day, he made a bet with some of the people in the class (I was Switzerland, and was to be the judge in the bet) over "Little House on the Prairie." To settle the bet he sent me to the coach's office to track down the TV and VCR so we could watch it in class. As a freshman, going into the coach's office (and seeing Coach Hill there) was quite intimidating. But I brought it back to the class and we watched. Second semester we were in Mr. Braun's class and then he was gone at the end of the year.
* Then there were some of the other teachers.
Mr. Barron and his whole Chester A. Arthur obsession.
Mr. Sadler's poor woe-is-me monotone voice that I had to sit and listen to during fifth period (after lunch) for two straight years. That was a struggle staying awake.
Mrs. Kretsinger's sharp knowledge of the English language and diagramming sentences. To a degree, she sent me on the way to my life as a writer. And the class was great because we didn't read any of the books the other English classes were reading.
That's all I have for now. If I come up with any others, I'll add them. And if you have any stories, feel free to post them here in the comments.
Wrapping things up
I'm sitting here at home on Tuesday night staring at the end of the vacation.
Oh well. What are you going to do?
The past two weeks have been amazing. The whole trip was exactly what was needed. No worrying about the future of journalism, no worrying about layoffs and no dealing with the California summer heat.
But all good things can not last forever, so I head back to the job to see exactly what and how much has changed in two weeks. But before I get there, I think I'll take one more trip around Costa Rica...
Before leaving, we did take a trip out to see some of the environmental areas that many American tourists go to. A friend of Gina's cousin runs tourists out to the sites, and that was good enough for us. He charged us $180, which was pretty good, considering we had been looking at spending $250 or so to be part of a group. Instead, we were on our own.
He took us out to see the Arenal volcano, a two-plus-hour drive from the house in Ciudad Colon. We passed by farms growing sugar cane, coffee and plantains. We passed by farms with cows and a bunch of roadside stands selling queso palmetto, a fresh cheese that Gina likes enough that we brought some home.
Then things got interesting.
There are the bridges, that only accommodate cars going one way at a time, with everyone on their best behavior, yielding for the other side. Then there was the piece of the highway along the mountain that had fallen off thanks to the amazing amount of moisture they receive in the area every year.
As we got closer to the volcano, it became obvious we probably weren't going to see much of the mountain. It was raining (it is surrounded by rain forest after all) and very cloudy. We got to the town of La Fortuna (more on it in a bit), where we should have been able to see it, and there was nothing but clouds.
But we pressed on up past the resorts (where the tour guide told us people went to get away from everything) and the ecotourism locations (with the canopy zip lines and Tarzan swings). We stopped at the edge of the Arenal lake, alongside the volcano to stretch our legs and hope for a chance to see the volcano.
Then, in an effort to get closer, the tour guide recommended taking a ride on the lake on one of the tour boats. He helps negotiate a price of $100 (we got a discount since Gina's a Tico).
So we climb down to the boat and hop on. The captain is pretty cool, and lets Luc sit at the wheel and let him steer. And Luc is happy to be doing it. At one point, Luc figured out how to lift the motor out of the water, prompting the captain to tell our guide that we were in trouble, because the boy is smart.
The view from the boat is beautiful. You get a really good look at the rain forest that sits along its shores. Only problem was that most of the animals weren't out because of the rain.
Oh, the rain.
It was wet and windy. And no matter which direction we were facing, the rain would find a way to get us under the canopy on the top of the boat.
But a little water never hurt anyone, and we pressed on, hoping to see the active volcano.
No such luck. The best we got was maybe the bottom third of the mountain.
We turned around and headed back into town and had some lunch, then took in the sights in La Fortuna.
Wanna know why it's called La Fortuna? Cause they're making a fortune off the American tourists who come through.
There's a store to cater to every taste of souvenir hunter. Artists hawking their wares. And don't forget all those spa resorts up the road. And banks aplenty for those who need to get more money.
It was an experience well worth the $280 we ended up paying for it.
The whole Costa Rica experience was one that will be with us for a while. It was hard to want to leave, even though we knew we had to.
It's hard to wrap it all up in a few short, pithy paragraphs. But I'll try to give you a few things to know in case you want to go.
* The country is very hilly. Not quite to the degree of San Francisco, but you will be climbing hills while walking around towns and driving.
* You shouldn't have problems getting around, even if you only have a basic California knowledge of Spanish. The traffic signs are pretty self explanatory, and if you know where you're going (do your research online), the taxi drivers will get you to the right place.
* Looking for a bar? Shouldn't be a problem. There are a lot of them, and almost all of them have a sign out front featuring one of the two national brands of beers: Imperial or Pilsen, followed by the name of the establishment, usually with the word Bar in the name.
* Similarly, restaurants that are more family friendly feature signs for soft drinks or a chicken company. And they also have the name restaurant in their name.
* If you're afraid of trying the local cuisine, not to worry, you'll find plenty of American brands. There's Denny's, McDonald's, Burger King, KFC, Wendy's, Pizza Hut, Taco Bell, Quiznos, Subway, Church's Chicken, Outback Steakhouse and ... Hooters. Yes, Hooters. We opted to stay away from the American options and came home just fine.
* Yes, a lot of places will accept US Dollars. But beware, each place will make its own exchange rate. You're better off changing into Colones and paying that way. Oh, and because you are an American tourist, they will get as much from you as they can. The museum trip cost us $6 apiece. Locals pay 1,000 Colones a person.
* Your Visa or Mastercard debit card should be accepted without any problem. They'll charge you in Colones, and your bank will do the exchange rate and post it to your account.
* Don't go to the airport to come home with an empty wallet (or bank account). They charge a $27 per person departure tax for everyone leaving the country. And you have to pay it before you check in, then you have to fill out the immigration document on the back. Oh, and if you don't do it, the airport workers won't necessarily be helpful or patient with you for not knowing you had to do it.
So, that's about it. Actually, that's most of it. But the last bit will probably be a bitchfest about traveling with a 2-year-old and 72-year-old (who acts about like a 2-year-old).
I do have some random things I want to touch on as well this week, and I'm hoping to get a post of high school memories up before the end of the week (seeing as my 20-year reunion is Saturday).
All-in-all, it's good to be home. But I can't wait for my next vacation.
Oh well. What are you going to do?
The past two weeks have been amazing. The whole trip was exactly what was needed. No worrying about the future of journalism, no worrying about layoffs and no dealing with the California summer heat.
But all good things can not last forever, so I head back to the job to see exactly what and how much has changed in two weeks. But before I get there, I think I'll take one more trip around Costa Rica...
Before leaving, we did take a trip out to see some of the environmental areas that many American tourists go to. A friend of Gina's cousin runs tourists out to the sites, and that was good enough for us. He charged us $180, which was pretty good, considering we had been looking at spending $250 or so to be part of a group. Instead, we were on our own.
He took us out to see the Arenal volcano, a two-plus-hour drive from the house in Ciudad Colon. We passed by farms growing sugar cane, coffee and plantains. We passed by farms with cows and a bunch of roadside stands selling queso palmetto, a fresh cheese that Gina likes enough that we brought some home.
Then things got interesting.
There are the bridges, that only accommodate cars going one way at a time, with everyone on their best behavior, yielding for the other side. Then there was the piece of the highway along the mountain that had fallen off thanks to the amazing amount of moisture they receive in the area every year.
As we got closer to the volcano, it became obvious we probably weren't going to see much of the mountain. It was raining (it is surrounded by rain forest after all) and very cloudy. We got to the town of La Fortuna (more on it in a bit), where we should have been able to see it, and there was nothing but clouds.
But we pressed on up past the resorts (where the tour guide told us people went to get away from everything) and the ecotourism locations (with the canopy zip lines and Tarzan swings). We stopped at the edge of the Arenal lake, alongside the volcano to stretch our legs and hope for a chance to see the volcano.
Then, in an effort to get closer, the tour guide recommended taking a ride on the lake on one of the tour boats. He helps negotiate a price of $100 (we got a discount since Gina's a Tico).
So we climb down to the boat and hop on. The captain is pretty cool, and lets Luc sit at the wheel and let him steer. And Luc is happy to be doing it. At one point, Luc figured out how to lift the motor out of the water, prompting the captain to tell our guide that we were in trouble, because the boy is smart.
The view from the boat is beautiful. You get a really good look at the rain forest that sits along its shores. Only problem was that most of the animals weren't out because of the rain.
Oh, the rain.
It was wet and windy. And no matter which direction we were facing, the rain would find a way to get us under the canopy on the top of the boat.
But a little water never hurt anyone, and we pressed on, hoping to see the active volcano.
No such luck. The best we got was maybe the bottom third of the mountain.
We turned around and headed back into town and had some lunch, then took in the sights in La Fortuna.
Wanna know why it's called La Fortuna? Cause they're making a fortune off the American tourists who come through.
There's a store to cater to every taste of souvenir hunter. Artists hawking their wares. And don't forget all those spa resorts up the road. And banks aplenty for those who need to get more money.
It was an experience well worth the $280 we ended up paying for it.
The whole Costa Rica experience was one that will be with us for a while. It was hard to want to leave, even though we knew we had to.
It's hard to wrap it all up in a few short, pithy paragraphs. But I'll try to give you a few things to know in case you want to go.
* The country is very hilly. Not quite to the degree of San Francisco, but you will be climbing hills while walking around towns and driving.
* You shouldn't have problems getting around, even if you only have a basic California knowledge of Spanish. The traffic signs are pretty self explanatory, and if you know where you're going (do your research online), the taxi drivers will get you to the right place.
* Looking for a bar? Shouldn't be a problem. There are a lot of them, and almost all of them have a sign out front featuring one of the two national brands of beers: Imperial or Pilsen, followed by the name of the establishment, usually with the word Bar in the name.
* Similarly, restaurants that are more family friendly feature signs for soft drinks or a chicken company. And they also have the name restaurant in their name.
* If you're afraid of trying the local cuisine, not to worry, you'll find plenty of American brands. There's Denny's, McDonald's, Burger King, KFC, Wendy's, Pizza Hut, Taco Bell, Quiznos, Subway, Church's Chicken, Outback Steakhouse and ... Hooters. Yes, Hooters. We opted to stay away from the American options and came home just fine.
* Yes, a lot of places will accept US Dollars. But beware, each place will make its own exchange rate. You're better off changing into Colones and paying that way. Oh, and because you are an American tourist, they will get as much from you as they can. The museum trip cost us $6 apiece. Locals pay 1,000 Colones a person.
* Your Visa or Mastercard debit card should be accepted without any problem. They'll charge you in Colones, and your bank will do the exchange rate and post it to your account.
* Don't go to the airport to come home with an empty wallet (or bank account). They charge a $27 per person departure tax for everyone leaving the country. And you have to pay it before you check in, then you have to fill out the immigration document on the back. Oh, and if you don't do it, the airport workers won't necessarily be helpful or patient with you for not knowing you had to do it.
So, that's about it. Actually, that's most of it. But the last bit will probably be a bitchfest about traveling with a 2-year-old and 72-year-old (who acts about like a 2-year-old).
I do have some random things I want to touch on as well this week, and I'm hoping to get a post of high school memories up before the end of the week (seeing as my 20-year reunion is Saturday).
All-in-all, it's good to be home. But I can't wait for my next vacation.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Pura vida!
"Oh, the girl will take care of it in the morning."
That was the reply when Gina offered to help clean up after dinner earlier this week at her cousin's house in Ciudad Colon.
You see, Gina's cousin is a finacial consultant, having formerly been the first female head of a bank in Costa Rica. Her husband is a civil engineer. Their property includes two houses (one for her in-laws), a pool, a yard as big as my parents' house that has papaya and coconut trees and the office building for her consulting firm (that she runs with her father-in-law).
Also included in the house is a groundskeeper/caretaker of the property and household help, including, for lack of a better term, a maid. She makes the beds, cleans the house, does the dishes, puts out the food (she readily admits she's not a good cook, so we've been doing our share of cooking), does the laundry ... pretty much everything.
It's cool ... and a bit overwhelming at the same time. I mean, wow. How many of us, outside of staying at a hotel, have ever had the opportunity to have a maid?
I think that both of us are trying our best not to rely on her because, really, we're used to doing things ourselves. But there are just things that happen when we step away. And it's sorta nice.
Oh, and as I'm writing this, their private dance instructor just showed up. Both her cousin and husband aren't home yet, so Gina and I are looking at each other: dance instructor? Really!?!?
Oh well, I suppose we could move down here and live this sort of life.
But why would I want to give up on the glamour and prestige of a career in journalism?
Being stuck without transportation while on vacation sucks. Thanks to years of abuse, we don't have the room to secure a rental, so we stayed at the house all day Wednesday.
Deciding we couldn't just waste away the vacation in a house (no matter how big and spacious and beautiful), we hopped the bus to San Jose.
For 310 colones apiece (that's roughly 70 cents, depending on the exchange rate you get at the bank), we were taken the 20 kilometers - hooray for the metric system - from Ciudad Colon into the capital San Jose.
San Jose is a big, crowded, dirty city. We decided to take in a little bit of culture, so we went to the national museum and saw the history of the country. Unfortunately for us, two of the exhibits were closed. One was the butterfly garden, which was one of the things we had hoped to see in town. Oh well.
But what we did see was interesting. They had part of one of the forts that guarded the town in the early days, before they decommissioned the army. And a complete history of the country, and how its diversity shaped the region.
We then walked down to a busy pedestrian mall. Gina describes it as "Santa Monica, without the ocean." You've got shopping centers with food courts. Lots of little shops, like those you'd see along the streets of New York. Shops selling everything from clothes to jewelry to souveniers. All old, a bit dirty but kinda quaint.
And crowded. A whole mass of people trying to share the same space while people trying to sell pirated DVD's set up shop on the ground (Ice Age 3 and Up were two of the titles I saw).
Everyone in the shops we went to were very nice. And the taxi drivers were knowledgeable, helpful AND nice.
We warned to watch our things, so we didn't take any pictures of the area.
So, that was the day.
One more full day, then a full day of travel home.
More thoughts then.
That was the reply when Gina offered to help clean up after dinner earlier this week at her cousin's house in Ciudad Colon.
You see, Gina's cousin is a finacial consultant, having formerly been the first female head of a bank in Costa Rica. Her husband is a civil engineer. Their property includes two houses (one for her in-laws), a pool, a yard as big as my parents' house that has papaya and coconut trees and the office building for her consulting firm (that she runs with her father-in-law).
Also included in the house is a groundskeeper/caretaker of the property and household help, including, for lack of a better term, a maid. She makes the beds, cleans the house, does the dishes, puts out the food (she readily admits she's not a good cook, so we've been doing our share of cooking), does the laundry ... pretty much everything.
It's cool ... and a bit overwhelming at the same time. I mean, wow. How many of us, outside of staying at a hotel, have ever had the opportunity to have a maid?
I think that both of us are trying our best not to rely on her because, really, we're used to doing things ourselves. But there are just things that happen when we step away. And it's sorta nice.
Oh, and as I'm writing this, their private dance instructor just showed up. Both her cousin and husband aren't home yet, so Gina and I are looking at each other: dance instructor? Really!?!?
Oh well, I suppose we could move down here and live this sort of life.
But why would I want to give up on the glamour and prestige of a career in journalism?
Being stuck without transportation while on vacation sucks. Thanks to years of abuse, we don't have the room to secure a rental, so we stayed at the house all day Wednesday.
Deciding we couldn't just waste away the vacation in a house (no matter how big and spacious and beautiful), we hopped the bus to San Jose.
For 310 colones apiece (that's roughly 70 cents, depending on the exchange rate you get at the bank), we were taken the 20 kilometers - hooray for the metric system - from Ciudad Colon into the capital San Jose.
San Jose is a big, crowded, dirty city. We decided to take in a little bit of culture, so we went to the national museum and saw the history of the country. Unfortunately for us, two of the exhibits were closed. One was the butterfly garden, which was one of the things we had hoped to see in town. Oh well.
But what we did see was interesting. They had part of one of the forts that guarded the town in the early days, before they decommissioned the army. And a complete history of the country, and how its diversity shaped the region.
We then walked down to a busy pedestrian mall. Gina describes it as "Santa Monica, without the ocean." You've got shopping centers with food courts. Lots of little shops, like those you'd see along the streets of New York. Shops selling everything from clothes to jewelry to souveniers. All old, a bit dirty but kinda quaint.
And crowded. A whole mass of people trying to share the same space while people trying to sell pirated DVD's set up shop on the ground (Ice Age 3 and Up were two of the titles I saw).
Everyone in the shops we went to were very nice. And the taxi drivers were knowledgeable, helpful AND nice.
We warned to watch our things, so we didn't take any pictures of the area.
So, that was the day.
One more full day, then a full day of travel home.
More thoughts then.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Things I've learned so far
This trip has been amazing so far. It's been so nice to not be at work and not have the stresses of home.
But coming to a new country and getting to know the lay of the land, as it were, can be daunting. Especially as guests in relatives' houses.
AS I mentioned in Monday's Random Thoughts, I've been working on my Spanish, and noticed that getting around can be a challenge, depending on where you are.
But there are a couple of other things that we in the US tend to take for granted that aren't quite the same here.
First off, get used to cold showers. With all the humidity there is, it's not too terrible to deal with, but man... it's seriously cold. Especially in the older houses and neighborhoods.
Today, before heading out to stay with one of Gina's cousins in a newer area, I was able to sneak in and get a brief lukewarm shower. And I mean brief. The warm water was there and gone in a minute.
A quick check of things out here, and we have warm, even hot water. No worries for the next couple of days. And that will be refreshing.
Speaking of getting things clean, well, there are no dryers. Your clothes drying system is the same one they've had for hundreds of years: The clothesline.
Wash your clothes in the washing machine (which, we "broke" at Gina's uncle's house; a simple repair we hope), then hang them up to dry.
Most of the houses have set aside roofed areas for their clotheslines, allowing the air and sun to get through, but not the rain. It really can't stop the moisture in the air, which meant that all our cotton socks had to spend the night outside, and were cold and damp in the morning. And with the way the weather shifts around here, you definitely are taking your chances.
So, that's the latest from vacation. We've finally got some images into a computer and should start sharing soon. Until then, have a good one.
But coming to a new country and getting to know the lay of the land, as it were, can be daunting. Especially as guests in relatives' houses.
AS I mentioned in Monday's Random Thoughts, I've been working on my Spanish, and noticed that getting around can be a challenge, depending on where you are.
But there are a couple of other things that we in the US tend to take for granted that aren't quite the same here.
First off, get used to cold showers. With all the humidity there is, it's not too terrible to deal with, but man... it's seriously cold. Especially in the older houses and neighborhoods.
Today, before heading out to stay with one of Gina's cousins in a newer area, I was able to sneak in and get a brief lukewarm shower. And I mean brief. The warm water was there and gone in a minute.
A quick check of things out here, and we have warm, even hot water. No worries for the next couple of days. And that will be refreshing.
Speaking of getting things clean, well, there are no dryers. Your clothes drying system is the same one they've had for hundreds of years: The clothesline.
Wash your clothes in the washing machine (which, we "broke" at Gina's uncle's house; a simple repair we hope), then hang them up to dry.
Most of the houses have set aside roofed areas for their clotheslines, allowing the air and sun to get through, but not the rain. It really can't stop the moisture in the air, which meant that all our cotton socks had to spend the night outside, and were cold and damp in the morning. And with the way the weather shifts around here, you definitely are taking your chances.
So, that's the latest from vacation. We've finally got some images into a computer and should start sharing soon. Until then, have a good one.
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