It’s true – during my last couple of years of high school, this was what they called me.
My group of friends was something of an offshoot from the main clamour of students. Most of us were not part of the ‘elite’ classes you always find in secondary education; nor, I like to believe, were we looked upon as nerds or outcasts (for the most part). For the lack of a more universally-accurate description of us, we were generally known simply as ‘The Jugglers’. I think I started going to Duncan’s Juggling Club in my fourth year, and I learned a few new skills, made a few new friends, and achieved my original goal of operating in the same circles as the boy I liked, back in the day.
Give me three hacky sacks, apples, clubs even; and I’d be able to knock your socks off with 3-ball cascades, inverse tosses, showers or even the occasional flash. But throw a projectile my way with as much warning as you please, and I would miss it every time. It’s not difficult to see why they called me the juggler who couldn’t catch. Continue reading
I’m beginning to truly regret my recent absence here on the blog. In all honesty, the only reason I’m able to update so frequently these days (by which I mean that I write entries down on paper and then can’t upload them because my home internet connection is messed up) is because things are slow here at work and I’m able to plan my workshops in a couple of days; so I am left with many hours to fill. I’m hoping for more work to keep myself busy with soon, but in the meantime my thinking is that a) if I fulfil all my duties and meet all my deadlines, I’m doing my job; and b) if the participants in my workshop had written what I asked them to last week, I’d have about 7,000 words of Spanish to keep me busy translating. Not my fault nobody listens to me… Continue reading
It wasn’t long after I arrived here that we made our first little trip. Destination: Zarcero. Or, more precisely, Bernardita’s parents’ farm a little past Zarcero. The climate there is like that of Monteverde: green, chilly, draped in fog. When the mists cleared – rarely for longer than 20 minutes or so – the mountainous landscape was impressive to behold, and it felt very natural, fresh and rural.
It was a farm, after all.
Mum's favourite little critters!
How many months does it take to turn a tourist into a tica?
That’s not really a fair question, and of course I know I’ll never be Costa Rican. However, I’ve been here in San Ramón, with a job and a (host) family and a purpose, for two months now; and I’m feeling pretty settled in.
The sunset from my window that first night