The Bummer about "Blonde" Hair

Some of you may be surprised to hear this, but I use chemical products to change the color of my hair. Here is it's natural color:

See how ugly it makes me look?

And so, I dye my hair.  The problem is maintenance.  I can get away with about 8-10 weeks between dye jobs, but at the 10 week mark, it's kind of urgent. 

The next problem is, in Central America, it's tricky to find a stylist that understands how the blonde-haired Norwegian woman's hair works.  Or more correctly, I told myself it would be difficult to find a stylist that understands how the blonde-haired Norwegian woman's hair works.  Based on my experience in Malaysia. 

And so, I decided to do it myself.  I did the first inch of my hair, or the grown out roots.  And I forgot how badly bleach burns when you apply it directly to your scalp.  Your sunburned scalp.  I was only able to leave it on for 40 minutes.  Then I reapplied for another 40 minutes.  But it only lifted to a nice orange shade.

Like this:

So, I wasted $10 on the box.  In Panama I went to the mall and bit the bullet for a dye/cut job.

The result was super nice color.  Love it.  Dude did a great job with the color.

BUT: Now, in the back, I am supporting a lovely 90's mushroom cut I would have killed for in 6th grade. It's OK. I will just have to face everyone for the next month.

Poser

Tips on how to pose for a photo.  Do it like Ana Lorena, the girl 4th from the left.  And not like me.

Proof I Surfed in Panama

Flat Tire

I really want to post 365 times this year, so you're going to have to forgive me in advance, since I'm apologizing in advance.  I'm going to post a ton of ridiculous crap to make my goal.  I believe in making goals, like an incredibly OCD person believes in stepping over the first sidewalk crack with his left foot and the next sidewalk crack with my right.  Oops, did I just give myself away?  The point is I decided to do it, and so now I don't have a choice.  Now matter how long the sidewalk is, or how impatient you look.

Here are some pictures of the day we got a flat tire.  I was BOUND AND DETERMINED that I was going to change that tire, but Nicole rightly pointed out that since I had never changed a tire, and since we blew the tire directly in front of the tire changing center we should probably have the experts look at it.  I reluctantly agreed, and they did. 

We went straight inside and got beers.  How stressful.

Here's the big hole.  How the heck?

The nice man put the spare on and gave Nicole a free new spare and only asked for a tip.  We told him, "here's a tip: don't stare straight at the sun", and sped off.  Just kidding.

Dancing

Remember this old promise to myself?

Well, I never got around to it and now there are more dances to be learned.  Like the Bachata.  Which I tried last night, under the Panamanian Christmas fireworks, and my teacher gave me these tips:

"It's like one, two, OOPS.  One, two, OOPS"

and:

"It's like marching.  Like the Nazis."

Sick?

Something I have noticed in my travels is that people from other cultures have different ideas about what makes you sick.  In Korea, my friends who teach English say that the school administrators and other teachers leave all of the windows open in every classroom throughout winter.  Everyone just wears their winter coats to school.  This is so they won't get sick.  Because everybody knows that you must have fresh air in order to stay healthy.

Here in Panama, a couple friends went to a fiesta and danced the salsa all night long.  Of course their T-shirts got very sweaty.  When they went to leave, the hosts of the fiesta wouldn't let them unless they changed their shirts, because everybody knows if you go outside with a sweaty shirt you will get sick.

Even the famous surfer told us that we couldn't use the air conditioner in the car immediately after surfing because if we did, our face would go numb on one side, like a stroke victim.

And so I had to marvel at what happened to me yesterday.  In Panama, it is customary to greet people (male and female) this way:  reach out your right hand as if to shake hands, but instead, pull the person close and kiss their right cheek.  Last night a woman came up to me, moved her snot-rag from her right hand to the left, grabbed my hand and kissed me and then said, "oh, I'm SO sick."

I think there may be some sort of misunderstanding.

"Puchycoco"

We just happened to meet a famous Panamanian surfer on Saturday.  I was flipping through a surfing magazine that was sitting out at a restaurant in Playa Venao, Panama.  One of the girls AT the restaurant looked SO familiar!!  And so we asked her if it was her.  Nope, it wasn't.  But she was in the magazine in a photo on another page.  HA.  I ended up getting her autograph.  In conversation to her, I mentioned that I want to learn to surf.  Then Nicole had a BRILLIANT idea.  Why not stay for two more days in the beach/surf town, and take lessons from the famous surfer?  Puchycoco agreed to teach us for just $25.  Each.  For two lessons.  Total.  (I paid $75 for a lesson in Bali.)  So I agreed and she even offered to pick us up from where we were staying 40 minutes away from the beach, since she had a car and it was on her way. 

We took this mini weekend trip with 8 other people in a van, and so we had to part ways with them and forgo our ride back to Panama City, but it was worth it.  We ended up getting a hostel on the beach and taking two lessons, one on Sunday and one on Monday.  The first day it was really difficult because the waves kept pounding in and it was hard to try and stand up.  Puchycoco suggested we wait until low tide at 5pm and so we did, and I was able to stand up like a million times.  On Monday, she took us out past the break to the more high waves.  That was super hard, but once I got the hang of it, I caught a bunch more waves.  Puchycoco doesn't speak English, so I felt a little bit handicapped, but I understood enough.  I think. 

"Ray-ma, ray-ma, ray-ma, ray-ma, ray-ma, ray-ma, ray-ma, ray-ma, ray-ma!"  (Don't forget to roll the R.)This is the phonetic spelling for what I assume means, "Paddle, paddle, paddle!", etc because she would scream it at me when it was time to prepare for the wave coming.  You have to paddle like crazy so the wave will take you.  It's hard work, and right now my arms are SO SORE.  I swear for the rest of my life, I will hear Puchycoco's cute little voice in my head whenever I am paddling a surfboard.  Then she would scream, "AAARRRRRRIIIIIIBA", or "Get up!"  And sometimes I would.

...and I only thought about sharks like four times.

The Panama Canal!

Whoa, this was pretty cool.  First of all, I had no idea that they dug a hole right through the middle of Panama to make the canal.  For some reason I thought the border of Panama and Colombia was the canal.  Dumb.  Second of all, I didn't realize they had to blast and dig 50 miles of canal.  It is so incredible what they did back in the 1800s to make it.  It was fully operational by 1914, and the first boat made the trip at that time. 

They charge by weight.  Some boats pay as much as $240,000 to get through the canal.  The cheapest fare ever was a guy by the name of Halliburton, who swam across in the 30's and only paid 37 cents.

Notice in the last three photos how they lower and raise the water to let the boats through the locks.  So fascinating.  It takes about 8 to 10 hours to make the 50 mile trip.  There are several sets of locks.  This one I photographed is called Miraflores, and it's the largest set. 

In the last two weeks, they have had so much rain, that for the first time EVER, the canal was closed for 17 hours! 



The "Comfort Shop"

Great news!  I was offered a job in Panama!  In this place I like to call a "Comfort Shop".  It was anything but sweaty.  And I have to say I was super tempted, because making those Doctor's lab coats looked like a ton of fun!

Spanish Lesson

Perro en cesto = Puppy in basket

No puedan ir al ninguna parte = They're not going anywhere.

Idiota = Dunce   (according to Sarah Lindahl, poor kid)

No entiendo = I don't get it.

Policia con cerveza = Policeman with Beer.

Meet the last Roommate

Our last roommate's name was Scorpy.  He was super introverted, to the point of being creepy and only came around in the evening.  He used to sidle in with no warning, which unfortunately was his undoing, because, as we should have explained to him at application, we are girls, and scorpions FREAK us out.  In the end we ended up murdering him with the help of a male neighbor.  I believe they call that "accessory to the murder" on Law and Order, which I am watching in spades these days.  No bigs though because he was NOT pulling his weight.

He'd be like, "I'm just looking for water, yo."

And I was all, "Fine man, but my towel?  That's just rude."

And he was all, "I'm just livin'."

And I was all, "NOT ANY MORE."

The murder weapon.  A mop handle.

Meet the new rental applicant: "Hops".  He wants to move in so bad he hangs out near our front door, staring at the wall for hours. 

In my old life, it was 70 hour work-weeks and 45 minute commutes, sometimes in crazy deep snow and slippery ice that were the main causes of stress in my life.   This evening, I felt myself doing some deep stress relieving breathing.  What's causing the tension?  It's the creepy crawleys!  They're everywhere.  Snakes, toads, scorpions, spiders, geckos, lizards, tiny little beach crabs, oh, and howler monkeys right outside our window.  We have Langostas too, which are basically GIGANTIC grasshopers that CAN. FLY.  I don't have a photo of a Langosta, because when I see one, I get the heck out of there.  They're super spastic and don't have a real well thought-out flight plan so watch out!

I Keep Running into Dead Animals.

And photographing them.  I can't help it.

Um...Mom...I Agree with you?

At the tender young age of 16, I became obsessed fell in love with an Icelandic singer by the name of Bjork, who had just released a solo album.  She was previously in a favorite band of mine by the name of the Sugarcubes, but that's not the point of the story.  The point is that I worked at a record store, and we got an issue of Rolling Stone magazine in which she was featured.  So I bought it with my 20% discount.  You may remember this controversial issue?



If you look in the lower right hand corner, you'll see mention of Bjork.  I made the mistake of leaving this magazine on the counter in the kitchen, and my mom, with very good reason, felt this was inappropriate reading material for an impressionable young girl of 16 and THREW IT IN THE FIRE WE USED TO HEAT OUR HOUSE.  Without any discussion.  When I explained that I couldn't care less about Janet Jackson or her boobs and that really I just wanted to read and reread and obsess over the article in the back about my favorite artist, she did feel bad, and I think she we all learned a very valuable lesson that day.

"DO YOU HAVE MIRALAX?!"

A friend of mine recommended a product called Membrana for my toe.  It is supposed to create a water-proof protective layer for open wounds.  Today I visited a pharmacy to see if they had any.  I wrote it down for the Pharmacy worker, and as she was looking for it, a rude, old, overweight, loud American man marched right up to the counter and interrupted her.
He cupped his hands over his mouth, as if to create a megaphone.  Then he literally screamed, loudly and slowly: "DO YOU HAVE MIRALAX?!?"  This made me take notice of him.  Hands still cupped, AGAIN he screamed, "IT'S A LAXATIVE!!!!"
The poor Pharmacy worker couldn't understand him, but he gave up quickly and walked out. 

After he left, I said to Nicole, "I think that's something you really should whisper."

Some Positives about Costa Rica. In List Form.

• I can drink tap water.
• I can flush toilet paper.

That's it for now.  I'll update this massive list as I see more positives.

More Toe

Just my crazy life to have crushed my toe the night before leaving for Costa Rica.  I almost delayed my trip.  But in the end I decided to brave it.  My friend Michelle (pictured in the previous post as bandaging me up) took me to the doctor hours before I moved out of Bridget's apartment and left Nicaragua for the forseeable future, my whole world on my back.  The doctor bandaged the toe and said that as long as I kept it dry and clean, the bandage should last two days.  (A huge plus since I need a glass of wine just to look at the wound, and even after that I almost faint every time.  I even used one of my precious Xanex trying to deal with the grossness of it all.)  I was shaking as he cleaned it, wrapped it with antibiotic cream, gauze, a popsicle stick, an Ace bandage and sent me on my way.  Limping all the way to the bus station, in and around Managua, and onto another bus headed for Costa Rica. 

I was finally able to relax on the bus.  But, buses that go between countries have to stop at borders.  And at borders you have to get out of the bus and walk around and get passports stamped and bags searched.  AND of course it started raining. I had a strike of genius and asked the in-bus flight attendant guy if he had a plastic bag.  YAY!  Dry bandage.  BUT of course I had to go pee and go in a disgusting bathroom where I stepped all over in pee with plastic bag foot and then had to save the same bag for more 'off the bus' happenings.  I arrived to Costa Rica in major style:

The problem was it was nighttime, and I was the only person to get off the bus in Liberia in the dark, about one hour from my destination of Huacas.  I was accosted by a man who said he was a taxi, and of course he had an unmarked car.  I asked for taxi identification, and he didn't have any.  I kept asking him if he was prepared to murder a nice girl from Minnesota.  Big toothy smiles and no no no's later, I decided 'te confio.'  I trust you.  But I had to negotiate a price.  I said I would give him $35 plus I needed to use his phone to call my friend.  (A secret clue for the police that my murderer's number would be on her phone.)  Then I said I needed to go to the ATM.  I left all my belongings in his car and went to the ATM and he didn't drive off so I trusted him a little extra.  And then I made sure to just talk and talk and talk about my friend having his phone number now so he really shouldn't murder me.  We made friends and he took this photo, of me, and all my belongings and my plastic bag foot.  When he dropped me at yet another in the dark location where I waited for Nicole and I couldn't get her on the phone.  So I ate dinner and tried to ignore the 5 or 6 dudes outside the store that my taxi driver told me not to talk to.  Just before I lost hope, she arrived, and we went to her fantastic apartment and drank lots of wine.

That was last Tuesday.  It is now Sunday.  My foot has been bandaged three more times this week, all by me.  I have walked probably 147 miles on my bad, limpy, one sock feet.  I try to wear one cute shoe so people know that I know that the sock is weird, and only due to a horrible 10 plastic chair injury.  But I really think things are looking better.  Here's a photo.  Sorry about your stomachs, but it's like I tell my dad.  I'm a journalist.  (Not really.)  I just gotta report the news.  (Kind of.) 



When complete strangers ask me what happened to my foot?  I really wish I could remember the Spanish words for 'dropped' and 'crushed', because instead I tell them: "I carry 10 plastic chairs" and then I pantomime dropping them, and them crushing my toe, and then I say, "Poor little toe."

Dangerous Hazards

This just happens to be my 800th post, give or take, and so I'd like to dedicate it to NOT going behind a fenced off area at a volcano to see if you can get up close to lava, because you might step on ground that looks solid, but it isn't and then you sink down up to your knees and get horribly burned on your ankles. Like this poor girl I met here in Costa Rica:

Book Review

THE ALCHEMIST by Paulo Coelho

This is a book about a boy from Spain who decides, after following his heart, to travel across the Sahara desert to the Pyramids in search of treasure.  Most people decide to quit their jobs and travel AFTER reading this book.  I didn't read it until midway through my adventure.  But it's very good.  It's a quick read...easily a one-dayer.  I read it in bed between ralphing my guts out in the Guatemalan Toilet Microphone .

Here are my favorite quotes from the book:

• "During this time in spiritual exile, I learned many important things: that we only accept a truth after we have first wholeheartedly rejected it; that we mustn't run away from our own destiny; and that the hand of God is firm, but infinitely generous."
• "The boy knew a lot of people in the city.  That was what made traveling appeal to him -- he always made new friends, and he didn't need to spend all of his time with them.  When someone sees the same people every day, as had happened with him at the seminary, they wind up becoming a part of that person's life.  And then they want the person to change.  If someone isn't what others want them to be, the others become angry.  Everyone seems to have a clear idea of how other people should lead their lives, but none about his or her own." 
• "Most people see the world as a threatening place, and, because they do, the world turns out, indeed, to be a threatening place."

BLINK by Malcolm Gladwell

This is a great book -- it's about our first impressions, and how they can be both dangerous and also pretty accurate.  He hooks you in the first chapter by talking about a statue that was unearthed and on loan to the Getty Museum.  They spent 14 months studying it in order to decide if they wanted to purhase it.  After a ton of scientists did test after lab test, they decided to spent $10 million on it.  Then they showed it to other curators and interested folk, several of whom identified it as a fake almost immediately.  Why were they able in a blink of an eye, able to identify it as a fake when other scientists felt it was for reals after 14 months of study?  Mostly it's a book filled with lots of similar scientific studies but they're infinitely fascinating.  Like, did you know that the vast majority of American CEO's are white men, over 6 feet tall?  We like our tall white men to lead us.  Did you know that 100% of people who take a split-second test will associate black with bad and white with good?  And in order to answer more correctly, you have to slow down and try to think harder?  Don't believe me?  Check out https://implicit.harvard.edu/implicit/Study?tid=-1

Eye opening.  I guess I'm a racist.  And I knew what the test was trying to do before I ever took it. 

The problem I have with the book is that I was expecting it to tell me how to refine my first impressions and use them to my advantage, but it never did.


GILDA RADNER: IT'S ALWAYS SOMETHING by Gilda Radner

Really really good.  About her fight with ovarian cancer and also her career and marriage to Gene Wilder.  I liked this book, because I loved her.  Remember Jewess Jeans?  "they're skin tight they're outta sight.  Jewess Jeans...She shops the sales for designer clothes, she's got designer nails and a designer nose."  ??

Or how about:
"Playing the french horn happens to be my way of coping with the grim realities of prison life."

Anyways, heartBREAKing story.  She wasn't the very best writer, but it's a super good story.  She's so honest about the toll that cancer took on her marriage and how it affected her behavior towards her friends.  Honest about not wanting to die, and yet sometimes wanting to die.  Highly recommend. Come to think about it, I highly recommend throwing the "Best of Gilda Radner" from Saturday Night Live in your Netflix queue while you're at it.

Just Like Kool-Aid Man

This post is dedicated to Sarah Lindahl, who hates the dentist.

I had heard that it's really cheap to get your teeth cleaned in Nicaragua. Back home, I never had dental insurance, and so I paid cash for a cleaning once a year, which ran me about $100.

So I asked around in Nicaragua and found a recommended dentist.  Only $15 for a cleaning!  I walked there and asked the assistant if he could see me. "Jes", she said, I could come right in. Hmmmm...

So I did. And it was the dentist, not the dental assistant who cleaned my teeth. She looked on and was ready to help me rinse and spit when necessary.

Sidebar: I love going to the dentist at home. Love, as in, I get a huge ego trip. "Your teeth are so beautiful", "looks great"...and any time my dentist has had to fill anything he always makes sure to let me know I don't have any cavities, just the start of a cavity, and all he really wants to do is prevent the cavity.  I walk out of there with a huge head.  It's quite nice.

And so...I was kind of disappointed when the Nicaraguan dentist was a little more honest with me. "You have a line crack here", "later in life these teeth here will break. You have secondary molars", "your gums are receding...this is a problem with the white people", "how do you brush?" and the like. And he told me the most shocking news: "You have a cavity."

Now this, I was not expecting.

I consider myself a citizen of the world (an American citizen of the world, anyway), and I hate that I had any sort of prejudice against dental care in a supposedly third world country. After all, the Nicaraguans have to go to the dentist, right? The problem is, a lotta Nicaraguan people have like silver things on every tooth. Little silver squares, like picture frames.  Much like the two front teeth of the person in this stock photo.

"Will the filling be tooth colored?" I asked.  He looked at me like, WHA? And said, yah.  (Duh, obviously.)

So, my options were to wait until I returned to the States next June, and pay a couple hundred bucks for a filling, and who knows how bad the cavity would be by then...or option two: fill the stupid tooth in Nicaragua.

Facing fears!!

So, Sarah Lindahl, I got my stupid tooth filled. In Nicaragua.  The following are some of my favorite moments of my experience:

• The dentist showed me the drill. "See how small it is?" I was like, I don't CARE! 
• I asked to use the bathroom, and the assistant walked me through an old folks home into what appreared to be the Doctor's personal apartment and his personal bathroom.  There was a baguette on a shelf where the clothes were.  Like, a loaf of bread.  The good news was that the bathroom was very clean.
• We were joking around about me being nervous and he said, "oh, don't worry, I'm still only a little dizzy from last night."
• He used some crazy stretchy blue plastic to isolate my tooth along with a clamp that he put on my tooth with an old pair of garage pliers. I was like, "you know this is the stuff of nightmares? Right? Getting your tooth filled in another country?" He looked offended and told me that all dentists use this tool, he got it in Miami. I didn't have the heart to tell him I had never seen one before and quickly backtracked to include ALL dentistry in ALL countries as the stuff of nightmares.  Which is kind of true, eh, Sarah? 
• To loosen me up, he said, "I'll tell you a yoke later."
• When I paid him the $30 (YES YOU HEARD ME. ONLY $30) for the cleaning and filling, he said, "just enough for the party tonight."

And my favorite filling moment:

• When he was finished filling, he said, obviously pleased with himself: "OH YEAH!" (Just like Kool-Aid man after he breaks through your kitchen wall), and then he said, "I love my yobe!"

2010 - So Far 323 posts.

On average, like one per day.  Which is what I strive for.  I hope I can keep it up to make 365 for the year.  It's good to have goals when one is unemployed. 

So here's my story of the day.

Today I was in a car with a bunch of girls, when I happened to see a drunk man sitting on the curb with very short shorts on.  I'm looking at him because he's scratchin' and then I see his Peter.  His thingee.  It's peeing!  Into the gutter!

I was so shocked but couldn't look away!  So instead I exclaimed, "who wants to see a penis?!?"  And only one girl looked, but we laughed and laughed. 

Getting Googled Vol. 3

Search the following, and find me!


"Using woman's tampon as deer lure"

"Horse fart on command"

"Mom in dad pee"

"Pee pee pants"

"Tampons AND deer"

"Super bad things in Guatemala"

Things I will Miss about Nicaragua

Suicide shower.  Electrocution danger with every soap-up.

Burning garbage in the streets.

Shopping for groceries at the Pali.

Good friends.

Old American school buses posing as city buses, with religious messages like "thank you Jesus" painted in the windows.

Dengue Fever

Parties

Street Advertisers blasting messages about which coffee I should drink.