Monday, May 23, 2011
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Our best laid plans don't rival God's....
Was up at 6:30 having coffee outside and excitedly waiting, amidst a torrential deluge, for my canopy tour to start. It was raining so hard I considered wearing my bathing suit and/or not wearing my glasses. But I put on a shirt and shorts and waited. They’d told me my SLR was too large, and then I remembered I have both a pocket video camera and a pocket point and shoot, so I was armed with them. And I waited.
And waited and waited and waited. I saw a coupla busses go by from my tour company, but they didn’t stop. When the hotel office opened at 8, the manager called for me and was told the tour had been cancelled. I have the option to take it tomorrow or to get my money refunded. I came to my room to call them myself. Since tomorrow morning I had the boat tour scheduled, I tried to see if there’s a boat tour this afternoon. So first of all, I don’t know where the USB mike that takes headsets is. It’s a great traveling tool, and Radio Shack has stopped making it for a model that has hard-wired headsets. So this little device is really nice, but you have to have it for it to work… It was in my suitcase and I remember mentally noting that it should be in my camera gadget bag, but it’s not there. No problem, since my webcam is, and it has a built in mike (my headset has a built in mike as well, but my laptop has separate mic and headset jacks, so I can’t use it without an adapter like the one mentioned above). I first called through my webcam, and the canopy tour company heard me fine, but I had to call the boat tour people to check the status of the boat tour. They couldn’t hear me through the webcam, and Skype on my cellphone doesn’t work except for Skype to Skype calls. I thought it might have been easier to just use my cellphone to call them, that way I could use the integrated mic and headset, but there’s no cellphone reception down here. There is internet, so I have to call over Skype. Suddenly, all this seemingly anal obsession with gadgets and technology is paying off – I’m able to communicate and adapt my plans.
So I want to see if I can do the boat tour this afternoon. They need two people to do the tour, and so far I’m the only one. It’s a 5:30 tour. I’ll call again at 4:30, or maybe I could just pay the price of two to do it this afternoon. I think that would be best, and then do the ziplines tomorrow morning. If it doesn’t pour again.
Which also calls into question what time the canopy tour would end and whether or not I could make it back to San Jose to catch my flight. It’s an evening flight and it’s on Spirit Air, so I’m gonna think that as long as I’m out of Quepos by 4 or 5 pm, I should be fine.
So. Today is Sunday, the day many Christians traditionally worship the Lord. (sidebar: need to do research on Sabbath observances). I think I’m gonna worship today with a trek into the Costa Rican rainforest. The biggest decisions facing me today are the same ones facing me this morning: SLR or point and shoot? Sneaks or Tevas? And Bathing Suit or shirt?
God has truly blessed me, and I’m grateful for this journey!! The life we have in the States is great; the US is still the greatest country in the world, IMHO. But other countries have lots to offer, as well. In the US, we have a lot and we do a lot. Here, (I typed “we;” Freudian?) here, they have little and do a lot with it. Life’s not all about material things, and the shift in focus is remarkable.
More after the rainforest.
*********************************
WHAT A DAY!!!!!
So I go down to Manuel Antonio. People are stopping me in the street, asking if I want to do tours (it's low season). I didn’t, because I only wanted a taste of the park. This guy comes up in a uniform and says he works for the park and could be my guide. He had me when he pulled out his telescope. I didn’t take my SLR because it had been raining and I didn’t want to risk it raining again and ruining my camera. It is a rainforest, after all. So I took the little point and shoot, which we could put up to the telescope and through which we could take pictures. I opted for the private tour. Don’t know why, since I’m all about not spending extra money, but I knew by then that I wanted to see the rainforest once and get the most out of it. A tour seemed like a good idea.
In retrospect, it was a great idea. Except it wasn’t an “idea,” it was a Divine Orchestration. The guide’s name is Alvin. We walked and talked; he showed me sloths and crabs (so brightly colored I thought they were discarded children’s toys), bats, termites, iguanas, flowers, trees, medicinal herbs, and I don’t know what else. Oh, yeah. Deer and monkeys. He told me about the viper that had been in the park the day before, and we watched a baby sloth coming down to do its weekly bowel movement (we didn’t watch the actual process, just the coming down.) I’ll post pictures from the trail. It was interesting.
First of all, I wore my CME polo shirt. But the emblem is not very pronounced (gold on white), so it’s not like I was shouting out “I’m Christian.” But as we talked, we each said phrases that the other recognized. So we spent the tour with me teaching him to say ‘everything is by the grace of God”, and “All that you have is not through your power, but through the power of God” in English. Questions about where I learned my Spanish triggered a conversation about death, and he shared his testimony. He’d been in a car accident a couple of years ago. His friend died, and he (Alvin) was in a coma for two weeks. He broke both hips, has issues with the bones and nerves in his arms and legs, and lost a piece of his skull, so the doctors had to put in a plate over his eyes or something. He also lost a percentage of hearing in his right ear. Additionally, he has three kids, but is separated from his wife.
During all that, he was busy giving God the Glory. I told him how my worship for the day was to immerse myself in the wonder and majesty of God’s creation, which led us into a convo on the beauty of God’s creations. So we walked and talked and witnessed and testified through the park and through the beach. What a way to spend a day praising God! And I think we were both happy to be able to talk about and praise God in a language not our own.
After the tour, I paid him. I had to go to the ATM, and afterwards decided to continue on to Quepos. The weather had cleared up, and I wanted to see if I could either change the boat tour til later or get on a zipline tour for the day. It’s Costa Rica; the economy is based on tourism. I had a pretty good idea that, even though they’d told me the tours were off, that I would be able to find one. I wanted to find it with the company I’d already paid for, but mostly I wanted to find a tour.
So I went into Iguana tours and they called the Canopy tour company. It was 1:30. I had to wait about 10 minutes for them to call me back and tell me they’d pick me up at 2:15. So I went to some chicken place and got some water, went to the Presbyterian church (closed) and past a Pentecostal Church that was playing music but whose front gate seemed to be locked. Finally I passed a young kid in the streets. He was carrying a Bible. He told me where his church was, and that services had just ended, but they’d have more at 6 in the evening. Unfortunately, I didn’t make it.
But I did go on the Canopy tour!!!! 13 lines, from short up to 450 meters. It is apparently the only canopy tour in the protected rainforest, and the price included drinks and snacks. There were nature trails and a small suspension bridge, and a “rappel,” which was really a guided “freefall,” at the end. I wasn’t going to do that because of my arthritic knee, but when I saw the others doing it and realized it didn’t drop you hard on the ground, I thought it might be good preparation for skydiving. There’s something about stepping out from the firm ground (or from the wobbly suspension) – something about stepping out of what your know or your comfort zone, and stepping into faith in someone or Something else – it’s an area that’s coming more easily to me.
But before I get to preaching: The Zip lines were AWESOME! Climb up the mountain and you are strapped into a harness-like getup which you wear the whole time. You are given a helmet and gloves. They give you a quick lesson in how to brake, how to right yourself if you start to spin around, and what not to do, and you’re on your way. So you sit on air and go. AWESOME!!! Pictures are here. Then I’m going to pack, get ready for bed (if I can figure out what time it is), and prepare for the trip to San Jose and then home tomorrow.
And waited and waited and waited. I saw a coupla busses go by from my tour company, but they didn’t stop. When the hotel office opened at 8, the manager called for me and was told the tour had been cancelled. I have the option to take it tomorrow or to get my money refunded. I came to my room to call them myself. Since tomorrow morning I had the boat tour scheduled, I tried to see if there’s a boat tour this afternoon. So first of all, I don’t know where the USB mike that takes headsets is. It’s a great traveling tool, and Radio Shack has stopped making it for a model that has hard-wired headsets. So this little device is really nice, but you have to have it for it to work… It was in my suitcase and I remember mentally noting that it should be in my camera gadget bag, but it’s not there. No problem, since my webcam is, and it has a built in mike (my headset has a built in mike as well, but my laptop has separate mic and headset jacks, so I can’t use it without an adapter like the one mentioned above). I first called through my webcam, and the canopy tour company heard me fine, but I had to call the boat tour people to check the status of the boat tour. They couldn’t hear me through the webcam, and Skype on my cellphone doesn’t work except for Skype to Skype calls. I thought it might have been easier to just use my cellphone to call them, that way I could use the integrated mic and headset, but there’s no cellphone reception down here. There is internet, so I have to call over Skype. Suddenly, all this seemingly anal obsession with gadgets and technology is paying off – I’m able to communicate and adapt my plans.
So I want to see if I can do the boat tour this afternoon. They need two people to do the tour, and so far I’m the only one. It’s a 5:30 tour. I’ll call again at 4:30, or maybe I could just pay the price of two to do it this afternoon. I think that would be best, and then do the ziplines tomorrow morning. If it doesn’t pour again.
Which also calls into question what time the canopy tour would end and whether or not I could make it back to San Jose to catch my flight. It’s an evening flight and it’s on Spirit Air, so I’m gonna think that as long as I’m out of Quepos by 4 or 5 pm, I should be fine.
So. Today is Sunday, the day many Christians traditionally worship the Lord. (sidebar: need to do research on Sabbath observances). I think I’m gonna worship today with a trek into the Costa Rican rainforest. The biggest decisions facing me today are the same ones facing me this morning: SLR or point and shoot? Sneaks or Tevas? And Bathing Suit or shirt?
God has truly blessed me, and I’m grateful for this journey!! The life we have in the States is great; the US is still the greatest country in the world, IMHO. But other countries have lots to offer, as well. In the US, we have a lot and we do a lot. Here, (I typed “we;” Freudian?) here, they have little and do a lot with it. Life’s not all about material things, and the shift in focus is remarkable.
More after the rainforest.
*********************************
WHAT A DAY!!!!!
So I go down to Manuel Antonio. People are stopping me in the street, asking if I want to do tours (it's low season). I didn’t, because I only wanted a taste of the park. This guy comes up in a uniform and says he works for the park and could be my guide. He had me when he pulled out his telescope. I didn’t take my SLR because it had been raining and I didn’t want to risk it raining again and ruining my camera. It is a rainforest, after all. So I took the little point and shoot, which we could put up to the telescope and through which we could take pictures. I opted for the private tour. Don’t know why, since I’m all about not spending extra money, but I knew by then that I wanted to see the rainforest once and get the most out of it. A tour seemed like a good idea.
In retrospect, it was a great idea. Except it wasn’t an “idea,” it was a Divine Orchestration. The guide’s name is Alvin. We walked and talked; he showed me sloths and crabs (so brightly colored I thought they were discarded children’s toys), bats, termites, iguanas, flowers, trees, medicinal herbs, and I don’t know what else. Oh, yeah. Deer and monkeys. He told me about the viper that had been in the park the day before, and we watched a baby sloth coming down to do its weekly bowel movement (we didn’t watch the actual process, just the coming down.) I’ll post pictures from the trail. It was interesting.
First of all, I wore my CME polo shirt. But the emblem is not very pronounced (gold on white), so it’s not like I was shouting out “I’m Christian.” But as we talked, we each said phrases that the other recognized. So we spent the tour with me teaching him to say ‘everything is by the grace of God”, and “All that you have is not through your power, but through the power of God” in English. Questions about where I learned my Spanish triggered a conversation about death, and he shared his testimony. He’d been in a car accident a couple of years ago. His friend died, and he (Alvin) was in a coma for two weeks. He broke both hips, has issues with the bones and nerves in his arms and legs, and lost a piece of his skull, so the doctors had to put in a plate over his eyes or something. He also lost a percentage of hearing in his right ear. Additionally, he has three kids, but is separated from his wife.
During all that, he was busy giving God the Glory. I told him how my worship for the day was to immerse myself in the wonder and majesty of God’s creation, which led us into a convo on the beauty of God’s creations. So we walked and talked and witnessed and testified through the park and through the beach. What a way to spend a day praising God! And I think we were both happy to be able to talk about and praise God in a language not our own.
After the tour, I paid him. I had to go to the ATM, and afterwards decided to continue on to Quepos. The weather had cleared up, and I wanted to see if I could either change the boat tour til later or get on a zipline tour for the day. It’s Costa Rica; the economy is based on tourism. I had a pretty good idea that, even though they’d told me the tours were off, that I would be able to find one. I wanted to find it with the company I’d already paid for, but mostly I wanted to find a tour.
So I went into Iguana tours and they called the Canopy tour company. It was 1:30. I had to wait about 10 minutes for them to call me back and tell me they’d pick me up at 2:15. So I went to some chicken place and got some water, went to the Presbyterian church (closed) and past a Pentecostal Church that was playing music but whose front gate seemed to be locked. Finally I passed a young kid in the streets. He was carrying a Bible. He told me where his church was, and that services had just ended, but they’d have more at 6 in the evening. Unfortunately, I didn’t make it.
But I did go on the Canopy tour!!!! 13 lines, from short up to 450 meters. It is apparently the only canopy tour in the protected rainforest, and the price included drinks and snacks. There were nature trails and a small suspension bridge, and a “rappel,” which was really a guided “freefall,” at the end. I wasn’t going to do that because of my arthritic knee, but when I saw the others doing it and realized it didn’t drop you hard on the ground, I thought it might be good preparation for skydiving. There’s something about stepping out from the firm ground (or from the wobbly suspension) – something about stepping out of what your know or your comfort zone, and stepping into faith in someone or Something else – it’s an area that’s coming more easily to me.
But before I get to preaching: The Zip lines were AWESOME! Climb up the mountain and you are strapped into a harness-like getup which you wear the whole time. You are given a helmet and gloves. They give you a quick lesson in how to brake, how to right yourself if you start to spin around, and what not to do, and you’re on your way. So you sit on air and go. AWESOME!!! Pictures are here. Then I’m going to pack, get ready for bed (if I can figure out what time it is), and prepare for the trip to San Jose and then home tomorrow.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Down to Quepos and the Pacific Coast
Saturday, May 21, 2011.
So I guess the Rapture didn’t happen today. At least not in San Jose, CR. Am here with Danny and family; last night when I got back from Bocas, my first thought was “it’s good to be home,” That’s how I feel about staying with Danny.
I’m making a new commitment to keeping my place visitor-ready. So many people have extended so many kindnesses to me throughout the world that I need to be able to return the favor.
So we got up and Danny made coffee in the traditional Costa Rican style. Sort of like a French press, but without the press. He made soft scrambled eggs with onions, garlic, and red peppers. We had a tortilla each. The workmen came to start putting in the new fence around his house, and Daniela and Sylvia came to supervise that. They were spozed to be going to Quepos with me, but that didn’t happen. Sofi and Chris went out last night, and neither of them had stirred by the last time I left, around 11:30 am.
We went out earlier to get the ticket, and a good thing we did: the bus was filling up at 10. So I got a seat and am now on the bus to Quepos by myself. Bless his heart, Danny has contacted a friend there to be my escort, but I’m pretty much on my own for the next couple of days. Daniela and Sylvia think they coming down, but they’re doing the fence thing, which is spozed to last a couple of days, so I don’t know how that will work.
I’ll go this afternoon and find a hotel – I saw a couple advertised, but I want to check them out in person first. The bus goes to Manuel Antonio, and that’s where Danny’s friend will meet me. Not sure if I want to stay there or in Quepos, but they say Manuel Antonio is more reasonable.
It’s a 2 or 3 hour bus ride’ direct. Not much to see, say, or do --- CR is lushly green, and I’ve taken enough photos of greenery from a moving bus. So we’ll see what adventure awaits from the Manuel Antonio National Park.
***************************
So I got here about 3, 3:30, and Mario actually came on the bus and called to me. He’s delightful. Danny didn’t tell me Mario spoke very little English – so we spent the night with him practicing his English and me practicing my Spanish – which was good for both of us. People usually still think I grew up speaking Spanish.
Long story short: I went ahead and checked into the Coco Beach Hotel. It’s a motel, IMHO, but it’s got two pools, AC, a secure place to store my things, a shower with decent water pressure, and free wifi. I think I paid $35.00 for it. It would have cost me another $5.00 per night to have TV, but since at the last hotel we disconnected the TVs to plug in our computers, I decided I didn’t want to do that.
Mario and I walked along the Playa Primera, right before the entrance to Manuel Antonio Park. We saw the entrance, but the Park closes at 4, and the tide was high (you have to enter at low tide to avoid walking through water. It was nice to see Isla Damas, which is where Danny and Sylvia met. Mario lives on Isla Damas, which is like a nature conservatory. There’s one road in, he eats whatever he can pick or catch, and he’s a carpenter, which services he barters for other things.
So I checked into the hotel, we walked along the beach, and we took the bus (like 240 colones, or about 50cents) back into Quepos. There are a couple of interesting things: a restaurant made from an airplane fuselage, one made in the shape of a train, and stuff like that. I’m finding this is a very touristy, college-y town, and am not sure I like that. I mean, I’m on the 50 cent bus listening to an Asian Valley Girl blabber loudly about I don’t know what, while I was watching the melanoma-in-waiting-tanned blonde guy who’s got to be a surfer. And it turned out he was.
After putting my things down, Mario and I tried to sort through all the suggestions Danny has given me and prioritize them by what I want to do. Danny called a coupla times (there’s no reception in the hotel, btw. The great attraction of it is its location. It’s about 100 meters away from the entrance to Manuel Antonio Park). Danny gave me the name of a travel agent friend of his, and Mario’s friend wasn’t sure of what his schedule was going to be. I was kinda thinking that I’m old enough to just pay for the convenience of tours (the whole being at the entrance to the rainforest is good, but it is a looooong way away from, well, anything.
So here’s the plan: it’s 10 pm on Saturday evening. I’m going to crash, and have paid to be picked up at 7 am tomorrow for my zipline tour. I am not to bring my camera (too big), though I can bring my small camcorder (if I remember to plug it in and then to take it). After the tour, which should last about 3 hours, if it’s not raining I may come to Manuel Antonio, or I may go lie on the beach. I’ll play that one by ear. Then at 6:50 on Monday morning, I’ll be picked up, again by Igauana tours, to go on a boatride. I’m spozed to see alligators and monkeys on the boatride. It should last a couple of hours, and I guess I need tomorrow afternoon to find out when there’s a mid-day bus to San Jose, since I’m scheduled to leave on Monday night/Tuesday morning. But that’s on Spirit Air, so it’s anyone’s guess whether it will happen or not.
I’m here at the entrance to the rainforest, all by myself and am loving it! I’m getting ready to go on a coupla tours that are the reason I came here. I may also get to go see the biodiversity of the rainforest.
Oh, and Danny suggested we go to this restaurant called The Great Escape. It was pretty much al fresco, but under a tent. A sudden downpour happened while we were in the tourist office, and it was still raining as we ate. The lights actually went out for a minute (to which some American voice commented how “scary” it was. How is a power failure in the middle of a city a scary event?). I wasn’t much hungry, so I got appetizers: Fish ceviche (as opposed to shrimp, to which I’m allergic), calamares, and a crab dip. Mario got arroz con pollo. Each of the orders was enough for a complete meal, and Mario’s arroz con pollo came with arroz con pollo, pollo, maduras, black beans, a salad, and probably gallo pinto, though I didn’t see it. All the above plus his Seagram’s Ice came to about $40.00 – and remember, this is the tricked-out tourist town. Four adults could easily have made their meals off this quantity of food. I took the leftovers home, and probably won’t have to buy another meal while I’m here. I probably will, but I shouldn’t have to.
The AC is cranking (even though I see brownouts occasionally), and I have an early day tomorrow, so I’m gonna try to post this and turn in. The ride from SJ to Quepos with the ocean breeze, and a quick dip in the pool tonight after dinner should allow me to go to sleep quickly. One of the pools is right in front of my door. They said not to use it after 8 because they put chemicals in. I got home at 7:30 and went for a quick dip, but it felt to me like they’d already put the chemicals in. Either that, or they’re using an older form of chlorine. Whatever it was, I didn’t bring goggles, and it bothered my eyes. It didn’t seem to bother the guys who were hitting on the girl in the corner, but it bothered my eyes.
It’s been another great day. One of the cool things about Costa Rica is that the people who live here genuinely love their country. It’s not like in the US where we love our country’s power; these people love their land, which unites them in their shared love. It’s very nice.
So I guess the Rapture didn’t happen today. At least not in San Jose, CR. Am here with Danny and family; last night when I got back from Bocas, my first thought was “it’s good to be home,” That’s how I feel about staying with Danny.
I’m making a new commitment to keeping my place visitor-ready. So many people have extended so many kindnesses to me throughout the world that I need to be able to return the favor.
So we got up and Danny made coffee in the traditional Costa Rican style. Sort of like a French press, but without the press. He made soft scrambled eggs with onions, garlic, and red peppers. We had a tortilla each. The workmen came to start putting in the new fence around his house, and Daniela and Sylvia came to supervise that. They were spozed to be going to Quepos with me, but that didn’t happen. Sofi and Chris went out last night, and neither of them had stirred by the last time I left, around 11:30 am.
We went out earlier to get the ticket, and a good thing we did: the bus was filling up at 10. So I got a seat and am now on the bus to Quepos by myself. Bless his heart, Danny has contacted a friend there to be my escort, but I’m pretty much on my own for the next couple of days. Daniela and Sylvia think they coming down, but they’re doing the fence thing, which is spozed to last a couple of days, so I don’t know how that will work.
I’ll go this afternoon and find a hotel – I saw a couple advertised, but I want to check them out in person first. The bus goes to Manuel Antonio, and that’s where Danny’s friend will meet me. Not sure if I want to stay there or in Quepos, but they say Manuel Antonio is more reasonable.
It’s a 2 or 3 hour bus ride’ direct. Not much to see, say, or do --- CR is lushly green, and I’ve taken enough photos of greenery from a moving bus. So we’ll see what adventure awaits from the Manuel Antonio National Park.
***************************
So I got here about 3, 3:30, and Mario actually came on the bus and called to me. He’s delightful. Danny didn’t tell me Mario spoke very little English – so we spent the night with him practicing his English and me practicing my Spanish – which was good for both of us. People usually still think I grew up speaking Spanish.
Long story short: I went ahead and checked into the Coco Beach Hotel. It’s a motel, IMHO, but it’s got two pools, AC, a secure place to store my things, a shower with decent water pressure, and free wifi. I think I paid $35.00 for it. It would have cost me another $5.00 per night to have TV, but since at the last hotel we disconnected the TVs to plug in our computers, I decided I didn’t want to do that.
Mario and I walked along the Playa Primera, right before the entrance to Manuel Antonio Park. We saw the entrance, but the Park closes at 4, and the tide was high (you have to enter at low tide to avoid walking through water. It was nice to see Isla Damas, which is where Danny and Sylvia met. Mario lives on Isla Damas, which is like a nature conservatory. There’s one road in, he eats whatever he can pick or catch, and he’s a carpenter, which services he barters for other things.
So I checked into the hotel, we walked along the beach, and we took the bus (like 240 colones, or about 50cents) back into Quepos. There are a couple of interesting things: a restaurant made from an airplane fuselage, one made in the shape of a train, and stuff like that. I’m finding this is a very touristy, college-y town, and am not sure I like that. I mean, I’m on the 50 cent bus listening to an Asian Valley Girl blabber loudly about I don’t know what, while I was watching the melanoma-in-waiting-tanned blonde guy who’s got to be a surfer. And it turned out he was.
After putting my things down, Mario and I tried to sort through all the suggestions Danny has given me and prioritize them by what I want to do. Danny called a coupla times (there’s no reception in the hotel, btw. The great attraction of it is its location. It’s about 100 meters away from the entrance to Manuel Antonio Park). Danny gave me the name of a travel agent friend of his, and Mario’s friend wasn’t sure of what his schedule was going to be. I was kinda thinking that I’m old enough to just pay for the convenience of tours (the whole being at the entrance to the rainforest is good, but it is a looooong way away from, well, anything.
So here’s the plan: it’s 10 pm on Saturday evening. I’m going to crash, and have paid to be picked up at 7 am tomorrow for my zipline tour. I am not to bring my camera (too big), though I can bring my small camcorder (if I remember to plug it in and then to take it). After the tour, which should last about 3 hours, if it’s not raining I may come to Manuel Antonio, or I may go lie on the beach. I’ll play that one by ear. Then at 6:50 on Monday morning, I’ll be picked up, again by Igauana tours, to go on a boatride. I’m spozed to see alligators and monkeys on the boatride. It should last a couple of hours, and I guess I need tomorrow afternoon to find out when there’s a mid-day bus to San Jose, since I’m scheduled to leave on Monday night/Tuesday morning. But that’s on Spirit Air, so it’s anyone’s guess whether it will happen or not.
I’m here at the entrance to the rainforest, all by myself and am loving it! I’m getting ready to go on a coupla tours that are the reason I came here. I may also get to go see the biodiversity of the rainforest.
Oh, and Danny suggested we go to this restaurant called The Great Escape. It was pretty much al fresco, but under a tent. A sudden downpour happened while we were in the tourist office, and it was still raining as we ate. The lights actually went out for a minute (to which some American voice commented how “scary” it was. How is a power failure in the middle of a city a scary event?). I wasn’t much hungry, so I got appetizers: Fish ceviche (as opposed to shrimp, to which I’m allergic), calamares, and a crab dip. Mario got arroz con pollo. Each of the orders was enough for a complete meal, and Mario’s arroz con pollo came with arroz con pollo, pollo, maduras, black beans, a salad, and probably gallo pinto, though I didn’t see it. All the above plus his Seagram’s Ice came to about $40.00 – and remember, this is the tricked-out tourist town. Four adults could easily have made their meals off this quantity of food. I took the leftovers home, and probably won’t have to buy another meal while I’m here. I probably will, but I shouldn’t have to.
The AC is cranking (even though I see brownouts occasionally), and I have an early day tomorrow, so I’m gonna try to post this and turn in. The ride from SJ to Quepos with the ocean breeze, and a quick dip in the pool tonight after dinner should allow me to go to sleep quickly. One of the pools is right in front of my door. They said not to use it after 8 because they put chemicals in. I got home at 7:30 and went for a quick dip, but it felt to me like they’d already put the chemicals in. Either that, or they’re using an older form of chlorine. Whatever it was, I didn’t bring goggles, and it bothered my eyes. It didn’t seem to bother the guys who were hitting on the girl in the corner, but it bothered my eyes.
It’s been another great day. One of the cool things about Costa Rica is that the people who live here genuinely love their country. It’s not like in the US where we love our country’s power; these people love their land, which unites them in their shared love. It’s very nice.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Back from Bocas
Friday, May 20, 2011.
So we got up about 7 this morning. We probably should have gotten up earlier, since we decided to have breakfast in the hotel cafeteria over the water. We had the cappuccino and some dried pina Danny had given me for sofi.
So we left the hotel about 8:30, then went to the water taxi place. We wanted to catch a 10 am bus, but we didn’t leave the hotel til 8:30. So we went to the water taxi place and had to wait for it to fill up. After it did, it took us to Al Mirante. The water taxi driver had called ahead to get a car for us. The driver was there calling us by name when the water taxi pulled up. The idea was for him to take us to the border where we’d find ourselves ahead of the bus from Changinola, which was where we had tickets from. It’s a little insulting to me, as an American, that I have to show proof of departure when I enter any Central American country – though I guess people have to show proof of departure when entering the US – they just don’t depart…
At any rate, the guy had issues with his car. There was something wrong with the electrical current to the gear shift, so there we are going up the mountain with me (sitting in the front seat) using some immigration officer’s knife to try and take the electrical tape off the gear shift. While the guy was driving. Central America is just different.
He finally pulled over and fixed the car. I think it needed a new fuse. With all that, we probably still would have gotten to the border in time to catch the bus to SJ – except that we had to go through Panamanian customs. Don’t go through Panamanian customs at Gubita or wherever we went. They never have electricity. They didn’t have electricity when we entered, and they didn’t have electricity when we left. Which means that the person working has to manually write down your name and passport number and then stare at something to pretend they’re checking (how could they check with no electricity? And the AC seemed to be working inside. Maybe it wasn’t the electricity. Maybe it was the internet). So there is always a line at the immigration office at Guabitio. Plan on being in that line from 20 minutes to an hour. And I swear I got a better sweat there than I get in the sauna at the Y.
After you go through immigration, there’s “customs.” Which simply involves taking your passport to the guy in the next office, paying him $3.00, and having him put a stamp in it. Note about Panama: They use US dollars, but have their own coins. So anyway: On the way in, you have to go buy a ticket to show you’re leaving, get your immigration stamp, then get your “customs” stamp. On the way out, you have to get your immigration stamp and then your customs stamp. How serious do they take it? I went through immigration and customs for both Sophi and me, because I had the passports. Both times.
So we got to the other side of the boarder and flagged down a bus, but it was going to Punto Viejo. We’d missed the SJ bus, of course. So we decided to get a bus to Limon, and from there get a bus to SJ. Of course, they wouldn’t cross-honor the tickets, so Sophi bought two tickets for us to Limon and I bought the two to San Jose. And of course, once we got to Limon it wasn’t as easy as just getting a bus to SJ – we had to go to a different terminal.
But we did it, and I got a WONDERFUL cappuccino in the bus station, along with 10 grams of unsalted cashews. We’re now on the direct bus to SJ. It’s a bit cramped, but there’s AC and we both have almost enough room to have our computers out and working on them.
Sophi wants to move to Bocas. I don’t know about moving there, but I am going to look at whether it would be easier to take a flight directly into Panama City. Yes, there will definitely be a next time: Panama is much cheaper than CR, you don’t have to change money, and Bocas has some of the cheapest diving in the world. Since scuba is on my bucket list, and since you can get open water certified in Bocas for $200.00 (compared to at least $1,000 anywhere else), I think coming back and planning to stay for a week or so in Bocas Is something I need to do. I will try to look up Starfleet or Starfleet Academy Scuba. While in line in Panama I met some guy -0- older, blonde, surfer dude type, who 20 years ago took his son on the son’s first scuba dive. The son now teaches at Starfleet. I think the son’s name is Sam.
So I’ma go back to Bocas and get my Scuba open water certification. And I’m going to find and bring my underwater camera! The old guy said there’s something called an octopus where you can just go down and they pump air down to you – you don’t even need to be certified for that. I’ll check it out. I would like to get my certification if possible, though.
Tonite we should hit SJ about 6. I’m going to go back to the mall and get the Speedo suit in Knicks/Liberty colors. And maybe some more Britt chocolates.
That’s about it for now; gonna shut this down before the power dies.
But it was a great trip to Bocas del Toro, Panama. Now we hope to head to Quepos, on the pacific coast of CR, tomorrow for ziplining and monkeys. It’s already been a great vacation, though!!!
So we got up about 7 this morning. We probably should have gotten up earlier, since we decided to have breakfast in the hotel cafeteria over the water. We had the cappuccino and some dried pina Danny had given me for sofi.
So we left the hotel about 8:30, then went to the water taxi place. We wanted to catch a 10 am bus, but we didn’t leave the hotel til 8:30. So we went to the water taxi place and had to wait for it to fill up. After it did, it took us to Al Mirante. The water taxi driver had called ahead to get a car for us. The driver was there calling us by name when the water taxi pulled up. The idea was for him to take us to the border where we’d find ourselves ahead of the bus from Changinola, which was where we had tickets from. It’s a little insulting to me, as an American, that I have to show proof of departure when I enter any Central American country – though I guess people have to show proof of departure when entering the US – they just don’t depart…
At any rate, the guy had issues with his car. There was something wrong with the electrical current to the gear shift, so there we are going up the mountain with me (sitting in the front seat) using some immigration officer’s knife to try and take the electrical tape off the gear shift. While the guy was driving. Central America is just different.
He finally pulled over and fixed the car. I think it needed a new fuse. With all that, we probably still would have gotten to the border in time to catch the bus to SJ – except that we had to go through Panamanian customs. Don’t go through Panamanian customs at Gubita or wherever we went. They never have electricity. They didn’t have electricity when we entered, and they didn’t have electricity when we left. Which means that the person working has to manually write down your name and passport number and then stare at something to pretend they’re checking (how could they check with no electricity? And the AC seemed to be working inside. Maybe it wasn’t the electricity. Maybe it was the internet). So there is always a line at the immigration office at Guabitio. Plan on being in that line from 20 minutes to an hour. And I swear I got a better sweat there than I get in the sauna at the Y.
After you go through immigration, there’s “customs.” Which simply involves taking your passport to the guy in the next office, paying him $3.00, and having him put a stamp in it. Note about Panama: They use US dollars, but have their own coins. So anyway: On the way in, you have to go buy a ticket to show you’re leaving, get your immigration stamp, then get your “customs” stamp. On the way out, you have to get your immigration stamp and then your customs stamp. How serious do they take it? I went through immigration and customs for both Sophi and me, because I had the passports. Both times.
So we got to the other side of the boarder and flagged down a bus, but it was going to Punto Viejo. We’d missed the SJ bus, of course. So we decided to get a bus to Limon, and from there get a bus to SJ. Of course, they wouldn’t cross-honor the tickets, so Sophi bought two tickets for us to Limon and I bought the two to San Jose. And of course, once we got to Limon it wasn’t as easy as just getting a bus to SJ – we had to go to a different terminal.
But we did it, and I got a WONDERFUL cappuccino in the bus station, along with 10 grams of unsalted cashews. We’re now on the direct bus to SJ. It’s a bit cramped, but there’s AC and we both have almost enough room to have our computers out and working on them.
Sophi wants to move to Bocas. I don’t know about moving there, but I am going to look at whether it would be easier to take a flight directly into Panama City. Yes, there will definitely be a next time: Panama is much cheaper than CR, you don’t have to change money, and Bocas has some of the cheapest diving in the world. Since scuba is on my bucket list, and since you can get open water certified in Bocas for $200.00 (compared to at least $1,000 anywhere else), I think coming back and planning to stay for a week or so in Bocas Is something I need to do. I will try to look up Starfleet or Starfleet Academy Scuba. While in line in Panama I met some guy -0- older, blonde, surfer dude type, who 20 years ago took his son on the son’s first scuba dive. The son now teaches at Starfleet. I think the son’s name is Sam.
So I’ma go back to Bocas and get my Scuba open water certification. And I’m going to find and bring my underwater camera! The old guy said there’s something called an octopus where you can just go down and they pump air down to you – you don’t even need to be certified for that. I’ll check it out. I would like to get my certification if possible, though.
Tonite we should hit SJ about 6. I’m going to go back to the mall and get the Speedo suit in Knicks/Liberty colors. And maybe some more Britt chocolates.
That’s about it for now; gonna shut this down before the power dies.
But it was a great trip to Bocas del Toro, Panama. Now we hope to head to Quepos, on the pacific coast of CR, tomorrow for ziplining and monkeys. It’s already been a great vacation, though!!!
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Dolphins and Snorkeling
Today was one of the best days of my life (HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO RAFAEL AND VANESSA!!!!), possibly marred only by the fact that the present location of my underwater camera is unknown to me. I had it when I was packing, but when I checked my camera bag (see Sunday's post), it wasn't there. So I don't know if it's in the mess at home, if it's in the luggage the airline (Don't ever fly Spirit Air, no matter how tempting the price, says Cassandra, who applied for a credit card just to get three free trips on it) the airline says is in San Jose, or if it may have been in the luggage and may have been removed while it was lost -- I just don't know.
About 3, this morning, loud southern voices woke me up. I waited a while, then went out and asked them to keep it down. They did.
This morning, we got up about 7 and went downstairs for the free breakfast. It was coffee (actually cappuccino), orange juice, and dulces, but the dulces hadn't yet arrived. I never thought about how much sugar we Americans eat. After the second cappuccino, the dulces arrived. They were muffins. We met some guys with Southern voices. They were Coast Guard guys stationed in South Caroline, but assured us they weren't the ones we'd heard last night.
So we sat at the cafe at our waterfront hotel. This place is called Las Olas, it's in Bocas Del Toro, Panama, and it's $45.00 per night for two people in a room (which has three beds). Some guy we met named Raul who was supposed to be a tour guide said he'd pick us up at 9:30. We paid him a $5.00 deposit on a tour which was supposed to have cost $20.00. We saw the tour advertised elsewhere for $20.00, but met a couple who said they paid only $15.00 each. Anyway, at 9:30 we started to get a little nervous, but at 9:35 Raul pulled up to our hotel, we got in the boat, and went to the office to pay for the rest of the tour.
Then we took off with a group of about 12 or 13 other people. Our first stop was dolphin watching. I'm not sure where we were, but we went and sat and watched for the dolphins. We saw at least a group of two and a group of three; maybe more groups. It was hard to tell. The guys who drove the boat would take the boat around in circles, because apparently the dolphins like to play in the wake. It was an awesome experience. I probably saw more dolphins at Dolphin Quest, but they were locked up. These were animals in the wild. It was awesome!
From there, we went somewhere else and went snorkeling. We pulled up to this place that was kind of over the water on stilts. It was a straight up tourist trap, because a dinner cost about $8.00 to $16.00 -- certainly not bad, but given that the whole day's trip was only $20.00... But I'm not complaining. Sophi and I split a dish that cost maybe $11.00. It was chicken with bacon and cheese, a couple of tostones (something like a small fritter made from tostones, or either the biggest tostones I'd ever seen. In Costa Rica they're called patacones), a salad, and rice. We split the chicken, had one patacon each, I had the salad and she had the rice, and we were both full.
We'd placed our orders beforehand, then gone snorkeling, then came back and ate. I used the john right before eating. The toilet didn't have a handle or any flushmatic or anything inside -- instead there was a big barrel of water beside the toilet with a big jug with a handle for ease of use. It was cool, though -- everything is like up on stilts over the water.
So after the snorkeling, we went to Red Frog Park. By this time, Sofi was a big hit with the guys who were driving the boat, and I, as the suegra, was accommodated also. We got to sit in the front of the boat, and on the truck ride up to the entrance of the park, we got to sit inside instead of being in the back (think hayride without the hay). And on the way out, the guys driving the boat were making eyes at her and flirting and racing the boats. It was pretty interesting. Pics are here.
We had to pay $3.00 to enter, and you could go walk through the park and look at all the nature stuff, but there was a beach, so we hit the water and the beach. Where you had to pay $5.00 to rent a chair, which was under beach umbrellas made from thatch, and provided the only shade around. We were happy to do so. They also had ziplines in the park, but we were only going to be there until 3:30, and the zipline tour started at 2 and lasted a couple of hours. I hope to do ziplines in Quepos. We met our friends from breakfast, along with more Coast Guard guys -- among them one very loud, very drunk one whose brother is launching some hiphop label in Atlanta. It was Sofi who put the pieces of the puzzle together and identified this one as the voice that woke us up earlier in the morning. Interestingly, there were also 3 apparently African American women, one wearing a Miami Heat shirt. I did try making eye contact with them, but they never acknowledged me, and they were certainly feeling their Coast Guard camaraderie, so that was that.
At 3:30, which turned into 3:50 because a coupla members of the group couldn't tell time, we got back into the boat. The guys said we were going snorkeling again, and I didn't see how we could do that. But the snorkeling place was only a 10 minute boatride away. We got to snorkel again. I wasn't going to do it, because they only gave us like 15 or 20 minutes and I was tired of getting wet, drying off, and having to put my socks and shoes back on (Danny loaned me his Tevas, but a) they're too big and b) the soles are separating, so it was sorta like walking in clown shoes. I was afraid I'd fall and hurt myself).
But I did it, and I'm so glad I did! There were the prettiest fish: blue, green, vibrant yellows, striped, little bitty fish that were green and translucent blue. There were big sponges or something that looked like hearts (maybe 2 feet across) and big things that looked like old oranges, which were 2-3 feet across. There was so much stuff -- both times I was snorkeling today, I was aware of the temperature changes in the water, and the changes in light. When I'd see the light rays filtering through, I imagined for a moment that heaven would be this beautiful. It was truly amazing being under the water today, and to have the opportunity to go snorkeling TWICE -- well, it makes a repeat trip almost mandatory. When I have my camera.
After that, we all got back in the boat. They dropped the group off at the water taxi stand, and they gave Sofi and me the royal treatment, dropping us back off at our oceanside hotel.
Today was a marvelous day!!!!
About 3, this morning, loud southern voices woke me up. I waited a while, then went out and asked them to keep it down. They did.
This morning, we got up about 7 and went downstairs for the free breakfast. It was coffee (actually cappuccino), orange juice, and dulces, but the dulces hadn't yet arrived. I never thought about how much sugar we Americans eat. After the second cappuccino, the dulces arrived. They were muffins. We met some guys with Southern voices. They were Coast Guard guys stationed in South Caroline, but assured us they weren't the ones we'd heard last night.
So we sat at the cafe at our waterfront hotel. This place is called Las Olas, it's in Bocas Del Toro, Panama, and it's $45.00 per night for two people in a room (which has three beds). Some guy we met named Raul who was supposed to be a tour guide said he'd pick us up at 9:30. We paid him a $5.00 deposit on a tour which was supposed to have cost $20.00. We saw the tour advertised elsewhere for $20.00, but met a couple who said they paid only $15.00 each. Anyway, at 9:30 we started to get a little nervous, but at 9:35 Raul pulled up to our hotel, we got in the boat, and went to the office to pay for the rest of the tour.
Then we took off with a group of about 12 or 13 other people. Our first stop was dolphin watching. I'm not sure where we were, but we went and sat and watched for the dolphins. We saw at least a group of two and a group of three; maybe more groups. It was hard to tell. The guys who drove the boat would take the boat around in circles, because apparently the dolphins like to play in the wake. It was an awesome experience. I probably saw more dolphins at Dolphin Quest, but they were locked up. These were animals in the wild. It was awesome!
From there, we went somewhere else and went snorkeling. We pulled up to this place that was kind of over the water on stilts. It was a straight up tourist trap, because a dinner cost about $8.00 to $16.00 -- certainly not bad, but given that the whole day's trip was only $20.00... But I'm not complaining. Sophi and I split a dish that cost maybe $11.00. It was chicken with bacon and cheese, a couple of tostones (something like a small fritter made from tostones, or either the biggest tostones I'd ever seen. In Costa Rica they're called patacones), a salad, and rice. We split the chicken, had one patacon each, I had the salad and she had the rice, and we were both full.
We'd placed our orders beforehand, then gone snorkeling, then came back and ate. I used the john right before eating. The toilet didn't have a handle or any flushmatic or anything inside -- instead there was a big barrel of water beside the toilet with a big jug with a handle for ease of use. It was cool, though -- everything is like up on stilts over the water.
So after the snorkeling, we went to Red Frog Park. By this time, Sofi was a big hit with the guys who were driving the boat, and I, as the suegra, was accommodated also. We got to sit in the front of the boat, and on the truck ride up to the entrance of the park, we got to sit inside instead of being in the back (think hayride without the hay). And on the way out, the guys driving the boat were making eyes at her and flirting and racing the boats. It was pretty interesting. Pics are here.
We had to pay $3.00 to enter, and you could go walk through the park and look at all the nature stuff, but there was a beach, so we hit the water and the beach. Where you had to pay $5.00 to rent a chair, which was under beach umbrellas made from thatch, and provided the only shade around. We were happy to do so. They also had ziplines in the park, but we were only going to be there until 3:30, and the zipline tour started at 2 and lasted a couple of hours. I hope to do ziplines in Quepos. We met our friends from breakfast, along with more Coast Guard guys -- among them one very loud, very drunk one whose brother is launching some hiphop label in Atlanta. It was Sofi who put the pieces of the puzzle together and identified this one as the voice that woke us up earlier in the morning. Interestingly, there were also 3 apparently African American women, one wearing a Miami Heat shirt. I did try making eye contact with them, but they never acknowledged me, and they were certainly feeling their Coast Guard camaraderie, so that was that.
At 3:30, which turned into 3:50 because a coupla members of the group couldn't tell time, we got back into the boat. The guys said we were going snorkeling again, and I didn't see how we could do that. But the snorkeling place was only a 10 minute boatride away. We got to snorkel again. I wasn't going to do it, because they only gave us like 15 or 20 minutes and I was tired of getting wet, drying off, and having to put my socks and shoes back on (Danny loaned me his Tevas, but a) they're too big and b) the soles are separating, so it was sorta like walking in clown shoes. I was afraid I'd fall and hurt myself).
But I did it, and I'm so glad I did! There were the prettiest fish: blue, green, vibrant yellows, striped, little bitty fish that were green and translucent blue. There were big sponges or something that looked like hearts (maybe 2 feet across) and big things that looked like old oranges, which were 2-3 feet across. There was so much stuff -- both times I was snorkeling today, I was aware of the temperature changes in the water, and the changes in light. When I'd see the light rays filtering through, I imagined for a moment that heaven would be this beautiful. It was truly amazing being under the water today, and to have the opportunity to go snorkeling TWICE -- well, it makes a repeat trip almost mandatory. When I have my camera.
After that, we all got back in the boat. They dropped the group off at the water taxi stand, and they gave Sofi and me the royal treatment, dropping us back off at our oceanside hotel.
Today was a marvelous day!!!!
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Trip to Bocas del Toro, Panama
We got up about 4:30 this morning to get to the bus by 6. We took the bus to Sixaiola, with side trips through Limon and Punta Vieja. Saw more than I could ever describe; will post pics soon. After we got off the bus at Sixaiola, we had to walk across and unbelievably rickety bridge which is an active train track. There were holes in it big enough to easily fall through; rotting planks created a makeshift path over which people trod by foot and bicycle. As if the bicycles weren't incredible enough, we actually saw a large truc (size of a tractor-trailer) cross the bridge. The bridge is deep in the middle of banana plantation country, and trucks and trains have to go over it to get bananas to market.
Before walking across the bridge, we had to get our exit stamps from CR. After we walked across the bridge, we had to get entry stamps to Panama. But first, we had to buy our return bus tickets to CR. So we stood in line for each of those things. A little old lady hand wrote our return tickets, then we went to another little old lady who stamped our passports, except we had to wait like half an hour because the electricity went out. After the electricity came back on, she stamped our passports (manually. i'm still not sure what the electricity had to do with her stamping the passports), then we went to another room, the customs room, where a couple of guys didn't even ask us any questions, just had us pay $3.00 and put a stamp in our passports.
Finally, we were legally in Panama. To get to Bocas, we had to take about an hour ride in a shared van. It was like $10.00, and just like Super Shuttle, they wait til the van fills up. It was actually a Panamanian version of Super Shuttle, now that I think about it. It took us up scenic mountain routes with a driver, Andy, who "ate the ends of his words" like a Cuban, and who played ear-splitting reggae/dance music while chatting incessantly about any and everything. Really nice guy, though. Just very loud music.
After we got to Almirante (or Admirante, I'm not sure), we took a "ferry" to Bocas. This wasn't a ferry really, it was an overladen speedboat. We had 16 or 20 people in a boat that probably shouldn't have held any more than half that number. It rode lower in the water than I've ever seen a boat, and was not (IMHO) properly balanced. Interestingly, all the Americans put on our life vests. The trip was particularly interesting because of a drunken Panamanian who kept falling over on the lady who was sitting beside him. She was sitting beside him because the last two people to get on board, a couple, had decided they wanted to sit together. I'm not sure why, but this lady moved to accomodate them. I suggested to them that we'd buy them a big purple dinosaur.
The boat ride was actually a lot of fun. The bottom of the boat slammed hard against the water, and as I said, the boat rode lower in the water than I've ever seen a boat ride. The spray didn't come up on us, though I have to admit I was worried my camera would get wet.
After about 30 minutes or so, we got to Bocas. Some guy met us on the street and offered to steer us to a hotel (we'd met a couple who'd offered us to come and stay at their hotel). We went with the steerer, and ended up in Hotel Las Olas, right on the water (where I'm sitting as I write this), for $45.00 for two people for a night. Came in, dropped our stuff, and went out to explore Bocas.
Of the many memorable things I saw were: A congregation singing something in Spanish (with a refrain that had was clearly the Spanish version of the song) to the tune of Glory To His Name. I stood outside and sang with them. We saw the City park, and watched the TV screen outside. Bocas is playing for the national Baseball championship (which, incidentally, I believe they won!), so everyone is outside watching baseball. We went into a couple of places right on the water, went into a little diner like place and got eggs for dinner, had coffee and croissants, and generally enjoyed walking through Bocas.
Came back to the hotel and are both busy posting on the internet. Tomorrow we go to see dolphins and go snorkeling. I'm going to let my 211 pictures upload to Kodak and will edit the link in later.
Having a blast here in Bocas del Toro, Panama.
Before walking across the bridge, we had to get our exit stamps from CR. After we walked across the bridge, we had to get entry stamps to Panama. But first, we had to buy our return bus tickets to CR. So we stood in line for each of those things. A little old lady hand wrote our return tickets, then we went to another little old lady who stamped our passports, except we had to wait like half an hour because the electricity went out. After the electricity came back on, she stamped our passports (manually. i'm still not sure what the electricity had to do with her stamping the passports), then we went to another room, the customs room, where a couple of guys didn't even ask us any questions, just had us pay $3.00 and put a stamp in our passports.
Finally, we were legally in Panama. To get to Bocas, we had to take about an hour ride in a shared van. It was like $10.00, and just like Super Shuttle, they wait til the van fills up. It was actually a Panamanian version of Super Shuttle, now that I think about it. It took us up scenic mountain routes with a driver, Andy, who "ate the ends of his words" like a Cuban, and who played ear-splitting reggae/dance music while chatting incessantly about any and everything. Really nice guy, though. Just very loud music.
After we got to Almirante (or Admirante, I'm not sure), we took a "ferry" to Bocas. This wasn't a ferry really, it was an overladen speedboat. We had 16 or 20 people in a boat that probably shouldn't have held any more than half that number. It rode lower in the water than I've ever seen a boat, and was not (IMHO) properly balanced. Interestingly, all the Americans put on our life vests. The trip was particularly interesting because of a drunken Panamanian who kept falling over on the lady who was sitting beside him. She was sitting beside him because the last two people to get on board, a couple, had decided they wanted to sit together. I'm not sure why, but this lady moved to accomodate them. I suggested to them that we'd buy them a big purple dinosaur.
The boat ride was actually a lot of fun. The bottom of the boat slammed hard against the water, and as I said, the boat rode lower in the water than I've ever seen a boat ride. The spray didn't come up on us, though I have to admit I was worried my camera would get wet.
After about 30 minutes or so, we got to Bocas. Some guy met us on the street and offered to steer us to a hotel (we'd met a couple who'd offered us to come and stay at their hotel). We went with the steerer, and ended up in Hotel Las Olas, right on the water (where I'm sitting as I write this), for $45.00 for two people for a night. Came in, dropped our stuff, and went out to explore Bocas.
Of the many memorable things I saw were: A congregation singing something in Spanish (with a refrain that had was clearly the Spanish version of the song) to the tune of Glory To His Name. I stood outside and sang with them. We saw the City park, and watched the TV screen outside. Bocas is playing for the national Baseball championship (which, incidentally, I believe they won!), so everyone is outside watching baseball. We went into a couple of places right on the water, went into a little diner like place and got eggs for dinner, had coffee and croissants, and generally enjoyed walking through Bocas.
Came back to the hotel and are both busy posting on the internet. Tomorrow we go to see dolphins and go snorkeling. I'm going to let my 211 pictures upload to Kodak and will edit the link in later.
Having a blast here in Bocas del Toro, Panama.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
May 17, 2011
So my bags still haven't arrived. The airline (repeat after me: NEVER use Spirit Airlines. They CHARGE YOU to check your bags, then they lose them!) In order to not completely ruin my trip, I'm heading off to Panama tomorrow. I'm doing it on the cheap: we'll take a long bus trip to Sixaiola, then cross the border to Panama, then take a taxi to the ferry to Bocas. In Bocas, we'll try to find cheap lodging. That's Wednesday. Thursday the plan is to do a snorkeling and dolphin tour. The cost was supposed to be $15.00. We'll just figure it out as we go. If I can get a zipline in as well, I'll do that.
So Thursday we'll do Bocas, then on Friday we'll head back towards CR, perhaps spending some time in Punto Viejo. We should get back to CR late Friday night, and then head out Saturday morning to Quepos, where we'll hang on the beach, see monkeys, and get to do the ziplines.
And then it will be time to come home, and to face the horror that is Spirit Air. I'm spozed to get home on Tuesday. There's a Liberty game on Wednesday morning. I'm taking bets on whether or not I'm back in the US for it. If not, I'm sure as h3!! gonna add that charge to the bill I send Spirit.
I forgot to mention that Daffy Duck and Bugs Bunny were in the airport in Ft. Lauderdale. Not sure why, but it's Florida. Who knows, who cares? I got pics. And then today (or yesterday, they're starting to blur) I got pics of the undeveloped property Danny has here in Escazu. This evening his daughter Daniela and ex Sylvia took me up to a region north of Escazu called San Antonio. Daniela went to school there, and there's a beautiful church, La Iglesia de San Antonio, up there. I took pics, got some pics of the skyline, and stopped to pray and thank God for the journey so far. I'm sure there's a sermon in all this; as for me, yes, I'm annoyed that Spirit lost my stuff, but Danny loaned me a coupla pairs of shorts and some T-shirts, I bought some underwear, he is just as OCD as me and also saves the little hotel shampoos and soaps so he gave me a bunch of those, he loaned me a pair of his Tevas that, while a little large on my feet, can be strapped securely to them and so will avoid my having to put my sneaks and orthotics in the water.
It's a vacation. It's Central America. It's all good.
If the page ever loads, the link to the pics will be here
Going to bed now. Got to get up at 4am to head to Panama.
So Thursday we'll do Bocas, then on Friday we'll head back towards CR, perhaps spending some time in Punto Viejo. We should get back to CR late Friday night, and then head out Saturday morning to Quepos, where we'll hang on the beach, see monkeys, and get to do the ziplines.
And then it will be time to come home, and to face the horror that is Spirit Air. I'm spozed to get home on Tuesday. There's a Liberty game on Wednesday morning. I'm taking bets on whether or not I'm back in the US for it. If not, I'm sure as h3!! gonna add that charge to the bill I send Spirit.
I forgot to mention that Daffy Duck and Bugs Bunny were in the airport in Ft. Lauderdale. Not sure why, but it's Florida. Who knows, who cares? I got pics. And then today (or yesterday, they're starting to blur) I got pics of the undeveloped property Danny has here in Escazu. This evening his daughter Daniela and ex Sylvia took me up to a region north of Escazu called San Antonio. Daniela went to school there, and there's a beautiful church, La Iglesia de San Antonio, up there. I took pics, got some pics of the skyline, and stopped to pray and thank God for the journey so far. I'm sure there's a sermon in all this; as for me, yes, I'm annoyed that Spirit lost my stuff, but Danny loaned me a coupla pairs of shorts and some T-shirts, I bought some underwear, he is just as OCD as me and also saves the little hotel shampoos and soaps so he gave me a bunch of those, he loaned me a pair of his Tevas that, while a little large on my feet, can be strapped securely to them and so will avoid my having to put my sneaks and orthotics in the water.
It's a vacation. It's Central America. It's all good.
If the page ever loads, the link to the pics will be here
Going to bed now. Got to get up at 4am to head to Panama.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Coming to Costa Rica
So I was scheduled to leave LGA on Sunday night, May 15. I didn't go to church that day because they had several baptisms, and it was Missionary Day. With an 8 pm international flight, I was supposed to be at the airport at 5 and taking public transpo on Sunday meant I had to leave home about 3:30.
So I procrastinated all day, and around 2:45 started to pack. When you're going to Costa Rica, all you need is shorts, T-shirts, a swimsuit, underwear, and sandals. So that's what I packed, along with whatever personal hygienic products were over the 3 oz onboard limit, and maybe some cords for the computer.
The only thing I couldn't find was my underwater point and shoot. Which I know I had, and which should properly have been with my camera products. But I couldn't find it, and by the time I left for the airport, I was ok with that.
I go to the airport. I get through security, with an hour or so to go. Long story short, the flight was delayed because of a storm and I wasn't going to be able to make my connection to San Jose that night. They gave me the choice of going back home and returning the following day or going on to Ft. Lauderdale and spending the night there. I'm not a fan of doubling back and didn't want to have to get up early and get to the airport, so I went on to Ft. Lauderdale.
Did a shout out on FB asking if anyone was in Ft. Lauderdale. Lo and Behold, Denny Freeman, Luis' old friend, had moved from the ATL to the FLL. He let me know and offered to come pick me up. Turns out Denny has been blessed to have been in FLL for a month, living for free and with all the work he could do. He decided to share the blessing.
So we talked til 3 in the morning, then took naps and he took me to the airport. We'd noticed he couldn't find his phone, and I kept calling it. He thought it was in the car, but on the way to the airport, we realized it wasn't in the car. He dropped me at the airport. While I was waiting in line at Nathan's (wanted a yogurt, got hash browns, coffee, bacon egg and cheese sandwich, and two individual humuses, and dropped over $17.00.) While I was waiting in line, I got a call from Denny's cellphone. Turns out he'd dropped it in the house and his neighbor across the hall found it. Fortunately I remembered his house number, so by the time Denny got home, his cellphone was propped up against his front door waiting for him! At FLL, I continued on to the gate and sat there for two hours, posting and playing games.
About 10 minutes before the flight was due to leave, they called a gate change. (Don't bother to fly Spirit air. The cheaper fare isn't worth the incompetence and the continual sales pitches. They even have advertising on the overhead bins!!!). I go to the new gate, but there's a flight to NYC there. Some woman, African America, clearly a New Yorker, was giving the ticketing agent a hard time. "You sitting there laughing like it's funny we had to wait for three hours. It's not funny! " (As if a plane delay was anyone's fault.) Everyone starts to quietly groan. It's as if we were collectively thinking, "please. we're all delayed. just shut up and get on the plane." Sad to say, but when people want to go home, they can pretty much be coerced into compliance.
But not this woman. I don't know what happened next. I saw another ticket agent run over as the loud woman went down the jetway. Then a guy I had been talking to said the Broward County Sheriff was there. Next thing I see is the loud lady coming off the plane in handcuffs. She was a lot more composed this time. "She said I pushed her. I didn't push her."
My flight to CR was supposed to leave from the gate where this flight was. But now this flight was delayed because they had to go through all the luggage and get hers off. So they delayed two whole planeloads of people to make sure a jerk in handcuffs got here luggage. Put your finger on that thought.
The gate changes, since our plane couldn't wait for that plane, and finally we were allowed to board. The flight was pretty uneventful. I sat beside a guy who gave me info on how to switch sim cards in your iphone 4 even if you've used the traditional upgrades. We both agreed that we wouldn't buy iphones again, mostly because of Apple's repressive habit of trying to control product utility and usage past the point of end user purchase. So I'll use that. And I made a new personal high in Bejeweled 2.
Get off the plane in CR. We were late, so we had to stand in line with another plane. Got through CR immigration just fine. Since I hadn't picked up a gift for Danny, I got a bottle of Jim Beam and two bottles of Bacardi Gold or something other than plain Bacardi. I paid a total of $24.00 US for all three bottles. In and out in probably under 5 minutes, right in front of the baggage carousel. And then I went maybe 15 yards and changed some dollars to Colones. Not sure why, since everyone in CR uses dollars, but I did. I was still in front of the baggage carousel, but since it just said oversize bags and since I didn't see a lot, I kept looking.
After asking two different people and verifying that yes, all the bags were gone, I went to the baggage assistance desk. There was only one guy assisting people; the other guy was chatting with a friend on his cellphone (Did I say don't bother with Spirit Air because it's cheap but you get what you pay for?). It wasn't looking good that another guy on my flight had the exact same issue, except that he also had a bag someone had returned because they'd picked up the wrong bag. I'm not sure why they make you have baggage check tickets if you can just take any bag you want. Remember how they held up the plane to make sure the jerk got her bag? But if you're just a normal person doing what they tell you to do, well -- you might get your bag and you might not. The guy behind the desk, 30 minutes later, when he finally got to me, did say that the bags usually turn up.
So here I am in Costa Rica. I have the clothes on my back, a coupla pairs of underwear and something to sleep in that I bought at Walmart (it's not Hypermas any more; it's straight up Walmart now). I'm hoping and assuming they'll get my bag to me tomorrow. If not, I'll probably be walking around either in my underwear or in shorts Danny lends me. It is very nice to be able to have yor friend lend you his clothes, though. It's nice to be relatively normal-sized.
So i'm still planning trips to Bocas del Toro, Panama and to Puerto Viejo (both on the Caribbean coast); and then to Quepos, which is on the rainy part of the Pacific Coast. Danny might even go with us. Not having luggage is not ogoing to significantly affect my trip at all. I'm in Costa Rica. PURA VIDA!!!
So I procrastinated all day, and around 2:45 started to pack. When you're going to Costa Rica, all you need is shorts, T-shirts, a swimsuit, underwear, and sandals. So that's what I packed, along with whatever personal hygienic products were over the 3 oz onboard limit, and maybe some cords for the computer.
The only thing I couldn't find was my underwater point and shoot. Which I know I had, and which should properly have been with my camera products. But I couldn't find it, and by the time I left for the airport, I was ok with that.
I go to the airport. I get through security, with an hour or so to go. Long story short, the flight was delayed because of a storm and I wasn't going to be able to make my connection to San Jose that night. They gave me the choice of going back home and returning the following day or going on to Ft. Lauderdale and spending the night there. I'm not a fan of doubling back and didn't want to have to get up early and get to the airport, so I went on to Ft. Lauderdale.
Did a shout out on FB asking if anyone was in Ft. Lauderdale. Lo and Behold, Denny Freeman, Luis' old friend, had moved from the ATL to the FLL. He let me know and offered to come pick me up. Turns out Denny has been blessed to have been in FLL for a month, living for free and with all the work he could do. He decided to share the blessing.
So we talked til 3 in the morning, then took naps and he took me to the airport. We'd noticed he couldn't find his phone, and I kept calling it. He thought it was in the car, but on the way to the airport, we realized it wasn't in the car. He dropped me at the airport. While I was waiting in line at Nathan's (wanted a yogurt, got hash browns, coffee, bacon egg and cheese sandwich, and two individual humuses, and dropped over $17.00.) While I was waiting in line, I got a call from Denny's cellphone. Turns out he'd dropped it in the house and his neighbor across the hall found it. Fortunately I remembered his house number, so by the time Denny got home, his cellphone was propped up against his front door waiting for him! At FLL, I continued on to the gate and sat there for two hours, posting and playing games.
About 10 minutes before the flight was due to leave, they called a gate change. (Don't bother to fly Spirit air. The cheaper fare isn't worth the incompetence and the continual sales pitches. They even have advertising on the overhead bins!!!). I go to the new gate, but there's a flight to NYC there. Some woman, African America, clearly a New Yorker, was giving the ticketing agent a hard time. "You sitting there laughing like it's funny we had to wait for three hours. It's not funny! " (As if a plane delay was anyone's fault.) Everyone starts to quietly groan. It's as if we were collectively thinking, "please. we're all delayed. just shut up and get on the plane." Sad to say, but when people want to go home, they can pretty much be coerced into compliance.
But not this woman. I don't know what happened next. I saw another ticket agent run over as the loud woman went down the jetway. Then a guy I had been talking to said the Broward County Sheriff was there. Next thing I see is the loud lady coming off the plane in handcuffs. She was a lot more composed this time. "She said I pushed her. I didn't push her."
My flight to CR was supposed to leave from the gate where this flight was. But now this flight was delayed because they had to go through all the luggage and get hers off. So they delayed two whole planeloads of people to make sure a jerk in handcuffs got here luggage. Put your finger on that thought.
The gate changes, since our plane couldn't wait for that plane, and finally we were allowed to board. The flight was pretty uneventful. I sat beside a guy who gave me info on how to switch sim cards in your iphone 4 even if you've used the traditional upgrades. We both agreed that we wouldn't buy iphones again, mostly because of Apple's repressive habit of trying to control product utility and usage past the point of end user purchase. So I'll use that. And I made a new personal high in Bejeweled 2.
Get off the plane in CR. We were late, so we had to stand in line with another plane. Got through CR immigration just fine. Since I hadn't picked up a gift for Danny, I got a bottle of Jim Beam and two bottles of Bacardi Gold or something other than plain Bacardi. I paid a total of $24.00 US for all three bottles. In and out in probably under 5 minutes, right in front of the baggage carousel. And then I went maybe 15 yards and changed some dollars to Colones. Not sure why, since everyone in CR uses dollars, but I did. I was still in front of the baggage carousel, but since it just said oversize bags and since I didn't see a lot, I kept looking.
After asking two different people and verifying that yes, all the bags were gone, I went to the baggage assistance desk. There was only one guy assisting people; the other guy was chatting with a friend on his cellphone (Did I say don't bother with Spirit Air because it's cheap but you get what you pay for?). It wasn't looking good that another guy on my flight had the exact same issue, except that he also had a bag someone had returned because they'd picked up the wrong bag. I'm not sure why they make you have baggage check tickets if you can just take any bag you want. Remember how they held up the plane to make sure the jerk got her bag? But if you're just a normal person doing what they tell you to do, well -- you might get your bag and you might not. The guy behind the desk, 30 minutes later, when he finally got to me, did say that the bags usually turn up.
So here I am in Costa Rica. I have the clothes on my back, a coupla pairs of underwear and something to sleep in that I bought at Walmart (it's not Hypermas any more; it's straight up Walmart now). I'm hoping and assuming they'll get my bag to me tomorrow. If not, I'll probably be walking around either in my underwear or in shorts Danny lends me. It is very nice to be able to have yor friend lend you his clothes, though. It's nice to be relatively normal-sized.
So i'm still planning trips to Bocas del Toro, Panama and to Puerto Viejo (both on the Caribbean coast); and then to Quepos, which is on the rainy part of the Pacific Coast. Danny might even go with us. Not having luggage is not ogoing to significantly affect my trip at all. I'm in Costa Rica. PURA VIDA!!!
Saturday, May 14, 2011
So there's a thread going on my church's forum about what seem to be recent developments in the PCUSA. I think PCUSA has finally agreed to accept gay and lesbian clergy (which is sort of anticlimactic, since I graduated with a guy who got ordained in PCUSA and during his ordination said yes, he would obey everything except the rule about gays and lesbians. This was back in '03 or '04, and it was news for a minute, but his congregation was cool with him, and that was the end of it.)
Someone brought the issue to our church forum. This opened up an old wound in our church. The Church, while it doesn't really have any stated policy on homosexuality, does recognize marriage as existing between a man and a woman. There's no room in current church policy for out gay behavior. Which highlights a certain disconnect when a sitting member of our College of Bishops has, when being sued for sexual harassment of a male, offered an affirmative defense. That, it appears to me, is what's wounding the church. Not so much the affirmative defense, but the apparent disconnect between beliefs and behavior.
I am not homophobic. On the contrary, I differ from my church in that I am gay-affirming. I understand the Levitical prohibition against homosexuality, but also understand the Levitical prohibitions against eating pork, against cutting one's hair, and against wearing clothes made of more than one fabric, the same Levitical codes that call for death for adultery and banishment of a woman for having sex during her menstrual cycle. Those are the same Levitical codes that prohibit blind or lame people from going to the altar of God, and call for burning a priest's daughter at the stake if she has sex outside marriage. All those are part of the Holiness Codes, which were designed to help preserve the identity of the Israelites when they lived among other people. I happen to believe that no human is capable of living under and keeping every law (613 contained in the Torah, 300+ of them possible without a temple, and NONE of them were intended for people who were not Jews). We Christians are not Jews, but have been grafted onto the tree of Judaic lineage through the Miracle of Jesus Christ. This is a spiritual inheritance, not a physical one. That is why we live not under the Law, but Through the power of Amazing Grace and can avail ourselves of the Grace that was so freely offered by Jesus' sacrificial death on the cross.
It never ceases to amaze me that we can explain away those parts of the Holiness codes that affect behaviors we want to engage in (like shaving or eating pork or blind or lame people coming to the altar), but we hang on to the prohibition against homosexuality. In my mind, the Word is the Word. Either you take it all literally or you dig in and try to understand it. I do the latter, and just don't think homosexuality is that big a deal. I know this is contrary to the teaching of my church, but this is where I am in my faith walk.
What I do think is a big deal is not holding a church official accountable for engaging in behaviors contrary to church doctrine. I think that hurts the congregation and I think it demeans the validity of the church (though not of the Sacraments. There is no power in Sacraments; they are merely outward signs of a Relationship with Our Creator). But the Church has specific rules on who is allowed to administer those sacraments. And I'm in a church where preachers with expired licenses freely administer Sacraments, mostly because the majority of people in the church don't understand the structure or all the rules. It's as if we as a church either don't know or don't care about being accountable to the structures we've created. Maybe that's why people feel so strongly that this sitting Bishop should, through public actions, make some sort of show of repentance or confession. Maybe they don't understand that he can only confess to and be forgiven by God. Maybe they don't understand that they should be looking to God for direction and guidance and not to another human being.
And maybe that's a sign that our complex and antiquated church structures no longer have any meaning. Maybe that's a sign it's time for a change in this church.
To start the change, I would ask the following: WHY, people? Why do so many folks care so passionately about this issue of sexuality? I mean, as an unmarried preacher in God's church, I ain't gettin' none. And I don't really care about what someone else is getting, and I CERTAINLY don't care about the details of HOW they're getting it. I don't understand why this issue of homosexuality elicits such passion in people. Why do grown men spend so much time having feelings about where another grown man puts their dingaling? What's up with that?
...unless....
Nah. But the anti-gay people ARE awfully loud and awfully passionate. I remember when an ancestor who will remain unnamed used to talk to me about sex, she asked what I thought about "those men that get down there and mess with each other." I told her I didn't think anything about it. Because I didn't. I didn't have an opinion on it one way or the other. It wasn't something that impacted me, my understanding of sex or the sexual experience, so it wasn't really something I cared about. It's sorta like my opinion on how turtles have sex. Don't know, don't care. Not a factor in my world; no reason to give it real estate in my head.
And it's why I just don't understand (supposedly straight) people getting so fired up over homosexuality. I understand gay people getting fired up over it -- it directly affects them. But straights? Why do you care? I'm not talking about the obvious civil rights violations of gay people. We all should care about that and labor tirelessly to see that ALL Americans are treated equally under the law.
But I'm still left wondering why straight people have such an issue with what they perceive to be gay people's living in violation of God's law. If that is the case, if you really believe they're committing an abomination against God, don't you trust and believe God enough to think that God will take care of it? Doesn't the Lord say Vengeance belongs to Him? Doesn't the Lord tell us to obey the law of the land by giving Caesar what belongs to Caesar? If Caesar demands equality for gay people, why aren't straight Christian people treating gays equally and without malice? Wouldn't this be an opportunity to exercise the love of Jesus in your behavior towards this, your fellow human being?
I just don't understand why people get so bent out of shape over gay people. The New Testament spends more time talking about social and economic inequality, yet we can distort the Gospel teachings into having a "prosperity Gospel" based on accumulating wealth. And we want to pick on gays?
Sorry, it's not clicking for me.
Someone brought the issue to our church forum. This opened up an old wound in our church. The Church, while it doesn't really have any stated policy on homosexuality, does recognize marriage as existing between a man and a woman. There's no room in current church policy for out gay behavior. Which highlights a certain disconnect when a sitting member of our College of Bishops has, when being sued for sexual harassment of a male, offered an affirmative defense. That, it appears to me, is what's wounding the church. Not so much the affirmative defense, but the apparent disconnect between beliefs and behavior.
I am not homophobic. On the contrary, I differ from my church in that I am gay-affirming. I understand the Levitical prohibition against homosexuality, but also understand the Levitical prohibitions against eating pork, against cutting one's hair, and against wearing clothes made of more than one fabric, the same Levitical codes that call for death for adultery and banishment of a woman for having sex during her menstrual cycle. Those are the same Levitical codes that prohibit blind or lame people from going to the altar of God, and call for burning a priest's daughter at the stake if she has sex outside marriage. All those are part of the Holiness Codes, which were designed to help preserve the identity of the Israelites when they lived among other people. I happen to believe that no human is capable of living under and keeping every law (613 contained in the Torah, 300+ of them possible without a temple, and NONE of them were intended for people who were not Jews). We Christians are not Jews, but have been grafted onto the tree of Judaic lineage through the Miracle of Jesus Christ. This is a spiritual inheritance, not a physical one. That is why we live not under the Law, but Through the power of Amazing Grace and can avail ourselves of the Grace that was so freely offered by Jesus' sacrificial death on the cross.
It never ceases to amaze me that we can explain away those parts of the Holiness codes that affect behaviors we want to engage in (like shaving or eating pork or blind or lame people coming to the altar), but we hang on to the prohibition against homosexuality. In my mind, the Word is the Word. Either you take it all literally or you dig in and try to understand it. I do the latter, and just don't think homosexuality is that big a deal. I know this is contrary to the teaching of my church, but this is where I am in my faith walk.
What I do think is a big deal is not holding a church official accountable for engaging in behaviors contrary to church doctrine. I think that hurts the congregation and I think it demeans the validity of the church (though not of the Sacraments. There is no power in Sacraments; they are merely outward signs of a Relationship with Our Creator). But the Church has specific rules on who is allowed to administer those sacraments. And I'm in a church where preachers with expired licenses freely administer Sacraments, mostly because the majority of people in the church don't understand the structure or all the rules. It's as if we as a church either don't know or don't care about being accountable to the structures we've created. Maybe that's why people feel so strongly that this sitting Bishop should, through public actions, make some sort of show of repentance or confession. Maybe they don't understand that he can only confess to and be forgiven by God. Maybe they don't understand that they should be looking to God for direction and guidance and not to another human being.
And maybe that's a sign that our complex and antiquated church structures no longer have any meaning. Maybe that's a sign it's time for a change in this church.
To start the change, I would ask the following: WHY, people? Why do so many folks care so passionately about this issue of sexuality? I mean, as an unmarried preacher in God's church, I ain't gettin' none. And I don't really care about what someone else is getting, and I CERTAINLY don't care about the details of HOW they're getting it. I don't understand why this issue of homosexuality elicits such passion in people. Why do grown men spend so much time having feelings about where another grown man puts their dingaling? What's up with that?
...unless....
Nah. But the anti-gay people ARE awfully loud and awfully passionate. I remember when an ancestor who will remain unnamed used to talk to me about sex, she asked what I thought about "those men that get down there and mess with each other." I told her I didn't think anything about it. Because I didn't. I didn't have an opinion on it one way or the other. It wasn't something that impacted me, my understanding of sex or the sexual experience, so it wasn't really something I cared about. It's sorta like my opinion on how turtles have sex. Don't know, don't care. Not a factor in my world; no reason to give it real estate in my head.
And it's why I just don't understand (supposedly straight) people getting so fired up over homosexuality. I understand gay people getting fired up over it -- it directly affects them. But straights? Why do you care? I'm not talking about the obvious civil rights violations of gay people. We all should care about that and labor tirelessly to see that ALL Americans are treated equally under the law.
But I'm still left wondering why straight people have such an issue with what they perceive to be gay people's living in violation of God's law. If that is the case, if you really believe they're committing an abomination against God, don't you trust and believe God enough to think that God will take care of it? Doesn't the Lord say Vengeance belongs to Him? Doesn't the Lord tell us to obey the law of the land by giving Caesar what belongs to Caesar? If Caesar demands equality for gay people, why aren't straight Christian people treating gays equally and without malice? Wouldn't this be an opportunity to exercise the love of Jesus in your behavior towards this, your fellow human being?
I just don't understand why people get so bent out of shape over gay people. The New Testament spends more time talking about social and economic inequality, yet we can distort the Gospel teachings into having a "prosperity Gospel" based on accumulating wealth. And we want to pick on gays?
Sorry, it's not clicking for me.
Friday, May 13, 2011
(From last night when blogger was down): Has the world gone mad?
I don't get it, folks. The ACLU wants to stop a community in Ocean Grove, NJ from having their high school graduation in a church. Mind you, no one in the community is complaining; it's people from outside the community who have issues with the separation of church and state. I wonder if it's possible for Christians to come together and sue the ACLU for a systematic pattern of abuse and discrimination? They hide harassment of Christians -- and anything associated with Christians -- under the guise of "separation of church and state." Think about it. If someone who was not Jewish were to complain about a high school graduation being held in a building because that building had stars of David on it, they'd instantly be branded anti-semitic. If someone who was not Muslim were to complain about a high school graduation being held in a building with the star and crescent on it, demanding that those symbols be covered, that person would be branded an Islamophobe.
(My eyes went over to the news. There's a story on about gay pride in Atlantic City. All I see is some guy who's shaped like a pig shaking his stomach. Revolting. Not the homosexuality; the fat. And the gay dancers they have look like robots.)
Meanwhile, I just saw two stories back to back. One was about how the City overturned a judgement against it. Seems a man was unfairly convicted of rape and served time. He was exonerated, sued the City and won an 18 million dollar judgement. But it was thrown out because the City "didn't intend to violate his civil rights." Or else he had an attorney who was on the City's payroll. Really. With a systematic history of oppression of men of color, how can the argument be made that the City didn't intend to violate his civil rights? If you have three unrelated incidents, lawyers will tell you there's a pattern. How in the world did the City get off with this judgement? How, indeed. Either the atty was still in law school, or they were on the take.
The second story was of a 91-year old man being evicted from his senior citizen center. The reason was .... does it really matter? The guy's 91 years old. How long is he going to live to be able to be a pain in anyone's behind? Who does it serve to evict a 91 year old man from the place he's called home for 24 years?
And on to a familiar rant: I'm sorry, folks. I love God's people Israel. I enjoy visiting the region that is presently referred to as Israel and that which is not acknowledged as Palestine. But I have absolutely no use for the politics of the modern nation of Israel. I believe they hide behind the horrors of history to propagate those same horrors upon others. I know my opinion is unpopular, but I've been in Israel, a passenger in a taxi driven by a Palestinian. I've been stopped and grilled by Israeli security for no apparent reason except that I was riding in a Palestinian's cab. I've seen the concentration camps. I despise the wall. And I don't understand how we can talk about separation of church and state in our own home, yet give billions of dollars a year to a country that not only espouses a religion, but espouses a religion that effectively results in an apartheid state. Perhaps that statement is a bit harsh -- it's not, of course, the rich tradition of Judaism that promotes the apartheid state; it's people who are fanatic in their interpretation of that rich tradition.
We find fanatics in all the Abrahamic religions: Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. It's just interesting to me that a zealous Jewish person is a Freedom Fighter, a zealous Christian is a Crusader, but a zealous Muslim is a terrorist.
Wow. Not sure where that came from. It's just really frustrating to see oppression all around, and to see the concept of religion, or of The Divine, or of God -- to see those concepts bastardized and demeaned rather than clarified and elevated in the minds of the people. This happens because so many people are so willing to misuse relationships, both with the Divine and with one another. The result is a skewed world where the bizarre is increasingly presented as normal.
It's a world gone mad.
(My eyes went over to the news. There's a story on about gay pride in Atlantic City. All I see is some guy who's shaped like a pig shaking his stomach. Revolting. Not the homosexuality; the fat. And the gay dancers they have look like robots.)
Meanwhile, I just saw two stories back to back. One was about how the City overturned a judgement against it. Seems a man was unfairly convicted of rape and served time. He was exonerated, sued the City and won an 18 million dollar judgement. But it was thrown out because the City "didn't intend to violate his civil rights." Or else he had an attorney who was on the City's payroll. Really. With a systematic history of oppression of men of color, how can the argument be made that the City didn't intend to violate his civil rights? If you have three unrelated incidents, lawyers will tell you there's a pattern. How in the world did the City get off with this judgement? How, indeed. Either the atty was still in law school, or they were on the take.
The second story was of a 91-year old man being evicted from his senior citizen center. The reason was .... does it really matter? The guy's 91 years old. How long is he going to live to be able to be a pain in anyone's behind? Who does it serve to evict a 91 year old man from the place he's called home for 24 years?
And on to a familiar rant: I'm sorry, folks. I love God's people Israel. I enjoy visiting the region that is presently referred to as Israel and that which is not acknowledged as Palestine. But I have absolutely no use for the politics of the modern nation of Israel. I believe they hide behind the horrors of history to propagate those same horrors upon others. I know my opinion is unpopular, but I've been in Israel, a passenger in a taxi driven by a Palestinian. I've been stopped and grilled by Israeli security for no apparent reason except that I was riding in a Palestinian's cab. I've seen the concentration camps. I despise the wall. And I don't understand how we can talk about separation of church and state in our own home, yet give billions of dollars a year to a country that not only espouses a religion, but espouses a religion that effectively results in an apartheid state. Perhaps that statement is a bit harsh -- it's not, of course, the rich tradition of Judaism that promotes the apartheid state; it's people who are fanatic in their interpretation of that rich tradition.
We find fanatics in all the Abrahamic religions: Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. It's just interesting to me that a zealous Jewish person is a Freedom Fighter, a zealous Christian is a Crusader, but a zealous Muslim is a terrorist.
Wow. Not sure where that came from. It's just really frustrating to see oppression all around, and to see the concept of religion, or of The Divine, or of God -- to see those concepts bastardized and demeaned rather than clarified and elevated in the minds of the people. This happens because so many people are so willing to misuse relationships, both with the Divine and with one another. The result is a skewed world where the bizarre is increasingly presented as normal.
It's a world gone mad.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Kettlebell class
Oh, my goodness. I love it! I thought I was in pretty good shape: I can do 6+ miles on the elliptical, I can pump weights to rival most normal-sized men, I can do the four basic strokes -- not terribly gracefully, but well enough that I have a goal of being certified as a lifeguard by 40. So I thought I was in pretty good shape until I took a kettlebell class.
The thing about the kettlebell is that its weight is not symmetrical, so when you use it, it forces you to use more of your core. And whenever you're using it, it's in motion, so you have to use many more muscle groups. Add to that the fact that it's like solid lead, and you have increased utiltiy with the kettlebell. Monday night I had a 15-pounder. While I wasn't sore and achey, I could certainly feel it. Today I got there early so I could use the 10-pounder. It makes quite a difference, even though my arthritic knee won't allow me to do the lunges and squats (and burpees) the way I'd like to. Still, it's great cardio conditioning and strength training. I think I have a keeper here!
I'm so tired now, though, that I've forgotten what I was going to write. I leave in a couple of days for Costa Rica! Maybe I'll write more while I'm there....
The thing about the kettlebell is that its weight is not symmetrical, so when you use it, it forces you to use more of your core. And whenever you're using it, it's in motion, so you have to use many more muscle groups. Add to that the fact that it's like solid lead, and you have increased utiltiy with the kettlebell. Monday night I had a 15-pounder. While I wasn't sore and achey, I could certainly feel it. Today I got there early so I could use the 10-pounder. It makes quite a difference, even though my arthritic knee won't allow me to do the lunges and squats (and burpees) the way I'd like to. Still, it's great cardio conditioning and strength training. I think I have a keeper here!
I'm so tired now, though, that I've forgotten what I was going to write. I leave in a couple of days for Costa Rica! Maybe I'll write more while I'm there....
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Presents, Plants, Pets, Partners
So tonight was the last class session of our Church History II class. Students never cease to amaze me. For an entire year I've pushed and prodded them, all the while having to manage my own feelings when my comments clashed with their own sense of their abilities. But as the year went on, I began to see the development of their historical and scholarly voices, which, of course, was my objective.
So this evening, I was asked to close the class in prayer. Before we could do that, the class wanted to interrupt. They presented the professor (who's also the President of the Seminary) with a gorgeous plaque and a card. They gave me a plant, a card, and a keychain, and gave a card and keychain to the other TA.
I was reminded of my old plant, Fred, who died when I got cancer. I now have a new plant, but haven't named it. The plant I have is so big there's no room in the window to put the new plant; the upside is that I have pots in all different sizes for when it starts to grow up.
The present for teaching is the gift of seeing your students learn. The plant and card were completely unexpected, and sheer gravy. It gives me indescribable joy to watch my students work and learn. It's just wonderful. It sorta reminds me of the rocks my staff gave me at our retreat (they were labeled Peace, Hope, Wisdom, and Joy). But they're from my staff, and there are different dynamics going on there.
But as they students gave me the plant and I thought of my current and former plants, I realized that my motto used to be "Plant, pet, partner," meaning that once I could successfully care for a plant, I'd think of graduating to a pet, and after that I'd be ready to consider a partner (Jay Leno has had on a cheetah, some owls, the world's longest lizard, and some otters. Cute animals). As I thought about that declaration, (simultaneously trying to figure out what pot to put the new plant into, and where to put it so it can get enough light, and "I wonder what kind of plant this is and how do I really need to care for it?") As I thought about all that, I realized I've successfully cared for a plant, and, according to my declaration, could now move on to "pet."
Except that I'm so not ready for a pet. I can commit to plants because they don't really do anything (and while it's sorta trained me, pretty much all I have to do with this plant is water and feed it occasionally). But I played with my neighbor's puppy for an hour on Sunday, and don't think I'm ready for a pet. I love dogs, but you sorta have to have a consistent schedule. I think it's inhumane to keep a "pet" locked up in a house all day and only walk them when you're home. I just think it's wrong. And I don't think my apartment is big enough for a dog to have fun in, unless I wanted to put the Animal Channel on all day and let them watch it.
Nah, I'm not yet ready for a pet. And I have no idea why people are attracted to partners. I like people well enough -- I love people, actually -- as long as they get the heck outta my house after about an hour. Even when I'm ape$#!+ crazy over someone, the idea of being around themm all the time doesn't appeal to me. Maybe I'm weird, but I think there's a certain attraction brought on by distance. And it's hard enough for me to clean up after myself. There is no way in God's world I could clean up after another human being. And when I want people to clean up after me, I pay them to do so. They don't have to live with me.
Some people seem to crave companionship, and seem unable to function without it. I don't get that. It's like the people who say to their mates "you complete me." Um, so you weren't complete by yourself?
Even as a kid, when I used to design houses in the shape of my initials (no room for taking on a man's surname there; and I never even thought about it until right now) -- even when I used to design houses as a big C circling a G with a P coming off the lip of the G -- even then, I had three marital bedrooms: one for me, one for my husband, and one for us to share. I must have been eight or ten, with no idea about sex or sexuality, but even at that age, I couldn't conceive of sleeping with the same person every night. Also at that age, I figured it didn't make sense to marry before age 35. I figured that if the average lifespan was 70 (and that's what I thought it was when I was young. I just checked: it was 69.7 when I was four, and 70.8 when I was fourteen) -- I figured if the average lifespan was 70, then why in the world would anyone want to get married before at least 35? In my young eyes, marriage was a voluntary, lifelong commitment people decided to make. Divorce was not an option.
But in the last half decade, things have changed immensely. My parents are but two of the people I have known who are divorced. I have successfully cared for one plant, and will now start on a second one. I no longer have pets, and have decided I'm ready for neither a pet nor a partner, though the thought of a pet is much more appealing than the thought of a partner.
And I still love presents! I love the ones that are nicely gift-wrapped, but am increasingly aware that every day I wake up is a gift, every movement or breath I take is a gift, the ability to know and love my Creator is a wonderful gift, and everything else is gravy.
I started a kettlebell class the other night. Now, I thought I was in decent shape: I lift, I did the elliptical for as long as my knees allowed, I swim and do some sort of aqua-cardio-aerobics class. But that kettlebell class had me feeling like an out of shape sixth grader. When I got to class, there were no more 10 lb bells, so I took a 15 lb one. BIG mistake. Before the class was over, my shirt was soaked with sweat, I could barely move, and I had a bruise on my wrist from where the bell flipped over and hit my Tiffany bracelet, which (the action) caused an ugly bruise on my arm.
Tomorrow night, I'll try to take off the bracelet and maybe go to Modell's and get some sort of pad for the back of my wrist. Because it's a gift to be able to swing a kettlebell around and not lose the grip or not have it flip over and break my arm. Yup, it's all a gift, one for which I am eternally grateful!!!
So this evening, I was asked to close the class in prayer. Before we could do that, the class wanted to interrupt. They presented the professor (who's also the President of the Seminary) with a gorgeous plaque and a card. They gave me a plant, a card, and a keychain, and gave a card and keychain to the other TA.
I was reminded of my old plant, Fred, who died when I got cancer. I now have a new plant, but haven't named it. The plant I have is so big there's no room in the window to put the new plant; the upside is that I have pots in all different sizes for when it starts to grow up.
The present for teaching is the gift of seeing your students learn. The plant and card were completely unexpected, and sheer gravy. It gives me indescribable joy to watch my students work and learn. It's just wonderful. It sorta reminds me of the rocks my staff gave me at our retreat (they were labeled Peace, Hope, Wisdom, and Joy). But they're from my staff, and there are different dynamics going on there.
But as they students gave me the plant and I thought of my current and former plants, I realized that my motto used to be "Plant, pet, partner," meaning that once I could successfully care for a plant, I'd think of graduating to a pet, and after that I'd be ready to consider a partner (Jay Leno has had on a cheetah, some owls, the world's longest lizard, and some otters. Cute animals). As I thought about that declaration, (simultaneously trying to figure out what pot to put the new plant into, and where to put it so it can get enough light, and "I wonder what kind of plant this is and how do I really need to care for it?") As I thought about all that, I realized I've successfully cared for a plant, and, according to my declaration, could now move on to "pet."
Except that I'm so not ready for a pet. I can commit to plants because they don't really do anything (and while it's sorta trained me, pretty much all I have to do with this plant is water and feed it occasionally). But I played with my neighbor's puppy for an hour on Sunday, and don't think I'm ready for a pet. I love dogs, but you sorta have to have a consistent schedule. I think it's inhumane to keep a "pet" locked up in a house all day and only walk them when you're home. I just think it's wrong. And I don't think my apartment is big enough for a dog to have fun in, unless I wanted to put the Animal Channel on all day and let them watch it.
Nah, I'm not yet ready for a pet. And I have no idea why people are attracted to partners. I like people well enough -- I love people, actually -- as long as they get the heck outta my house after about an hour. Even when I'm ape$#!+ crazy over someone, the idea of being around themm all the time doesn't appeal to me. Maybe I'm weird, but I think there's a certain attraction brought on by distance. And it's hard enough for me to clean up after myself. There is no way in God's world I could clean up after another human being. And when I want people to clean up after me, I pay them to do so. They don't have to live with me.
Some people seem to crave companionship, and seem unable to function without it. I don't get that. It's like the people who say to their mates "you complete me." Um, so you weren't complete by yourself?
Even as a kid, when I used to design houses in the shape of my initials (no room for taking on a man's surname there; and I never even thought about it until right now) -- even when I used to design houses as a big C circling a G with a P coming off the lip of the G -- even then, I had three marital bedrooms: one for me, one for my husband, and one for us to share. I must have been eight or ten, with no idea about sex or sexuality, but even at that age, I couldn't conceive of sleeping with the same person every night. Also at that age, I figured it didn't make sense to marry before age 35. I figured that if the average lifespan was 70 (and that's what I thought it was when I was young. I just checked: it was 69.7 when I was four, and 70.8 when I was fourteen) -- I figured if the average lifespan was 70, then why in the world would anyone want to get married before at least 35? In my young eyes, marriage was a voluntary, lifelong commitment people decided to make. Divorce was not an option.
But in the last half decade, things have changed immensely. My parents are but two of the people I have known who are divorced. I have successfully cared for one plant, and will now start on a second one. I no longer have pets, and have decided I'm ready for neither a pet nor a partner, though the thought of a pet is much more appealing than the thought of a partner.
And I still love presents! I love the ones that are nicely gift-wrapped, but am increasingly aware that every day I wake up is a gift, every movement or breath I take is a gift, the ability to know and love my Creator is a wonderful gift, and everything else is gravy.
I started a kettlebell class the other night. Now, I thought I was in decent shape: I lift, I did the elliptical for as long as my knees allowed, I swim and do some sort of aqua-cardio-aerobics class. But that kettlebell class had me feeling like an out of shape sixth grader. When I got to class, there were no more 10 lb bells, so I took a 15 lb one. BIG mistake. Before the class was over, my shirt was soaked with sweat, I could barely move, and I had a bruise on my wrist from where the bell flipped over and hit my Tiffany bracelet, which (the action) caused an ugly bruise on my arm.
Tomorrow night, I'll try to take off the bracelet and maybe go to Modell's and get some sort of pad for the back of my wrist. Because it's a gift to be able to swing a kettlebell around and not lose the grip or not have it flip over and break my arm. Yup, it's all a gift, one for which I am eternally grateful!!!
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Viola Mae Stroud Fearrington
My grandmother was born on May 9, 1906. So if she'd lived, she would have been 105 on May 9, but she passed away at age 69. Still, because I associate Mother's Day with her and still, after 30+ years, miss her more than I ever thought possible, I will share here the lyrics to a song that always makes me think of her and of my mother, Malissa Minor.
In a world like today
Its a rare occasion to be able
To see young mothers like the ones
That were around when I grew up
But they live on in memory
To quite a few of us
And this song is dedicated
To those who cherish that memory
Early one Sunday morning
Breakfast was on the table
There was no time to eat
She said to me, Boy, hurry to Sunday school
Filled with the Lord of Glory
We learned the Holy story
She'll always have her dreams
Despite the things this troubled world can bring
Oh, Sadie
Dont you know we love you
Sweet Sadie
Place no one above you
Sweet Sadie (Well, well, well)
Living in the past
Some times it seems so funny
But no money will turn your life around
Sweeter than cotton candy
Stronger than papas old brandy
Always that needed smile
Once in awhile she would break down and cry
Some times she'd be so happy
(Just) Being with us and daddy
Standing the worst of times
Breaking the binds with just a simple song
Oh, Sadie (Oh, Sadie Mae)
Dont you know we love you (She'll love us all in a special way)
Sweet Sadie (Well, well, well)
Place no one above you
Sweet Sadie (Sweet Sadie livin in the past)
Living in the past
Oh, she's never sinnin
In love she's always winnin, yeah
Sadie (My, my, my, my, my)
Dont you know we love you (I love you, mama)
Sweet Sadie
Place no one above you (I just can't forget)
Sweet Sadie (How you gave me love, oh, Lord)
Living in the past
If there's a heaven up above
I know she's teaching angels how to love
Sadie (Its a mean world without you)
Dont you know we love you
Sweet Sadie (All the love you showed)
Place no one above you
How could anyone ever doubt you...
And you can listen to it here:
In a world like today
Its a rare occasion to be able
To see young mothers like the ones
That were around when I grew up
But they live on in memory
To quite a few of us
And this song is dedicated
To those who cherish that memory
Early one Sunday morning
Breakfast was on the table
There was no time to eat
She said to me, Boy, hurry to Sunday school
Filled with the Lord of Glory
We learned the Holy story
She'll always have her dreams
Despite the things this troubled world can bring
Oh, Sadie
Dont you know we love you
Sweet Sadie
Place no one above you
Sweet Sadie (Well, well, well)
Living in the past
Some times it seems so funny
But no money will turn your life around
Sweeter than cotton candy
Stronger than papas old brandy
Always that needed smile
Once in awhile she would break down and cry
Some times she'd be so happy
(Just) Being with us and daddy
Standing the worst of times
Breaking the binds with just a simple song
Oh, Sadie (Oh, Sadie Mae)
Dont you know we love you (She'll love us all in a special way)
Sweet Sadie (Well, well, well)
Place no one above you
Sweet Sadie (Sweet Sadie livin in the past)
Living in the past
Oh, she's never sinnin
In love she's always winnin, yeah
Sadie (My, my, my, my, my)
Dont you know we love you (I love you, mama)
Sweet Sadie
Place no one above you (I just can't forget)
Sweet Sadie (How you gave me love, oh, Lord)
Living in the past
If there's a heaven up above
I know she's teaching angels how to love
Sadie (Its a mean world without you)
Dont you know we love you
Sweet Sadie (All the love you showed)
Place no one above you
How could anyone ever doubt you...
And you can listen to it here:
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Two Worlds
I'm watching Grey's Anatomy, listening to the gay marriage drama. I happen to believe in equal rights for all citizens, and that the rights of citizens are not abrogated because of their marital status or sexual identity. I also happen to agree with Baily who says that when two people stand before God and declare to love, honor, and cherish one another til death do them part, that the marriage holds in God's eyes (and to my friends who think that's an abomination, I'm ok with letting God sort it -- and the couples -- out.). I even noticed that Derek and Meredith, wanting to adopt, finally went to a court and, we presume, are about to make their relationship (which was codified by them with Post-It Notes) legal in the eyes of the State of Washington.
What I'm having an issue with in the whole gay marriage thing, is people who somehow feel they're getting shorted because they can't have a same-sex wedding in a church. First of all, you need to understand that marriage exists for the convenience of the State. While Jesus did perform His first miracle at a wedding, and while Jesus did consider marriage between man and woman normative, Jesus also spent a lot of time with people who were sexually diverse, and we have no evidence that Jesus spoke against homosexuality.
(Meredith and Derek are getting married in a cut and dried civil ceremony, while Callie and Arizona are getting married in an over-the-top wedding ceremony that's not legal. The point I'm seeing is that a legal wedding is a business relationship, and a wedding is also a celebration.)
Which is where I was going with this post. Marriage is a relationship that wasn't a Christian ritual until the Christians asked their priests to perform wedding rituals for them like the pagans were performing. Ancient Greeks and Romans celebrated marriages informally (a little more formal than "shacking up", and the Greeks at least also acknowledged same-sex unions); and it wasn't until Bishop Ignatius in the second century that we see written Christian records (similar to the writings of Paul, a few decades earlier) suggesting that marriage was preferable to lusting. Christian religious marriages didn't become normative for centuries, and it was only in the 15th century, around the time of Martin Luther, that we start to see religious marriage tied up with affairs of the state.
Weddings exist as a function of and for the good of the state, which has an interest in maintaining marriages and families and the status quo. Christianity, being an imperial religion, has simply codified and sanctified the interests of the state.
All of which is fine in my book. But given that Christian practice is what it is, I don't think it's right or fair for same-sex couples to feel at a disadvantage because they can't celebrate a Christian marriage. I can't be a Catholic priest, either. It doesn't mean it's right; it means that's the dogma associated with that religious group. Why would someone want their union to be sanctioned by an entity that doesn't honor who they are? I guess that's my question. A church isn't a public organization; it's a body of believers. If you don't share the beliefs of that body, why would you want that body to sanctify or otherwise put its stamp of approval on your relationship? And that goes for heterosexual couples, as well. I don't understand how people live a life apart from God and then want to have a big, fancy church wedding. The church isn't a good-luck charm, it's not a salon, it's a sacred place. How can you intellectually or otherwise acknowledge its sanctity without acknowledging it with your actions? Every day, not just when you want to get married.
So I was talking about two worlds, the world of religious homophobes, and the world of, for lack of a better term, anti-religious "homophiles." But that's actually a tangent. I was out of the South Bronx today, downtown at a training. I was actually in the building just outside the heliport where President Obama landed. I got pictures of the snipers on the roof, and I got pictures of the heliport, but I missed him.
The training had a free breakfast: bagels, granola, boiled eggs, peanut butter, assorted danish, muffins, scones, coffee, tea -- all just laid out, all you could eat. Lunch was catered as well: sandwiches, green and pasta salads, a cookie assortment, and we sat in comfy couches on the 31st floor and looked out over the East River and the Statue of Liberty and Ells Island and New Jersey.
After the training, I walked through the FiDi, up the east side to Wall Street and then across Wall Street to the Broadway line. Two things struck me: how much stress and tension I saw in people, and how incredibly blessed my life has been. (PS: I want "Love Never Dies" by Patti Labelle to be the recessional at my funeral.) I went up through the greenmarket at Bowling Green, but didn't need anything. I wanted to go to Sym's but had purposely left the wallet with credit cards at home (I have something if there's ever a real emergency. I have to stop carrying and using credit cards). So I just walked the streets. I saw a woman selling magnets. She had a sign that said she was diabetic and needed insulin. I don't know whether it was true or not; I know that I no longer have diabetes, even when I eat junk, and even when I had diabetes I had to shoot up twice a day but it wasn't insulin. It's a blessing not to have the disease any more. So I bought a magnet, with gratitude.
But I thought about how incredibly different the world of polished marble and mahogany is from the peeling paint and sheetrock of my South Bronx world. I took pictures of the food because my staff would get a kick out of it. On Wall Street, I see business suits and tourists; in the South Bronx, I see sagging pants and hoodies. Once upon a time, I used to be self-conscious around the Wall Street suit types -- I always wondered if my bargain-basement suits were of a good enough quality, or (since I've never been a fashion victim) I always wondered if "they" somehow "knew" I was "different." Today, as I strolled along in jeans, shirt and jacket (covered by my delightful leather bomber jacket), I only thought about how cool it was that I could be me in that environment, and not have to worry about having the right wardrobe. Today, I knew my wardrobe was right because it was on my back. And I was grateful I wasn't one of the stressed-out "suits." And while we're speaking of two worlds, I came in from two hours of working out tonight and got a call from a student. There's this world I live in with my South Bronx and Harlem charges and congregants. That's distinct from, but related to, the world(s) of my students. And those worlds are both very different from the corporate / Wall Street world for which I spent so much time preparing and in which I spent so many years of my life.
That world has lots more perks. I ain't gonna lie; I like the polished marble and mahogany. I like coming home in cars. I like having people clean my bathroom and my office and my house. I like the pissing contests. I like the ostentatious displays of wealth. God forgive me, I even like the excess. It's nice, comforting even, to know that you've got "stuff" and plenty of it, and that you know where and how to get more "stuff."
But all that stuff isn't what life's about. All that stuff is from another world. Today I can easily navigate between the two worlds, mostly because I know who I am, and I know Whose I am.
Or maybe it's just because I realize they are two worlds, and each of them only has the meaning I give to it.....
What I'm having an issue with in the whole gay marriage thing, is people who somehow feel they're getting shorted because they can't have a same-sex wedding in a church. First of all, you need to understand that marriage exists for the convenience of the State. While Jesus did perform His first miracle at a wedding, and while Jesus did consider marriage between man and woman normative, Jesus also spent a lot of time with people who were sexually diverse, and we have no evidence that Jesus spoke against homosexuality.
(Meredith and Derek are getting married in a cut and dried civil ceremony, while Callie and Arizona are getting married in an over-the-top wedding ceremony that's not legal. The point I'm seeing is that a legal wedding is a business relationship, and a wedding is also a celebration.)
Which is where I was going with this post. Marriage is a relationship that wasn't a Christian ritual until the Christians asked their priests to perform wedding rituals for them like the pagans were performing. Ancient Greeks and Romans celebrated marriages informally (a little more formal than "shacking up", and the Greeks at least also acknowledged same-sex unions); and it wasn't until Bishop Ignatius in the second century that we see written Christian records (similar to the writings of Paul, a few decades earlier) suggesting that marriage was preferable to lusting. Christian religious marriages didn't become normative for centuries, and it was only in the 15th century, around the time of Martin Luther, that we start to see religious marriage tied up with affairs of the state.
Weddings exist as a function of and for the good of the state, which has an interest in maintaining marriages and families and the status quo. Christianity, being an imperial religion, has simply codified and sanctified the interests of the state.
All of which is fine in my book. But given that Christian practice is what it is, I don't think it's right or fair for same-sex couples to feel at a disadvantage because they can't celebrate a Christian marriage. I can't be a Catholic priest, either. It doesn't mean it's right; it means that's the dogma associated with that religious group. Why would someone want their union to be sanctioned by an entity that doesn't honor who they are? I guess that's my question. A church isn't a public organization; it's a body of believers. If you don't share the beliefs of that body, why would you want that body to sanctify or otherwise put its stamp of approval on your relationship? And that goes for heterosexual couples, as well. I don't understand how people live a life apart from God and then want to have a big, fancy church wedding. The church isn't a good-luck charm, it's not a salon, it's a sacred place. How can you intellectually or otherwise acknowledge its sanctity without acknowledging it with your actions? Every day, not just when you want to get married.
So I was talking about two worlds, the world of religious homophobes, and the world of, for lack of a better term, anti-religious "homophiles." But that's actually a tangent. I was out of the South Bronx today, downtown at a training. I was actually in the building just outside the heliport where President Obama landed. I got pictures of the snipers on the roof, and I got pictures of the heliport, but I missed him.
The training had a free breakfast: bagels, granola, boiled eggs, peanut butter, assorted danish, muffins, scones, coffee, tea -- all just laid out, all you could eat. Lunch was catered as well: sandwiches, green and pasta salads, a cookie assortment, and we sat in comfy couches on the 31st floor and looked out over the East River and the Statue of Liberty and Ells Island and New Jersey.
After the training, I walked through the FiDi, up the east side to Wall Street and then across Wall Street to the Broadway line. Two things struck me: how much stress and tension I saw in people, and how incredibly blessed my life has been. (PS: I want "Love Never Dies" by Patti Labelle to be the recessional at my funeral.) I went up through the greenmarket at Bowling Green, but didn't need anything. I wanted to go to Sym's but had purposely left the wallet with credit cards at home (I have something if there's ever a real emergency. I have to stop carrying and using credit cards). So I just walked the streets. I saw a woman selling magnets. She had a sign that said she was diabetic and needed insulin. I don't know whether it was true or not; I know that I no longer have diabetes, even when I eat junk, and even when I had diabetes I had to shoot up twice a day but it wasn't insulin. It's a blessing not to have the disease any more. So I bought a magnet, with gratitude.
But I thought about how incredibly different the world of polished marble and mahogany is from the peeling paint and sheetrock of my South Bronx world. I took pictures of the food because my staff would get a kick out of it. On Wall Street, I see business suits and tourists; in the South Bronx, I see sagging pants and hoodies. Once upon a time, I used to be self-conscious around the Wall Street suit types -- I always wondered if my bargain-basement suits were of a good enough quality, or (since I've never been a fashion victim) I always wondered if "they" somehow "knew" I was "different." Today, as I strolled along in jeans, shirt and jacket (covered by my delightful leather bomber jacket), I only thought about how cool it was that I could be me in that environment, and not have to worry about having the right wardrobe. Today, I knew my wardrobe was right because it was on my back. And I was grateful I wasn't one of the stressed-out "suits." And while we're speaking of two worlds, I came in from two hours of working out tonight and got a call from a student. There's this world I live in with my South Bronx and Harlem charges and congregants. That's distinct from, but related to, the world(s) of my students. And those worlds are both very different from the corporate / Wall Street world for which I spent so much time preparing and in which I spent so many years of my life.
That world has lots more perks. I ain't gonna lie; I like the polished marble and mahogany. I like coming home in cars. I like having people clean my bathroom and my office and my house. I like the pissing contests. I like the ostentatious displays of wealth. God forgive me, I even like the excess. It's nice, comforting even, to know that you've got "stuff" and plenty of it, and that you know where and how to get more "stuff."
But all that stuff isn't what life's about. All that stuff is from another world. Today I can easily navigate between the two worlds, mostly because I know who I am, and I know Whose I am.
Or maybe it's just because I realize they are two worlds, and each of them only has the meaning I give to it.....
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
More Twisted
As much as I love the People Israel, I'm not a big fan of the modern Nation of Israel. How twisted is it, then, that GoogleAds has analyzed the words in my blogs and decided that an ad for the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews is appropriate for my site.
And it IS appropriate, of course. I'm just not a proponent of the "who will protect Jerusalem from the forces that would harm her" sort of propaganda that's fed in the ad. In my opinion (to which, I would remind my dissenting friends, I am entitled) -- in my opinion, the forces that would harm Jerusalem are there, busily trying to lay claim to her. The forces that would harm Jerusalem are the ones who advocate racial superiority through some twisted religious interpretation. The ones who would harm Jerusalem are the ones who continually instigate and incite people to tear down instead of building up the tenuous yet calm coexistence that blankets the Holy City.
I opened this post to write about something else twisted. I'm watching L&O SVU and heard them say that multiple impregnators should be criminalized and that getting a woman pregnant without her consent should be considered rape.
Which brings me to my January 17 post on Standards.
Which leads me to think how very twisted we really are.
Says Cassandra, who just ate two pieces of Ezekiel bread with Canadian bacon, mango butter and cinnamon even though I wasn't sleepy (but it was delicious!)
Have a very early training in the morning, followed by a new class called aqua insanity, with maybe a little strength and cardio thrown in first. Should be an interesting day.
I'm kinda falling asleep right now, but in my work life feel like I'm just waking up. The affable, pleasant lady is gone; the warrior with Standards who upholds those Standards and for whom falling short of those standards is not acceptable -- that's who I'm becoming. Of course, I probably need to become that way at home first. I feel like the people I work with are so in need of focus and direction that they would gladly be fatally distracted if they had any access to their Boss's personal life. Well, fatally distracted is a stretch. They';d be fatally bored, but, gossipmongers that they are, would find a way to become fatally distracted. I've seen folk lie to me, bat their eyes and assure me there's been a misunderstanding; I have reason to believe that some folk are actually stealing from my office. Maybe I can create a little surprise before I go....
Anyway. I'm fading and it's almost 11. God bless y'all. just don't let the haters get you all twisted. Haters hate. Winners WIN!! I'm a winner!!!!!! WE ARE CONQUERORS!
You know what's hard, though? What's hard is when you open up your PDA and forget why you opened it up, That's harder. But I'f found tht if I take a minute, things will be alright.
OK, the guitar and Jesus doll in the corner have turned into a hulking monster. Either I'm completely faded or it's past my bedtime. See ya later!
And it IS appropriate, of course. I'm just not a proponent of the "who will protect Jerusalem from the forces that would harm her" sort of propaganda that's fed in the ad. In my opinion (to which, I would remind my dissenting friends, I am entitled) -- in my opinion, the forces that would harm Jerusalem are there, busily trying to lay claim to her. The forces that would harm Jerusalem are the ones who advocate racial superiority through some twisted religious interpretation. The ones who would harm Jerusalem are the ones who continually instigate and incite people to tear down instead of building up the tenuous yet calm coexistence that blankets the Holy City.
I opened this post to write about something else twisted. I'm watching L&O SVU and heard them say that multiple impregnators should be criminalized and that getting a woman pregnant without her consent should be considered rape.
Which brings me to my January 17 post on Standards.
Which leads me to think how very twisted we really are.
Says Cassandra, who just ate two pieces of Ezekiel bread with Canadian bacon, mango butter and cinnamon even though I wasn't sleepy (but it was delicious!)
Have a very early training in the morning, followed by a new class called aqua insanity, with maybe a little strength and cardio thrown in first. Should be an interesting day.
I'm kinda falling asleep right now, but in my work life feel like I'm just waking up. The affable, pleasant lady is gone; the warrior with Standards who upholds those Standards and for whom falling short of those standards is not acceptable -- that's who I'm becoming. Of course, I probably need to become that way at home first. I feel like the people I work with are so in need of focus and direction that they would gladly be fatally distracted if they had any access to their Boss's personal life. Well, fatally distracted is a stretch. They';d be fatally bored, but, gossipmongers that they are, would find a way to become fatally distracted. I've seen folk lie to me, bat their eyes and assure me there's been a misunderstanding; I have reason to believe that some folk are actually stealing from my office. Maybe I can create a little surprise before I go....
Anyway. I'm fading and it's almost 11. God bless y'all. just don't let the haters get you all twisted. Haters hate. Winners WIN!! I'm a winner!!!!!! WE ARE CONQUERORS!
You know what's hard, though? What's hard is when you open up your PDA and forget why you opened it up, That's harder. But I'f found tht if I take a minute, things will be alright.
OK, the guitar and Jesus doll in the corner have turned into a hulking monster. Either I'm completely faded or it's past my bedtime. See ya later!
Twisted
It's funny how life works. For every glass that's half full, there's a glass that's half empty. It just depends on how you look at it.
And where you are changes your perspective. It's taken me some time to realize that. When I have my collar on, it constantly reminds me that my position is different than that of my flock -- the bar has been raised, the standards are higher. I get that and, for the most part, have been able to honor it.
But in the secular world -- despite all the disrespect of those in authority that I see around me -- in the secular world, I somehow maintain the naive notion that people will rise to their highest levels and that everything will work together for the greater good. Well, everyTHING will work together for the greater good, but not everyONE will join in the working together.
People will blow smoke up your butt and tell you they're trying to revive you. The reality is that people blow smoke up your butt because they're testing you, trying to see what you've got, trying to see if you're dead or alive. I'm slowly realizing that, while many of my employees are talented, lovely, and delightful individuals, there are some who are dishonest, deceitful, and conniving individuals, ones who would blow smoke up my butt to see if I'm still alive, all the while telling me they're trying to revive me.
Which is really unfortunate. It's just so twisted. And I hate walking around being that witch that everyone fears. I hate walking around with that big stick. But I'm in a place that's gotten very twisted. It's going to take some twists to get out of the twisted environment and into one that is whole. I think we're going to twist and shout.
I guess I started this thinking about how twisted it is for us as Americans to celebrate in the streets that another human has been killed. No, I'm no fan of Bin Laden, but I'm no fan of murder either, and I'm certainly no fan of celebrating because someone's been murdered. When we do that, when I see the pictures of Americans dancing with flags and celebrating Bin Laden's death, I'm immediately reminded of the people who were pictured burning American flags and celebrating the fall of the Towers. We think one is ok and one is not ok, but, IMHO, to think that shows some twist in our own value system. It's twisted to actually dance on someone's grave. It's twisted to rejoice in anyone's suffering. It's twisted for us to think it's ok to engage in these behaviors because our cause is "just" or "right," while simultaneously condemning others for engaging in the exact same behaviors for the exact same reasons.
God, have mercy on us.
And where you are changes your perspective. It's taken me some time to realize that. When I have my collar on, it constantly reminds me that my position is different than that of my flock -- the bar has been raised, the standards are higher. I get that and, for the most part, have been able to honor it.
But in the secular world -- despite all the disrespect of those in authority that I see around me -- in the secular world, I somehow maintain the naive notion that people will rise to their highest levels and that everything will work together for the greater good. Well, everyTHING will work together for the greater good, but not everyONE will join in the working together.
People will blow smoke up your butt and tell you they're trying to revive you. The reality is that people blow smoke up your butt because they're testing you, trying to see what you've got, trying to see if you're dead or alive. I'm slowly realizing that, while many of my employees are talented, lovely, and delightful individuals, there are some who are dishonest, deceitful, and conniving individuals, ones who would blow smoke up my butt to see if I'm still alive, all the while telling me they're trying to revive me.
Which is really unfortunate. It's just so twisted. And I hate walking around being that witch that everyone fears. I hate walking around with that big stick. But I'm in a place that's gotten very twisted. It's going to take some twists to get out of the twisted environment and into one that is whole. I think we're going to twist and shout.
I guess I started this thinking about how twisted it is for us as Americans to celebrate in the streets that another human has been killed. No, I'm no fan of Bin Laden, but I'm no fan of murder either, and I'm certainly no fan of celebrating because someone's been murdered. When we do that, when I see the pictures of Americans dancing with flags and celebrating Bin Laden's death, I'm immediately reminded of the people who were pictured burning American flags and celebrating the fall of the Towers. We think one is ok and one is not ok, but, IMHO, to think that shows some twist in our own value system. It's twisted to actually dance on someone's grave. It's twisted to rejoice in anyone's suffering. It's twisted for us to think it's ok to engage in these behaviors because our cause is "just" or "right," while simultaneously condemning others for engaging in the exact same behaviors for the exact same reasons.
God, have mercy on us.