Memories

Sitting, eating dinner, my mom asked, "Do you have any cozy memories from when you were little?" to my brother and I. My 13-year-old brother of course spoke about some random memory of waking up to a rainy morning and walking down stairs to find that the rest of us were already up and about with smiles on our faces. Not so random actually, I guess. When it was deemed my turn to share, I spoke about my memories of being 10-years-old on winter Saturday mornings. The smell of cinnamon baking apples, biscuits, bacon, and my mothers coffee would literally wake me up. When I walked down stairs my mom would greet me with her usual, "Good morning, little lizard." I would go into describing the "little lizard" thing, but I'd rather not. My dad would be watching his daily dose of the morning news and my brother would be squeezed into the most awkward little crevice he could find, which was usually the little pocket between my parents. I would then sit on the couch and curl into a ball, just to go to sleep again. Now that I think about it, I don't know why I would always do that. I guess the sound of my family's voices soothed me? Not sure. My moms cozy memory story sort of makes mine sound amateur though. She talked about living in Alaska when the days were dark for 24 hours. She would go inside from the frigid winds and warm up from the steam from the food my Grandma would cook. Beans and rice, probably, which is what us Creoles are famous for. The steam would make condensation on the windows and my mom would write all over them with her fingers. Great memory, right?

This kind of saddens me because this just a memory and doesn't happen anymore. Growing up is kind of a sad thought. Now my Saturdays are full with debate tournaments, fashion classes, and chores. I secretly envy little kids. Well, I guess it's not a secret anymore.

What is your cozy memory?

El Pueblo de Jaco

Jaco is a cute little surf town on the Pacific Coast of Costa Rica. Most of the people here are college-aged and come just for the surfing season. The streets are jam-packed with cars and people on bicycles and you are constantly smelling delicious rice and beans. Dogs roam the streets in packs of four or five and people seem not to even notice them. The muscular, bare-chested, Spanish-speaking teens who hold surfboards with the tops of their buttcracks showing are just as plentiful as the women selling pottery, which is quite a few, might I add. Today, I went to quaint little clothing boutiques, and most of them were very my style. Which I would decribe as... New Yorker hippie goes to Paris and dines with Caeser of the Romans? I bought these really cool shoes at a store called Guacamole. My first day in Jaco, my family and I ate dinner at a Soda, which is a restaurant that doesn't have its liquor liscense. I had beans and rice and beef and some carrot salad- it was delicious. I even ordered the whole thing in Spanish! No matter how full I was, I couldn't stop eating. Yeah, that's not too healty is it? Well, I feel I have already bored you with my non-stop typing. So, here are the pictures.

There were stores like this around every corner. Most of them had the same things-clothing, bowls, and little tourist trinkets.

Since Jaco is a surf town, it is only natural that surfboards were everywhere.

I am still trying to figure out what it says on the sign of this car. "Mientra el ice come rico, el pueblo se muere de hambre. Digamosle no al abuso." Do you know what it means?

This is my favorite store ever, even better than Heritage 1981. It is called Guacamole.

Yum. This was actually my mom's dish. I would have posted what my food looked like, but by the time we got the camera out, I was already digging in.

This was an "escuela primera." An elementary school. With my amazing spanish skills, I explained how my mom wanted to go to a local school for her pictures.

That's Jaco!