Cheesebloggle In Paradise, The Costa Rica Diaries, Volume 8

“I’m a lot like you so please
Hello, I’m here, I’m waiting.
I think I’d be good for you
And you’d be good for me.”
~~ Weezer, 'El Scorcho'




We all love our crushes, just a little.




A conversation:

Sketch: Then she said, 'Do you want to listen to the Beatles? It's Abbey Road.'

Duffman: Holy shit. I can’t think of anything I’d rather hear out of a girl’s mouth. That’s better than, ‘Do you want a blow job’ or … or anything.




My (too) few days with this girl were more than Wild and Weird nights together. We spent whole days together, and when you spend entire days with a person, you get to know them very well very quickly. I liked her. She was easy to talk to, enthusiastic, loved music and wildlife …

To illustrate my point, I offer you a few random, asexual memories:




I tell her how much I love the glowing plankton, and she tells me about working summer camps in her home town. They made exercises designed to teach the kids about bioluminescence, and the kids, naturally, were thrilled by anything glow-in-the-dark. The waves hold a particular nostalgic appeal for her, reminding her of summers past. These sorts of character moments are fascinating to me. Her stories remind me of my own days working camps at the zoo, and the sorts of fun educational games we played with the children there. It is my turn for nostalgia, and I think how amazing it is that two people from vastly different backgrounds, from different states, separated by a monstrous continent can be connected by this sort of memory.




The fireflies also bring us together. She has never seen them – apparently, fireflies are nonexistent in the Pacific Northwest. She is ridiculously excited by them – glowing bugs! How amazing that must seem to those of us who do not take them for granted, and it just so happens I do not. Fireflies are among my favorite animals, and one of life’s most simple summertime pleasures is watching their random flashes at dusk. This is an activity she wholly embraces.




We are donating supplies and free trade soccer balls to students at several local schools. The last school challenges our entire group to an impromptu soccer match. It is too damn hot to play soccer, but many people give it a shot anyway. Other group members offer students piggyback rides in the corner of the field, and I can’t resist. I give her my camera and take off. Sometimes, I look over at her and catch her smiling at me. At one point, we just look at each other and laugh. Shared glances are sexy. Maybe that should have been in my top five.




When we reach the river campsite, two of the girls take off to explore the woods, and I follow. Eventually, one leaves, but SHE is still fascinated, and we keep searching for crazy animals. We catch lizards of all sizes. We find a giant termite mound in a dead tree. Best of all, we discover a colony of leaf-cutter ants, marching along in their little ant brigades. We are enthralled. Watching a few ants on a single leaf, we each pick one and cheer it on as it saws off a tiny segment of leaf. This is an epic struggle for such a wee beastie. She wants to follow them, find the source to this flowing river of ants. We step carefully beside their trail, moving from the leaves to their mound, then off in a whole new direction. “Look!” she yells. “Look at them here! Look where they go!” This sort of enthusiasm is Rare and Precious. There are 38 people on this trip, but she and I are the only ones sharing this moment. That’s a great feeling.




Let’s not forget Chasing the Goat. That sort of bonding experience is enough to make anyone feel a special connection.




It’s our last day together, and we arrive at the Posada Quepoa. Four people to a beautiful two-story cabin. I admire the downstairs: comfortable living area, dining table, sink, refrigerator, wooden counter, beautiful bathroom. The upper level has two bedrooms: the first holds two twin beds, the other has a comfy-looking queen-size bed. I wander into this room, and she’s already getting her stuff out. “I’m claiming this room,” she says. I look at her with puppy eyes, and she laughs. “I’m not excluding you,” she tells me. I am confused. I have a scruffy, unkempt beard, a vicious buzz cut and a peeling sunburn where my scalp used to be. I reek from a week of camping on the beach under the smoldering Costa Rican sun. Of course, she is just as filthy, but I love dirty women. I have no alcohol. And still she wants to share this bed with me, and laugh and kiss and talk about home and pets and the Beatles and vegetarianism and Buddhism and sexism and Randomness. As a mock romantic gesture, I’ve placed the Team Disco Flask disco ball on a rafter, and lit it with my headlamp. The result is hundreds of motionless dots sprayed across our ceiling, more reminiscent of stars than a dance party. She loves it.




These are the special memories. The moments when I look upon her with extra fondness. More than a friend (with benefits), more than a casual lover or a crush or a fling. Don’t get me wrong, this was Spring Break and the two of us live 2,000 miles apart. We were perfectly attuned to this fact. But that doesn’t mean there weren’t moments of genuine warmth. These are the rarest and most exciting moments of human interaction: the initial stages of dating, when a mere touch or look evokes an involuntary current of Thrilling electric adrenaline. When women play coy but get what they want. When men act smooth but win her over with goofy quirks and a few sweet gestures. The Hopeless Romantics live for moments like these, and I’m glad I shared them with her.

Pura Vida, wherever you are.

~ Sketch E.