Ode to My Mosquito Net

As I planned this trip, all I heard about costa rica suggested I would like it: cheap eats, good surf, socialist government, warm weather, clean ocean, pretty girls and copious live music. One thing gave me dread: the thought of large, exotic, emboldened jungle insects. And arachnids. Spider dreams would sporadically wake me up in a sweat, embodying all the anxiety I tried to suppress in the months leading up to my trip (damn, I'm slow).

however, when I got here something entirely unexpected happened: I found the bugs interesting. I have no yet seen a spider, nor a millipede over two inches long, so we'll see how I cope in the future. But I have stepped barefoot on a large shiny beetle (twice--it didn't die), and rather than flinch or jump disgustedly, as i would have if I'd clod upon a domestic cockroach, I quickly stooped to examin it in all its wierd glory. Is this the creature making that beeping sound in the jungle, which I first took to be someone's microwave being endlessly programmed in the night?

It's not all glamorous, but I feel as though I've handled myself well, like when I found some small, gray, wormlike thing squirming on my arm, I casually flicked it away. Or when that two-inch millipede scuttles across the floor, I watch to see if the gecko will eat it. I've also taken joy in studying the impossibly green tree frogs and crystalline-yellow sand crabs. What can i say, the little naturalist inside has finally found its way out, and I might even (this will shock some of you) take a hike through a nearby forest reserve.

problem is, there's one common insect that neither delights nor intirgues me. that's right, the mosquito. i woke up yesterday with an accumulated fifty bites between my knees and ankles, probably received while reading in the hammock on my porch. I try to be diligent with the repellent, but they can smell my fresh blood. i will, on the recommendation of a good friend (as well as douglas adams), begin drinking gin and tonic to ward against further atttacks (and malaria). I have scrapped a plan to look for Jupiter, Mars and Mercury in the dawn sky tomorrow, because twilight's feeding time. i am hesitant to take that jungle hike because i doubt my deet-free repellant will save me.

The only thing that gives me a sense of security is that mosquito net over my bed. Safely inside its gossamer tent, I find sancturay as i sleep; nothing will feast on me this night.

Speaking of dread (first paragraph, second sentence), I have been greatly enjoying the live music down here. If i didn't already mention it, Puerto Viejo used to be called old Old Harbor (it was apparently never new), founded by Jamaican turtle fisherman in the nineteenth century, so the reggaton vibe rings loud and strong here. Every night I've been able to find at least one band playing around town, and failing that I've gone to a club where locals and tourists groove to dancehall music that spills out onto the beach thrity feet away, the moon casting palm-shaped silhouettes over the ocean. Several half-toothless, dreadlocked rastafari have offered to be my "ganja master," and the first night out i was thus solicited about 6 or 7 times. Fortunately, it's a small place, and you see the same people all but every day, so as they begin to recognize me, they're beginning to let me pass with a polite hello and "how's the surf?"

Other locals are off-and-on friendly with me, ranging from late-teenaged surfers (aka groms) to guys closer to my age. (As I said, it's a small place, so there aren't many people of any particular age, and the socializing crosses a lot more boundaries than I'm used to in the states). cafe owners, waitstaff, surfers, bike riders and general gadabouts offer engaging conversation, but then become mindful of my impermanence and withdraw a bit. I think I do this a bit myself. If i eventually decide to live here I guess I will have a good head start, and will at least know where to find the erudite people in town.

I could probably keep these shorter, or at least provide more pictures. ah, well, soon enough. time now for a late caribbean meal.