I left Saint Lucia on Sunday, August 1. Things were pretty chaotic at the last minute, and despite living by lists and saying goodbyes for weeks, there were a few that never got said, a few things left undone. The whole last weekend there was this drastic series of crazy events marked by significant ups and downs, and I find it a very fitting analogy for my two years on the island. Particularly Sunday. But here's the story: My last Friday there was a full moon, and a local rock band called Disturbing Joan played a full moon show at an outdoor bar in Gros Islet. Urmie, a friend from the gym, invited me for a goodbye dinner, along with Caroline, Eric, Andre, Charles, Suzanne and Larry, and Meg, a volunteer who was living with her--a great, fun crew. We had a wonderful indian-inspired dinner at her beautiful house, on a hill overlooking the city, and then went to see the show. They played the songs both Tanja and I wanted to hear at their Jazz show, and gave Caroline and me a shoutout, thanking us for our 2 years of Peace Corps service. That was really cool. (The bass player in the band, Chris, taught swimming with Caroline and sometimes sailed with me.) After that, Tanja and I went to the Gros Islet street party for probably the last time (she left to instruct scuba in Egypt 2 weeks after me) and see Chris, our swiss-german friend from the gym, who also just recently departed St. Lucia. The three of us sat out on his porch, drinking beer and discussing our feelings about leaving for a long time, until the mosquitos and sleepiness got the best of us. The next day I was up early to pay final bills, try and pack, and meet friends in town for the round the island trip. I got my bills paid, woke Andre (who had fallen asleep after watching an early morning rugby match) to tell him to hurry up, and headed by bus to Castries to pick up a carving and a pair of shoes I had left at the repair shop (another thing to try and fit in my already over-filled bags!).

The carving is a saga in itself. So I will briefly digress. Early in our time, Caroline and I befriended most of the beach vendors in the area where we often limed. They would always greet us, sometimes bring us fruit, and in addition to not hassling us, sort of get our back and keep others from hassling us. One guy, Columbus, had nice carvings. He was a nice guy and gave me a birdfeeder for my sister as a wedding present when I went to the US last summer, and gave me money to buy him new sneakers, which i did. (shoes, like everything else imported, are expensive there.)And at one point I asked him to make a special carving for me, sort of a takeoff on one of the standard tourist pieces--a mask with the Pitons and other trademark St Lucia features. I wanted that, plus the PC logo and 2002-2004. I thought he would do a good job. We talked about it for a long time, I got him a copy of the logo, and he kept telling me he would drop it off for me, etc. Anyway, I never got it, and he kept telling me it was done. That final week we agreed I would pick it up that morning. He was waiting there for me by the harbor under a tree as rain started to fall. He went in his bag, eyes glowing with excitement, and got something out for me. My heart sank. It was hideous. It was worse than hideous, it was a complete piece of crap. And he was so excited, and showed me all the 'features' that I supposedly wanted. Make no mistake here, this was awful by any standards. It was a 5 lb, at least, hunk of heavy wood, still shaped like wood except for two vague sort of points at the top, which were allegedly the pitons. on the face, which was barely carved out, were three crudely hewn shapes that looked like elementary school attempts at stars. These, I was told, were the dove turning into a star in the Peace Corps logo. That's it. No logo, no dates, no St. Lucia, no mask, no hibiscus flowers or other nice ornamentation. A big heavy chunk of wood with 2 points and some ugly misshapen stars. And a "free" bird feeder, because we were such good friends. To make it worse, he wouldn't tell me a price, which is the shadiest of all shyster vendor tricks. They ask for "whatever you can give," which is inevitably never enough. He wanted $60 (EC dollars); I gave him $40. Which was still a pretty expensive damn bird feeder that I never really wanted anyway. Cause I certainly wasn't keeping that piece of crap. Had it been any other weekend, any other day, any other time, I wouldn't have taken it. I was just too stressed, too shell shocked, and too disappointed to refuse it. The only thing I can think of is that Columbus is doing drugs now, genuinely believed that crap was good, and didn't mean to rip me off. So I gave him the money and figured the story was almost worth it. I told it to everyone on the van, and they laughed their asses off. The stupid thing is, I forgot to get someone to take a picture of it. It would really help the story a lot. Unfortunately, I didn't think of that till Andre and I were already on a bus leaving Castries, having left the thing on the van we took around the island. I didn't want to look at it ever again.

So anyway, I got that horrible carving, and picked up my shoes, and dropped off some books for a friend in town at her job, and we got in the van. More than an hour later we had ice and beer and finally left town. Cari, Heather, Jaimie, Zorina, Rosie, Jamilla, another local girl whose name I can't remember, Andre and me and the driver set off. We were drinking, singing along with the radio and having fun despite crappy weather. We stopped in several places around the island--dropped my cell off in Marigot for Michael, picked up cds from Xavier in Anse La Raye. Had lunch in Soufriere, but it was too rainy for us to go to the Jalousie Hilton beach like we wanted to, so we headed on to Laborie, our major stop. We met Lauren and Greg there, and waited a while for Kate, Matt and Sarah who were coming for Lauren's goodbye party. After a long swim, though, we had to leave before they arrived. Then we watched the sunset from the southernmost point of the island, at the lighthouse at Moule a Chique. THat was cool, because it was the view I had when flying out of Hewanorra Airport (for the first time) the following afternoon. On the drive back we didn't really stop anywhere, as it had gotten dark and we were all tired, and tired of being in the car. We got some dinner at the Dennery Fish Fry and then headed back to Castries. It was fun, but a long day. And it was disappointing because Michelle and several of her girls were supposed to come and they are a wild bunch and would have brought some needed energy to the day. Also, I never really got to say goodbye to Michelle because of that. I went home and attempted to pack a bit more. Got a goodbye visit from Martina and a few goodbye calls. Tried to sleep, despite knots in my stomach.

Sunday morning I woke up early. There was a fun walk going on outside, past my apartment on the highway, which I had done my first weekend in St. Lucia 2 years earlier. Jude and his sisters were in it, as was Andre and Martina. Both said they would stop by during the walk but neither did. Which might have been better for my stress level but made me feel kind of sad. And then Jude didn't come back from the walk to say goodbye. I brought Chabin and her stuff over to their house, where only his brother in law was home, and he didn't know anything about the cat coming to live there. Chabin got really upset, and growled and ran away, back to the bushes and then to my house, where she laid across my suitcase to try and stop me from leaving. Meanwhile, neither bag would close. Mom called, and I was nearly in hysterics. I had given away bags and bags and piles of things, been cleaning out, throwing away, and giving away for months, and still my bags wouldn't close. Eventually I took a few more things out and gave them to the new neighbor, Lady Spice (a famous calypsonian--did I mention that yet?) who has 6 kids, and then it closed. (Previously, Samuel had gotten my discman, walkman, and small speakers, making him the happiest 14 yr old boy in town.) Jackie came, we loaded my stuff, I tried to say goodbye to the cat, who ran away, said goodbye to Mathius and Jude's sisters and tried not to cry, and got in the car. We picked up her nephew and headed towards the airport. We were really early, I should add, because I knew my bags were overweight and I wanted to be sure they would get on the plane, and then I wanted to take Jackie to lunch. Instead, when we were about 3/4 of the way there, we rounded a poorly-banked corner on the highway, and the road was wet from a recent rainstorm, and we skidded across the other lane and into a stone wall. We hit it (only going about 20 mph, thankfully), bounced back, did a 360 skid in the mud on the side of the road, and ended up facing the wrong way in traffic, as the front tires of her jeep hissed flat. We were screwed. Luckily, no cars were coming, and two trucks with guys immediately passed and helped us tow it out of there. There was a small ding in the front hood, the tires were flat and the axle seemed broken. But it was amazing that we were not hurt at all, given the possibilities. Apparently, there are fatal accidents on that curve all the time. THe guys helping us told us countless accident stories. Once Jackie's hysteria subsided, she asked one of them to take me to the airport. (I was amazingly calm about the accident, probably because I had already sort of surpassed stressed and gone into a calm-seeming emotional coma, but really wanted to get to the airport and didnt want to draw the focus away from the car and the accident, which was clearly a big problem. except that i need to leave.) So we heave my stuff into the back of the truck, Jackie and I pile in the cab, her nephew in the back, and race to the airport, where the queue at USAIR is out to the curb. I am last, with slightly more than an hour till my flight. At this point, nothing more could phase me. I saw Lauren, and her farewell party of Greg, Sarah and another of her friends. Also our Country Director, there with his son. THe line eventually moved, and when I got to the front, my luck changed. "Ms. Wolf, I see you'll be flying first class with us." What??? But I rolled with it. And convinced her that my second, forbidden carryon was actually a carryon (it was filled with books, and very heavy) and my enormous backpack simply a purse. Thus saving the US$80 extra bag fee. And they somehow overlooked the extra weight of my bags. As the bag screeners overlooked my extra bottles of bajan and trini rum. The magical words "Peace Corps" still wield serious power in some parts... So I made it through the line, only to discover my flight had been delayed two hours. Upstairs, I waved goodbye to Lauren's flight and got some lunch, finally. Ran into a woman from my gym who I always chatted with, and we always spoke about getting together. We had a drink, got chatting, and I nearly missed my flight. As we waited in the security line, my name was called over the intercom, and I had to dash through the airport. Thankfully it's really only one room. But I was the last person on the plane. The only person in my first class row. And, with dirt on my skirt and a grin on my face, I watched St. Lucia get smaller out the window and tried to process the fact that I was really leaving, for good. A comfy seat, blanket, free drinks and the movie helped, without a doubt.

So I made it to Philly, got delayed gain at baggage, met mom and John and we stayed up late catching up. The next day I did some shopping with mom and went out for Thai food, had dinner with Grandma and Aunt Carol, packed for Costaand tried to get a good sleep. We got up at 4 to go to the airport for my trip to Costa Rica. And the next saga began... I e-checked in, went to my gate and waited, and then realized everyone there was going to Nevada. Found out the flight was cancelled, and waited in a line to get booked on the next flight. Went to that gate and waited some more, as the flight was delayed. Realized that the delay would make me miss my connecting flight to San Jose from Charlotte, and was told to go back down to check-in and get reticketed for another connecting flight. But due to the hurricane, many flights had been affected and lines were unbelievably long. Cheeky me got frustrated, went to the front of the first class queue and demanded a supervisor (I had been told to ask for one when sent down), and got one. Unfortuntely, after 40 minutes he still couldnt find a seat for me on any airline to Costa Rica that day. So 5 hours and a $40 shuttle ride later, I found myself back in Lansdale, booked on the following day's 7 am flight (nonstop this time),and calling USAIR baggage for 3 hours to find out where on earth my bags had ended up. With no conclusive answers, even after finally speaking to a human being. So I had to get up at 4 again, with an additional small bag of clothes in case my luggage didn't arrive, and this time everything went smoothly. The flight left on time, with me on it, and when I arrived, my luggage was there, my hotel shuttle was there, and Shawna was there, having arrived as scheduled the day before. From there, our trip went beautifully.

I can't say enough good things about Costa Rica--I absolutely loved it. Our 9 days went by incredibly fast, but everything went according to plan. There is so much to see and do, it was hard to make decisions, but we mostly stuck to the plans I had made, with the help of the guidebook, map and some advice from others. We spent the first day/night in Alajuela, a suburb of the Capital, San Jose, which everyone says to avoid if possible. Our hotel was reasonable and clean and the staff were wonderful. It had cable, a pool and breakfast was included. (for $20 each) After I arrived, we spoke to a youngish girl on staff who gave us some advice on where to go in Alajuela, and then offered to take us there when she finished her shift at 1. We jumped at that chance. So we took the bus, changed money, and had lunch at a small shop (these are everywhere, called "sodas") in the market where all the locals eat. We ordred a few things to share with her help and learned about some of the local food and drinks. She left us and we wandered about and shopped a bit. That night, we made our own guacamole with fresh produce we'd bought and fresh chips from the market. We had some beers and plotted our next steps, with help from the owners. Our spanish was beginning to improve--the vocab was coming back and we were taking tentative baby steps out of the present tense. We decided to leave early in the morning, via taxi, to San Jose, where we would catch a bus to the town of La Fortuna, at the base of the Volcan Arenal, an active volcano. The trip was fairly uneventful, and we passed through some pretty countryside, and got the first in a series of long-trip giggles from delierium. The weather cleared just as we reached Fortuna, and we could see the Volcano. Apparently it had been rainy and cloudy for a few days and no one could see a thing. From the town, you can hear the rock fall of the lava, but you can't see it until night time, when the red flows are visible as they crash down the mountainside. We found a cheap little pension to stay at, and decided on a night time tour of the volcano, including a hike, lava viewing and hot springs. We went with the brother of the guy who owned our pension, which may have been our one mistake of our trip, though it wasn't too bad. In hindsight, we should have probably taken a more recognized tour group. We were told we would be in a group, but it was just Shawna and me, and Julio and his brother. Julio took us on a hike where we saw toucans, and he told us about the area. Then, once it got dark, we went to the viewing area, and watched the lava flows for a long while. Then, we got back in the car and went to the hot springs. There are several hotsprings in the area, at various prices. The resort Tabacon has an apparently lovely setting for the natural springs to rush through, and cost $25US. Another company slightly up (or down?)stream cost $15, but our guides said they'd take us to a free one. This was mentioned in the trusty Lonely Planet, so we went with it. We didn't need luxury; we just wanted a nice hot soak. But our intrepid guides clearly did the math of 2 guys and 2 girls at a hotspring and decided it was a recipe for romance. So though the hotsprings were lovely and really relaxing, what could have been an incredible night was sort of spoiled by dodging the roaming hands and intentions of our young suitors. It got old, quickly. Other people must fall for that, but their advances were no different than those of every other west indian guy we had just dodged for 2 years, so we weren't having any of it. That and the "let me give you a massage" line got played out a long time ago...

Anyway, we escaped the cluthes of our would-be latin lovers and went back to the hotel. I wanted to go out, but Shawna was fed up and wanted to sleep. I decided going out alone was unwise, so settled for cable tv. Fortuna seemed like a pretty cool little town, though. The next morning, we resolved to leave if the weather wasn't good. And it wasn't. So we packed up, had a nice breakfast, and signed up for the Jeep-Boat-Jeep trip to Monteverde. On the map, they are only about an inch apart, but there is a huge lake and a terrible road in between so a trip that would seem about an hour away, we were told, would take 8 hours on the public bus, 4 hours+ in a taxi, or 21/2 hours by jeep-boat-jeep. We chose option c, having limited time and limited tolerance for dodgy busses on bumpy, horrible roads (again, 2 yrs in west indies. LOTS of similarities...). It was wise, and the boat trip was nice. Met some cool people, some of whom stayed in our little hostel in Monteverde, one of the coolest places we stayed. Monteverde reminded me of Jackson Hole, WY or a similar type of ski town. It's on the edge of the cloudforest, really laid back but with lots to do, and pretty 'developed' for being in the middle of nowhere, but still with lots of rustic charm and ecological sensibility. (those last 2 were part of what made me love costa rica so much.) from there we wandered about, had some local food, bought some souvenirs at a local artisans coop, had really good homemade ice cream at the cheese factory, and signed up for a canopy tour, via zip lines and platforms, the next day. that night we made dinner and went out for drinks with 2 canadian sisters we met and a belgian guy they had met, as well as a local 17 yr old guy he had met. We went to a cafe that had a dj and dance floor, left there and went to antoher club that had just been shut down by the police who were conducting an immigration raid for nicaraguans. That was a bummer. We sort of wandered aimlessly in the dark, quiet streets, feeling like high school kids, until we gave up and went to bed. The next day, it was pouring when we woke up and Shawna and I were pretty unhappy. But our tour was scheduled for 10 and around 9 the sky began to clear. By 10:30 or so we had sunny, clear skies. And the zip tour was incredible. We didn't see any wildlife, but we zipped through the canopy on these really high wires, and the view was amazing, and it gave us this adrenaline high. I've never done anything like that before. I thought it might be scary, but so many of the tourists do it, I figured it couldn't be that bad. It wasn't scary at all, and I didn't want it to end. Some of the people didn't lean back far and tuck their legs up enough, so they went slowly and got stuck. That would have sucked. Thankfully, I never got stuck. There were about 18 zip lines, and later, a hummingbird garden and about 12 platforms--these long, wooden, rope bridges strung in the treetops. We saw some cool birds, swung on a vine, and then our room key fell out of Shawna's pocket and into the forest below. Luckily, it was close to a platform and I saw it fall, so I was able to climb down on a recon mission, and surprisingly, found it! Got quite muddy though. That night we had dinner with Mathieu, another canadian, who was travelling alone, and on a similar path to us (except he was driving, diving and headed for panama), and then out for drinks to the same club that had been previously closed, as well as a local bar. He had his canopy tour early the next morning, and we left for Manuel Antonio in a taxi. He was heading there too later that day in his car, but as our time was limited we thought we'd better get there in early afternoon so we coud spend the afternoon and then the next morning in the park. A good thing, as we discovered when we got there that the park is closed mondays; thus, we only had 3 hours that Sunday afternoon to see it. The drive to Manuel Antonio, a small park on the pacific coast a four hour drive away, was beautiful, and passed through rugged farmland with views of mountains and acres of bright green fields with grazing cows, and small villages of the sort I had envisioned living in while in Peace Corps. We stopped along the way to see some crocodiles (cocodrillos in spanish, we learned) in a river, and took pictures. Many places in Manuel Antonio were booked, as it is very popular, despite being the low season, but we eventually found a room at a B&B in the home of the owner of the local gift shop, a woman from California who is one of the oldest residents of Manuel Antonio. Her place was great, but a bit far out of the way. We got our taxi driver to take us to the park and rushed through it in the remaining 3 hours. The beaches were gorgeous, and it was painful on such a beautiful sunny day (especially after the cold, gloom and rain of the cloudforest) to pass them by, but we were on a mission to see monkeys. And we did! We saw several 3 toed sloths, a snake (looked like a boa) some big-ass spiders, and both red squirrel and capuchin monkeys playing in the trees. I was a happy camper. We swam briefly in the Pacific (which was warm!) after the park closed, had a snack at the beach (bbq chicken and a tortilla, instead of a bake, like in the islands) and then a drink at a nice restaurant with a view at sunset, where there was a sort of mariachi band (they played guantanamera, which i had been singing in the park all afternoon). As we trudged up the steep hill to our room, getting sweaty, we sort of debated the logistics of showering and coming back down to meet some friends from Monteverde (an American couple) in a bar with live music. Just then, Mathieu pulled up! He gave us a ride back to our room, waited while we showered, and then joined us for drinks with Paul and Katherine, who it turns out were not a couple, but old high school friends. We had dinner and drinks and a lot of fun. Mathieu drove us back home again. And the next morning we commenced our most difficult quest: how to get to Mastatal. Mastatal is a small, small pueblita in the mountains outside of a sub-city outside of San Jose, Puriscal. No one had heard of it. Turns out the busses to Puriscal left the nearby town, Quepos, at 4 am or 1 pm. It's a 3 hour ride, and busses to Mastatal left Puriscal at 3. We were screwed. We were told we might be able to take one of the many busses to San Jose from Quepos and find another bus there to Puriscal, but that didn't seem to make any sense. No one could tell us how often those busses might leave and that seemed to be cutting it mighty close as well. So we decided to get to Puriscal and figure it out from there. We had a reservation at the ecolodge in Mastatal, but at the worst, we would just get there a day late. The bus ride took not 3 but close to 5 hours to Puriscal, and so the Mastatal bus was long gone. We got a taxi jeep, which was a bit pricey but our only option. The driver was very chatty and enthusiastic, but spoke no english, and his spanish was very local campesino (rather than our stilted textbook spanish) and he spoke very fast. So it was hard to have any detailed conversations with him. Along the way we ran over a local poisonous snake, which he failed to kill with the car, and proceeded to get out and throw stones at. A truck full of men passed, and they all jumped out to help him. Eventually, his machete was retrieved from the back, and they proudly held up the limp, huge, snake to us and told us it was 'the most poisonous snake in south america.' We later learned it is not, but as these snakes sometimes find their way into villages and homes, men want to protect their families from the snakes, and kill them. After about 2 hours we pulled up at a fenced home in the forest preserve, in the village of mastatal: Rancho Mastatal, an environmental learning center run by two former peace corps volunteers. We heard about it from a former CR volunteeer, who was a friend of a girl in our group in Grenada.

We had decided to end our trip with 3 days at Rancho Mastatal, as a sort of off the beaten track view of the country, and it was a great decision. It's hard to find the words to describe the place, or the people, without giving the impression that it is some sort of hippie commune. Tim and Robin, who are in their early 30s and from Seattle, met in the Peace Corps in Uruguay. They bought the land and opened Rancho Mastatal about 4-5yrs ago, and have an incredible vision. They have a main house, where they live, with a few extra bedrooms, a kitchen, bathroom and dining area, as well as a huge porch with tables, adirondack chairs and hammocks, and another large house converted to a bunk house, which sleeps about 20, and has an indoor bathroom, front and back porches with hammocks, 2 solar showers and a composting toilet. Most things are constructed using local, natural, sustainable materials, like bamboo. The entire complex is meant to exist with as little impact on the earth as possible, and to be as self-sustaining as possible. Kitchen and compost toilet waste are composted. There is a solar dehydrator, and a nice brick oven of sorts, which uses very little fuel. There are lots of gardens, though not all the food is grown there. People come to stay, either as students (there are programs with several environmental science classes at UW and other schools), volunteers, or guests. Students and volunteers help out in a variety of projects or chores, from building a new structure, tree planting, composting, to soap-making, baking or helping with dinner or dishes. Three meals are included, and they're all vegan or vegetarian and very fresh and healthy. Robin is an amazing cook, and strangely enough, uses quite a few recipes from a cookbook from a restaurant I love in Victoria B.C., ReBar. We came as guests, and were not required to help, but everyone else during our stay were volunteers. There were several families, and a few long-timers who had construction skills and had been living there about 2 years. There was a lot to learn, and everyone was really laid-back and cool. There was a dog and a cat, and waterfall to swim in only a 10 minute hike away. Plenty of trails to hike in, and a fridge full of soft drinks and beers on the honor system. The conch shell is blown to announce meals. In between tasks, in evenings and after meals, everyone sort of plops into a chair or hammock and reads, plays games, or chats. There are shelves and shelves of books on sustainable construction, bamboo, gardening, cooking, etc., and lots of knowledgable people to learn from. There were 2 UW professors and their children there, a family that had been travelling in central america and taking spanish lessons together for 4 months, a couple that were both astrophysicists, working on space policy in D.C., and lots of others. I wanted our 3 days to last forever, but they flew past. The first night we arrived at dinner time, veggie sandwiches on freshly made everything bagels, and vegan chocolate cake. We socialized and slept well, and woke early. The next day we got a tour, went to the nearby waterfall, and relaxed. It rained every day at about 1-5, so anything important had to be done early. That afternoon, we left to go to our host families. We asked to get placed with local families to learn more about the area and culture and practice our spanish. Shawna's family was used to having guests, but mine was a newer "host" family, and spoke very campesino. We had a hard time communicating, but thanks to the power of games (i played cards most of the night with the 14 yr old daughter and 9 yr old grandson), a spanish-english dictionary, and charades, we got along just fine. They were incredibly sweet to me. I just wish I could have understood them better. In the morning, we were up at 5:30, and had breakfast (more rice and beans and eggs, similar to dinner) and then Roberth took me to Shawna's host family so that we could go and milk cows. I think I did it once when I was very small, but milking cows was a very strange experience. As was learning the vocabulary for it and other farm tasks in Spanish... It was gross at first, but I managed to get the hang of it and milk about 2 1/2 glasses, in the time it took the woman to milk 2 jugs. Oh well. After milking, we set off on horseback to a huge waterfall. The trip took a half-day, and Shawna's host brother was our guide. He taught himself English from a book, and knew a fair amount (the most of anyone in the village, according to Tim), so we spoke in Spanglish most of the day. He was a great guide. The ride was long, and Shawna and I were not very experienced on horseback, but we did ok. Eventually, we had to tie the horses and continue on foot to the waterfall, which was about 200 feet tall, and looked like something from Yosemite. It was absolutely gorgeous, and had a huge green pool to swim in at the bottom. The afternoon showers were on their way, and I was the only one who swam, but it was really excellent. We had some oranges and bananas we brought with us, and headed back. We named our horses, as they didn't have names, and decided that they really matched our personalities. Shawna's hung way back and liked to take guava breaks whenever possible, she dubbed it "Never gonna Reach" or "Nunca Llegar", while mine was sort of energetic and a bit spastic, needing to be at the front except when going downhill, when it freaked out and tried to go anywhere but down. I called her "Ahorita," which basically means "just now" and is used the same way as in the Caribbean. Just now was a lot faster on the way home, and took me galloping many times. Our legs were very sore the next day... So we had one last dinner at the ranch with everyone, and took a walk back into the village to say goodbye to our host families. In the early morning, we took a bus with two other people from the ranch (who were going on an overnight outing to Quepos) to Puriscal, and then to San Jose, and then finally to Alajuela. We had left Shawna's larger bag in storage there and made a reservation for our final night. We discussed going out, as it was the evening of August 12 and the eve of my 30th birthday. Instead we bought a bottle of wine in the supermarket, had coffee and cake in a cafe, and had a nice dinner and wine at the hotel that night. Shawna had to fly out early the next day. My flight home had a bit of drama, of course! We got to Charlotte with no problems except a long delay on the runway in San Jose, but we arrived at the same time as another large flight, and all 600+ of us had a limited time to clear immigration, with only 3 people working. My flight was delayed, but not long enough--i missed it by a few minutes after a mad dash through the airport. So I got booked on the next flight out, 2 hours later (in first class again) and spent 2 hours in the airport chilie's eating caesar salad by myself on my birthday. whoo-eee. When I finally got to the Philly airport, I was greeted by my mom and John, with balloons, who had been waiting there anxiously for 2 hours. We were exhausted, but stayed up til almost 3 while I showed them my souvenirs, told a few stories, and opened bday gifts.

Since then, life has been a lot less interesting, although mom and I did go on vacation again a few days later. John had a house booked in Ocean City, NJ for the week, and we spent 3 days there. That was really nice, and I got some of my tan back. I've caught up with a lot of my family members on this coast and a few friends. Unpacked, did laundry, and some shopping. I don't have a car, so I'm mostly home alone all day during the week. I've managed to keep myself busy though, going through my old stuff, helping out around the house, attempting to organise my life, and working out. I'm running and i joined the gym in the nearby shopping center (I can walk there) which has the same classes as my gym in St. Lucia: Body Pump, Spinning, Yoga, Pilates, Kickboxing. That's been a very good thing. I'm home for a few more weeks, and I'm starting to get used to being back in the U.S., though certain things still take adjusting. I'm already used to dishwashers, driving on the right, and hot water in the taps--those things didn't take long. Anyway, it's good to be back. I think.

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