My Saturday night....
Two interesting things that happened to me on Saturday night. First, as I was waiting at the bus stop to catch the bus home after the youth group activities at First Baptist Church two nice looking young Amercian guys joined the crowd. They were dressed in the typical black pants, white collared shirt, and tie, making them very recognizable as Mormon missionaries. They got on the same bus as I did and sat down in the back. At first I just took my seat as usual, but after a second’s thought figured that I might as well take the rare opportunity to speak to someone from my own country. And considering they were missionaries, I figured it couldn’t be too much of a risk to approach them. So I got up and walked to the back of the bus and said “So where are you from?” One was from Las Vegas and had only been in Costa Rica for 2 months and the other was from Utah and had been here 10 months. So we talked about what we were doing here, where we live (turns out pretty close by), how often we talk to our families (they are only allowed to call on Mother’s Day and Christmas), and they asked me if I have met many other Americans here in Limón (no). Kind of a random little encounter, but always nice to talk to a fellow countryman when far away from one’s country.
The other thing that happened to me was a colorful reminder of the fact that I am, indeed, far away from my home. About 10:00pm that night I was in my room reading a book when I heard a faith voice on a microphone and thought that someone must be wrapping up some activity nearby. Turns out I was only half right in that assumption. About 5 minutes later there suddenly came the sound of a 5-piece Latin band (complete with microphone, speakers, the whole works) as if they were performing a private concert on the patio right outside my window. I had been right about the fact that there was an activity but wrong about it wrapping up…things we just getting started. What’s more, “nearby” turned out to be next-door neighbor who shares a backyard wall with my house here. I don’t know what the occasion was (sadly, I had obviously not been invited) but whatever the event, our gracious host had determined that live music was a necessity and why should it matter to him if it meant sharing his musical taste with the entire neighborhood. I couldn’t help but chuckle as I laid there on my bed and thought “you have got to be kidding me…” Surely this sort of thing would never fly back home – you’d have just about every neighbor without a hearing aid or a some of those noise reducing headphones they sell in those in-flight magazines full of “must-haves” on the phone with the police before you finished your first attempt at Salsa. Only by the grace of God was I able to fall asleep at some point during the whole shin-dig, but I woke up again at 12:45am to find out that the party was still hopping. I can’t give you many more details except that when I woke up at 2:45am that had finally called it quits and the next morning there wasn’t a peep of activity or life to be heard from that direction. Good times. If only someone who have given me fair notice I could have polished up my shoes and practiced all my Latin dancing moves in my own backyard.
The other thing that happened to me was a colorful reminder of the fact that I am, indeed, far away from my home. About 10:00pm that night I was in my room reading a book when I heard a faith voice on a microphone and thought that someone must be wrapping up some activity nearby. Turns out I was only half right in that assumption. About 5 minutes later there suddenly came the sound of a 5-piece Latin band (complete with microphone, speakers, the whole works) as if they were performing a private concert on the patio right outside my window. I had been right about the fact that there was an activity but wrong about it wrapping up…things we just getting started. What’s more, “nearby” turned out to be next-door neighbor who shares a backyard wall with my house here. I don’t know what the occasion was (sadly, I had obviously not been invited) but whatever the event, our gracious host had determined that live music was a necessity and why should it matter to him if it meant sharing his musical taste with the entire neighborhood. I couldn’t help but chuckle as I laid there on my bed and thought “you have got to be kidding me…” Surely this sort of thing would never fly back home – you’d have just about every neighbor without a hearing aid or a some of those noise reducing headphones they sell in those in-flight magazines full of “must-haves” on the phone with the police before you finished your first attempt at Salsa. Only by the grace of God was I able to fall asleep at some point during the whole shin-dig, but I woke up again at 12:45am to find out that the party was still hopping. I can’t give you many more details except that when I woke up at 2:45am that had finally called it quits and the next morning there wasn’t a peep of activity or life to be heard from that direction. Good times. If only someone who have given me fair notice I could have polished up my shoes and practiced all my Latin dancing moves in my own backyard.
posted by Dynasty goes to CR at
10:08 AM
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