Costa Rica Diaries, Part I

     I recently returned from a week-long writer's retreat at Villas de San Buenas in Costa Rica.  I am as surprised as you that I actually went on this adventure.  A writer's retreat?  Absolutely in my comfort zone.  In Costa Rica?  Absolutely the farthest thing from my comfort zone outside of going shirtless in public or bullfighting.  When Ezekiel Tyrus, author and ceviche enthusiast, asked me to attend, I found myself agreeing very quickly, much to my surprise.  I guess my inner writer needed to get to the jungle.
     I was productive in the jungle in between eating, sleeping, sweating and failing miserably at communicating in Spanish.  There was a whole lot of como se dice-ing, pointing and head nods.  I accomplished much writing as well as journaling.  I will share with you a little of both over the next couple of weeks.


January 27, 2017
I'm celebrating my second anniversary as Assistant Director the VA Medical Center in Long Beach.  I love my job and look forward to work most every day but tomorrow is my last day before my vacation and I am just beginning to wrap my head around my impending attendance at the San Buenas Writer's Retreat in Costa Rica, where I hope to make significant progress on my memoirs tentatively titled Slightly Pink and Scared of Horses.  I don't think my 40 year-old self would believe this much less my 20 year-old self. 


January 28, 2017
I tried to check in online but Delta wouldn't let me.  I'm sure it's because my return flight is on Alaska Airlines so they can't tell if I have plans to leave, which you most assuredly must have according to the Costa Rica information from the State Department.  This is the price you pay for bargain airline tickets.  I hope all will be well.  I'm heading to the airport even earlier than planned to make sure there are no snafus.  I can tell you I am a little nervous, especially considering what happened to me when I tried to enter Canada in 2010.


I'm packing my clothes for the trip and I realize I am about to embark on one of the most frightening escapades of my adult life and I'm not talking about heading to a place just South of Nicaragua.  I'm talking about traveling without Spanx t-shirts.  This will be the first time I have left my home without foundation garments since my significant weight loss in 2009.  Spanx t-shirts keep my torso in the general shape of a human torso.  I'm going commando under the washable silk shirts of my cabana style wardrobe.  Do you call it commando when it applies to t-shirts?


I am mentally assessing my clothing choices recommended by my hosts as well as friends who have traveled both here and neighboring Central American countries.  I have never traveled to this part of the world and while I am aware it is probably not close to reality, my mind can't help but believe I am Kathleen Turner heading to Cartagena in "Romancing the Stone", but without the earth-toned footwear or deep voice.  I'm hoping the reality will be more akin to rural West Texas, without queso but with air conditioning.  I've been promised air conditioning.  They better have air conditioning.