Lo vencí, el demonio

Warning: Just in case some of you, somehow, think of me as an eloquent, articulate and genteel sort of lass, there may be language ahead to shock you.

Last night, as I was preparing some lists of stuff for M and I to do next week and what vittels and essentials from the US of A I wanted brought, I started thinking about how to sum up my time here.

You know, what's the silliest thing someone has tried to sell me on the street? TV antennas. He had two.

How fast do Costa Rican people walk? Maybe 2.5 mph if you're lucky. No wonder they all look so surprised when you say you're going to walk somewhere, because what takes me 20 minutes probably takes them 45. If they're going for it.

This, however, is what I ended up writing:

What M and I should do:

 Monteverde – nature
 Volcano? Arenal, Poas?
 Buceo – Playa de Coco, Boca del Toro?

HOLY FUCK GIANT COCKROACH. BUT GINORMOUS. WHAT TO DO? STAY PARALYSED HERE, APPARENTLY, UNABLE TO MOVE. MAYBE IT WILL ELECTROCUTE ITSELF ON THE TV. NO, NO SUCH LUCK. FUCK FUCK FUCK. BICHOS GAIN ANOTHER VICTORY. NOWHERE NEAR THE SIZE OF THE LIZARD and yet I am TERRIFIED AND COMPLETELY DISGUSTED.

[And so on. This went on, intermittently, for what felt like several hours.]

Huge tactical error in going to find broom. First, because couldn’t find broom. Second, because roach has disappeared and now I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep until I see it again. Disgusting, disgusting horrible thing. Why couldn’t it be a lizard? Where did it go? Do I want to find it? And trust it on the day where I thought I’d sleep due to having bloody earplugs. Little did I know. Fucker fucker fucker fucker. Just seen it over by the chair. I may never sit there again. Fucker. Disgusting little thing. Ugh ugh ugh. Want it out of my room. OUT.

It has now retreated because I couldn’t kill it. And now I will worry about it scuttling around, Will stay up for a while and try to kill it. Now I am firm – while I hate the thought of killing it, the thought of it scuttling around just ready to get me - I don’t know what, but that makes the idea of killing it much, much more appealing.

Finally, however, I saw it trying to get in at the coving at the top of the room. It couldn't manage it and I was grateful I had moved the bed away from the wall. Anyhoo, it finally found a corner where it could get up into the coving and hide (and it was hiding from me, as I'd been chasing it round with paper because Mayela had moved the broom but I didn't want to kill it). Ingeniously, I then stuffed a small plastic bag to cover the hole into which it had disappeared so that it couldn't get back down. Then I put my trainer over the hole in the floor from where it may, possibly, have come.

And that's what I did last night.

This morning, I then saw a dead one on entering our office. They are tormenting me.

Still, found a website, Hollaback NYC, that should be good, but I fear moaning about leering is not going to cause much of a shock, and these women keep reporting saying nothing - the point of HollaBACK is that you, well, hollaBACK. However, this was utter, utter genius: read and learn, ladies. Plus, this website has a somewhat more mature approach, perhaps, where you can vent your rage and there are some good tips for technique. That's what always gets me - what to say that isn't raging and swearing? Now I have an idea. Which I may have to put into practice next time it happens to me.