quiet Saturday

Sitting outside my bedroom door and a wee lizard just hopped out onto the front step.  (Yes, from inside my room.)  They really do leap, lizards.   Yesterday, walking down our dirt road in the front yard of a neighbor's house there was a Cat On A Table.  "Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit!"   I thought of all those recitations in high school Spanish class we felt were useless and absurd but: That gato really is ON the mesa.  (I think we learned about that same damn cat in 7th grade French too; so I can locate a cat on at least 3 continents.)

Walked to the bank. So many people have warned me about the Criminal Element here and being followed after leaving the ATM; and worried about the exchange rate, how much to get out, what it is in colones (bike, hostel bill, first month's rent...)  Enough worries that I concentrated  SO MUCH on not being seen tucking away cash that I LEFT MY CARD and walked away. **God love that guy who ran me down to return it.  Can you Believe? What a train wreck.
I went directly to the big new supermercado for Coca-Cola Classic: can settle any stomach problem better than pharmaceuticals. 
BUT: across the street I finally stumbled upon the "artist's gallery" LuluBerlu: total Magic.   Immediately I knew if anyone comes to visit - this is the only place to shop for souvenirs. All other beach trinkets are the same from Bethany to Waikiki to Puerto Viejo (it's odd.)  This stuff is almost all local, wood carvings, mosaic art, jewelry, housewares, PV "fashion".  (A lot of cannabis factors into the designs, including a surprisingly sweet white sundress with leaves done in pink & green sequins, very Lilly Pulitzer.) 
One artist was there minding the shop and working a little on a project in the back - the patio is a workshop with a sofa and chairs and one large, low, round table made entirely of mosaic with a backgammon board built into the top.  Since there were no other customers he invited me to play & even ran across to the super to get beer. Funny.   Mauritzio is his name and hanging around him is a neighbor girl of maybe 8 yrs old. Emma or Ama. She helped me practice Spanish, she speaks a LOT of English and apparently moved here last year from France.   Amazing.   She said it took her 3months to learn Spanish.  I believe it.    She is crazy about green mango and got Mauritzio to pick her another off one of the trees and convinced me to try it with salt & lime juice --   a dangerous move at this moment for me but I look around and think: I am sitting in an atelier, drinking beer, getting tutored by an 8 yr old world traveler and maybe playing a little backgammon: when life is right in front of you, you need to participate.

On the walk back, dinner of plain beans & rice at the fried chicken stand (NO english = No kidding but it's good for me except I couldn't remember how you say "to go" lleva or llega?)  So, I got stuck there, sitting at the counter watching Adam Sandler's Big Daddy en espanol.  Not as educational as I'd hoped and a little surreal, alone with the fried chicken man sitting next to me.  When the rain started really pelting the tin roof, I thought I'd better head back and passed groups of people heading into town, all fancy for Saturday night in the bars. Wow. There is an unappealing thought.
I'd rather check the clothesline and get into bed -- but the rain is SO HARD I can smell it inside my cabina. Can't resist going out to look once more:  Beautiful.