more illustrations from the legend of the croco-diamond

While in Costa Rica last week I did some more drawings for my kids book (here are three others I did).

Two of the surf instructors were watching me as I sketched, probably thinking I was a great artist capturing the landscape. When they saw my pictures they laughed (not unkindly). They were like "why don't you get someone who knows how to draw to draw the pictures?" and "do they have drawing classes in the US?" and "are you purposely drawing so it looks like a kid drew the pictures?"

I tried to explain that I had to draw the pictures because all the characters in the book are made up animals so only I know what they look like. I also said I thought the book would be easier to sell if people had an idea of what a kangawrong and a croco-diamond look like. One instructor suggested I rewrite the book to be about real animals so I wouldn't have to do any drawings.

Mmm hmm...

Anyway, here are the drawings:

the giant man with his umbrellears and the kangawrong with its fedora

the croco-diamond in the purple hammock

the octopeau with his stolen mittens

the croco-diamond giving mittens to the whitey biteys

the kangapult made from the zippy shoe skate

more pics from the professionals

These are some pics the photographer took.

sitting next to the pool, drawing stuff to my right, I did some more illustrations for my book

learning how to flip my board in the pool so I can jump on it more easily - we did skill sessions in the pool

one of the few pics where my arms are in the right position

taking a sunscreen break

D and his dad catch a party wave

some of the gang with our instructor Andreas

LT, the 11 year old surfing phenom

catching some green waves

Ez and I after a particularly grueling surf session

return, the drama

For all the fucking years I've traveled you'd think I'd have a lid on travel drama.

No.

Saturday morning I was scheduled to leave at 830 am with D and his dad. I woke up at 6 so I could say goodbye to Ez. I woke up, went into the bathroom to pee, and noticed the toilet was a bit sluggish when I flushed it. Then I turned on the tap so I could brush my teeth.

No water. NO FUCKING WATER.

Luckily I always have a full bottle of water with me at all times so I was able to brush my teeth. Then I put on some clothes and went down to our party room to see what was going on. As we later found out, a neighbor down the mountain accidentally cut the water line. So the kitchen crew was like "no water until tonight".

I was like FUCKING FUCKING FUCK. I did not want to fly for 7 hours without having a shower. I ended up talking everyone into "bathing" in the swimming pool, which was, in the early morning, full of dead cicadas.

CR has some big fucking cicadas

Then I took a taxi with D and his dad back to San Jose airport. It was a four hour drive. I got to the airport 5 hours before my flight so after checking my luggage decided to read outside. Then around 3 pm I went through security and decided to have a beer at the bar (pain killer - my legs were in serious pain). The bar was empty so I sat at the far end close to the wall. As I was drinking my beer 3 red necks from Mississippi came in. They had been fishing and were also heading home. Of course they sat right next to me.

One of them tried to engage me in a conversation but I ignored him. Then he offered to buy me a beer. The stereo in the bar was tuned to a "light jazz" station. I was like "no thanks, I don't need another beer" but he kept insisting. Finally I was like "NO THANKS (asshole)" Just then that hall and oates song came on "I can't go for that" came on so he took the opportunity to improvise the lyrics:

"IiiiiiiiiiiI just want to buy her a bee-eeeeeeeeeee-eer
But she can't go for that
oh no, no can do
she can't go for that, can't go for that, CAAAAAAAAAN'T"

And that continued on through the whole song. I never realized how long that song was...

Meanwhile, back in Denver, the neighbor who dropped me off at the airport said he would also pick me up. He asked that I send him a reminder to pick me up. I sent him an email on Monday with my return flight itinerary.

Neighbor: Cool, see you Friday!
Me: I don't get in until Saturday. I'll send you a reminder on Friday and then text you when I get to Houston on Saturday to let you know if the flight to Denver is on time.
Neighbor: K, see you Friday!
Me: No, my flight is on Saturday. I will send you a reminder on Saturday when I get into Houston.
Neighbor: Sounds good. See you Friday!

Of course I thought he was fucking with me.

Meanwhile, it turns out, he was not fucking with me. Somehow he got it in his head that I was coming home Friday. So at 11 PM on Friday he goes to the airport to pick me up. I had tried to email him Thursday and Friday but the internet was down.

He kept calling my cell as he drove to the airport but it went straight to voice mail. Upon arriving at the airport, and having not gotten in touch with me, he parked his truck and went into baggage claim, where he correctly located the baggage carousel for my flight. He waited until everyone left and then ran to the United baggage claim counter. The woman working there said "do you have missing luggage?" and he said "no, I have a missing passenger! I think she was kidnapped at the airport!!!"

So she escorted him up to the check in desk (at this point it was 1130 pm so they were all standing around with not a lot to do). My neighbor managed to correctly remember my flight number and that it was out of Houston. They paged me, and when I didn't answer he said "she must have been kidnapped in Houston!!!! call them right away!!!!"

At this point all the United reps were in a tizzy. The woman tried to look up whether or not I had boarded the Houston flight but my crack head neighbor couldn't remember how to spell my last name. Finally he remembered that he had my confirmation code for the flight because I had sent him my itinerary. Too upset to read the number to her, he handed her his phone. She read my email, and then the string of other emails we had exchanged. She looked at my neighbor and said "did you read this email? because she said, in three separate exchanges, that she is not getting in until Saturday".

At that point my neighbor leaned over and said "ssshhhhhh" to the United rep and quietly ran from the counter.

Sheesh.

As if the story could not get any stranger, I texted him when I landed in Houston on Saturday to let him know I got in on time. No response. I texted him that my flight was going to leave on time. No response. Right before take off I texted him saying I had checked a bag so he should wait until I texted him when landing in Denver to leave for the airport so he wouldn't have to wait. No response. I texted when I landed in Denver. No response.

Then, as I was boarding the train to get to the main terminal he called. He was obviously at a bar. And a little tipsy. He said "I'm on my way, I'm at a bar, I forgot I was supposed to pick you up."

Seriously.

I drove home. We had a good laugh about the whole situation.

By the time I got home it was midnight. But my neighbor insisted we have a glass of wine even though I was exhausted from a 4 hour car ride, a 5 hour wait at the airport, and then 7 hours of flying and just wanted to go to bed (funny side note: upon arrival at Houston I was selected by customs for extra security screening and I was freaking out because I had a tight connection - the guy was like "anything to declare?" and I said "yes, I got hit in the nose with a surf board" - he looked at my poor banged up nose and told me I could skip the extra security screening).

I showed him my pictures and showed him one of my surf videos (on a 6 foot wave - he was impressed). Then I told him what I had learned about the science of waves and showed him proper surfing stance. For some reason he thought we should practice our pop ups so I did even though I could hardly move my arms. Finally we finished the bottle of wine and I looked at my watch and it was 3 am. I walked my neighbor home because I was worried he would pass out in the front bushes.

Was up at 845 this morning doing laundry, cleaning, and answering work emails. I wouldn't call my vacation "relaxing" but who wants to fucking relax...

dominicalito

On Friday we surfed at Dominicalito. It was rocky and the waves were big. But the rip current wasn't as bad as Playa Hermosa and Hermosa had 12 foot waves so there was no way we were surfing there.

I was supposed to turn on the waves because they closed out so fast but, like that dude in zoolander, I can only turn left

the beach at sunset

By Thursday the instructors had basically left me alone to do my own thing, which was fine. Except that I still hadn't quite got the hang of knowing which waves to catch. I would sit outside the wave and count and then try to ride the last wave of the set. Sometimes it was 4 feet. But sometimes it was 8 feet. I would paddle into a wave and hear one of the instructors yell "NO!!! FRANKI NO!!!" and then I would drop down the face of a big wave. The first time I did that I slid off my board (I blame the new wax that I wasn't allergic to) about two seconds after I stood up on my board. The wave broke right on top of me and I swear my body bent completely backward. As I rolled along in the washing machine I think my toes touched the back of my head. It kind of sucked but was fun at the same time.

Another time I caught a big wave but then failed to turn. One second I was on the face of the wave and the next second I was free falling. Somehow I landed on my board again. The wave broke on the back of my board so I moved to the front of the board to keep it balanced and then popped out of the white water, caught the secondary wave, and rode into shore. They better fucking upload that video or I will be pissed. A group of surfers who were not part of my group cheered for me. It was the coolest moment I've had surfing.

By friday I was able to get outside the wave without getting beat all to shit. I even found the channel on Dominicalito. Ez was not so lucky. She got hit by her surf board trying to get out and ended up with a huge knot on the back of her head (but was not concussed). And while outside the wave,  I drifted, without realizing it, and was distracted talking to one of the surf instructors who was showing me a cool wave formation on one of the rocks. Suddenly a big wave broke on us. I grabbed the rails and tried to do a turtle roll (I'm pretty proficient now at the turtle roll) but I grabbed the rails too far forward and the board smacked me in the face, taking off all the skin on my nose and parts of my chin.

Pretty.

We all swore we were going to bed by 10 o'clock friday since we all had to get up at 6 am. Instead I helped Ez pack (I didn't have much to pack but she brought half her wardrobe) and then we stayed up until 1 am talking.

the party starts right now

I meant to update my blog but the internet (and power) went to shit Thursday night and I couldn't get online even sitting right next to the router. This blog post is about a huge party we had and you can skip the wave science and just jump to paragraph 6.

So Wednesday night was a rest day, and then Thursday we all had a big day at the beach. I caught tons of waves and finally have my stance down. In addition I read a book (in my "spare" time) called the science of waves. I learned all kinds of cool things about how to read waves on a beach. For example, the beach we normally surf at is long and has a sand bar. This causes "defocusing waves" (a fancy way to say of the set of 7 waves they all close out except the last, largest wave). I also learned that when you are outside the wave (meaning you're behind it and it's breaking in front of you) you move up and down but your position doesn't change. The book called this "Drake's displacement" or something like that that I have been unable to find in a google search (I wrote it down but my paper got wet).

White water is caused by gravity and wind. The wind blows and causes a wave. Well, it's a bit more complicated than that. The north and south poles heat up at different temperatures. The earth wants everything to be even so packets of hot and cool air start moving around in an attempt to even temperatures. That's the coriolis effect. Then the wind caused by the coriolis effect blows on the water and causes a wave. A wave gets momentum and rises up but then gravity is like "uh uh, get back here buster!" and pulls the wave down (this is when the wave crashes back down into the ocean). But the wind is still trying to push the wave so the top of the wave turns white because all the wind can blow is the water at the top of the wave that is not as influenced by gravity.

One of my goals for the week was to be able to go to a beach and figure out what the waves are doing and where to surf. I also wanted to learn to read a surf report. I successfully did both and every time the instructors challenged me to tell them what time it was I was able to do so because I could see what the waves were doing (if the surf report, for example, said the waves would be 9 ft with a 17 second periodicity at 4 o'clock I could look out at the ocean and be like well, the waves are 9 ft and the periodicity is close to 17 seconds so it must be 4 o'clock)

I would note here that the owner of the surf camp saw me reading the science of waves one day and said "we've had that book since we opened and you are the first person to read it". Also, as a side note, one of the guys on the trip, JP, said "you are the only woman I've ever met who brings more books that clothes on a vacation".

Anyway, Thursday night we were all ready to blow off some steam (what little steam we had left, the day was grueling with high tide at 10 feet and a bad rip current). JP had gone into town to buy a case of "decent" (expensive) red wine. We started drinking that and then Ezra suggested everyone (not me) shot gun a beer and it turns out each country has its own way to shot gun beers. First they did it the american way (hole in the bottom of the can, pop the top) then the argentinian way (pour the beer in a glass and drink it sideways) then the polish way (I am not making fun of polish people but their way caused a lot of beer to get spilled on the floor).

american shot gun

argentinian shot gun

 Then Ez and JP called the guard and had him unlock the cabinet that had a bottle of rum ($50). Everyone started taking shots (except for me). Ez, who is a great dancer, started dancing on the table. Soon everyone (except me) joined in. Shit, like glasses, started breaking. We were all playing our favorite songs on the stereo. Suddenly the night guards showed up and started trying to clean up all the broken glass. We were also advised to turn down the music A LOT but we pretended we didn't understand.

guards in the back ground cleaning up broken glass

rum shots

At that point I thought it would be a great idea if we all jumped into the pool (it was fucking hot). LT was supposed to take a picture of us jumping in the pool but he kept fucking it up and after the third jump the guards were like "I think it is a very bad idea to be in the pool. You are all drunk."

Ez and I decided to go to bed around midnight but the music was still ridiculously loud. We asked them to turn it down twice but they didn't. So Ez and I snuck up to the room and she started fucking with the blue tooth stereo. A loud song would be playing and we would switch it to a slow country song (e.g. blue eyes crying in the rain). Everyone was so drunk it took a while for them to figure out it was us. I went to bed around 2 am and when I got up at 630 and went downstairs to the party room the cleaning woman was in there picking up beer cans and crying. The room was TOTALLY trashed.

All the surf instructors were talking about our party. They said in the 4 year history of kalon nothing like that had ever happened before. As we left to go to the beach they were still scrubbing blood (someone cut her foot on the broken glass on the floor) and wine off the stairs.

When we got home Friday night from surfing, around 7 pm, the stereo was gone, the wine was locked up, and there were only 12 beers in the fridge.

Hee. We spent a lot of Friday night debating whether we would ever be allowed to come back to the resort...