I have arrived

Every morning, the walk from my house to the language school takes approximately twelve minutes.

During those twelve minutes, I´m called upon to cross the road approximately three times.

Also during those twelve minutes, I´m called upon to change my underwear with a frequency that´s directly proportional to the number of crossings.

Bottom line: The drivers in Costa Rica are absolutely insane.

In just over two weeks, though--after much trial and error--I´ve nearly perfected my road crossing technique.

You see, folks. I´ve developed a fairly basic, two-step method for Costa Rican road crossing. Not only is it a highly functional method, but it also minimizes both the overall risk of bodily harm to the crosser, as well as the total amount of feces accumulation in the crosser´s "pantalones" during any one isolated crossing.

Are you ready?

Here it is:

(Copyright 2010--Gringo Central, Inc.--Patent Pending)

Step 1: Wait until there are no cars in sight. (The use of a telescope is preferred, but if there are no sight augmentation devices available, then the largest distance detectable by the naked human eye is sufficient.)

Step 2: Run.

It´s beauty is in it´s simplicity. My heart stays beating, and my pants stay shitless.

Another facet of Costa Rican road etiquette that has had me completely baffled is the excessive use of the horn.

Take a stroll through the town of Coronado on any given day, and you´re bound to be met with a caucophony of vehicular flatulation. What makes this phenomenon so puzzling, though, is that to the untrained observer it seems like all of these cars are honking at nothing.

Actually, what it really seems like is that they´re always honking at you.

Earlier this week, though, I took a ride around town with Kristian´s best friend, Luis, and I cracked the code. Luis is thirty-five years old, and he´s lived in Coronado all his life. Well, from the moment I entered his car to the moment I exited, he honked his horn at nearly everyone he saw.

And they all waived back.

So, that cleared that up. None of the honks I´ve heard in the past two-and-a-half weeks have been intended for me.

That is, until "The Moment."

Yesterday, after leaving the grocery store, I was standing at the corner waiting to employ the GCMCRCR (Gringo Central Method for Crossing Roads in Costa Rica) when, suddenly, I heard an incessant series of honks. I turned my head, and low-and-behold I saw Ricardo, the driver from the language school, whipping around the bend in his van, waiving out the window.

"Bran-don!" he screamed.

I smiled and casually waived back (as we people here in Coronado often do when someone we know honks at us.)

Ladies and gentlemen, I have arrived.