Just grateful, just because

Wow, time flies. This is just a note to say that I am grateful for many, many things. Just thought I'd put that out there. There can't be enough gratitude in this world.

Cloistered

That's the word people kept tossing around when describing what it's like to complete this program in a year. Cloistered.

While the idea of living a monastic lifestyle excites me as much as the next person, I'm determined. My goal is to resist the natural habits of students which may include sloth and procrastination, and focus during an intensive program while maintaining sanity (via renewing activities, sleep, positive reinforcement, keeping tabs on outside interests like political races, coffee), health (via biking to school and going to the gym--activities unfortunately offset by cookie and coffee consumption) and a semblance of a social life (via good friends).

Week 3: Still semi-sane.

Mission accomplished.

Vote, please. Thanks!

Okay, now that the second week of graduate school is coming to a close, I can focus some excitement on the upcoming primary elections in Hawaii! If you haven't voted, please vote! You can find your polling station here: http://elections3.hawaii.gov/ppl/

Thanks!

Maybe Gatsby Just Wasn't Running Fast Enough To Catch the Green Light...

...or maybe he was on a treadmill.

When it comes to my various week-long re-commitments to going to the gym, I feel a little like the wistful Jay Gatsby in Fitzgerald's novel. He "believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter-- to-morrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther.... And one fine morning---" we'll stay home and stuff our faces with doughnuts. Okay, that's not how Fitzgerald ended his novel, but you get the idea.

After a good night's sleep and good eats, I was ready to tackle day one today--new faces, new challenges and all. So, compelled by my first day enthusiasm I also picked up a semester pass to the gym. In retrospect, this means either one of two things:

1) I will finally get my run on and balance out my lentil soup gorging, doughnut snarfing habits.

2) I got sucked in by a good deal and my enthusiasm for starting a new leaf, will use it for the first week and then feel too bogged down in work (or doughnuts) to get my butt to the gym.

But maybe this time, the green light isn't on the shore across from me. Maybe it doesn't recede from me. Maybe this year is the year I catch up with it. If I write this up here and gym-time is in my planner as scheduled time, maybe I'll stick to possible outcome #1.

What mechanisms do you have in place to jump start and then maintain activities till they become habits?

Happy adventuring!

Why Comfort Is Important When Committing To No Resistance

or why I am gorging on curried lentil soup....

The approach of a new school year always reminds me of the mounting dread I used to feel as a middle schooler (and quite frankly, probably even high schooler-- okay, I still feel it alright) of going back to school. So up until maybe the start of my undergrad career, without fail, the night before the first day of school, I would cry.

It's not like I had a bad school life. In fact, I had an awesome group of friends, supportive teachers, and was nerdy enough to genuinely enjoy class time. So why the tears? Because I am scared silly by the prospect of new things (even non-school related) and the possibility of failure.

Tonight I'm not in tears, though I'm still a little nervous. The faculty have done an excellent job of making the students feel welcome and the students I've met so far seem friendly, fun, and really into this English stuff. Still, the doubts about my capabilities in this new situation linger. To cope with these feelings I have a little system that includes some of my favorite things: preparation, friends, food, and sleep.

1) Be prepared. This means making sure I have all the materials I need for the first day, have printed out and organized e-mails and important documents, and know exactly where I have to go that first week of classes.

2) Say yes to social engagements. Social and Katie are not usually two words that go together. While interacting with human beings I don't know makes me nervous (I'm a tad socially awkward), it's better to make friends sooner than later! Friends make the journey much more pleasant. Plus, the reality is most people are friendly, engaging, and won't laugh (in your face) about your social ineptitudes.

3) Hang out with familiar faces. After being outside my comfort zone and meeting new people, it's been really nice to reconnect with old friends and stay connected with family. Not only are they a fun bunch of people, they are inspiring, re-energizing, and... a reminder that if they're still my friends, maybe other people will be too!

4) Do something totally relaxing. Rick and I booked a car from the Victoria Car Share and camped at Sombiro for three days. We woke up to the sound of stellar jays, crows, and waves raking jasper, sandstone, quartz, and illusive agate pebbles down the beach. For me, being outdoors reminds me that the world is such a big place-- I just need to step outside myself occasionally to realize the worries clouding my mind are such a minute part of the human experience (e.g. it's no big deal, so suck it up and just enjoy life).

5) Eat Comfort Food. This is probably one of my favorite steps. Recently, I've been gorging on curries-- Japanese, Red Thai Curry, and now a Curried Lentil Soup (recipe courtesy of "A Good Appetite" Blog ). For me, eating a curried lentil soup, or udon, or fried rice transform that feeling of impending doom to one mixed with happiness for the present, excitement for tomorrow, and appreciation for the past that has brought me to this point (whatever it may be). Plus-- I just really like eating.

6) Get A Good Night's Sleep. I'm much less effective (and certainly much more awkward) if I'm exhausted, so a good night's sleep keeps me on top of my game, and at the very least, from falling asleep in class.

7) Accept That Sheer Terror Can Be a Sign Of a Growth Opportunity. Okay, not sheer terror, but appropriate nervousness for a safe but new situation can be good. Growth comes by stepping out of your comfort zone and just going for it. Guess that's what I'm doing.

So with that I think I'll get back to my pre-program readings, curried lentil soup eating, and eventually sleeping. I hope I go to the right class room tomorrow!

I hope you feel excited for your new adventures too!

Personal legends: why no resistance matters

The lesson for our last week in Costa Rica seems fitting. Live, with all your energy, your personal legend. If "personal legend" sounds familiar, it might be because it's from Paul Coelho's The Alchemist.

The book was kicking around at the Flutterby, a tipi, yurt, hut, dorm, and tree house sporting hotel near Ballena National Park in Uvita. One night while Rick, Ian, and Tim were surfing and Elisa and I were waiting for the wounds in our boards to dry out,
I picked it up. A few pages in, I couldn't put it down, and the lessons in the book seemed more and more applicable to the blog as I kept reading.

The purpose of the blog, aside from assuring my family that I am safe and happy, was to encourage a no resistance attitude. I never articulated to myself why "no resistance" was so important; now I know. If I am to live my personal legend (however small or large it may seem) I can't be stifled by resistance. I have to take calculated risks, try new things, do the scary things, and persist through the difficult. These are lessons I've learned while surfing, traveling, eating, jumping off and sliding down falls, and meeting new and inspiring people.

The Flutterby had only been open for three months when Rick and I got there. Pam, the friendly and knowlegable owner built the place from the ground up, and now had some help from work-stay traveler setting up more huts and helping her take care of the chickens, dogs, and hotel guests. Pam mentioned that she had been working on the Flutterby for the last year. The sturdy huts, immaculate kitchen, and overwhelmingly freindly atmosphere are just a few hints that her heart and soul is in this place. She cleared the plot of land despite encounters with fer-de-lances (she now has anti-venom in the fridge just in case), she figured out how to navigate the legal system in a foreign country and apply for the correct permits, she hammered in signs along the streets of Uvita so visitors would be drawn to her near-beach front location.

Her hard work is beginning to pay off. In the week we were there, a steady stream of visitors set up camp at the Flutterby, travelers with the surf itch hiked to her hotel to rent boards, she's developed networks with local tour guides and activity guides who provide a daily sampling of things to do for her guests.

I guess it's no surprise The Alchemist would be a book on her hotel library shelf. She is putting everything on the line to reach a personal legend.

Back in wetsuit country, I have to put energy into remembering these lessons, the journey, and the irreplaceable experiences.

Dream big, don't hold back, be ready to be a little scared, take calculated risks, make calculated sacrifices, and surf the big one (or find that sloth).

We all can.

Thanks for reading and sharing this adventure.

Pura Vida!

A SLOTH!!!!

... or why it pays to be unabashedly hopeful and excited for something that may not occur.

I have a habit, as I´m sure most people do, of not getting my hopes up. It´s a pretty irritating habit because as soon as I put out a resume, or grad school applications, or turn in a paper, my first thoughts are ¨they´ll never hire me¨, ¨I´ll never get in¨, and ¨that´s the worst paper ever written¨. I set myself up to expect failure so that if I don´t get hired, get into school, or get an awful grade, it´s not as heartwrenching. I think that if by some miracle things do go well, I´ll just be super surprised, and that´s never a bad thing.

However, I seem to carry over the downer attitude even after things don't crash and burn. Because I expect failure, success is framed as a fluke. I got lucky or the task must've been easy. I can't revel in the success because it doesn't feel like success at all, no matter how hard I worked for it

The search for the three toed sloth has changed my mind set.

I was super stoked to see that sloth. Ask Rick. I pretty much talked about seeing a sloth for the whole trip, and have been nonstop about it since we got into Monteverde. If we were going to see a sloth on this trip, this would be the place to see it.

The first day in Monteverde, we spent recovering from the epic bus-wait trip. The second day, we hiked for four hours in the Monteverde Reserve and found many cool animals like the black guan, but still no sloth. We had two full days left, maybe a trip to Arenal on one of those days, and some omiyage shopping and errands to run. I was having my doubts about finding the sloth.

On the third day, we signed up for a night hike through the Santa Elena Reserve. It was sloth or bust. The expert tour guide spotted camoflaged palm pit vipers, crickets, mouse oppossums, humming bird nests, and all sorts of insects. But as the tour neared the end, so my hope for the sloth waned. But it waned only for a moment. I decided right then and there, that by golly I was not going to placate my excitement by telling myself that it has already been a fantastic trip. No, I was going to keep my hopes up, keep my excitement level at a pretty darned high point, because by-golly, I should not be afraid of disappointment. With great expectations, comes risk. I had to be willing to risk disappointment.

And lo and behold, as we were winding down a path, our interpid biologist got word on his walkie talkie of a slot sighting by his buddy.

The three toed sloth, hugging the ficus tree, was as magical as I had hoped. The cuteness factor on this slow relative of the anteater and armadillo is just through the roof. It yawned, licked its lips, and even climbed up the tree as we oggled it. I cannot remember if I have ever been this excited to see a wild animal before, and I am pretty sure that if I had prepared myself for disappointment rather than the possibility of success, that I would not have been that excited to actually see it.

Winnie the Pooh vs. Eyore

The sloth-or-bust attitude is one that I plan to bring back with me from this trip. Instead of thinking that it will always rain, or my makeshift house will always fall on my pinned up donkey tail, I would like to be like the optomistic, honey eating bear. Sure, anything is possible if you put your mind to it and are friendly and happy. And if things do not happen as you expect, then that is okay too. Heck, I know that if the sloth did not magically appear [I firmly believe sloths are magic...ly cute], I would still have thought this has been an AMAZING trip. I would have been disappointed, but I would have moved on, appreciating all the neat things we have already seen [like emerald tucans and orange kneed tarantulas].

Go big or go home. I think this is my new outlook.

Lessons

Hola mi familia!

It's been a while, but I can guarantee that I have kept my promise. Whether it is making a financial committment to a surf board, doing a belly ride (translates to clinging to my board in utter fear) down a steep face, eating unknown fruits and food, or asking people for directions and other advice in English or Spanish (only you would understand why this is still a biggie for me), I have tried to resist resistance everyday.

Instead of going through a full list of what I did, which might sound repetitive after a while (surfed scary wave, ate something new, surfed scary wave, ate something new), I thought I would write about a few overarching lessons: the importance of investing in appropriate resources, being scared, and encountering the unknown (through food).

Lesson One: if you're going to commit to something, you have to invest in the proper resources. For years I've been loathe to do this. If I can cut costs by jerryrigging say a klenex box into a desk organizer I will. Sometimes this simply doesn't work. Case and point: buying a surf board. Let's get this straight, the save money plan did not involve a piece of plywood and some waterproof varnish. It did involve renting as opposed to buying.

Usually I'd be a big advocate of renting. Not only does renting save resources, it has potential to save you money. In this economy a few people are thinking outside of the box and placing their hardly used appliances for rent in their neighbourhood. If done right, renting can also build community.

That said sometimes it is better to buy. I have used my board almost everyday since I bought it. Owning the used 7'2" allows flexibility which is important since most of our surf sessions have been early morning and sunset surfs (before and after most business hours). Buying a board has also allowed me to have continuity. While the waves might vary from place to place, my board won't. I get to practice on a single board and focus on technique (by which I mean not getting schooled by the ocean repeatedly) instead of spending each day readjusting to the new balance of the new boards.

Just as renting has its social merits so can purchasing. This board is well used already meaning my purchase did not directly contribute to the demand for more resources. The board also came from a local shop, not some chain surf store. The money went directly to the community and not to a large corporation. In fact it came from the same shop where Ian bought his first surf board, five years ago.

All of this is well and good, but a financial upside is nice too. Not only would renting cost me more in the long run at the rate we're surfing, I would also not have the "investment" (all be it depreciating) that I do now. When I leave I can always sell the board and get some of my initial investment back.

Lesson two: Being scared helps you grow (aka no guts, no glory). Mom please refer to the photos of me on facebook where you will see me jumping off a point by the Montezuma falls. That feeling of sheer terror aptly reflected in my face at that moment is something I aspire to. If I'm not conquring a calculated risk at least once a week... Well, I should be! Calculated risks are potential points of growth. Even if I fail (as I have on many a bigger wave than I could handle) I know the experience can offer lessons for my next like endeavor. Hopefully, conquering my jellied legs and finally jumping off that point will make it easier to take the plunge, not only into pools, but on waves, and in the rest of life. I didn't die, i wasn't hurt, and I conquered a fear. This is the mentality I'm trying to bring to surfing. If it's a little beyond my reach: go for it. Rick is great at this and grows in his surfing because of it.

Lesson three: if you can't translate it and people are eating it, eat it too. Even liver and onions can turn into a good story at least.

Rick has gotten so used to my "if I don't know it I'm eating it" attitude that when he goes out to pick us up something to drink, he'll try to find the weirdest thing possible. On our stop in Nicoya enroute from the very tourist town of Samara to Nosara, Rick did a recon mission for hydration. I figured he'd pick up a piña con leche but when he returned he had two arroz y piña batidos in his hands-- rice based based smoothies with pineapple. (The consistency is kind of like melted azuki bean icecream).

On a hiking trip through Cabo Blanco National Reserve on the tip of the Nicoya Penninsula, Ian and Elisa introduced us to termites as appetizer. Termites are more like dessert actually. They taste like a mint tooth pick. (Sam, you and your friends might want to try termites in light of your affinity for chewing those eucalyptus toothpicks). Popping a bug in my mouth was not exactly on my to do list, but when would I get the chance to eat a termite again? Mom, if you're looking for a business venture maybe look into chocolate covered termites.

I can drink orange juice or cola or not eat termites when we're back in Canada. Even if something induces a similar gag reflex in me as natto does (in this case, liver) I will never know unless I try.

And that's the cincher. You never know until you try, and that's what this trip has and will continue to be about. Who knows, maybe today I'll try to turn on the face of the wave while standing instead of clinging to my board in fear. Or maybe I'll just eat something I can't translate.

Pura Vida!








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Catching up in montezuma

2/9/10

Montezuma seared us for four days, but last night it rained. Around six a.m. Rick and I went for a quick walk in the rain. It's one of the few times rain hasn't been cold when it hit his skin. For me, it still feels chilly-- but I am chilly just about anywhere.

Last night Elisa and Ian ferried and bussed from San Jose into Montezuma. Since they don't have a phone (and since Montezuma is a one street town), the plan boiled down to "we'll find eachother". Sure enough, within five minutes of sitting at Cafe Organico (closed yesterday because of the elections) Elisa and Ian walked up.

We traded stories over dinner and imperial beer, then continued with Cuba libres (in a can!) on the starlit beach. They've spent the last three months travelling from Mexico through Central America. They have stories of scratching three-toed sloths, surfing amazing barrels, sketchy cab drivers, the works. They are a joy to be with.

Accountability:

I've promised to account for my acts of non resistance. After several acts of nonresistance when we first arrived in Montrzuma, the streak (thankfully, considering the events that precipitated the other acts) have slowed down considerably.

Day two in Montezuma:
To escape the boiling sun, we hiked to the waterfall. If you are planning a warm trip with any hiking involved, I recommend shelling out for some sturdy sandals. While slippers are comfortable and easy for me to use on most terrain, the rubber ones are useless once thy get wet. Hence the muddy patch on my surf shorts.

The first set of falls are pretty high. Even the Ticos who would do back flips from about fifty feet uperely joked about jumping the top.

I didn't do a backflip or jump from 50 feet, but I did jump from the little rock that the tourists and Ticos jumped from. That moment right before I jumped my brain pretty much calle me an idiot. There was no reason to jump, I could posibly get hurt-- and for what? A little self imposed wager? I had to look at Rick who held the camera and waved me on. Before I could think again I jumped.

I am still alive. I definitely would have regretted it if resistence got in the way. Even if you meet with resistance at first, you can overcome it. You don't have to preempt it to win.

Day three and four:
Did I mention that we wake up to breakfasting capuccin(???) monkeys in the morning? They are super cute. In the distance we can hear howler monkeys, and a few branches from our door or porch we find iguanas, bats, and squirrels! It's a good life.

On these days we resisted the urge to do everything. Beaten by the heat, we had enough energy to snorkel before a long nap, Spanish vocabulary, and some Pablo Neruda.

Sometimes i think snorkeling is an act of nonresistance. There is a part of me that would rather not know I'm swimming near the dreaded pufferfish. In a place unfamiliar to me (and where I've seen beached pufferfish) the smidgen of anxiety is hightened when I put on the mask and dive in.

The waters in the small bay were cloudy due to the waves. This does not make me feel better. It's a catch 22. On one hand I kind of don't want to know what dangerous creature I'm swimming with. On the other hand isn't it better that I know so I can get the heck out of here?

In the end the evil that is known is better dealt with than the evil that is not. To my fortune though, I saw no pufferfish-- just a school of silver fish and one fish that resembled an angel fish with the two tendrils but grey bodied and yellow fillaments.

At night, when it was cool enough to venture out we experienced the clipping pace of Montezuma night life. Hippies were juggling in the street, the restaurants were pack, and people wandered alon the road with their Imperial beers in hand.

After a rather expenisve cachaca (I'll let you know when I know what it is) drink, we hit the beach for a starlit walk. The milky way strips through the center of the sky. Directly above us stood Orion. Even though the beach is just a few meters from town, this sky is perfect for watching shooting stars. One exploded in the atmosphere over the horizon.

We are in Costa Rica

Out of the city an in to...

Right now Rick is recovering from heat stroke. I'm happy to have my debit card. We're both happy to have actually made it to Montezuma. But first, a flash description of Liberia isn't complete wihout mentioning the city's park. By the time we arrived and settled in at La Riviera hotel, it was about 10pm. The park, just a couple blocks down from us, and buffetting the famous church, was quiet. It looked like any sketchy and under used park in North America.

It turns out, that when the sun goes down at it's cool enough to do something other than hide from the sun, the park is the place to be. Friends, those young and those weathered, sit on the distinct Guanacaste benches and talk. Inside the lit gazeebo, kids practice their b-boy moves. Kids with bicycles pop wheelies near the steps of the church, making way every so often for skateboarders. In the trees, Costa Rica's version of the crow (mom, I will know what exactly it is before I leave) gather and sing until they fall asleep. There is nothing dull or sketchy about this park. I actually wish our parks were used more frequently or that I used parks more often (except when it's cold and rainy).

Today we woke up at 4 am to catch the 5 am bus to Puntarenas. The scenery consists of farmland and grasslands (but then again I slept for most of the ride). This is regular public transit and I was surprised at how many people had somewhere to be so early. It seems that many people work long hours and in some cases far from their homes to make ends meet.

Midway through the drive: a crash. Little pieces of glass flew all the way to the back of the bus where I sat. The bus stopped and confused passengers pushed their head through their tiny windows. The man in the seat in front of me pulled his head back into the bus and said "un moto." Had we hit a motorcyclist? After the confusion died down it turned out that something had hit the driver's side window and shattered it. He was okay and continued driving. The motorcyclist had just witnessed the event. I still have no idea what hit the window and we made it to Puntarenas otherwise uneventfully.

Of course once we were in Puntarenas we had no idea where to go. We scrambled for directions a few times and eventually got tickets to the ferry just before the boa left. Now from Puntarenas you need to catch another bus to get to Montezuma. Rick took the lead and asked man with what looked like (and turned out to really be) some intense looking bar battle wounds. Of course this guy is a taxi driver. Of course we said yes.

His name is Dago. He certainly gives entertaining rides. He spoke Spanish and was patient as we tried to follow his stories about his bar brawl and the poor conditions of the road in Central America. Along the way he pointed out deer, a red macaw, an iguana, and the way people grow trees and use them as fence posts, but cut the tree at the knotts so it does not grow any taller. We zipped past pot hole laden roads, travelled on back roads and somehow made it to Luna Llenas. Phew!

Now the adventure begins. We dropped our bags and headed straight to town to grab a couple of boards. After all, this is why we came to Costa Rica. By now we needed to replenish our colones stash and hit an ATM. Debit cards are okay to use in Costa Rica. We rented boards from the friendly staff at Montezuma tours and set off on a 25 minute hike in 90 plus degree weather over rocks and through trails to get to Playa Grande. When we finally got there, soaked in sweat, I realized I left my debit card in the machine. Way to be the stupid tourist. Here I was so excited to see Rick's first encounter with warm ocean water. My heart sank as I trekked back, but sometimes you have to do what you have to do despite all resistance.

There's a reason why lonely planet recommends you rent from Montezuma tours. The staff called the bank who operated the ATM. They rarely come in to town and it may take them 2 to 3 days to make it to Montezuma. But as luck would have it about six other people had recently abandoned their cards in the machine as well and security was on it's way already. In abfew minutes I was reunited with my debit card. Had I resisted giving up what I wanted to do (witness Rick's first jump into warm water) and not done what was necessary (find my debit card...or a ticket back to Victoria), I might have had to wait several days to potentially get my card back.

Booking it back to Playa Grande, four howler monkeys leaped from the palm trees and near a hammock on the beach. They ran around and switched who was in the hammock.

But the highlight was seeing Rick get into warm water for the first time. He waited on shore for me, not knowing how long I might be gone, to do something he had been waiting to do for so long. His act of nonresistance was an act of resistance. At some point we should really nail down what resistance really means in light of this.

The water felt warm enough to be water from the kiddie pool. It's warmer than the water at Ala Moana beach park on O'ahu. Catching waves was no problem as the force was enough to push you forward with minimum paddling on your part.

But travelers beware. Always drink plenty of water. This is certainly our mantra from now on as mindfulness is mine as well.


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How Playa Grande kicked my butt

Sometimes nonresistance means getting schooled. I am not a good surfer. Mediocre would be stretching it. None the less I rented a board and joined Ian (expert surfer), Elisa (proud owner of a custom made fishtail from Nicaragua), and Rick (trekked to Costa Rica specifically for the surf) along the twenty minute hike to Playa Grande. Unlike the first day when the waves were small and gave just enough push for a fun ride, four foot and six foot waves formed just beyond the first break.

While the three surfers coasted past the break, I spet most of the time paddling frantically to beat the breaking waves that just pummled me back. Five strokes forward, eight strokes back. I guess it could have been frustrating. It was certainly tirig. But it was also really fun and there was no way in heck I was going to give up. I finally made it pas the break where the others were catching some sweet rides. Rick caught a nice drop, short and steep. Elisa seemed to ride one afterthe other, and as always Ian caught some sick rides (Rick caught one on film and almost got rammed by Ian in the process).

Out there I took a pounding. Graduate schools should ask their prospective students if they have engaged in any activities between graduation and now that would impair their academic capabilities. After some good whomps on the head by waves and the board, I would have to say yes.



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Pollos y Higado

El pollos, mas pollos

Begin on any corner in Liberia and walk to blocks in any direction. I can just about guarantee you will find a fast food chicken restaurant. With names like pollo loco and with such proliferation, there was no way we could say no to pollo. So for the first time we ordered in Spanish.

Okay, this isn't a big feat since I muddled throuh it. "Para mi", that much was okay. But choosing between fried and barbeque came down to pointing. The chicken isn't much better for being from Costa Rica. Fast food is fast food.

We spent most of the day exploring the city and napping with the fan on full blast inbetween our ventures. Around 1pm we asked the helpful woman at the front desk where the bus stop for Puntarenas was. Her directions set us on the right path but it was a good thing we went to scout it out first. Along the way we asked several people where we could find the bus. In Liberia, there are some streets hat seem to serve as unmarked stops. This would be unhelpful to two wayward tourists. After bumbling around with broken Spanish, we finally found the very distinct station (you know, with five buses and twenty people queing up under the covered waiting area). That's just he obvious sign we were hoping for. It sounds like the earliest bus to Puntarenas leaves at 5am. Hopefully we make it.

And now for the moment of nonresistance:

For dinner, Rick and I headed to a small sports bar (looking for anything other than chicken). Forgetting to bone up on our foods en espanol and not bringing the essential tool: a dictionary, we were left to our own critical thinking skills to decipher the menu. Imperial beer, THE beer of Costa Rica apparently, was a no brainer. Rick ordered a dish that had at least one word he knew: bisteka. I was excited by the possibility to try something totally new and surprising. I chose the item that I could not translate at all.

FYI, higado y encebollados means liver and onions.

Lesson learned: nonresistance does not mean blindly jumping all the time. Often, it's good to jump knowing something about the terrain you're about to land in, or at least about the inflight path. Other times you just don't know what's coming until your fall is miraculously cushioned by the pillows that were always there. Then again you might just land in a pile of fried liver.

Just because your blind jump didn't go as planned, you don't have to have a negative experience. I might never have tried liver and onions (and discovered that it might be even more gag-worthy than natto). The tortilla chips, salad, beer, chill, local atmosphere, and as always the company all more than made up for my translation impairment. And now I know the importance of learning this language as quickly as possible. Overthinking may be a product of an attitude of resistance to perpetuate a cycle of resistence, but thinking helps you make sound choices based firmly in knowledge. You can act without resistance without ordering liver.

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Remember to write it down first. While it's nice to pump out those words with your thumb, on the iPod with the blogger lite application, your post can be lost as quickly as you two-finger type.

Yesterday, the act of nonresistance: discovering that alligator does taste like chicken. Please accept this sentence in lieu of the lost post. Today... as we are finally sweating it out in Liberia, who knows what nonresistance will look like!

Later gators. We're off to our second morning exploration.



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Pre-Trip Resistance: Just Do It.

Pre-Trip Non-Resistance: Booking a room.

My family can attest to this: I disklike the phone (thank you amygdalae). I really, really dislike making reservations. Let’s face it, I’m not a huge fan of calling people period. I also hate (yes, hate) asking people for things (like a restaurant reservation). It’s silly, but it comes from a deep sense of resistance— that fear of looking like a fool. Now add to this my very, very, very limited grasp on Spanish. The thought of calling a hostel in Liberia and booking a room in Spanish made me a little nervous.

So I did what Serteens and productivity blogs have taught me: do the hard things first. The night before, I wrote down a list of phrases I would need. (While resistance is futile, planning is not). Then, first thing in the morning-- before resistance could get in my way-- I called la Hospedaje Casa Vieja and asked the essential question: “Los siento. Habla Ingles usted?” I held my breath. Had I said it wrong? Oh, please, please let the woman say “Si!”

“No. No hablo Ingles.”

Crud.

I regurgitated the phrases gleaned from Spanish apps, podcasts, and dictionaries. Finally, after a round of “Ah, por manana?” “No. No manana. Por dos de Frebreros, por favor….” The poor woman went to find someone who spoke English. It didn’t take long, as most people outside of the US can speak a second, third, and even fourth language. I booked the reservations (hopefully for the rights days), and now can only hope the staff at la Hospedaje won’t hold this lingual ignorance against me.

Lesson:

While my Spanish turned out to be less than successful, I learned that it’s better to override the resistance and try what you are afraid of. By giving myself a limited window to second guess the decision to call, I actually made it easier to accomplish the task. It's that "don't look down" theory while climbing. Your focus on the goal helps to eliminate the first obstacle to any task: resistance. It also allows you a clear head space to plan (although in this case, not so well) so that other obstacles that might fuel resistance are better addressed. So while it was nerve wracking to call and be the dumb tourist, knowing that a room is waiting for us when we get to Liberia late in the evening is so much better than having to hunt a room down on foot, in a new city, speaking (apparently) very poor Spanish.

Score:

Katie 1 Amygdalae 0

Day One: A Promise to Resist Resistance

Resistance

Thanks to the amygdalae, these tiny but efficient clusters of neurons, most of us are necessarily resistant to possible bad outcomes. E.g. Because you remember the emotions (particularly stress) of spending the night curled on the bathroom floor after downing tequila, gin, and perhaps something else you can’t remember, you never, ever play “catch up” when you come late to a party again.

Sounds like a great feat of evolution, right?

Hi. My name is Katie and I have a resistance problem.

Instead of utilizing the benefits of resistance, I’ve let my amygdalae take the reigns in life. Because of resistance, I am an awful decision maker. I over-think choices until it’s too late to really make the most of either choice. Case in point, deciding what snack to eat is a resistance-filled experience that often goes something like this: "I don’t want to commit to any of these snacks because what if I make the wrong choice. What if that’s not really the snack I wanted. What if I actually wanted crackers? But an apple would be healthier. But I really don’t like apples all that much. But it would be healthier than crackers...." It goes on and on.

Because I remember the disappointment of making a decision (possibly food related), I refuse to make the decision and eventually leave the kitchen empty handed. Now imagine how irritating it is for friends and family to witness this process when it comes to making ACTUAL decisions.

Hence the goal:

Take back the reigns from resistance while traveling in Costa Rica for six weeks. The object is to focus on what is important, get rid of the hemming and hawing, stop stalling with the irrelevant things, make decisions, say yes, and make the most out of this opportunity(whatever this may mean).

Held Accountable:

Productivity and exercise sites recommend you make a public promise to reach your goal. As a productivity blog junkie (who’d guess), that’s exactly what this blog is. My promise to you is to win against resistance at least once a day while in Costa Rica.

While getting to a computer might not always be possible (due to the no-resistance choices I make along the way), I will update you on my anti-resistance activities and be accountable for each day by doing backlogged updates once a computer is at hand.

Thank you for reading!

Comments about travel, Costa Rica, ways you've resisted resistance are all welcome. Thank you for joining my journey!