I’m Too Sexy for my Hep Shots
Since Erin is busy gettin’ busy with her hubs who made it home yesterday, I thought it might be helpful to address some of the questions I’ve been getting about my level of preparedness for this upcoming trip.
Well, my preparations for our (much longer) trip to Costa Rica are panning out a bit differently.
The truth of the matter is, in my attempts to resurrect my feelings of carefree youth by quitting my job, booking a ticket to a foreign country, increasing my alcohol tolerance level – the works – I’ve started to realize that in light of this upcoming experience, I’m going to be regressing a hell of a lot further back than I ever wanted to go.
You see, I’m not just reverting – I really am a baby.
The most glaringly obvious sign of my unpreparedness is the fact that I don’t speak a lick of Spanish. Okay, fine. I learned the words “platos” and “cerveza” from some of the guys I worked with at a restaurant, but that’s really about it.
Enter Rosetta Stone. I’ve been working my way haphazardly through the lessons over the past couple of weeks, but I’m going to have to pick up the pace if I want to do anything more than tell people, “The cat is black.” El gato es negro. And there’s a good possibility I screwed that up.
Let’s face it – it’s unfair of me to expect people to speak my language while I’m living in their country. But with my computer’s microphone not cooperating, the best I can expect in the end is to sound like a 2-year-old. But I can deal with that. Oh, and I’ll need to be spoken to the same way. “No, Katie – caliente!”
Once I (finally) graduated college and joined the real world (I may have had a couple of missteps along the way), I thought I was free of the back-of-the-mind burden that comes with living paycheck to paycheck.
Well, it turns out that the idea of living with no paycheck at all is a bit more daunting.
Of course, I would not have quit my job if it would’ve meant losing the house or becoming delinquent on my student loan payments – I’m not an idiot. But still, it was kind of nice having my “cushion” of pay every couple weeks. It was nice to be able to spring for the fancy $10 bottle of wine, ya know?
But you know what? A little bit of life experience holds more value to me right now than a new car or hardwood floors. Besides, my ’99 Chevy Tracker only has 140,000 miles – she’s still got a lot of life in her.
Do you remember the plethora of immunizations/vaccinations you needed to get when you were little?
They usually came in the form of a shot administered to your arm, thigh, or my personal favorite, your butt. Well up until a couple weeks ago, I didn’t really remember these shots. I’m not really a queasy person when it comes to needles or blood, but let’s just say that a Typhoid vaccination injection is not one of the key ingredients to a kick-ass party. The shot for Hepatitis A and B wasn’t too bad, except for the looming thought that I need to have it repeated two more times.
By the way, here’s a text excerpt from several hours after I got my immunizations, one in each arm. (For some reason the nurse wouldn’t honor my butt request):
Me: I am now immunized against Hepatitis A, Hepatitis B, and Typhoid. My arms hurt. They hurt so good. :)
Erin: Lucky! I want MY arm to hurt! (Haha, and why not Hep C? Guess they knew they’d be wasting their time. Slut.) ;)
Ahh, I love traveling with loving, trusted friends.
So I just want to clear a little something up from this post, in which Erin described some of the lovely ailments her doctor told her to look forward to experiencing during a trip to Costa Rica. Anything we might acquire while there would likely be due to us being travelers (aka. babies) in a foreign country.
See, our bodies are used to little buggies in the water here, but American little buggies are different from the little buggies in the Costa Rican water, which can lead to something known as travelers’ diarrhea. It’s not because their water is unsafe – unless we decide to drink directly out of a river, which wouldn’t be smart no matter where we are in the world.
We’re lucky enough to be staying with a really great family (more on that later), and we anticipate many, many good times to be had in the sweltering jungle heat between bouts of the craps. Which, it turns out, can be caused by more than just exposing our unacclimated bodies to the elements. According to our host:
“LMFAO, you will most likely not get the craps unless you drink a lot of Guaro, the Tico moonshine, the water is good to drink right out of the tap in the whole country. It is no hotter than Frederick Maryland in the summer, or NC. There is a possibility of being wet during this time of the year and you could be very wet, like Seattle wet, with the small difference that there are dirt roads everywhere and you will most likely be wet and muddy. But it’s nothing that an icy cold cerveza can’t take care of.
Just wanted to clarify that your doctor’s are quacks and if I am wrong I will buy you both a beer!
Adios from the malaria filled, steamy, sweaty, hot world of Guanacaste Costa Rica!
Okay, so maybe we won’t be adhered to the toilet with explosive diarrhea (darn). Maybe we won’t be able to fry eggs on our foreheads. Maybe our bodies won’t be so bloated and water-logged that friends will send us boxes of gas-X and ShamWows. There is just the slightest, teensy-weensy-tiniest chance that we were exaggerating our hardships just a bit. But hey, we’re writers – that’s what we do.