GerGlish- the official language of Puerto Viejo

As I mentioned before, my days are now boring to write about. It is mostly monkey feeding, sloth watching and the occasional fight with a toucan. Life can be so tough.
In reality, I am suffering second degree burn from the hot Costa Rican sun. I am known to be a bit of a drama queen when I want to be. This is no drama. I had blisters on my chest, and my face has been peeling. For the last two days, I've been hearing "Tomo el sol, eh?", "Oh man, you were at the beach, uh?" and "Didn't you put sunscreen on?".
My dear white friends, the sun discriminates against us. I did put sunscreen on, every 30 mns. It was the walk into town that caused me this pain. I have been branded as the white girl from Philadelphia at the refuge, and, at the hotel. Anyway, today my shoulder has started to peel so now I am three different colors: brown, red and back to white. It is a vicious circle that will happen for the next month until my body learns. If it is nearly as stubborn as I am, we are in for a long adventure.
The sunburns prevented me from going surfing yesterday. As the salt water burns my skin, the sun creates an either bigger problem. I didn't feel like standing in 98F temperature with a beautiful clear sky while I am trying my best not to struggle on a board, or drinking salt water. Therefore, the lessons are being postponed once more. It will be done though, some day.

I did go to the center, even on my day off, as I wanted to take some pictures for the people back home. I have been a fantastic blog writer, and a terrible photographer. I need to balance out my responsibilities a bit. I went out there to see that one of our volunteers was ready to give the animals a professional photo shot, and as the unprofessional photographer, I helped her out by taking back stage pictures of her working. The amount of work that goes into taking a picture of a sloth is intense. Adrian, her temporary assistant, was sweating as he was readjusting lights after lights as the sloth was moving around. After a few pictures, I had to go home to deal with some American paperwork.
By American paperwork, I mean that my mother had gotten a letter from the Chester county court system. Obviously, she just told me it said Chester county court system, and so I grabbed my bike and started pedaling frantically, trying to go through each parking ticket I had received in the last year, each speeding ticket and each red light violation. Needless to say, the 20 minutes bike ride home was not enough to think of all of my violations, but I couldn't think of one that I hadn't dealt with before leaving. Once I got on skype and demanded for her to open the letter. It turned out I was being summoned for Jury Duty.
You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding me.
America, come on. Use your military gadgets to google my passport number and see that I am away instead of randomly sending letters and wasting everyone's time. Even just peer into my facebook page and see that I am not in the country. Anyway, I had to explain why going to jury duty would be a hardship and write them a personal letter explaining that I will not be able to attend. When it comes down to authorities screwing something up, I can't help but be a witty little asshole to them in my letters. It was a short and sweet paragraph that created arguments between my mother and I (as she has to send it.)

Dear Jury Commissioner, 

My name is Ally V, and my annual number is : ---- and my panel number: ---. I would like to inform you I will not be able to attend jury duty on the selected dates (April 22nd and 23rd).  The reason for this inconvenience is that I am currently residing in Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica to perform some community service at a wildlife refuge center. Unfortunately, those dates fall right during my stay (March 6th- May 2nd) and I cannot fly back before May 2nd. My tickets are booked, and my hours are prefixed. I am deeply sorry that I cannot perform my duty as a citizen as I am volunteering in Costa Rica for two months. 

In the meantime, I regretfully request to be excused from this privilege of jury duty. 

Sincerely, 

Ally V

This was the letter my mother and I compromised on. If it was left to me, it would be a five pages story of my life and as to why I would not be able to attend. Looking back at it, I should have included my blog for further proof. Next time. Next time.
After the surprise the United States sent me, I also received more frontline through the mail. Two weeks late, but hey, better than nothing right? I was hoping for some chocolate or candy, but if I ever need some flea treatment I have enough for a year.

As soon as I was done taking care of my American problems, I started looking for lunch. It was 3pm at this point, and my stomach was growling angrily. I had made it a mission to find this little bakery called "Bread and chocolate" or "Pan y chocolate", I hadn't been able to figure out if the sign will be in English or Spanish -- and it was in both. Lucky me.
As promised by the guidebook, there was no real address here, and directions were like "In front of the baptist church." Finding anything in this small town required patience and an observant eye. Because I have both, I found it. My stomach helped me find it and I chose the grilled cheese sandwich in about 5 mns of my arrival. I wrote my postcards, and I scarfed down the delicious cheese sandwich. I love the rice and bean combination here, but Costa Rica needs to up their game when it comes down to food. Other than the homemade chocolates and seafood, the cuisine is rather limited. Ten minutes after finishing my grilled cheese, I got a text message from one of the German volunteers. Most of the volunteers stay in Playa Chiquita or Cocles, and when they come "downtown" AKA Puerto viejo, they text me to hang out. They went shopping and then we stopped for dinner at Monli, which overlooked the sun setting on the Caribbean ocean.
We were talking about how many Germans there were in Puerto Viejo when one of their old friend walks in, hammered as a Russian during the winter. I introduced myself, and knowing five words in German, started to speak English. Julia and Isa's English was incredible, but Wolfgang's (the new German welcomes into our group) was very poor.
The only comprehensible sentence of the night was "You don't need ketchup with good music". Between my poor German, and his poor English we still managed to have a two hour long conversations. I learned that if you want someone to finish their drinks in Germany, you must go "X, X, X, X" and it encourages them to drink. I learned that the word for Discotheque is pretty much the same in every language and that a drunk German from Munich will speak a different German from a drunk German from Berlin.

After a night out of international fun, it was time to head back to the hotel. This time, I hadn't brought my bike, and it was already dark out. I had brought my little knife with me, which I carried open and in sight of anyone driving past. It wasn't until I saw the police near my hotel, that I breathed easily and could put my knife away. I am not much for taknig risks, and this is still a dangerous country, no matter how much of a paradise it feels like. The police's presence was a very clear reminder that, as they search every car driving into Puerto Viejo, there ares bad guys out there who will not hesitant to ruin your vacations. No matter if you speak German, English or Spanish.