Friday was a holiday at my brother's school, so the family had a three-day weekend. We took the animals to the vet for boarding and loaded all six of us into the Space Wagon. We drove west toward the Pacific Ocean.
The two-lane road (one lane in either direction) goes up a mountain, through the fog and clouds, then down the other side. The road is in fairly poor shape; people walk on either side on the non-existent shoulder, and there are many small and large trucks and buses on the road with all the passenger cars. As a result, there's lots of jockeying to pass, and the ride can be fairly tense. Add to that the concern that the Space Wagon has started to overheat on long uphill drives, especially in hot weather, and the driving was fairly tense. Oh, and there are little fruit stands, Artesan shacks, and miradores (restaurants with a view) along the way, though we didn't stop at any of them.
There's another road that goes by the shore, but it's in horrible shape -- it's unpaved and contains many cobblestones, so the going is extra rough. Apparently, there are political concerns about keeping the mountain road as the main road, so the seashore road doesn't get improved.
We finally arrived in fairly good shape and found our hotel. It turns out that it's way up on the hillside overlooking the seashore plains and the beach. So we started to climb and climb and climb, and it was then that the car overheated. Four of the passengers continued the last few feet of the journey on foot, while I stayed with my brother and we waited for the car to cool down.
Our hotel was in a beautiful location with some fabulous quirks. It's managed by two Argentinians who are in the business of scouting out hotel locations, overseeing construction, and training staff for two years before moving on to the next project. They're very pleasant, sweet, and interesting. At the top of the property, there's a reception desk, a covered dining patio, and a two-level pool (one shallow for kiddos and the other somewhat deeper) with a stunning view of a whale-tail shaped land mass in the ocean.
Further down the hill, we found our rooms -- there are probably fewer than twenty on site, all with balconies. And, because our rooms were on the first floor, our balconies had an abundance of flowers around them -- the kinds that butterflies and hummingbirds can't resist.
For the rest of the first day, we just hung out in and around the pool, watching the kids. We went back to our rooms for a spectacular sunset, then went back up the hill for dinner.
The next day, we found a delightful outdoor roadside restaurant for lunch, and then went on a boat ride. Ostensibly, we were looking for whales and dolphins. The whales were nowhere to be found, though there had been recent sightings. We did see one dolphin and a large sea turtle that unfortunately was dying. We also saw some pelicans and monkeys (including a baby monkey -- very cute) and we got to ride through a couple of sea tunnels (big holes in the rocky cliffs). Besides just getting to ride around in the boat, a big highlight was snorkeling. One of the boatmen accompanied me, so I had my own personal snorkel guide. I'm a little spoiled (we've had fantastic snorkeling experiences in the South Pacific and in the Galapagos Islands); nonetheless, it was a good expedition and we saw a lot of interesting fish.
We finished the day with a delicious dinner at a Thai restaurant run by two men, one from North England and one a Tico. They were -er- very handsome, and I, at least, imagined them to be a couple. The food was incredibly good; Trish (my sis-in-law) said that she usually detests Thai food and loved this. My fantasy is that they'll open their second branch in Boston's Metro West.
Yesterday, the kiddos had more pool time while the grownups talked, and then we started back towards home after a brief stop on a small local beach. For some reason, the way back seemed longer and more difficult -- the kids were exhausted and not quite on their best behavior (when Santi and Paloma weren't picking on each other, Santi was picking on me). We were concerned about the car, though we did keep things under control and there were no overheating incidents.
Today, we took a long walk and ended up at Bagelmen's -- one of three bagel chains in Costa Rica. I've finally learned my way from my brother's house to the main street where the shop is; it took a while, perhaps because there are several ways to get to my brother's neighborhood. I think I know the basic route now, for our next visit.
And I'm finally feeling more confident about my Spanish. My comprehension is not perfect, but it's in the 50-75% range. And I feel more able to express myself, though again, my vocabulary is not terribly strong.
Tomorrow we go home. I've mostly been running around in tee shirts, shorts, and sandals. It's hard to believe that it's snowing back home and that we're returning to winter; the sun and breeze and light rains here are quite easy to get used to. And then "real life" starts up again -- retrieve the cat, go back to work, replenish the larder, run errands. This has been a great vacation.
Monday, February 21, 2005
Thursday, February 17, 2005
back from the mountains
We just returned today from the Monteverde area, northwest of San Jose. You drive on fairly good roads for two hours, mostly on the pan-American highway, heading west toward the Pacific. (Except we didn't drive -- we had a cab come and fetch us.) You go through small dusty towns, pass schoolkids in pristine uniforms, and see vegetable sellers by the side of the road. (One man had brought his wares in a wheelbarrow, then laid it against the roadside ditch and waited in it under a tree, as if he was in his living room easy chair.)
As you leave the seacoast area, you enter a mountainous region that is not terribly high, but is extremely vertical. For the last twenty kilometers, you climb and climb on increasingly rough roads. People in this area have cars, but they also have "quads" (four-wheeled motorcycles), and many people get around on horseback. In fact, we saw one man, who must have had strong legs, riding without a saddle -- he just had a blanket between him and the horse.
We ended our ride in a little village called San Luis, where we stayed at the Ecolodge San Luis (more info here). It's owned by the University of Georgia and hosts visiting scholars, students, and some tourists. There are some tico (native Costa Rican) workers, along with young American college graduates, most of whom majored in biology. The ecolodge has a lot of land, some of which borders other protected land.
The ecolodge is up in cloud-forest country. You're in the clouds, though you don't realize it while you're there. But it's almost constantly misting, even when the sun is shining brightly. Everything is moist and shiny all the time. We were glad we brought both hiking boots and rubber boots -- our Teva sandals were fairly useless!
The main building contained a dining room, a porch with rocking chairs from which you could watch the sunset, and a dining hall. Oh -- and a well-stocked library that Robert spent a lot of time in -- he enjoyed reviewing and researching all that we'd seen. We stayed in a spacious cabin, about a ten-minute walk from the main building. They turned the electricity on for only a few hours every evening, but mostly we used natural light, flashlights, and candles. We had our own balcony and it was relaxing to just hang out there.
From the ecolodge, we took some great walks -- an orientation walk through the woods to start to learn to identify plants; a walk around their experimental garden, and their herbal medicine garden; and a longer walk through a farmer's land to a huge waterfall, perhaps the largest (waterfall, not farmer) in Costa Rica. Meeting the farmer was deeply moving; he had a way about him that left me feeling that his open heart had touched mine. We also went on a night walk and found some sleeping birds and sleeping butterflies. There was something very awakening about being outside at night, with only the sounds of the forest around us, relying mostly on natural light.
Yesterday, we left the ecolodge and went to the Monteverde Reserve (more info here), higher in elevation than the ecolodge. Our guide, Melvyn (a Tico), started by saying that some people come to the Reserve hoping to see animals, and when they don't, say that they saw nothing. But, he said, a cloud forest is just full of life, and indeed it was. A single tree can support hundreds of other plants, including orchids and bromeliads. There were so many birds flying around, many that we don't see at home. On our walk, we saw a hummingbird just sitting on a branch, and we saw five resplendant quetzals, truly magnificent birds. The guidebooks had led me to believe that I would never see one in my entire trip. At the end of the tour, we saw a tame coati mundi, who seems to understand that tours end at 10:30 am, at which time it is possible that illiterate tourists may provide snacks.
We then ambled over to the nearby hummingbird gallery. After the majority of tourists cleared out ("oh, it's a hummingbird. cool. Bus is leaving"), we sat and watched many species come to the ten or so feeders and drink their fill.
Later, we went to an attraction called "Sky Walk" -- a loop walk that includes walks over six suspension bridges. The point is that you're walking at or above tree level, so you can become aware of the amazing plant life in the canopy. It was stunningly beautiful, though I must admit that I found it challenging. I have a fear of heights, especially of being able to look down and see through what I'm walking on. And it's especially hard when my path is wiggling, as it does when others walk on it! Nonetheless, it was a great experience. There weren't that many people out on the trail, and we took it very slowly. I'm grateful that we went. (Robert, whom I sure has other phobias, had no problem with the height, and was seen on several occasions on a bridge on his hands and knees photographing straight down!!)
Finally, we went to the little village of Monteverde and visited a few shops before going back to the lodge. To top off our outstandingly great day, we went running out after dinner to see a sloth temporarily lodged in a nearby tree.
We met some lovely people at the lodge, both people who worked there and other tourists. We were especially delighted to meet Jerry and Nina, a son and mother, and had several delightful conversations with them. Last night, after Jerry had escorted his mom back to her room, he came back and talked to us for a while. I especially enjoyed watching Robert and Jerry converse eclectically for a while; I do hope that the four of us can stay in touch by email.
I don't know what we'll do on subsequent visits, but it's possible we'll return to this area, and possibly to the Ecolodge. There's another, smaller reserve in Santa Elena that I'd like to visit, and I'd very much enjoy going back to the Monteverde reserve.
As you leave the seacoast area, you enter a mountainous region that is not terribly high, but is extremely vertical. For the last twenty kilometers, you climb and climb on increasingly rough roads. People in this area have cars, but they also have "quads" (four-wheeled motorcycles), and many people get around on horseback. In fact, we saw one man, who must have had strong legs, riding without a saddle -- he just had a blanket between him and the horse.
We ended our ride in a little village called San Luis, where we stayed at the Ecolodge San Luis (more info here). It's owned by the University of Georgia and hosts visiting scholars, students, and some tourists. There are some tico (native Costa Rican) workers, along with young American college graduates, most of whom majored in biology. The ecolodge has a lot of land, some of which borders other protected land.
The ecolodge is up in cloud-forest country. You're in the clouds, though you don't realize it while you're there. But it's almost constantly misting, even when the sun is shining brightly. Everything is moist and shiny all the time. We were glad we brought both hiking boots and rubber boots -- our Teva sandals were fairly useless!
The main building contained a dining room, a porch with rocking chairs from which you could watch the sunset, and a dining hall. Oh -- and a well-stocked library that Robert spent a lot of time in -- he enjoyed reviewing and researching all that we'd seen. We stayed in a spacious cabin, about a ten-minute walk from the main building. They turned the electricity on for only a few hours every evening, but mostly we used natural light, flashlights, and candles. We had our own balcony and it was relaxing to just hang out there.
From the ecolodge, we took some great walks -- an orientation walk through the woods to start to learn to identify plants; a walk around their experimental garden, and their herbal medicine garden; and a longer walk through a farmer's land to a huge waterfall, perhaps the largest (waterfall, not farmer) in Costa Rica. Meeting the farmer was deeply moving; he had a way about him that left me feeling that his open heart had touched mine. We also went on a night walk and found some sleeping birds and sleeping butterflies. There was something very awakening about being outside at night, with only the sounds of the forest around us, relying mostly on natural light.
Yesterday, we left the ecolodge and went to the Monteverde Reserve (more info here), higher in elevation than the ecolodge. Our guide, Melvyn (a Tico), started by saying that some people come to the Reserve hoping to see animals, and when they don't, say that they saw nothing. But, he said, a cloud forest is just full of life, and indeed it was. A single tree can support hundreds of other plants, including orchids and bromeliads. There were so many birds flying around, many that we don't see at home. On our walk, we saw a hummingbird just sitting on a branch, and we saw five resplendant quetzals, truly magnificent birds. The guidebooks had led me to believe that I would never see one in my entire trip. At the end of the tour, we saw a tame coati mundi, who seems to understand that tours end at 10:30 am, at which time it is possible that illiterate tourists may provide snacks.
We then ambled over to the nearby hummingbird gallery. After the majority of tourists cleared out ("oh, it's a hummingbird. cool. Bus is leaving"), we sat and watched many species come to the ten or so feeders and drink their fill.
Later, we went to an attraction called "Sky Walk" -- a loop walk that includes walks over six suspension bridges. The point is that you're walking at or above tree level, so you can become aware of the amazing plant life in the canopy. It was stunningly beautiful, though I must admit that I found it challenging. I have a fear of heights, especially of being able to look down and see through what I'm walking on. And it's especially hard when my path is wiggling, as it does when others walk on it! Nonetheless, it was a great experience. There weren't that many people out on the trail, and we took it very slowly. I'm grateful that we went. (Robert, whom I sure has other phobias, had no problem with the height, and was seen on several occasions on a bridge on his hands and knees photographing straight down!!)
Finally, we went to the little village of Monteverde and visited a few shops before going back to the lodge. To top off our outstandingly great day, we went running out after dinner to see a sloth temporarily lodged in a nearby tree.
We met some lovely people at the lodge, both people who worked there and other tourists. We were especially delighted to meet Jerry and Nina, a son and mother, and had several delightful conversations with them. Last night, after Jerry had escorted his mom back to her room, he came back and talked to us for a while. I especially enjoyed watching Robert and Jerry converse eclectically for a while; I do hope that the four of us can stay in touch by email.
I don't know what we'll do on subsequent visits, but it's possible we'll return to this area, and possibly to the Ecolodge. There's another, smaller reserve in Santa Elena that I'd like to visit, and I'd very much enjoy going back to the Monteverde reserve.
Saturday, February 12, 2005
first days ...
I always forget what a comfort it is to return to a place I've been before. We're in Costa Rica, staying with brother Tom (or Tommy as I still call him) and his family. We left Boston, neatly avoiding a near-blizzard (it was raining on our departure but the weathermen were still threatening snow). We traveled mostly with other Americans, but on our various flights, I spoke to an Israeli (headed to Tel Aviv) and an Italian who spoke almost no Spanish and couldn't communicate in French or English. Between us, we barely muddled through, I not sure which language he was speaking, but we managed to get the important points across.
It's warm here, but not overly so. The sky is deep blue, perhaps because the winds moved through yesterday. Though perhaps the winds move through every day. I had forgotten about "Ropa Americana," signs for which are displayed all over the country, even in the remotest, dustiest corners. I finally learned on my last visit that it's not clothing in the American style, but rather, used clothing that's shipped down here in containers. They also have stores advertising "Rosti Pollo," selling chickens that have been roasted on spits over open fires. Oh, and the cars must have a lot of problems with their emissions systems, because many makeshift stores advertise "Muflas."
We went to the grocery store yesterday -- seven-year old Santiago, my brother, Robert, and I. Many of the brands are familiar -- Muir Glen and Pastene tomatoes, for example -- but there's a newish Costa Rican organic brand, Bio-Land. And of course, the produce section is usually fun to browse through. But the best part was the traveling circus we brought with us -- Santiago. We got him a cart with a little car in front (like in American grocery stores), but he doesn't ride inside the car. No, no, no. He uses the car as his stage and rides on top as if he's a bowsprit, singing at the top of his lungs, shouting out, grabbing onto the corners of the aisles. And then suddenly, he jumps off and grabs something off the shelf and puts it in the cart and hops back on. (He's good about getting parental approval, though.) He also rides underneath the cart, popping out at unexpected times and giving a shout before sliding back under. The Costa Ricans in the store were a little puzzled, the Americans a tad amused.
His songs are not particularly familiar, just whatever's in his head. This morning, between his own rambling musings, he was training his younger sister (as a director would) to say "Ladies and Gentleman! Welcome.... to the Haunted.... House!!!" except that she kept saying in her high three-year old voice "Ladies and gentleman! Come... to the Halloween house!!!" The grownups compared notes later -- we were all lying in bed trying to stifle our giggles.
Tom and Trish have had some duties at the school last night and today (oddly, the school is celebrating its 21st anniversary after somehow missing the 20th last year), and then I imagine we'll spend some more time together. So Robert and I have been catching up on reading, playing with the young cat who's just joined the household, and we took a walk yesterday. In two days, we go to the mountains, and when we come back, we'll go to the seashore with the whole family.
My Spanish is coming back little by little. I can manage to say the essentials, though it's hard to have a lasting or meaningful conversation. And even though I have the structure of the language down (at least in my head), the vocabulary keeps escaping me. I'm weakest at numbers, though I do remember how to say two essential things, "Mas despacio, por favor," and "Escribelo por favor" -- requests to speak more slowly or to write something out.
People here are friendly and curious, fiercely proud without being macho about it, delighted to have tourists visit, patient with our pitiful attempts to speak the language, and willing to meet us half way. The people make it an especial pleasure to come visit. These days, I like to say that there are so many places that want us that I'm not that interested in visiting the places that don't. And fortunately, Costa Rica (so far) feels like it's in the former category rather than the latter.
It's warm here, but not overly so. The sky is deep blue, perhaps because the winds moved through yesterday. Though perhaps the winds move through every day. I had forgotten about "Ropa Americana," signs for which are displayed all over the country, even in the remotest, dustiest corners. I finally learned on my last visit that it's not clothing in the American style, but rather, used clothing that's shipped down here in containers. They also have stores advertising "Rosti Pollo," selling chickens that have been roasted on spits over open fires. Oh, and the cars must have a lot of problems with their emissions systems, because many makeshift stores advertise "Muflas."
We went to the grocery store yesterday -- seven-year old Santiago, my brother, Robert, and I. Many of the brands are familiar -- Muir Glen and Pastene tomatoes, for example -- but there's a newish Costa Rican organic brand, Bio-Land. And of course, the produce section is usually fun to browse through. But the best part was the traveling circus we brought with us -- Santiago. We got him a cart with a little car in front (like in American grocery stores), but he doesn't ride inside the car. No, no, no. He uses the car as his stage and rides on top as if he's a bowsprit, singing at the top of his lungs, shouting out, grabbing onto the corners of the aisles. And then suddenly, he jumps off and grabs something off the shelf and puts it in the cart and hops back on. (He's good about getting parental approval, though.) He also rides underneath the cart, popping out at unexpected times and giving a shout before sliding back under. The Costa Ricans in the store were a little puzzled, the Americans a tad amused.
His songs are not particularly familiar, just whatever's in his head. This morning, between his own rambling musings, he was training his younger sister (as a director would) to say "Ladies and Gentleman! Welcome.... to the Haunted.... House!!!" except that she kept saying in her high three-year old voice "Ladies and gentleman! Come... to the Halloween house!!!" The grownups compared notes later -- we were all lying in bed trying to stifle our giggles.
Tom and Trish have had some duties at the school last night and today (oddly, the school is celebrating its 21st anniversary after somehow missing the 20th last year), and then I imagine we'll spend some more time together. So Robert and I have been catching up on reading, playing with the young cat who's just joined the household, and we took a walk yesterday. In two days, we go to the mountains, and when we come back, we'll go to the seashore with the whole family.
My Spanish is coming back little by little. I can manage to say the essentials, though it's hard to have a lasting or meaningful conversation. And even though I have the structure of the language down (at least in my head), the vocabulary keeps escaping me. I'm weakest at numbers, though I do remember how to say two essential things, "Mas despacio, por favor," and "Escribelo por favor" -- requests to speak more slowly or to write something out.
People here are friendly and curious, fiercely proud without being macho about it, delighted to have tourists visit, patient with our pitiful attempts to speak the language, and willing to meet us half way. The people make it an especial pleasure to come visit. These days, I like to say that there are so many places that want us that I'm not that interested in visiting the places that don't. And fortunately, Costa Rica (so far) feels like it's in the former category rather than the latter.
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
life and death
Yesterday, I heard from my friend MH. M has been HIV-infected for over twenty years; he is a long-time survivor in body and spirit. He has struggled with debilitating depression and hasn't worked for nearly nine years. He went off meds a while back partly because of the horrible side effects and partly because there weren't a lot of options left.
Through all this, he's been taking jazzercise despite painful neuropathy, has started to act, has appeared in some student movies, is part of the care-team of another friend, and got a dog, which I thought was the biggest show of life-spirit yet.
Well, he's on new meds and a good anti-depressant, and he sounds fabulous. (And his numbers have finally shifted after years in the dumps.) He's about to go off to Australia for their Mardi Gras (which is celebrated later than ours). And the dog is eight or nine years old.
He just bought a newer car now that the-last-car-he-was-going-to-buy is getting a little older than we were hoping it would. And he has enough spirit and pizzazz to get even the stodgy going. You go girlfriend!!
----------------------
On the other end of life, I just read that the wife of a columnist died yesterday. Ho hum, you might say. This columnist, Donald Murray, is a little different. He's a skilled writer, so he's a pleasure to read anyways. And he writes about life, his childhood, and his relationships, facing them all head-on. So over the last fifteen to twenty years, his readers have learned a lot about his wife, Minnie Mae, and their three, now two, children. Yesterday's column was so gracious; MM had dementia, yet had refused all meds and food. But she was hanging on, just drifting for a while. He described how his daughters and he were just sitting, reveling in life, accompanying MM to the end, and that column left me feeling so very peaceful, like much is right in this world. This morning, I read that she had died. My thoughts go out to her family. The column is here, but I'm not sure how long the link will last.
Through all this, he's been taking jazzercise despite painful neuropathy, has started to act, has appeared in some student movies, is part of the care-team of another friend, and got a dog, which I thought was the biggest show of life-spirit yet.
Well, he's on new meds and a good anti-depressant, and he sounds fabulous. (And his numbers have finally shifted after years in the dumps.) He's about to go off to Australia for their Mardi Gras (which is celebrated later than ours). And the dog is eight or nine years old.
He just bought a newer car now that the-last-car-he-was-going-to-buy is getting a little older than we were hoping it would. And he has enough spirit and pizzazz to get even the stodgy going. You go girlfriend!!
----------------------
On the other end of life, I just read that the wife of a columnist died yesterday. Ho hum, you might say. This columnist, Donald Murray, is a little different. He's a skilled writer, so he's a pleasure to read anyways. And he writes about life, his childhood, and his relationships, facing them all head-on. So over the last fifteen to twenty years, his readers have learned a lot about his wife, Minnie Mae, and their three, now two, children. Yesterday's column was so gracious; MM had dementia, yet had refused all meds and food. But she was hanging on, just drifting for a while. He described how his daughters and he were just sitting, reveling in life, accompanying MM to the end, and that column left me feeling so very peaceful, like much is right in this world. This morning, I read that she had died. My thoughts go out to her family. The column is here, but I'm not sure how long the link will last.
Monday, February 07, 2005
next trip
And we're busily preparing for our trip south to costa rica, starting later this week. This weekend, we bought rubber boots (I ended up with some very cool ones, something like these because of my large calves. Robert could fit into normal rubber boots), some quick-dry clothes, and a flashlight.
We're planning a trip to the shore with my brother and his family and to the mountains by ourselves. The area of the shore where we're headed is apparently rich with cetaceans. The mountain area is kind of interesting because it was settled by American Quakers in the 1950s. There's a lot of reserve land there, and apparently a tremendous diversity of animals.
Whales and Dolphins
Ecolodge San Luis
My mother had a little playhouse built in my brother's back yard, a sturdy little building for the kids to play in. Apparently, after import tarrifs, it was about the same price to have something fabulous constructed as to buy a plastic playschool play house. For the second time, my brother has built a set around the house for my nephew's birthday party. Last year, it was a pirate ship, and this year it's a castle. I saw some pictures last night, and am eager to see it in person.
Oh yes, and there's now a resident cat, who presumably is keeping the pug company. It'll be good to meet her too. I'm delighted that my niece is a cat person, and apparently has been so since birth, taking after her auntie liz (and presumably, other relatives).
We're planning a trip to the shore with my brother and his family and to the mountains by ourselves. The area of the shore where we're headed is apparently rich with cetaceans. The mountain area is kind of interesting because it was settled by American Quakers in the 1950s. There's a lot of reserve land there, and apparently a tremendous diversity of animals.
Whales and Dolphins
Ecolodge San Luis
My mother had a little playhouse built in my brother's back yard, a sturdy little building for the kids to play in. Apparently, after import tarrifs, it was about the same price to have something fabulous constructed as to buy a plastic playschool play house. For the second time, my brother has built a set around the house for my nephew's birthday party. Last year, it was a pirate ship, and this year it's a castle. I saw some pictures last night, and am eager to see it in person.
Oh yes, and there's now a resident cat, who presumably is keeping the pug company. It'll be good to meet her too. I'm delighted that my niece is a cat person, and apparently has been so since birth, taking after her auntie liz (and presumably, other relatives).
trip north
The trip north was ... interesting, with some delightful parts and some parts that were just weird.
The good:
The good:
- Getting to know work colleagues in other departments.
- A glorious cross-country skiing expedition with an engineer who insisted on my going. We skied along a half-frozen river on groomed trails under brilliant blue skies, then sat in a hut and ate hot veggie chili and fresh bread.
- Getting a massage.
- Swimming outside in a hundred-degree pool at the bottom of a ski slope. (Yes, there was a fence between the slope and the pool, but from parts of the pool, you could watch the descent.)
- Having some quiet time and some social time.
The bad:
- A friend fell on the ski slope and ended up in the emergency room. I think he's ok, but he gets checked out today.
And yes, there was some ugly:
- Apparently, some of my colleagues form a hard-partying crowd. While I didn't particularly participate (no late night poker games, no hard drinking, no drinking games on the bus home for me), it was a little hard to be around it all. For one thing, I have plenty of past demons around this stuff. And for another, when someone's on drugs, they're usually at least interesting. When someone else is drunk and I'm sober, I perceive them as boring and narcissistic. It doesn't even look like *they're* having fun most of the time. As my dear friend Mark used to say, "I think we had more fun hearing about the party than being there."
All in all, it was a good trip, with some parts that I'll know to avoid next time. Maybe I'll have to form a little clique of hard-partying tea drinkers who like to have lights out before 11.
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