Gracias al Dios, ’cause the school year’s almost over. Only two more days, and one of them is teachers turning in grades and tidying up, and the other is a party. A party which will include another humiliating soccer game of teacher vs. student. Hopefully more humiliating for the students this time, and less for the teachers. Specifially me.
Anyhow, after a meeting this afternoon I was getting a ride back home from my fellow teachers Sofie and Lilly. Lilly is from Quebec and teaches French, and Sofie is Belgian, so they usually speak to each other in French. Which is fine, cause it allows me to space out in the back seat. Until Lilly yells “cocodrilo!” and points out the window. Which is not so fine, cause it´s in a little field/swamp-type-area just a few blocks from my house. Evidently she´s even seen other crocodiles there, too.
When I moved to this country, I was pretty sure that my fear of snakes would be sufficient to cover my paranoia/phobia needs, but now they had to add crocodiles to the quickly growing list:
MY LIST OF THINGS I’M AFRAID MAY KILL ME IN COSTA RICA:
(In order of likelihood and scariness, from least scary and least likely to most scary and most likely)
-Soccer field implosion into another dimension
-Abuela poisoning my morning rice and beans
-While in shower, slipping and falling on ironically slippery non-slip mat
-Receiving shock from electrical device connected to shower head (see photo in Sept. 14 post)
-Getting attacked by crocodiles, apparently
-Snakes. Lots and lots of snakes.
When I was with Ángela and her niece this weekend, I was saying how I wanted to get a machete to protect myself against snakes. It seemed like a good idea, especially since everyone walking on the road to school seems to be carrying one. Somehow, me being here and owning a machete can´t be wrong, because it just seems so RIGHT. Anyhow, they said a good machete might only run me about 7 bucks, so I may even get two–one for each hand. After my Christmas bonus, I may even consider ways to attach more machetes to my legs and/or some broomsticks, in order to avoid getting close enough to look a snake in the eye before cutting it’s evil head from it’s demonic body. And I don´t want snake blood on my face. That alone might kill me.
But then they told me about how Ángela’s grandmother had found a snake in her bed one night, and how snakes come indoors a lot during the windy season, seeking shelter. The windy season is starting right about now. Add that one to the list, I guess.