Burglars, Racism and WTF is Ornithology

As Talwan rants on his dead stacks, I am in the jungle experiencing life. I guess Tal uses 5 syllable words to impress students. Yeah he knows what a verb is. Good Lord. The pendulum swings. The dog barks. The cock crows. The monkeys howls. And in the meantime, apartheid raises its ugly head.

As I passed the pool, young kids were taking their diving instruction. I thought, is there some way to correct this problem? I paid for a Nicaraguan youth to have diving lessons with this group. The South African leader shuffled him into Cepia. I lost my 300 dollars. Would he have done that to a white child here. What! No Way! But a Nicaraguan is viewed as less than. Someone to be a mule. Carry a load.

It’s difficult to go up against. It can be strenuous and energy depleting work. But it’s also its own reward.

I did what I could. I let it go. I place it in the hands of the historians.

I am from Jacksonville FL. A place known for its mean and racial attitude. Past and present. But I don’t mind what anyone says. It is better now.

Yes, it was a conundrum. A terrible, horrible, vile existence in the south. But not all white people were bad and all black people lovely minstrels.

How’s that for a vocabulary. Nouns, verbs, predicates. Mercy me. I think I’ll write a song.

Burglars – people have been stealing since the beginning. We have break-ins here in Costa Rica all of the time. But somehow it’s suppose to be different here. Come to think of it. It is different here.

Pura vida.

Be a beautiful bird watcher.

As you soak in the beautiful colors. The vultures are behind you, sucking up your sh*t, amigo.

Pura vida.

The words are the same. The meaning different.

Costa Rica Life: Confronting a Burglar Without Borders

I opened my eyes to an unreal and dreaded scene. My mind was saying no, this is not happening. It is happening. Damn it – this is real. My husband was halfway across the room, machete in hand. My dog was perched at my feet, muscles pumped and barking ferociously.

A drug addicted young man, probably illegal, had opened our door and was coming into our house. A crime of opportunity. The door had been left unlocked.

He ran. But he didn’t get far.

Living in Costa Rica is a game of life. A gamble. Different. Either you can adapt or you can’t. Either you live scared or you don’t.

We’re fortunate he didn’t have a gun. He was a desperate, high, kid – someone that three weeks ago, my husband had bought food for. He had been in front of the grocery store; begging. And now he was helping himself to our space. Our home.

Since this “shitty blog” is my journal, I feel the need to document. I also feel the need to write more. But I also have to clean my burlap ceiling.

Come on down to Costa Rica….catch a fish…catch a burglar.

The boat could sink – you could get hurt.

I have to go. I have to clean my ceiling.

Creating a Fairy Tale Home: Embracing Innovation and Independence

We are working to make our home, a home again. Years ago we purchased this corner lot. It was God given. We shared it with another family, but now we are on our own. I am becoming innovative.

I always work to make my places look Fairy Tale. Who needs other’s reality when I can create my own.

I live on the edge of Mordor.

I am surrounded by traveling leprechauns and immigrant ghosts.

Together we live our best lives.

Where am I?

I lean my head back to view my burlap ceiling. Stapled and framed in blonde wood. Another artistic flair. Something different.

Just ask me about different. It has been the theme of my life.

I sent my, Who Am I post, to Sassy Silver Surfers. An over fifty ladies group, of women who surf.

Continue reading Where am I?

Who am I?

I am Cheri Eagerton Royal/JBug……..

Yes, this is a screen shot of my instagram page – @everydaypaparazza. I googled myself. This is who I am. Or I should say part of who I am. A good part. Almost a 1000 photos of beautiful people. I interacted with many that I did not know. It was so much fun. My camera has always helped me to communicate with others.

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The Life of a Dedicated Beach Bum

What is this world coming to?

I was shocked to see this sign at the entrance of the Auto Mercado in Tamarindo, Costa Rica! I had clothes on, so I was good. Having just left the beach, playing with my dog. I enjoyed seeing the students and horses. Tourists – having fun. On another day I might have been surfing and at the start of my first grocery pit stop. I have 5 between Tamarindo and Playa Potrero. It’s necessary to try and beat the cost of today’s groceries

I am currently living in flux – I’ve dug a glorious hole here. It started one way and has ended up another.

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Costa Rica Surf Adventures: Passion and Transformation

Hang in there!

Last Friday, I posted to Sassy Silver Surfers. SSS is my favorite women’s surfing FB page. The post was a quip. A memory of my first stay in Costa Rica. My husband took me to Mal Pais, for my fortieth. That trip changed our lives in a drastic way. Surfing became a dominant passion.

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Crabs in a Big Brown Bucket

Meet Rafa. He has lived with all of his life until last night.

We are in Costa Rica wondering exactly what happened. But really we know. It’s gonna take a while to process.

Rafa’s Dad came to live with us over twenty years ago. He was living in a man camp. And kept getting fired from all of his jobs. I met him when a man building my fence asked to hire him. When I saw how Nestor held a hammer I knew why he got fired all of the time. I took the hammer from his hand. ‘It’s OK.”

He came to live with us. He got married. He had two children. We lived here like a family. Many things have occurred. We have been through a lot together.

Rafa graduated high school and wanted to go to college. I believe Rafa is an exceptional person with a high I Q.

His parents refuse to let him attend the University. We offered to pay for his tuition. He is now working as a laborer. He is now a laborer who belongs in academia. He wants to be in academia. I didn’t make this up for him.

His parents have moved to a Nicaraguan “hood”.

There is much racism here in Costa Rica. The general consensus is Nicas are not smart. Drunks. The women are loose. And they will never get anywhere. I have experienced a lot of racism dumped on this kid. And now I have seen it dumped on him by his own parents.

Unbelievable. They sincerely believe he needs to stay out of school. No education for Rafa.

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Circulo ~

At one time, here in Guanacaste, Costa Rica, a ponga was the way to go on the water. It was all you needed. One oar would do, if that was all you had. Get on the water and cast your lines. Fish were over abundant here. The coastline left behind, in a world of speed. Fast people living fast lives, simply were not here.

Now, the boats, people and construction is moving at a pace, equivalent of the sound breaking barrier aircraft of my youth. I lived in the country. Cecil Airfield was down the road. I would be sitting by the pool and here a boom. An aircraft breaking the sound barrier. I paid no attention. Why should I?

Today as I type, the boom here is evident. My sleepy village is alive. It’s a snake swallowing its tail.