Tag: photo

monkey turtle FISH

Yet another peace and serenity debacle. This looks like death and destruction to some gringos. OMG

This pic is from home. I don’t surf fish there anymore either. It’s just too much. But that’s because people fish with four to eight rod and reels. Put there lines in, back from the tide. They try to tell me how to fish. Another OMG.

My husband was fishing on the beach in Potrero. He had a Jack on the line. His earlier catch were laying on the beach. He was picturing handing the fish in to the local ladies. He could see their smiles already.

When he landed the Jack, he looked where his fish had been.They were gone. Rooster asked a Tico man, “What happened to my fish?”

Some gringo stopped and threw them back in the water. WTF

That’s not the only crazy thing that has happened to us here while surf fishing. And if I went surf fishing today there would be some new craziness.

You travel two thousand miles to surf fish in peace and it ain’t going to happen. It use to be wonderful. But now there are people here who have a vision for Costa Rica. And they are going to make you do it their way.

NOT

This person (the fish savior) probably had all of the trees cut down on a lot to build themselves a huge house. And he probably has a cement pond. And he probably eats fish in restaurants.

So now we are going to have to get some sort of a water vehicle to get away from these people. Not unlike Amelia.

Today I surf.

Merry Christmas

*I do not write this blog to attract readers. I have no idea of making money. This is a private journal. I write and write. I look back. I like it.

I do prefer to live where there are no amenities. Where the electricity cuts off all of the time. Where there are few restaurants. Few people. Bad roads.

I prefer places that are paradise and others think they are hell. Because that’s when they are paradise.

Once a place is paradise to others, it is hell to me.

I’m not fighting – I’m running

Civilization is traumatizing ~

Alone – I Fly

The flesh has been torn from the bones of my soul
My breath has come up short
Life’s distance in years is a highway
I crawl past an angel wing

The flesh has been torn from the bones of my soul
I exhale
Overcome by guilt and shame
I run to be with others

The flesh has been torn from the bones of my soul
I inhale
I am alone
I fly

66 Photos – I am a Widget

I AM A WIDGET/Gallery Lover

My soul is enmeshed with these subjects. Each photo a memory. A person impressed in my being, like words in print. They tell a story. I know these people intimately, as I look at them over and over through the years.

If you are on an iPhone and you tap the horizontal bars in the right corner, my widgets will appear. They are mostly photo galleries. The first is always changing order. The other two are stationary. I recently updated all three. I am sad to say, that it took me two and a half months to follow through with this task.

I am getting back to this writing. Mostly in first person. The snap shot encapsulate my life. And my love of the people that I share this planet with. I am fascinated by people.

My instagram https://www.instagram.com/everydaypaparazza/ has 800 portraits. Check them out. Yes, there is a turtle and a guitar. But most are people. Every day, extraordinary people. That was the purpose of the site. I wanted to link it as a widget in the sidebar but was unsuccessful.

Most of my unsuccessful technical endeavors go by the wayside until I am ready to tackle it.

In the meantime, I browse-look at my photos and read other’s blogs.

I am a happy widget.

As a side note to my sidebar – Many indigenous people do not want their photos taken. They believe their souls will be stolen. I encountered this at The Moon Dance in Costa Rica and with the Mayans in Guatemala. I could have snuck their photos but I backed off.

My soul is entwined.

We are One.

66 – Thoughts on Bull Shit

I called a legitimate sister to discuss yet another sister who has showed up on our 23 and Me Ancestry. I don’t know why she would find it a hard to believe that this is our sister. Joan Ariel. DNA does not lie.

Continue reading 66 – Thoughts on Bull Shit

66 – Losses and Gain

This is my spot. It’s probably the last time I will get to stand here. To be on the beach enjoying the sunset. Here’s where I have fished for forty years. The island has been overrun by people who love the view, but are not beach people

God Bless them – each and every one.

Buried at Sea

This is just a journal. Nothing more or less. Just words typed on a digital page. Important only to me.

After the funeral fiascos over the past five years, and the refusal of my two oldest sisters to relinquish funeral plots, following their bold embezzlements from my mother’s inheritance, I decided to be buried at sea. The ocean has been my refuge, my entire life.

The other day I had one of the worst days. It involved lifeguards, called Nippers.

I lost it. I couldn’t believe these little boys, which they are in my eyes, the same as I am an old lady, in theirs. They even name themselves small boys. They removed me from the water. I was removed from the water, by little creatures that nipped and bit. I just cussed.

I wish the best for them. I hope they “save” many people. I hope they “sell” many surf instructions. That was their mantra as they were asking me to leave the water. “I am surf instructor.” Hearing that, over and over, just did something to me.

I feel buried at sea, before my death.

I apologized to them for my behavior, but the beligerent boss, (short, red head) turned his back on me.

He had a assumed I was a rich tourist. He erred in his eagerness to possibly rake in 65 an hour, which is what they charge as “instructors.”

You know what they say about assumptions.

I love the ocean. I will just go somewhere they’re not.

That was the mistake in the first place.

A synonym for nipper is nuisance.

God Bless us All

They actually named themselves after a Mongrel dog. A little nipping terrier dog. I call that fitting.