It´s Not Just a Game

Soccer is not just a game in Costa Rica, it´s a huge part of life. Even during my first few days here, I noticed that soccer is pretty darn important...there is always a soccer game happening in the park. Every Sunday there are games between local city teams, and most noticeably, the television soccer announcers can be heard a mile away shouting,¨GOOOOAAAALLLLL, COSTA RICAAAAAA!¨
A few weeks ago, soccer really started to pick up because of the games leading to the World Cup in South Africa. During classes, all of my classmates would be huddled around a radio listening to the game while my teacher tried teaching (if he wasn´t distracted listening to the game himself). The president, Oscar Arias, even cancelled school one afternoon so that everybody could watch the game. I went to my friend Andrea´s house to watch the game with some other school friends. Everyone was screaming, glasses were breaking, the tension could not have been greater.... but Costa Rica lost. All of the guys were saying how they would never do anything else in their lives because Costa Rica lost its chance to go to the World Cup.
The following day was the big game against the United States. When people asked me who I wanted to win, I would say "Costa Rica," but in my heart, I really wanted the United States to win. It looked like Costa Rica was going to win, but in the last 20seconds USA scored...it was beautiful. Of course, I was sure to look disappointed so my family wouldn´t get mad at me. The following day at school, my classmates said that they wouldn´t talk to me... they were joking... sort of.
At first, I thought the people here were crazy for being so obsessed with a sport, but then I remembered that I´m from Wisconsin where football is even BIGGER than soccer here.

Aisle seat, please.

On the way back from San Jose, Seline (another exchange student in my town) and I had to take a bus ride back to Puriscal. Let's just say that this route isn't for those with a weak stomach.
I was relaxing in my aisle seat, listening to my iPod, when Seline screams, "Ahh! Que asco!" I noticed that some white, liquidy chunks had been added to her jeans and sweatshirt. No, it wasn't some new trend that had swept across Milan and Paris, it was vomit from the woman in front of her.
Because the window was open, the results of the woman's motion sickness plastered Seline (and all of her belongings.)

Lesson learned: if one must take a bus ride, it is imperative to resist the urge to sit in the window seat that offers a gentle breeze because that breeze could be carrying a vomitrocious surprise.