Viejos Verdes

My first blog entry related my awesome encounters with Latin Lovers.  Why not continue the theme with a more detailed update?  I missed my early morning bus this past Monday; the snooze button doesn't work on my cheap travel alarm, unfortunately.  So I ended up in La Fortuna realizing that I had to wait 7 hours to catch the next bus to Tilaran.   With my heavy backpack that screamed "tourist" (sometimes I can blend in given my half-Hispanic background), I decided to try to get a cell phone. Unfortunately, pre-paid cell phones do not exist here.  While waiting, I met an old man who started talking to me about Costa Rica and his past.  Let's call him Don Nacho for now (mmm; I could use some tasty guac and chips).  He told me he was also on his way to Tilaran and he would show me around the town.  Given the fact that I lacked friends during my first week in CR, I thought why not.

And anyway, Don Nacho paid for my casados and became my Azucar Papa for the day. (Sugar Daddy for those non-Spanish speakers out there.)  Aha.

We rode on the bus and he told me about the city as we passed various neighborhoods, warned me about marrying the wrong guy, pointed out the nearby volcano and described how he witnessed the recent explosion, and talked about Forrest Gump in length (he's originally Spanish but lived and served in the U.S. so he's a fanatic about the movie).  Don Nacho had a lot of interesting things to say, given his 65+ years of life so I listened intently, counting this as another chance to learn from someone new outside of my previous college bubble.

Despite the fact that he continually said throughout the day that I reminded him of his daughter when they used to travel together, Don Nacho ended up being a viejo verde, an old man who preys on young girls as they call them here.  He commented on my appearance and asked me to travel the world with him.  In return, he would buy me "material possessions" with his pension because apparently, all young women (I'm 22) want them.  I gave a "uh..I have school" excuse, held back my laughter at the turn of events (he had told me I was like his daughter!), and quickly left to my less-than-appealing hotel.  Oh, Don Nacho -- all I wanted was a friend or grandfather figure for the day, not a life-time partner!

Still hungry for guac,

~Maryam