Monday, April 14, 2014
My Spanish Notes |
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Posted: 14 Apr 2014 08:30 AM PDT
If you missed my first two posts about my Costa Rica adventures, you can read them here:
1. Tienes que cancelar la entrada 2. ¡Pura Vida! Let's see if I can wrap things up in this post. So far I covered the language and now it's time to talk about my second favorite thing, comida. When I travel the first thing I usually want to do when I get off the plane is find someone to talk to in a local bar and have a beer. So let's start with what's probably the most popular beer in Costa Rica: I'm not huge on beer, it's more of something I do on vacation. But I have to admit, it wasn't bad. Although I preferred the Imperial Silver: You can probably tell those are photos I got off the internet. As many of those things as I drank you'd think I would have taken my own photos. Oh well. Costa Rica is famous for it's casados. A casado is what I'm going to call a combination plate for lack of a better word. You get some type of meat and a couple of sides. Here's one I tried: As you can see I ordered pescado (fish). And to be specific, it was Corvina (Sea bass). The other items on the plate arearroz, frijoles, plátano maduro, ensalada and a limón madarin. I have to to admit, it was ¡muy rico! By the way, muy rico literally translates to "very rich" but when it comes to food that's a very common way to say it's "really good". ¿Cómo está la comida? Está muy rica How's the food? It's really good Even the fast food chains serve casados. Costa Rica is also very famous for it's Gallo Pinto. Gallo Pinto is a traditional Costa Rican breakfast food. Here's a photo of what a breakfast of Gallo Pinto might look like. I'm ashamed to say I never tried the Gallo Pinto. Oh well, that's my excuse for another trip to Costa Rica. I did however, try a lomito. Lomito isn't exclusively Costa Rican, nor is it anything particularly Spanish. It's the word the waitress told me they use for steak in Costa Rica. There are a lot of good places to eat in Costa Rica, you can find lots of little restaurants walking up and down the street. And these little restaurants are called Sodas. All this talk of food is making me hungry. It's time to change subjects. The last thing I'm going to talk about is taxi's. The streets of San Jose are flooded with these little red cabs. The meter is called a taxímetro. Por favor, ponga el taxímetro Please turn on the meter You may need that phrase may often than you think. It will keep the taxi driver honest. And speaking of honest cab drivers, there are people that moonlight as cab drivers that don't have a taxímetro. These so-called cabs are calledpiratas and aside from the fact they aren't necessarily safe, you're going to end up paying more. The taxímetro is also called La María. ¿Vas a poner la maría? Are you going to turn on the meter? And that's it, we're done! At least for today. There's one more thing I want to share with you but it will have to wait for my next post. Oh, before I go, you may remember I mentioned plátanos maduros earlier. If you don't what those are, then read my below posts. And if even you do know what they are, you still probably want to read these posts because you might just be surprised at what you learn. 1. ¿Tostones o amarillos? 2. Banano-Banana-Guineo-Plátano ¡Hasta la próxima!  |
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Posted: 14 Apr 2014 08:30 AM PDT
It's time to pick up where I left off with my adventures in Costa Rican Spanish. I probably should have started with this one, but it's never too late so let's get to it.
 Pura vida is practically the national slogan of Costa Rica. Pura vida is more than just words, it's a way of life. It's all about taking things easy and just enjoying life. Kinda like "Don't worry, be happy". Here are the basics of how it's used. Hola mae, ¿cómo va? ¿Pura vida? Pura vida mae Hi dude, how are you? It's all good? It's all good dude By the way, mae is pronounced "my". And tuanis (two-juan-knees) is considered a synonym of pura vida. ¿Cómo está mae? Tuanis How are you dude? Great If your Spanish is good or you're up for a challenge, here's a good (and relatively short) read about tuanis. But if you want some insight from the experts then click here to learn more cool Costa Rican slang. Let's move on to the next topic. If you happen to be driving in Costa Rica, there is no shortage of parking, which I know as estacionamento, but in Costa Rica it's known as parqueo.  Here's an interesting street sign:  At first I thought "Is this a typo?". I had never seen the word virar before, but it's meaning (thanks to the sign) was pretty obvious: No virar a la izquierda No left turn This jumped out at me because I'm used to seeing signs that say "No girar a la izquierda". But it's always nice to have options right? While walking through downtown San Jose I saw a shoe store named Cachos.  Cachos is not only the name of the store, but it's also slang for shoes. When I confirmed it's meaning with my tico friend he also told me they use caballo for jeans and chema for shirt. Like any other city San Jose has it's share of corner stores and in Costa Rica these corner stores are called pulperías.  I was fortunate enough to get a candid shot of Costa Rica's new presidente. He just happened to be campaigning downtown. If you're curious about the details of the election, here's an article, in Spanish of course.  The last thing I'm going to talk about in this post is Costa Rican plata. Plata is slang for dinero. If you want to learn some more slang words for dinero, you can read my post Más minutos menos lana. Costa rican money is called colones. Here are some pictures:  I love the currency of Costa Rica, it's very colorful. Way more fun than our boring American dollars. That's it for today. I think one more post will wrap up my Costa Rican adventures, so stay tuned. If you missed the other posts, you can find them here: 1. Tiene que cancelar la entrada 2. ¿Vas a poner la maría? ¡hasta la próxima! |
Entry 23: Zipolite – Mexico | brendan/mark/barnhill wordpress.com While the pursuit is open to everyone who visits Zipolite, Mexico – any man or woman of any age has the option of taking all their clothes off and ...
Entry 23: Zipolite – Mexico | brendan/mark/barnhill
While the pursuit is open to everyone who visits Zipolite, Mexico – any man or woman of any age has the option of taking all their clothes off and ...
ENTRY 23: ZIPOLITE – MEXICO
When you spend three weeks on a nudist beach in Mexico – you quickly adjust to seeing more of the human body than you typically would. I’ve seen the face of naturism and it isn’t pretty. Actually, I’ve seen the face and all the rest of the wrinkly body parts of naturism and it’s down right frightening.
While the pursuit is open to everyone who visits Zipolite, Mexico – any man or woman of any age has the option of taking all their clothes off and frolicking free on the beach – it only seems the ´nudity´ appeals to a certain demographic. That demographic, from the survey of my daily runs up and down the beach, is (unfortunately) men aged 50 to 60. At its core, Zipolite is a nudist beach but not everyone (myself in particular) is participating. In fact, the vast percentage of beach-goers still have their modesty intact. Some are strolling along the warm sands fully clothed; others are sitting at the beachside cafes drinking cheladas – beer mixed with lime juice – and trying to avoid the sun.
It’s a lazy, relaxed scene broken only by the infrequent appearance of naked, middle-aged men and the occasional happy sight of boobs. Realistically, if you visit Zipolite, a tiny village on the far south coast of Mexico, you should know what you’re in for. An old-school hippie hang-out, it’s one of only two nudist beaches in the country and while most visitors are here for the laid-back stoner vibe and beautiful scenery, and there are always those who come to enjoy its lax clothing laws – as previously mentioned – older men, mostly.
Zipolite itself is a charming tiny town. Its greatest asset is there really is nothing to do. The population hovers about the 1000 mark. Puerto Escondido, a busy port town, might be only an hour up the road but it feels like another world. There is, quite beautifully, nothing to do except hang out with a cast of colorful characters on a stunning beach drinking beers and cocktails. At night time, there is a tiny makeshift cinema (a projector onto a factory wall and a few couches) showing poor quality pirated movies.
They have literally cornered the market to prevent sobriety. A corona will cost you 10MX (80 cents Australian) while a bottle of water will cost you 30MX. Beer is literally cheaper than water – and truthfully, much more suited to the stunning beach culture.
Zipolite has one single road, which splits the beachside bungalows from the shops and restaurants that serve them. You rarely see anyone on it – the occasional backpacker, sometimes a stray dog. The street carries the same sense of droopy-eyed indifference in which the rest of the town revels but it adds to the charm.
In such a small place, the same people inevitably keep popping up. Thankfully, Breeza Marina (the complex where I rented my basic but private beach side bungalow for $8 a night) maintained a high standard of lovely neighbors to spend my days with. James and Andy arrived shortly after me – despite spending the first few weeks in a dark room playing on computers – were solid amigos and overall great lads. Andy and I even crashed a party special peoples party together after spying cute woman carers. Not our proudest of moments. Andy, James and I were also banned from the one cafe in town. We still don’t know why!
Anna (who has beer for breakfast – she calls it a Finnish breakfast, we call it a drinking problem) was a legend who spent her days drinking and smoking with the old lads up at a hangout called Felipes. She without a doubt deserves the ¨go hard or go home¨award. Robbie from LA talks loud at inappropriate times and is so indecisive about everything to the point where I watched him mull over what hand soap to buy at the supermarket for 5 excruciating minuets. That being said, lovely bloke - just a horrendously indecisive.
The highlight of Zipolite for me was reuniting with my American mate Ben, who I had not seen since 2009 touring with his band in Australia, coincidentally staying down the beach from Zipolite. Such a coincidence that I saw a posting from him on Instagram and we caught up for breakfast beers the next day! So wonderful to see him again, I also was able to meet his lovely fiance Jordan and mate Camilo. Ben is an absolute rock star – we had a good many beers. It was a pretty early night after starting at 7am but totally worth it.
The beachside restaurants – most of which are palapas, simple huts with thatched roofs – set up their tables and chairs right on the sand. Being the intrepid traveler I am, I ate the same meals at the same restaurants almost every day for breakfast (granola and yogurt at San Cristobal) lunch (the spectacular ceviche from Serinas) and for dinner (tacos or a tlayuda at Lucys).
A tlayuda is a handmade dish in traditional Mexican cuisine, consisting of a large, thin, crunchy, partially fried or toasted tortilla covered with a spread of refried beans, asiento (unrefined pork lard), lettuce or cabbage, avocado, meat (usually shredded chicken, beef tenderloin or pork), Oaxaca cheese and salsa. Delicious.
Roasted granola and yogurt at San Cristobal
Ceviche from Serinas
Pork tacos from Lucys
Days ooze by as you lie around reading books or sipping beers or body surfing. Zipolite’s hippie past comes back daily, through brief snatches of Bob Marley tunes coming from a palapa or wafts of purple haze coming from a bungalow. The locals keep to themselves mostly and the tourists do the same, rarely moving out of their bubble of main street and beach. Not once did I ever see a police officer or any form of authority – a happy and safe town it would seem. Paradise.
Overall, Zipolite had everything I wanted from Mexico. A wonderful beach culture, great food and cold beers, fantastic company and a setting for unforgettable memories. After almost a month, it was time to leave Zipolite. An unreal experience.
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