and now, the rest of the story

I used to love Paul Harvey. When I was a kid in Kalamazoo, I would sit in the car listening to WKZO radio--AM--while my dad ran errands to the hardware store or whatnot. The sound of Paul Harvey's voice over that AM static takes me back to a time when it seemed like every story had a possible twist at its end, a possible small miracle inside it.

So this terrible thing happened. My ATM card was somehow copied and the bad guys somehow got the PIN number and they had, as the police woman said yesterday, a fiesta grande all over Costa Rica. But here's the rest of the story. Everyone here has been so helpful. Everyone at our wonderful credit union in Minneapolis (Affinity Plus, that would be) has been wonderful. Eldon who works at Visa was wonderful, asked me if I was related to the poet Robert Burns, put the block on the card, invited me to visit in Canada someday. The police here took my situation seriously enough to ask me to come back and talk with their lead detective. They are seriously pursuing the leads. (I have to say one question they asked me today was whether I'd made friends with any Colombians since I've been here. Bad things in Costa Rica are never done by Costa Ricans! I had to say I didn't know if I knew any Colombians. I really can't tell the difference between Costa Ricans and Nicaraguans and Panamanians--by looks or accent or any other clue. (as if I could tell accents! I still struggle to understand a word.) ) The credit union has already returned the stolen money to our account. Aside from the temporary problem of having no access to my bank account, all is fine. And so quickly. People have asked if I'm more anxious now to get home, but really I'm not. I still look forward to my homecoming, but I don't dislike Costa Rica because I experienced this weird theft. It could have happened anywhere.

Tomorrow I will pack up and Sunday morning I will leave. I'll do my last blog from Costa Rica tomorrow. All endings are bittersweet, and I'm surprised to feel some real sadness at leaving. This despite the enormous spider that's taken up residence in my fruit bowl and will not be done in. I asked some students (who came over today to swim) to kill it and the young men went running away screaming. I don't like to kill bugs, but this one is big, so I was hoping those tough guys could handle it. The young women didn't much like it though one was convinced she needed to save it. Her efforts convinced it to disappear only to return this evening, back to the bananas it loves. Big arana. All this is to say I've had enough of bugs. Last night (don't laugh) I became convinced my pillow was buzzing, that some creature was inside it making a terrible, faint buzz. Is this crazy? Perhaps. But it had been a night of junebugs and moths and mosquitoes buzzing and biting and falling, for no reason, onto me and my bed. What was buzzing? I have no idea.

Still, this is an amazing place. I have had amazing adventures. And tomorrow is my last day.