Taco Time

My friend Jill and I went to visit our other friend Kristin over the weekend. Kristin is a raft guide and works for an outfitter in Turrialba, a couple hours east of San José. She's a giant, 6'4" and strapping. Jill is a midget, not quite 5' and maybe 100 pounds on a fat day.

I was outrageously overworked and ready to play hard. The three of us went boating on this beautiful little river called the Pejibaye. Kristin kayaked and Jill and I paddled a Shredder down the river. It was a ghetto craft with two pontoons on either side, a fabric floor and two thwarts connecting the pontoons. The front thwart leaked like a mo fo; we pumped that shit up every few minutes but it deflated just as fast, so every time we hit anything, the limp thwart would fold and the boat would taco, sending the two of us flying. It was so fun.

We floated past a group of locals and left them gaping at what must have been a strange sight to a bunch of macho Ticos in rural Costa Rica: three women paddling alone down the river, one bigger than a man, one the size of a 10-year-old and one with decidedly slanty eyes.

Were we representing our sex in a good, strong way? Or were we cementing the already widespread notion that Gringas are f'n crazy? Food for thought.