I met my guardian angels, They live in costa rica.

I haven´t been gone 24 hours and I already have enough material for about 5 short stories.

Due to my two hours of sleep in the last 24 and the Imperial cervesa I just finished, you´re lucking out with little snippets.

I arrived in Miami this morning at 5am EST, so 2am for yáll. Miami International is the worst airport I´ve ever seen. Yes, ever. No sleep, gate is changed three times, plane that is supposed to leave at 10am is "lost."

The next 7 loopy, goofy, delirious hours in the airport allowed me to make many friends. By the time I arrived in Costa Rica, I had made contacts with 6 new people, including an old bball player for the Indians who now works for the Mariners who promised to take me out with the boys the next time I´m in Seattle (this is no joke, he had a pic of Sexton´s ass on his digital camera), a woman who owns a Romanian restaurant outside of San Jose, CR, a new girlfriend = Mari, who wants to take me out in San Jose and then eventually Argentina, and some college kids who somehow got their weight in vodka on the airplane for free. Arriving hours and hours late, sitting on the runway for 30 minutes and customs for 45, I walk out to see a sea of drivers with printed signs pressed to the glass, and one man with "Catalina Robinett" scribbled with a sharpie on a yellow sheet of paper.

I walk around the corner and see a woman of about 5 feet, holding another sign with my name, gerber daisies, and wearing a button up pink shirt in the pouring rain. I must have been beaming, because my host Ydaria and her friend Memo both ran up to be yelling "Cati!" and my new Costa Rican mother gave me tres besos.

Right after I arrived, they closed the airport. Pouring.
Somehow, I´ve already been fed three times. Mami (Ydaria) is worried about me eating lunch while I´m at school, so she may pack me something even though I´m getting breakfast and dinner from her. She wants to drive me to and from school all week because she wants me to be comfortable before I use the metrobus. I have my own room in this precious home with an old wood slanted ceiling which echos the sound of each raindrop like it´s making a point for me to pay attention and remember. Most everything has been in Spanish although Memo speaks a little english. and ive already learned so much...

literally cant keep my eyes open. sorry doesnt make sense. just wanted to say that i´m already spoiled as hell, am pretty sure i´m going to get fat, i´m constantly being complimented and even the waiter at the restaurant ran into the rain to bring me an umbrella, so maybe i´m never coming home.

fat and happy, here i come.

school minana. i promise to be more poetic then.

(disclaimer. this computer doesnt really work so I cant use punctuation properly. also' i dont speak spanish and know im going to be spelling and using words incorrectly. get over it)