We looked at each other and smiled, this was it. No more packing and no more moving until we went back to Chicago. The Beach House was our home for the remainder of our Costa Rica adventure, and a chorus of birds was intent on welcoming us, accompanied by the percussive waves in their spectacular and victorious symphony.
We took a deep breath and prepared to separate our stuff into its designated quarters, beginning by putting all of the food in the kitchen. As soon as the brass key clicked inside the heavy wooden door, we were hit with the pungent odor of fried fish. The scent was enough to make me gag, and Jon held his breath as he gingerly pushed the door open with the tip of his finger. The kitchen was a dirty, disgusting disaster. Foodstuff was scattered across the white-tiled countertops and the brown-tiled floors, microscopic flies hovering over the particularly sticky messes and open bags of spices. The shelves were piled high with various objects, everything from forgotten souvenirs to random cooking accessories, disorganized, and indiscernible under an opaque film of dust. A small greasy stove was connected to a large metal propane tank and situated between the disheveled shelves and a homemade clothing rack stuffed full of musty blankets. A closer look revealed that every surface in the room was alive with the scurrying of productive ants, and the overwhelming contrast from the sparkling Farmhouse activated the cleaning gene in both of us. We started hauling everything we could out of the kitchen and pointed out interesting discoveries to each other along the way. We found gecko traps filled with tiny skeletons, a jumbo rainbow-colored crab who had been residing inside a stock pot, a half a bottle of tequila, a dusty internet router, bat poison, a cheese grater, so on and so forth. Everything we didn’t want was evicted and placed in the bodega.
It was refreshing to be rid of the clutter, but we were both painfully aware of how many ants were still living where we hoped to (sooner than later) prepare our lunch. Jon dumped buckets of soapy water over every surface and set to scrubbing while I performed similar sanitary measures in the bathroom. We reconvened what seemed like hours later, sweaty, with dirt-streaked faces, and scarfed down some rice and beans. 
-
onceinanotherworld liked this
-
ukrasiansatthedisco reblogged this from junglewalkers and added:
i know how much it sucks...have ants everywhere...they go...
-
clandestineraccoon reblogged this from junglewalkers
-
peroxideprince liked this
-
missentitlement liked this
-
stupidmonopolymoney liked this
-
sinycath liked this
-
buttcakekitten liked this
-
allthelineswecast liked this
-
junglewalkers posted this
