The Deportation Blues

It was inevitable, bound to happen. I was merely on borrowed time until it struck. My first costa rican head cold has staunchly made its presence known in my throat and sinuses. Do I deserve this you ask? quite plainly yes. yes i do. there has been an interesting group of people at the hostel over the last couple of days and i have found myself stayin gup until the wee hours of daylight drinking, singing, and strumming my cracked and sweaty guitar which on another note, still needs a name. back on point though, a few musicians from utah, yes eutaww were backpacking through and we got a pretty good jam going with them all night long. We got talking about long lost loves and influences and before we knew it, I was playing an operation ivy song that i dont think i have played since i was standing around with nothing to do while roddy produced the great western. for those of you who dont understand the reference, that is just how long it has been.

This little hostel at this time has really become quite the home to me. Ive gotten to know the owners and the staff pretty well. the other day, bria, the 27 year old co owner of the hostel found out that he was going to be deported for overstaying his visa. This was also sent to him in a very concise and unapologetic email from his costa rican lawyer who has dont absolutely no good. before the deportation news, the hostel would get served monthly from ex employees and this same lawyer i have come to learn has never won a case for them. Oh yes, and the lawsuits are from well before they owned the place. there is some stipulation that because they are gringo owners, they pretty much get trampled on by the legal system. Anyways, Brian is now working with a new lawyer but the front door is closed and he is anticipating immigration to come for him at any time. this wait and worry has now stretched out for two days and he recieved a 72 hour notice.

Yesterday, with nothing better to do, he set out drinking rather early and carried it strong into the night. A few teaching friends of the hostel owners came over for a bit and of course we got down to playing some tunes again. brian, drunk, depressed, and harmonica in hand decided to deliver a somber freestyle which later became known as the deportation blues.

As for me, I have finally curtailed my eccentric lifestyle and have spent all of today relaxing, drinking soup, and reading in the park. This is also kind of a bum week for me since my interviews arent until next week, so i have actually been spending a large part of each day nestled up with a book. Ive also been on a soup kick which started before i left the states. The soups here however have been very rich. todays was a tortilla soup with a tomato base. ill spare you guys the soup ramble and hope that in a day or two i will be nursed back to full health and have a wealth of worthwhile stories.