How I went for a run, got injured, got scared about the stories and check my bed every night.

As I’ve mentioned quite a few times, I’ve been waking up around 5 am every morning. I had my first run on Tuesday. Apart from the fact that I could make another post about “ interesting things you find on the streets at 5 am and how the beach is stunning in the morning” I didn't make it very far the first morning. I suppose I’m not used to running so early and my sleepiness kept me a bit careless about how im running. I had been running for about 15 minutes(around 3 km I imagine) when I slipped and fell on the road. It didn't hurt much and before I looked down on my knees, I thought about continuing my run and then washing the dirt off in the ocean. However my first look on the knees made me sick. I felt like throwing up and I knew that running the whole 10 km is not an option.  I needed to find a place to ask some water. Unfortunately it’s not realistic to find anyone on the streets at 6 am, which is ironic as their roosters are making enough noise to wake up the sleeping beauty herself. So there I was, not knowing what to do. Not wanting to knock on anyone’s door and trying to get the dirt off with some cleaner leaves. However, I was luckily already quite close to the beach and therefore many hostels and hotels had started to appear. I tried entering a few, but there was no soul to be found. After 10 minutes of walking I managed to find a couple who was enjoying a morning coffee on their balcony. They kindly offered me their bathroom and the girl even put some iodine on on my knees, elbows and hands.  I knew that the elbow must have been the worst as her face betrayed the disgust and it really hurt a lot. However, I knew I fell luckily and not breaking any bones was a miracle.. I then jogged back about 45 minutes, and later spent time waiting for the pharmacy to open.  I will probably have scars for a while, but I was already running the next morning. I’m not going to add photos for the sake of people who can’t stand blood(because I of course had to take a photo of how bloody I looked), but I will add some nice beach photos instead. All taken after I’ve been asked if my husband is violent at home or did I get into a fight with someone. However, the scars aren’t as visible on the photos and I know that those cuts will heal completely eventually, so I’m quite pleased with my skill to fall.

Another story I wanted to tell is also written in English, in order to not creep out my mom who hopefully won’t be using google translate to see what I’m writing and enjoys the beautiful beach photos. So I’ve been always thinking that Costa Rica is the safest country in Central America. Apart from robberies, nothing serious really happens. I have heard some stories about volunteers who have been sexually harassed and for that reason I always asked my hostfamily whether the places I was travelling to are safe and never went out in the dark. I also go running on the main streets and roads. I always thought that it’s all about being careful and the fascinating part of the culture of Latin American countries weights up the dangerous bit. I still think this way, as mainly it’s just important to be careful. Keep your money in different places, don't go out during the night, keep an eye on your drink etc.

However, today morning when I arrived in the school I met a girl with a extremely creepy story. She has apparently been in the same family in Tamarindo for five weeks and she was supposed to leave in the end of next week. She usually locks her door when she goes to sleep, which I never do even when I go out to the city, as I feel that I need to trust the family(which I really do. I did in San Jose and I also trust my family here). However, she was very anxious yesterday night and after opening the closet and making sure that everything is ok, she calmed down a bit and went to bed. At two AM she wakes up because there is something moving under her bed. There was a person crawling out under her bed. It sounds like a real life horror movie, doesn´t it?
 She freaked out. Luckily was able to unlock her door and ran screaming to the room with other students who were living in the same host family. Apparently she was very lucky that there were other foreigners at the same time, because she was living in the family completely alone for a while. The guy who was under her bed was her hostbrother and although he had been a bit strange all along, he had never before been potentially dangerous. He then just left the building. Just like that. All the student families (many families come to the institute with children to learn Spanish and have an active holiday) packed their bags, called the institute and left the house immediately. They found an hotel and hopefully no other student will be placed in that family. I can only imagine the fear that takes over a persons body when they discover a man under their bed. Especially someone who is part of the family…

For the last days in Costa Rica, I’m going to check my bed everytime…. Although I know I have the safest family, you can never know. The family works in the institute so nothing can actually happen. Also they are a very nice family, the mother makes the best food and shares me the receipes, offers to do my laundry everyday and even showed me around the town. I’m really happy with the family, but stories like this, even when they happen rarely, make me aware of the fact that anything can happen.