Judging people by their covers…

There are things you notice about someone’s house when you go over for the first time. Maybe you always scope the kitchen. Maybe you are interested in the sound system. Maybe it’s what DVDs they have, what CDs, what’s hanging on their walls.

Me? I scope the bookshelves. When I get tours, I compulsively read the spines of books when walking by shelves. I don’t even realize I do it. I’m not the only one.

What books people own say a lot about them. What their interests are. Their guilty pleasures.

I judge people by their books, and not always fairly. I will mildly scorn a grown woman reading Gossip Girl in public. And I LOVE Gossip Girl. If you’re reading the latest best-selling mass-market paperback on the metro, I will peg you for a tourist. If you’re reading Ulysses, you’re a student. Or pretentious. Or both.

Of course, I assume that other people judge me by the books I’m reading, so it creates a bit of pressure.

I go through a minor freakout when I take the metro into town, because what will I read?! DC has an unwritten code that during the rush hour, one must read the paper, The Economist or something similar. Not a lot of books to be seen, except in the hands of tourists. Outside of rush hour though? Do I really want to be caught reading Clarice Bean Spells Trouble? Even though I have to read it for work? Or should I save that guilty pleasure for the confines of my house? The latest biography of Mao would be a good choice, but is way to big to fit into my cute purse. I need something smart, hip, cool, and small. Banana Yoshimoto usually fits the bill.At the coffee shop, I can bring whatever. Sometimes I will bring Forever in Blue: The Fourth Summer of the Sisterhood and you can think of me what you will. But I’m much more likely to grab whatever the latest literary fiction bestseller I’m reading. The Kite Runner or Special Topics in Calamity Physics. (Actually, I highly recommend you leave that last one at home. I really didn’t like it.)

This might just be my own paranoia, but there has to be a reason that cross-generational favorites, like Harry Potter and The Confessions of Georgia Nicolson get released with multiple covers– the regular “kid” cover and a boring, sedate, I-swear-this-isn’t-a-kid’s-book “adult” cover.

One the other hand, I kinda like the pressure. It makes me read adult books.

Under the Volcano

I have been off the ‘Net while I vacationed with the family in Costa Rica. CR is a great place to vacation, even for us aging Boomers. The activities there (e.g., white water rafting, horseback riding, the ZIP line through the cloud forest) are still attainable for those of us who were born before 1960. And the local distilled spirit, Guaro, is to die for when mixed with a simple sugar sirup and lime juice. 

My most spectacular experience in CR was watching the eruption of the Arenal volcano, CR’s youngest and most active volcano. It was considered extinct until 1968, when it erupted rather violently (killing almost 100 people unfortunately located on its slopes), and it has been in continuous eruption ever since. Arenal is a stratovolcano (meaning it forms a distinct cone, among other things), and is more similar to Mt. Doom in Mordor (but less gloomy, as there are trees on the slopes of Arenal and no sign of orcs) than it is to the Kilauea volcano in Hawaii.

An expatriate acquaintance of my sister’s, who now lives in CR, found a wonderful lodging for us on the edge of the volcano. It took almost all day to travel there from San Jose, but it was well worth it. When we reached the end of the one-lane gravel road, we found a warm welcome and an unsurpassed view.

Following dinner on the hotel’s deck (which allowed continual eruption-watching), we retired with freshened Guaro sours to the decks of our rooms, facing the volcano’s flank. It was not quite dark and the local Howler Monkeys were in great voice. An entire family of the Howlers was nesting in a tree just down the slope from our rooms, and we could hear and see all their late evening activity. (Their howls sound like a mixture of dog barks and masculine screams. Think about that…)

Arenal is high enough (5,435 feet) that it is often shrouded in clouds during the rainy season, which is now. But we were lucky in that the clouds dissipated after a rather spectacular thunder storm and we were able to see the streams of lava flowing down the mountainside. Occasionally, we could hear the explosions coming from Arenal – a scary sound when one considers that the next explosion could signal the ultimate eruption. Fortunately for us, Arenal remained relatively calm.