Journal, February 22, 1977 PM

Fred Tracy is in Costa Rica. <Sofia and I went to Pilar & Jaime’s to look and there he was.> We did a lot of talking over his & Jaime’s supper, and over 3 pitchers of beer at the Jardín Cervecero {bar} later on. <Sofia liked Fred from the first, which was satisfying to me.> I’m pleased when she sees the same good traits in people I do and appreciates their worth.

Poor Fred, he’s working hard and yet is a bit unhappy. He claims he can’t get into the same kind of relationship with new PCVs {Peace Corps volunteers} that he had with people in our group. He talks in that special semi-awed tone he has about what a special group we were. I too feel a special thing for the group. We were all pretty sincere, open, flexible and curious people, but I fear Fred is letting his nostalgia impede his adaptation to new situations, new people, new realities. I made the statement that it would never be the same even if the group did get back together again. Fred insisted, “For some of us it’ll be the same.”

Fred is so good as a worker & friend that I wonder how he can treat Marlene like he does. He spends little time with her, makes few sacrifices for her, and she’s another Pilar (i.e. a near saint). I guess he’s not ready to appreciate a good woman companion yet. Who am I to judge?

Fred brought me a bottle of Jack Daniels, and news that Dave Quarles has come back with a “pansón {belly},” and toting some of the filthiest pulp books Fred ever saw. I wouldn’t have expected Dave to get fat. I’m a bit disappointed, though for sure he’ll work it off in the heat.

I rode the bike here to CIGRAS today. It took 45 minutes, despite my horrendous physical condition. I walked the bike up two steep grades.

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