Rude Awakening

I’ve been so positive lately with my blogs, I decided to give myself some space and time to rant about something that bothers me and I am having trouble getting over. I’m only human.

Today I woke up at the glorious hour of 5:30 for no reason other than our neighbors decided to start renovating their house at that ungodly hour. As I lay there, eyes open, cursing my life, I pondered why people here have no issues with obnoxious noises at obnoxious hours. Seriously, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I will be woken every morning to the noises of my host-family. I really have no choice about that. We live in small quarters and they get up ridiculously early…I’ll get back to that in a bit. However, what is the deal with my neighbors? When I’m not being woken up before 6 by construction on one side, there are those crazies on the other side blasting their Christian music for the entire world to hear which is even more annoying because that’s not even necessary. Today I thought, “Man, if I was crazy I would get our of bed, pick up the hatchet, make dinner out of our rooster, go nuts on the ‘construction’ on the right, then pick up their chain saw, walk over to the neighbors on the left and go nuts on their sound system.” Hm, is it crazy just to have such thoughts? Perhaps.

People here just have no consideration for others when it comes to noise. Sometimes I want to yell, “The world doesn’t revolve around you!! Keep it down!” Well, I can’t do anything about it. There are no civil laws against it and even if there were, authorities (ha, that’s a joke in itself) wouldn’t enforce them. I tried to explain to my host-family why we value quiet in the early mornings and the late nights, but they looked at me like I was speaking of some mythical world in a sci-fi Disney film directed by Tim Burton. They thought it was funny that I am so bothered by others making such noise. Probably because they also wake up at the crack of dawn and talk at the top of their lungs. And why is that? For people who are so “pura vida” they all love to wake up really early. Maybe it’s all that caffeine consumption. Maybe it’s the roosters. Maybe it’s the culture. I don’t know, but it’s just plain nutty to me. Which only makes going back home for Christmas even more exciting. In fact there are a whole plethora of reasons why I’m looking forward to going home including, but not exclusive to:

Family and Friends
Food, glorious food!
Civil laws and their enforcement
TV
movies
Ceilings (oh for so many reasons)
A mattress
Hot water showers
Reliable cell phone service
Reliable internet
Washing machines AND dryers
Dishwashers
Carpet
Real supermarkets
Silence
English
My car
Pets that I won’t end up eating
Blankets/covers
Coffee shops (ironic, I know)
Books and people who read them
A haircut
Manners

Well, that’s all I can think of for the moment. I guess it’s a good thing I’m going on vacation. Thank you for paying attention to my little spat. Perhaps next time I won’t be so cranky.

Happy Thanksgiving!

This has been a difficult, wild, crazy, unusual, surprising, and amazing year. This year has wrought more difficulties and strife than most, and yet this Thanksgiving I seem to be more grateful than I have ever been.

To be completely honest, I didn’t make it through this Thanksgiving completely content. Like many other volunteers, I have been afflicted with a certain seasonal virus, Homesickness. Symptoms include irritability, slight depression, and frustration. One of the hardest things about being a volunteer is getting through the holidays in a foreign country where people don’t celebrate or understand the importance of your special days. On the one hand, it forces you to make the extra effort to make the day special for your own sake. On the other hand, everyone else’s indifference taints the day with a tone of being ordinary.

For me, what makes Thanksgiving so special is that it is the one day of the year when everyone pauses to reflect about what they are thankful and a spirit of generosity fills the air for a few weeks. It is what makes it my favorite day of the year. Why of all the holidays, birthdays and celebrations do I love it so much? There is just something amazing and comforting about seeing that kind of attitude fill an entire day on all levels from individuals, families, communities, and even the country as a whole. It is a rare time when everyone takes part in the same cause. Even though personal, national, and world issues continue happening at the time, it’s a day when those aren’t important. You could argue that the same thing happens at Christmas. Well, sometimes Christmas feels that it’s more about religious beliefs or receiving presents. Thanksgiving happens just for the sake of being grateful. It’s a day when religion, race, political affiliation, and social class don’t matter. There is a sense of unity and peace. Without that, Thanksgiving was just not the same this year. That special something was missing. It has made me realize that I am grateful that we even have Thanksgiving when most countries do not.

In honor of my favorite holiday, and because I couldn’t be home to celebrate it with my family back home, I decided to bring Thanksgiving here. For one thing, I couldn’t bear the idea that Thanksgiving would pass me by without any sort of celebration, and for another, I really wanted to share something important to me with my host-family. I feel that was important so they could understand not only our culture a bit better, but also to understand me a little more. This year, Thanksgiving happened to be on my host-dad’s birthday so I think they were super excited to have such a big celebration, especially since I was making them dinner. I think part of the excitement was due to the fact that I would be cooking and that also I would be making traditional American food. Outside of hamburgers and sandwiches, most Costa Ricans have never tried American cuisine. It really generated a lot of curiosity.

In theory, cooking a Thanksgiving dinner for my family seems pretty simple. In practice, it’s a lot more complicated. Firstly, we don’t have an oven. Well, considering that an oven is necessary for most Thanksgiving dishes, it becomes a challenge. Once I figured out what I can make without an oven, there was the challenge of finding the ingredients. You’d be surprised how many things we use that they don’t even supply in my site. After scrounging around every single grocery store my site had, I found most things I needed, other specialty items were imported to me (thanks Megan!), and the rest I had to improvise. Improvise? What does that mean? Well, since I needed cream of mushroom soup for my green bean casserole and the stores didn’t carry any (if you don’t count the cans of soup that expired last year), I settled on making it from scratch. Well those were the major hurtles. So as I was prepping, I remembered that we don’t have a stove either. We cook by logs outside. Uh, what does that mean for controlling heat? Well, it meant take a guess and play around with cooking times. Well at the end of the night, it turns out that I’m pretty good at cooking by fire. I successfully made green bean casserole, garlic mashed potatoes, some stuffing (from a box), and a pudding. We settled for fried chicken instead of turkey because let’s face it - I’m broke.

All that was left was for everyone to try it. Those were some hold-your-breath moments. I felt like a contestant on Top Chef. I had to stand there like a fool watching people slowly take bites out of each thing, think a bit, and then let me know what they thought. It was especially stressful when Manuela, our school cook, while tasting everything asked what I put in it and how things were cooked. “Well, it’s different...” Wow, those three dots never seemed to consume so much time. “…I like it!” Well who won Top Chef Orotina Thanksgiving Edition? I did! Yay, the sweet taste of victory!

Even through all the glory and the fun of bringing something traditionally American to my community, I still wish that I could have spent the day with my family back home. For one thing, what’s Thanksgiving without your family? Also, I just miss them. Like I said earlier, it’s been a tough year. I wish that I could have been there to be grateful and celebrate for having survived it and making it through the other side. We might have come out a little battered and bruised, but we did it. We’re still around and maybe we’re in a better place than when the year started out. And through it all, still have each other. I just wish that I could have looked into their faces and smile because we know that we do have so much to be thankful. Nothing makes you feel as isolated as that ache deep down reminding you that you’re missing out. Even with skype, the poor connection and the brief check in, while is exciting and better than nothing, is also a sad reminder about how far away we are.

All that sadness, the homesickness, the urge to be home remind me that I am grateful for all that I have waiting for me when I go home. I have people and things to miss, traditions and get-togethers that I love, and while I may be taking a break from all of those things right now, they’ll still be there when I get back. In the meantime, I’m grateful for experiencing a rare opportunity to immerse myself in a different culture, to work with a different kind of people, to self-improve. This year, I have more than my fair share of things to be thankful. What are you thankful for?

Our Thanksgiving/Birthday spread.

Me with my host-family...Beatriz, Doña Ada Luz, Don Antonio, and Anita.

My family and our neighbors singing "Happy Birthday," to my host-dad.

Peaceful Easy Feeling

The world is a funny place sometimes, especially when you work in the Peace Corps. Life goes by moment-to-moment, each capable of being radically different from the next. It spins you around like a top and once you think you’ve got your bearings, you’re not a top, but a yo-yo going up and down, then later a boomerang and after that a paddleball. The role as a PCV seems to be ever changing and while the issues at large remain a constant, circumstances change and with those so do our plans. Yet with amongst all the uncertainty, I have come to realize that even through the turbulence, I have also found my peace. There are times when I am stressed, frustrated and cannot understand why simple ideas refuse to work, and yet I think about where I am in life and what I am doing and feel completely content and satisfied. I’m not sure if this due to living the “simple life” or because I have reached a point where I’ve learned that I can only change that which I can control. Maybe it’s that I know everything that happens here is temporary, everything has an expiration date, but for the moment I have found my peace of mind. The work I do may not be grand, but it is good and that is all I can do. In short, I feel good.

The past few days have had some ups and downs. What else is new, I ask. Well in relation to my exercise class, it turns out the participants aren’t the only ones learning new things. I came to the school one morning and was informed that some of the ladies in my class want to make it exclusively a women’s class. I was told that many of them have husbands who are extremely jealous and if men joined in the class, they would stop participating. This caught me completely off guard and I didn’t have time to filter my reaction. “How’s that my problem?! That sounds like the husbands’ problem!” Oops. Not so graceful. After some funny looks, I catch myself and follow up with, “Well, if the majority of the women feel this way, we can change it. I’m here to serve the community and if it’s important to the community, I can do that. Plus, only one man has ever showed up to our class.” So, I sit there and think for a minute and realize that there may be other reasons to the madness. “Hey, is that really the reason or is it that the women feel uncomfortable in front of the men?” Winner! Response, “Well, yes many don’t feel so self-confident, especially with exercises that they’ve never done before. They would feel better if it was just women. But, there are still jealous husbands.”

OK. Well, I’m not sure what the true reasons are. It’s easier to understand the latter only because self-consciousness seems to be a worldwide issue with women, including in the States. I mean, why else do we have a gym targeted solely to women, aka: Curves? However, I have a hard time grasping the amount of control men have over women here. It may be a cultural difference, but at the same time I don’t think that it’s necessarily correct. Why is it OK that the men all cheat on their women, but when women want to come to better themselves and their health with a bit of exercise, it is a gateway to infidelity and other nonsense? It’s even more astounding that women put up with it. Events like this really make me appreciate how far women have come in the States. Anyway, I decided to work within my cultural boundaries and agree to make it a women’s only class and was pleasantly surprised when 27 women came to my next class. Wow. It was basically double the number of my last class. It just goes to show that you have to listen to the community in order to have a successful project. It is important to take into account what they feel is needed or wanted. If I had decided to get stubborn and stick to my principles, I may not have reached as many people as I did. The fact is that health and nutrition is a major problem here, especially for the women, so the more people I can reach the better. You can’t change a culture, but you can work within it. Lesson learned.

I followed up my week with a weekend in San Jose to meet my friend, Rosie’s, mom who is out here visiting from New York. It was pretty fun. Firstly, it’s always fun to meet people’s families and see where they come from. It’s like finding another piece of the puzzle of what makes a person who he/she is. Secondly, Rosie’s mom hooked us up. Not only did she buy us a round of drinks, she put us up in her little suite, which was nice! Living large in the city is always a great break from the PCV life. The cool thing about hanging out with Rosie’s mom was seeing how proud she was of her. It wasn’t an obnoxious showing or anything like that, but you could tell it was there. Plus, it’s always nice to hear encouraging things from home, especially when things don’t seem so encouraging in site.

So, after our drinks, the PCVs went out for a night of drunken debauchery. Just kidding. There was no debauchery. We found ourselves at another bar, sharing a few drinks and telling stories. This led to a couple orders of French fries that got demolished really fast. We followed this act by following Tom into some kind bar/club place where “hot mess” doesn’t even begin to describe the scene. It was like the Jersey Shore except that people even more ridiculous if that’s even possible. As soon as we sat down at our table, I see a girl with the biggest boobs I have ever seen. They were weird too. They were basically up to her chin. It was like reverse sagging. It was like discovering a new species of people and I could not stop looking. They also had go-go dancers, one male and one female. Whoa there, Seabiscuit! Now that was a hot mess of a show. The male especially was good people watching. His outfit on it’s own is something to comment on. He was wearing a tan suede vest, the tightest white pants I’ve ever seen, knee-high sneakers, and a bandanna underneath some type of hat. Now top that off with the least sexy moves that were sometimes a series of movements choreographed with the girl and you might have some idea of what was going on. The good thing was that it was a very mellow crowd.

We hung out there for the rest of the night, sometimes just sitting and talking, sometimes dancing. We all took turns out on the dance floor. It was during this time, that I sat there thinking how amazing that moment was. It felt like a “St. Elmo’s Fire” kind of moment. Between myself, Tom, Rosie, Melissa, Maitreya and Allen, we are all so different; we come from different places and are doing different things. Yet we are also the same. Nothing feels better than to hang out, forget our problems, stop worrying about the future, and enjoy each other’s company. We can be our goofy foolish selves and nobody minds, in fact it’s probably those crazy quirks that draws us together most. Knowing that we are there supporting each other and encouraging personal growth maybe one of the few things that gets me through my tough days. So I sat there soaking up the moment because I know that these are some of the best days of our lives, and it won’t last forever. We will eventually go home to our normal lives and move on to other great moments, but for now this is what we have and all I can do is appreciate it while it is here.

The next morning, everyone slowly trickled away to go back to site. Maitreya and I stuck around long enough to eat breakfast with Rosie and her mom at Denny’s. I must say, if this is any indication of how things will look like when we go home for Christmas, we will have to brace ourselves. Who knew Denny’s could be the most overwhelmingly delicious restaurant? I had the breakfast burrito and it was superb. I don’t know if it’s because the Denny’s here uses better quality ingredients, or if it’s just that we are no longer accustomed to such meals, but it was amazing. We couldn’t stop eating and noting how amazing it was. I’m pretty sure this was a bit amusing to Rosie’s mom. Who wouldn’t be entertained? Seriously, it’s not very often that you see a kid from New York and two kids from California (2 states with some great culinary options) going to town at a Denny’s like it’s the best food they’ve ever tasted in life.

Alas, it was time to go back to site. I would end right here, but I feel I must remind everyone how much I hate buses. I now have a higher tolerance for riding them and the people on board, but it doesn’t mean that I enjoy them any more than I ever did. So, on the bus ride back, I was sitting in the aisle seat, minding my own business, aka: sleeping, when all of a sudden I feel something pushing up against my knees. I realize that it’s a girl standing next to me trying to squeeze her legs in between my knees and the seat in front of me. Uh, what? Come on! I’m not sure what this was doing for her, but it sure was making me uncomfortable. Wow, how I miss personal space. So, for the next half our or so, I put up with this girl trying to jam her knees into my leg, for reasons unknown to me. I then get on the next bus to make it to my site. This bus is also crowded. Again, I am sitting in the aisle. Again a girl is standing next to me. Again, I am minding my own business. All of a sudden her mother is yelling at her about her ice cream while rubbing my hair. Oh, no she didn’t! She did. She was dripping ice cream into my hair and her mother literally and politely rubbed it in. Haha. I eventually made it back to site a little bruised and battered, but whole and exhausted. Now, I am gearing up for another week. Who knows what will happen next. Come back and find out.

Happy Birthday Melinda!

It is hard to beat a weekend spent doing nothing but enjoying yourself with friends in a beautiful location, which is exactly how I spent the past weekend. On Friday, I made my way across the country to my friends’, Melinda and Stephen, site in the Puerto Viejo area of Limón to celebrate Melinda’s birthday and also their new place after moving out on their own. Other volunteers also made the journey and at one point there were nine of us staying in one place. Sure it was a bit crowded, but the crowd was made of pretty cool people so it didn’t feel like it.

For the most part, we all just hung out at their new house relaxing and getting to know each other a bit better. However, we also managed to get out to Puerto Viejo and make our way to a couple of bars. That ended up being pretty fun for everyone. The second bar that we went to had tables and chairs out on the beach. So, those of us who didn’t want to dance basically got to chill out on the beach and chill. Sometimes it’s just fun to hear about other people’s lives, experiences or even have intellectually stimulating conversation. Ah Peace Corps, a self-selecting group of goofy, nerdy, fun people who want to change the world.

At some point during the night these fire dancers came out and did a little performance on the beach. It kind of reminded me of fire dancers in the Pacific Islands. They were pretty talented and had some wild tricks. Unfortunately, I couldn’t make it through the whole performance because I had to go to the bathroom. If I had known that we were going to go home after, I probably would have waited because the bathroom was disgusting. It’s up there in my top 5 worst bathroom experiences of all time. They were basically stalls behind a screen in the back of the bar, which isn’t the worst in theory, but it was just filthy and nasty. Also, getting through the crowd of hot sweaty bodies was not that fun.

At different points throughout the weekend, we managed to eat a lot. We got to have traditional food of Limón, eat gelato (yes, they actually have Italian gelato), eat delicious pizza, and even make a healthy vegetable stir-fry. Life was pretty good. On the more active side of the trip, we worked out one morning in Melinda and Stephen’s amazing yard/garden/jungle and we took a hike by the beach in Cahuita. The hike was incredible and we were lucky and saw all sorts of animals. Actually, not to do another “Lost” reference, but it did kind of feel like we were cast in a much less glamorous version. The path was small, there were lots of animals, we were sweating profusely and being eaten alive by mosquitoes. All in all, I would say that it was a pretty successful venture. When you mix good people, good food, the beach and some exotic animals and smash them all together in a couple of days, it’s anything but terrible.

On the downside, I had to go back to my current version of the “real world” and was met with terrible news. It turns out that the Ministry of Education is making our English teacher leave due to another English teacher wanting to teach here. This is allowed because the other teacher has property closer to the school. I think that this is ridiculous rule. Anyway, everyone is pretty sad about it. The kids are devastated and I’m not only bummed about losing a good friend at the school but also a bit worried about her replacement. Ugh, life in the Peace Corps, life in Costa Rica. Nothing is predictable. So while I take the time to absorb that information I will just keep on doing what I do and truck on slowly. Hopefully I can find more projects to occupy my time, but until then, I’ve got my exercise class.

Start of trail.


I forget what they call this animal, but it was hanging out on the trail.

One of the many monkeys we saw on the trail.

Donna and Melissa bending over to touch the water coming out of a spring that was an exploratory well for petrol once upon a time.

With Melinda, Donna and Melissa.

The last week of October was pretty uneventful. I can’t even remember what I did for most of it. I guess the highlights were getting my exercise class going por fin! (finally) and visiting my host-dad’s crops. Lowlights were my English music class getting canned (as my nephew once said, “bummer shit.”), and a fairly uneventful Halloween. As for November thus far, I had to go into San Jose for a medical checkup and that was a long slow day.

So, like I said, I got my exercise class started. It went a lot better than I thought it would, but like all starts, there were a few kinks in the works. My class starts at 5 pm. I got there with my host-mom and host-sister about 5 minutes to 5 and was slightly disheartened when there was nobody there. “Well fine,” I said, “it will still be fine with just the three of us, but let’s wait to see if more people come.” Well, people came about 20 minutes later. Seriously though, 20 minutes late? What’s with that? Sometimes I just want to shake Ticos and say, “You see that watch on your wrist?! USE IT!” Well at least they came. It’s more annoying when you have something planned and people just don’t come. Both scenarios are common for PCV’s.

I put on my music and get everyone warmed up. Then, we realize it’s starting to get dark. Well, of course it is. The sun goes down at around 6 daily. Usually, when it’s dark, people turn on lights. The problem with our salon is that they don’t have lights. “Está bien!” I say. We can keep going without lights. Who needs lights? Well, considering people are following my lead, maybe we do. We made the best of it. Though, I think that they weren’t doing the exercises correctly because nobody seemed to be aching the next day, besides myself.

Then, for some reason, my music died. Great. Well, there goes the rhythm! Keep pushing on! I’m not sure why it died. The speakers and the ipod had full battery. Even my own equipment is working against me! We keep going. Well, around 30 minutes in, people are starting to ask about when it will end because they have to cook dinner for their families. So, I cut my losses, stop class early and go home. On the upside, people really seemed to enjoy it. Also, I hear that through word of mouth, a lot of interest has been generated for my next class. We shall see!

Thank God I have my exercise class going, because that week the English teacher came up to me and told me that our music project could no longer continue. Apparently, the kids have two more units to left in their book that they need to finish by the end of the year. I guess the kids move super slow, so we don’t have the time for my project. Oh well, it was good while it lasted.

Friday I went to my host-dad’s field to see the work he’s been doing. I’ve always known that he had some kind of field in which he harvests corn, squash, sugar cane, beans, and rice but I did not realize the extent of how hard the man works. The field was big. It was big and it was full of crops. That itself is always cool to see, but when you think that this man plants, cares for, and harvests everything on his own, it’s just plain inspiring. My host-dad is kind of a badass. There aren’t many who work as hard as he does.

There was also something completely soothing about being in a field. I know my dad grew up as a farm boy and spent a whole lot of time in the rice fields and I find it interesting that I am now living in a tropical country, with a poor family whose income is dependent on the harvest of their crops. It feels right. The perspective is amazing. It is really cool to get a taste of what it was like for my dad and his family while knowing that they ended up in California where I come from. While there are aspects of the simple life that I enjoy and have come to appreciate, I have a deeper appreciation for where I come from and the work my dad did to get us to where we are.

Halloween came and went without much activity. It makes me sad that it’s not a big holiday here. People know about it, but it’s not a Tico celebration. So the day just passed without a fuss. However, I refused to let it go by without a little bit of celebration. I went into town to the candy store and bought 5 American candy bars to give to my host-family. They were pretty excited about it. They had never tried any of them. That made up for missing Halloween. It’s always fun introducing a little bit of America to the people.

On Tuesday, I had to go into San Jose for a checkup about my allergic reaction. I really don’t see why I had to go back. It was over a month ago and I had been off my meds for a week without a problem. Also, I had an exercise class scheduled that people wanted to do. I tried to get out of it earlier, but got yelled at by our med office secretary. And when I say yelled at, I mean I got a verbal whooping over the phone. So, I begrudgingly cancelled my class and went to San Jose.

The ride to San Jose was horrible. I took the direct bus which normally only lasts an hour, but there was a monster parade of protesters in big-wheelers, which doubled our time. Like other rules of the road (I’m big on rules of the road), road etiquette doesn’t seem to exist here. Slower traffic does not stay to the right. In fact they stay wherever they want. I guess it didn’t matter anyway. I got into San Jose super early, had lunch and still had time to kill.

When I finally saw my doctor he concurred that I was doing a lot better and yet he put me on more mind-numbing medication. He put me on a regimen that slowly weans me off the meds. Fifteen more days of medication for me! I’m not really sure why when I’m obviously not having withdrawals from the drugs nor am I breaking out in hives. Oh whatever.

So, the ride back home was not any more fun than the ride to San Jose. There was an accident on the road that backed up traffic for a long while. This made me paranoid that I would miss the last bus back to my site from Orotina. As we passed the accident, everyone wanted to see. I know we have rubber neckers in the States also, but people here really go for it. I mean some people could have broken their necks trying to catch a little peek. As we passed, people got out of their seats to see what happened. From what I saw, which wasn’t much due to all the people blocking the view, but it looked pretty bad. One of the cars looked like a coke can that had been smashed on all sides and there were still people inside.

After that, the guy next to me started to talk to me about is personal life and his problems, which was interesting but really weird since I had been asleep the entire time up until the accident and hadn’t glanced at him, let alone talk to him. I don’t know what it is about me and buses, but I always end up sitting next to someone strange. So this guy is talking to me about his kids and the girl he wants to marry and I’m trying to pay attention and not barf on him due to carsickness. He seemed really nice and everything, but I just wanted to sleep and get home. He then hands me juice and some fried platanos that he had bought from a vendor on the bus. Hmmm, maybe you should’ve asked me if I wanted anything before buying. I felt bad and took them, which actually helped with my carsickness. As we get into Orotina, he asks for my number. WHAT. You just told me about this woman you are with whom you want to marry and you want my number. Blegh. I say goodbye, barely make my next bus, and go home.

That’s all I’ve got for now. This week I’m going to Limón for a friend’s birthday. Should be fun. Catch you later.

This plot of land is where my host-dad plants beans.

Part of my host-dad's fields.

My host-sister, Anita, in the middle of a corn row.

This is corn that grew fungus and thus is inedible.

This is my host-dad holding up rice that is ready to be harvested.

Jump!

Last week, there was a massive volunteer migration to San Jose for our All Volunteer Conference (AVC). Unlike other trainings that I have thus experienced, this one not only included all volunteers within the country (about 140 of us), but it was also run by and organized by volunteers. To be honest, before it started, I wasn’t really stoked on having to do another training so soon after our last training, but it ended up being a lot of fun and it was a great experience.

During our stay, we were roomed with other volunteers from other groups in order to facilitate getting to know others outside of our little circle of friends. I got pretty lucky with the roommate situation as both girls were super cool. We were also pretty respectful of each other and our shared space. I heard stories of others who had uncomfortable moments with their roommates. Let’s just say that apparently some people are sin vergüenza or shameless. Either way, there was a good amount of inter-group mingling and it was really nice to get to others a little bit better while at the same time catching up a bit with those whom I haven’t seen in a while.

The conference itself was pretty good. Although, I’d have to say that I felt more socialized than trained. Though the few actual training sessions we had were interesting, there were far more social activities. Our days were filled with trivia, talent shows (we do have quite a bit of talent), skits put on by staff, exercise, and lots of time to eat. Everything that would make a huge gathering fun was included. A proud moment for me was during trivia and I was the only one on our team who knew who Rick Asley was and got us that point. It was a bit surprising that nobody knew what being “Rick-rolled” was. Also, it was kind of funny that we got Rick-rolled during trivia.

The last night of our AVC, most of us went out to a bar in the center of San Jose that we had supposedly rented out for at least part of the night. I’m not sure how true that was considering there were a whole lot of Ticos there, even in the beginning of the night. The theme of our AVC was “Legacy,” and so that night we were told to come in costume from a past decade. I did not, however many did. Including Ticos it seems. I’m not sure if it was a costume night for them as well, but the Ticos that were there definitely fit into the whole theme. You could think of it as either really hilarious or incredibly creepy. I mean, there were guys who were rocking the Freddy Mercury look a little too well. It was like, “Whoa, that guy has a really great costume. What? He’s not a volunteer? Oh. That’s…interesting.”

The creepy Ticos did not stop us from having a great night. There were good drinks, good music and good company. I’m not sure when the group karaoke began, but at some point in the night, people got to choose songs to sing up front. I’m generally not the biggest fan of karaoke, but when the entire bar is rocking out to Sublime or Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’,” the amount of fun that can be had is almost kind of magical. Also, it kind of goes to show that all volunteers are cooped up too long in site, and that we are all slightly weird people who are up for a good time. I’m not saying that it wasn’t a drama free night as that would be impossible when that many people gather and alcohol is involved, but it was pretty smooth and everyone kept it together pretty well. Yay, we just might be almost grown up.

A bunch of us ended our conference by deciding to jump off a bridge. Yes, we went bungee jumping. It was long, cold, rainy and one of the most fun days I’ve had in Costa Rica. Because of confusion due to conversion of weight (kilos vs lbs), I ended up being the last person to try jumping, but it ended up being OK because it turns out I am freakishly not afraid of heights. I did not find it stressful to wait the whole day for my turn. I always knew that I was comfortable with heights and felt comfortable on roller coasters and such, but I thought that I would at least start feeling nervous standing on the ledge. At the very least, I figured I would feel a twinge of fear the moment I jumped. Nope and nope. Total calm. Like I said, I’m freakish. Actually, there was a split second moment of nerves halfway down when I thought, “Oh wow you crazy person, you just jumped off a bridge,” but it passed and it was just pure fun. I would totally do it again.

No such thing as hopeless

Today, I have been at site for five months. I have been in country for seven and a half months. It sounds like a lot of time. One would think that not much more could surprise me; that I would know and understand the culture for the most part. It’s not true. The past week has been wrought with more culture shock and has left me spinning.

The work itself has been coming along. In fact, the week has been quite busy. I am now working with a group of kids who are participating in some sort of English presentation with other schools. Along with music, I have now introduced poetry to the kids. We’re working on the poem, “If,” by Rudyard Kipling. It’s always been one of my favorites. The meter and the rhyme is pleasing to the ear and the sentiment is striking. It basically details which characteristics make a person great. It says reach for greatness but don’t think of yourself better than anyone else. It says work hard but don’t put too much value in material things. Dream big, but don’t let it own you. Be virtuous, but stay grounded. It says keep going, when you’ve got nothing left.

Well, that’s all well and good Rudyard, but what happens when you start out with nothing? I knew going into this that these kids are poor. Their families don’t have much in terms of material wealth. However, for some reason, this week I’ve started to learn and understand in what kind of environment some of these kids are really living. It’s actually quite disturbing. Yes, some of the kids live with drug dealers and thieves. Some of them are living in their own private hell. The stories people tell are heart breaking and unreal. There are kids who live with men who constantly abuse them. There are kids who are neglected because their parents are too doped up to take care of them. There are kids who go house-to-house with their parents trying to sell stolen merchandise. And then there are the kids whose mothers are just giving them away like they are litter of puppies. The only difference between the puppies and the kids is that with puppies, their mother doesn’t give them away, crazy humans do. Sometimes all I can think is, “You’re too little to live like that.” Which is silly, all of these kids are too young to live like that. Nobody should live like that.

I understand my job. I understand that I am here to promote self-esteem, well-being, education, and all those things that people need to grow into well-adjusted adults. The hard part is doing all of that while knowing that they are going back to broken homes. Part of the problem is that nobody is helping them. They fall by the wayside because when “the man” is brought in to intervene, either nothing happens, or they put a band-aid on the problem that eventually falls off and leaves the wound to fester and get worse. It’s no wonder these kids are angry and disinterested. They should be angry. They have no reason to put much trust in adults. Adults are their problem.

Sometimes the situation makes me question what the hell I think I’m doing here. Starting a youth group is not going to get a girl out of a bad household. Doing a camp is not going to help a little boy’s parents to stop selling and doing drugs. My exercise class is not going to feed that kid who is always hungry. How am I even helping? What kind of difference is my presence having? It seems kind of ridiculous. It seems almost hopeless.

So what am I supposed to do? Give up? Go home and never look back? No. The truth is, I can’t give up on these kids. As I get to know them, I find that I can’t help but get invested in them. There is no such thing as hopeless.

So I go on. I smile and laugh with the kids and hope to impart something positive in their lives. I work hoping that these kids can realize that one day there may be a way out of the madness; that it doesn’t have to go on this way. It may be a long way away, but one day they will be men and women making their own decisions about their lives and hopefully making good decisions about their own kids’ lives. I know not everyone’s going to break the cycle. Many are going to grow up and do exactly what their parents do. I know I’m not here saving anybody. I’m just hoping that I can be a catalyst for a mental breakthrough. I hope that they can find the proverbial light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. I just hope that with my work I am providing things to help them get through it, because the reality is, some of them are just going through everyday surviving.

I can only keep doing the little things. I can only keep doing my small projects and slowly make connections with as many as I can. I can only encourage them to believe in themselves. I might be the one positive thing they have going on in a very bleak day. So what am I going to do? Well, today I will work with a few of these kids to memorize lines to our very amazing poem and just hope the message reaches them.

Staying Alive

October 6, 2011

When I look back on the past few days, it feels like it has been uneventful yet I know it has been interesting at the same time. Time works in funny ways here. Sometimes it feels like it just won’t move forward and you’re stuck in one boring moment forever, yet in retrospect it can feel like months have passed in a matter of days. So as I write this, the logical part of my brain says that there are things to talk about because my memory tells me that I have done things. The rest of me says I’m tired and bored, thus I must not have anything worth while to talk about. I’m probably just being vaga or lazy. That is always a possibility. Whatever. I say, “¡Pura vida!”

On Saturday, I went with my friend Manuela (remember she’s our school cook and the president of our Asociación de Desarrollo) to a dance competition that her son and the Italian exchange student were participating in. The high school dance team/troop was one of seven that were participating in the contest. I’m not sure if it was regional or national. The ticket said “national” and because there were seven groups and the country has seven provinces, it would make sense to think it was national. However, I realize that at least a couple of the groups were from the same province, so maybe it was regional. Obviously, I don’t know what it was. As usual, I just ride the experiential wave.

So each group performed a number about ten minutes long, which also seemed to have some sort of theme or statement. Our kids dance seemed to be based in some sort of fantasy land. At least that is the way it was explained to me afterward. Light bulb on! Seriously, besides taking pictures of our group and trying to watch what was going on, I didn’t really have time to analyze why everyone was dressed so weird. I mean, there was no rhyme or reason. There were kids dressed up like mad scientists, girl scouts, there was a green duck, an oompa loompa. A crazy land of fantasy absolutely makes sense.

Now, when it comes to the rest of the groups, I’m really not sure what was going on with their performances. Well, I guess the younger kids group basically did a dance off between the sun and the moon. It was pretty cute and well choreographed for kids who looked to be around ten-years-old. I also liked how they highlighted a few curvier girls. They definitely had the moves for it. Bigger girls can work it too, and I’m glad they got to be front and center for part of the performance. Way to go kids! And that is basically where my level of understanding stops.

For the rest of the contest, I felt like I was in a really bizarre nightmare or some kind Modern-Surreal painting. So, the group that seemed to be the favorite for the audience did a dance in which old-world Japan was the theme. It was cool in theory, and the skill of the dancers was apparent. The props and the backdrop were impressive. Yet, I kind of hated it. For me, the whole thing seemed to be based around Japanese stereotypes, what with the geishas, the old grey-haired man with the beard, and the ninjas. Then you watch the performance and it begins with farmers who are minding their own business when these ninjas come out of nowhere and kill them all. Then these geishas come out and the pimp-lady (I’m not sure if this was played by a guy or a manly looking girl) comes and beats one of the geishas who has fallen in love with the karate kid guy. The old man then stirs up trouble, and then the karate kid starts to beat the geisha. Then the ninjas come back and kill everyone. Who knows, maybe they were going for a Romeo and Juliet type of tragedy. However, I think that the crazy ninja guys kind of just killed it. Literally and figuratively. Seriously, they had no reason to kill anybody! They just showed up randomly, did some crazy stunts and slaughtered the people. However, at least I could kind of grasp the story…I think.

I mean really, things got really weird. I mean, one group gets on stage and they look like a bunch of swamp monsters. You gotta think, what is going to happen now? Well, it starts off with some kind of weird interpretative massive birth. If you’ve ever watched “She’s All That,” and remember that weird interpretative dance at the beginning of the movie, it kind of resembled that. Then after these crazy beasts were born there was more interpretative dance, then they bust into some the Austin Powers group dance, and then everyone dies after more interpretative stuff.

I would have to say the weirdest dance involved a group in which all the guys were dressed as dead goth people, with the exception of one guy who was covered in lots of glitter and in a toga. The girls were dressed as iconic women: Frida Kahlo, Wonder Woman, the Statue of Liberty, Cleopatra, Marilyn Monroe and many others. I know, it already sounds weird. Then you watch the guys and the girls interact and you have no idea what’s going on. These guys who look like Edward Scissorhands and the Crow are seducing these icons. Then you see Frida Kahlo writhing and I’m not sure if she’s dying or not…until she gets up and back to normal. She lives! It was weird. I don’t know if they are trying to say that powerful women are killing the Goths or if dead men are going after the women of the world. I really would like a synopsis of how I was supposed to interpret that.

The rest of the groups were also very strange, but I have to hand it to the performers, they were pretty good for a bunch of students. Like a pretty good horrible dream. There was definitely some talented people in the mix, but I’d have to say…not sure I’d want to watch it all over again. If I had to watch it again, I’d definitely take more pictures. I didn’t end up taking pictures of the other groups, as it was so nutty I got distracted and forgot. I often asked myself, “Is this really happening?” Guess your imagination will have to do.

The next day, I went to visit my friend Maitreya’s site for a day. It was a good experience because not only is her site super different from mine, hers lies on the more urban side of the spectrum where mine is more towards the rural, but it was also good to spend time with a friend in a mellow and comfortable environment. The day consisted of a brief tour of her site, walking around in the rain, and making chicken adobo. Yup, I finally made a real meal here. Living with host-families, I never really have an opportunity to make food for myself and when we’re in San Jose, I generally limit myself to cooking simple things, aka top ramen, when I’m not going out for food. Since Maitreya’s host mom basically lives a shelter that she works at, she normally has the house to herself and so we decided to try our hand at chicken adobo. Simple and delicious. The end of my visit came a lot faster than I expected and I was back in site getting ready for the week ahead.

October 9, 2011

I meant to post this blog a few days ago, but got lazy that night and forgot. The next day I was pretty occupied with an allergic reaction, thus I am posting now. However I decided to add a little bit about my newest adventures with health in Costa Rica.

Firstly, I must say that coming from a race of people who live in a climate not so unlike that of Costa Rica, I came here thinking that I would enjoy the sunshine, no problem. Wrong! Again, silly girl…why do you go into a world you know nothing of with such absurd expectations? Sometimes I feel like this country is out to get me. When I’m not bombarded with mosquitoes, the humidity brings on the joys of skin fungus. When I’m in San Jose not dealing with either of those things, BAM! I get hit with a bacterial infection. I go back to site, recover, return to the battle of the mosquitoes and humidity and the night we decide to put my mosquito net back up (I don’t know why, but I wanted to test how I would fare without a mosquito net – not well) I wake up covered in hives.

I opened my eyes, and my leg was itchy. This is fairly normal. I am itchy every day. In fact, I look forward to the day that I don’t itch somewhere. However, as I subconsciously reach down to scratch, I realize that my leg is extremely bumpy, but also that I slept in my mosquito net, so I shouldn’t have any new bites. Simultaneously, my arms start to itch. Uh oh. I get out of bed and realize both arms and legs are covered in itchy bumps. So, I go into the family room where my host-mom asks me if I have any new bites and if the mosquito net worked. All I can do at that point is hold out my arms and go, “Unnggghhh.” Hahaha. Guess that noise is a sign of distress in both languages. Immediately, she knows I’m having an allergic reaction and tells me to go to San Jose. My mind finally catches up and realizes that she’s right. I rush to get my backpack ready, pack some clothes (thanks to the smart thinking of my host-mom), and barely catch the next bus out of my town to Orotina. From there, I barely make the bus to San Jose. In Orotina, I run into the Italian exchange student, Luca, who was also going to San Jose for some med issues. It turns out he had a few weird red bumps on his arm and legs that were getting worse. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to scare him, but they resembled the bot flies. If you don’t know what that is, youtube “Bot fly.” It’s not something you want to experience. Don’t worry, it turned out not to be a bot fly.

I make it to the Peace Corps Office and immediately walk into the Medical Office. One of the officers happened to be standing at the door and as she’s saying hello, all I can do is hold out my arms (which have gotten worse at this point) and again I let out a pathetic, “Ungggghhh.” We then talk about what I could have possibly consumed to cause such a reaction. After listing off all the things I had eaten the previous day, it was deemed very mysterious and I was led to the consult room. After taking some pictures of multiple body parts and being assured that this was a very aggressive yet non-life threatening allergic reaction. We come to the conclusion that we can’t figure out what I’m allergic to but can only be vigilant about everything I come into contact with in the event I have another reaction. I also get a shot in the ass, given a bunch of skin products and am told to stay in San Jose overnight as I the shot was very sedating and she didn’t think that I would make it back to site conscious. Hahaha.

So, I make it to the hostel that I was staying at and rest a bit before taking that shower I was directed to take. Well, as I am about to jump in, I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror. Wow, I know people have spoken about times in their lives when they look in the mirror and find the reflection scary. I too have done this. However, I must make it clear that at that moment I actually flinched at the site of my own face. It was covered in hives. It is almost comparable to that scene in Hitch, where Will Smith also experiences an allergic reaction and catches a glimpse of his own face unaware he looks like a blowfish. Well, I didn’t look like a blowfish, but I looked like I had developed some form of pox with in a couple of hours.

At this point, I figure the shot isn’t working and I call the Med Office and they tell me to go to the hospital. There I saw a dermatologist who put me on a plethora of sedative medications and tells me to go to the emergency room for an IV shot. While I waited for my medication at the pharmacy, I run into my mentor (who know works in the office) and my boss. While it was good seeing them, I wish it was under better circumstances. They ask how I am feeling and the first thing I say is, “I lost my phone.” Oh yeah, somewhere in the hospital while I was walking around in a daze, my phone must have fallen out of my pocket never to be found again.

So, I then walk into the emergency room where they have me sit down in a section with some lazy boys with other patients getting intravenous shots or drips. Behind a divider in front of me, I can hear a little girl crying as a team of nurses, a doctor and a mother are trying to get a kid through an IV drip. All I can hear is her sobbing and counting. I think the doctor told her to count to distract her. She’s so focused on counting that when the doctor asks her if she hurts, she just cries harder and keeps on counting. Not the kind of thing you want to witness right before someone is about to stick a needle in one of your own veins. Well, I make it through and leave the hospital in an even bigger daze and go back to my hotel. After resting some more, I jump on facebook to alert my fellow PCV’s that my phone was lost. At this point, I realize that a couple of my peers, Stephanie and Lily are also in town so I decide to meet up with them for dinner. It was definitely a pleasant surprise. It was nice to not have to spend the night alone.

When I got back to the hotel, as I am explaining what had happened to my mom and sister online, this girl somehow zooms in on me and asks if she can use my computer because the other computers at the hostel are not letting her get on facebook. Apparently her family was coming in the next day and had never flown before. I felt bad and let her have her “minute” which turned into an hour. I’m not sure why it was so difficult for her to explain how to get through the whole flying process, but during this time I discovered that even though she had lived her entire life in Massachusetts, she had no idea what Peace Corps was and what we did. She was a sweet girl, but really? Ugh, I really need to stop interacting with gringos on vacation, or even expatriates for that matter. They all end up being quite irritating. Not to mention the fact that my mother was worried and freaking out about my health while this girl is trying to explain how to get through an airport terminal. Really, I feel like all of this should have been sorted out much sooner than 2 hours before needing to leave for the airport. Oh well. ‘Cest la vie. I managed to get back control of my computer and assure my family that I was OK and not dying.

The next day, I went back to the hospital for a follow-up where it was determined that I would need a few more follow-ups to get weaned off my medication. Whatever, better safe than sorry. I then had lunch with Morgan, my mentor, and while we were eating at Subway, she realized that she had an old Nokia that she wasn’t using. Yay! Free phone. We went back to her place so that I could grab it before going back to site. Best mentor ever!

So, now I’m back at site trying to avoid all the people who are angry with me for moving out of my old house or are angry at me for not moving in with their families. I’m also avoiding the people who are just nosey and want to know about the drama in my life. Sigh, the pains of being famous. Just kidding.

Also, I guess that crazy rooster that has no idea what time of day it is won’t be bothering us any longer. I just had him for dinner. Interestingly enough, rooster meat is a lot tougher than chicken, yet somehow tastier.

Tune in next time for another good story.

And the winner is...

FYI...This is not my first attempt to post. This is my third official post of the same blog...this site was lame and messed it up.


This week, like many weeks thus far in my Peace Corps experience, has had a couple ups and downs. On Monday, I went to San Jose for two very different reasons. The first was to attend a photo exhibition/contest put on by the Peace Corps that displayed photos of life in Costa Rica by current Peace Corps Volunteers. If I’m not mistaken, 4 Tico 22’s had made it into the top 25 and had photos on display. The other reason I made my way to San Jose was that another Tico 22, this time an RCD volunteer was going home for good. This time, it was a medical separation.

When I got to San Jose, I checked into a hostel favored by volunteers and found that many others were already there. As I waited for the kids from my group to get in, I took the time to get to know some of the senior volunteers. I also took a fat nap. Seriously, the beds were so comfy, especially in comparison to my current bed that those 4 hours flew by like nothing. It was amazing. It turns out that even though I don’t get the opportunity to sleep much since coming in country, I still love it! Just thinking about how wonderful that nap was makes me sleepy.

Finally, some of the RCD kids trickled in and hang out time started. We went to the mall for a bit to eat ice cream and shop around a bit. I went into the bookstore to find a present for my host-sister, Anita, because her birthday is coming up in October. There wasn’t much of a selection, but I picked out “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.” Well actually, it’s “Charlie y la Factura de Chocolate.” I never read it, but I liked the movies. Maybe if I ever get through Harry Potter in Spanish, I’ll be able to borrow it one day. Anyway, I figure a book would be a good gift because they don’t seem to have any and I really think that she’ll like it. I also decided to get the book early because I’ve tried browsing the bookstore in my site and the selection is really sad. Seriously, I think that there’s like 30 to choose from total.

We made it back to the hostel and hung out a bit before deciding that we should go out for some drinks. It was Katie’s birthday so it seemed only right. Plus, Tina, the one being medically separated, wanted to get out. We took a Canadian girl who is staying at the hostel that Tina made friends with on her last stay at the hostel. She is currently studying the health and school systems of the country. From what she said plus our own experiences with the systems in the country, it just seems so bleak. It’s so hard to see how the system can change after being in so deep. I guess that’s why Peace Corps still exists in Costa Rica. After having one drink at a bar, we decided to go to the grocery store and bring back stuff and hang out the hotel. Not only is it more comfortable, but way cheaper. We basically killed a box of Cheez-its, a bag of Archer Farms chips (Thanks Cheryl), a thing of chocolate, and a bag of popcorn. It was kind of amazing. I’m pretty sure that we still went to bed before 12. Yes, even with the nap, I was still extremely tired.

The next day was the exhibit and some of my CYF friends finally made it into town along with a few other RCD’s. I went out to lunch with a few of them at a really good veggie place not far from the hostel or the place where the exhibit was being held. Melissa even managed to talk her way into getting a 15% Peace Corps discount.

We finally made it to the exhibit and there were surprisingly a lot of people there. Not only was it full of current volunteers and staff, but there were many RPCV’s (Returned Peace Corps Volunteers) as well. It was quite a fancy event. It was actually kind of weird seeing everyone looking so cleaned up. This is probably because it is pretty rare to have an occasion to look sharp when you’re serving in the Peace Corps. After checking out the photos for a bit, we were all herded into an auditorium where there was a little ceremony in which the winners were chosen. It was kind of cool because they really emphasized the importance of volunteers and had all the PCV’s stand for recognition. It was nice. I mean since swearing-in, I feel like our work and sacrifices don’t get credited very often. It always feels good to get a good public pat-on-the-back.

The contest recognized the top 5 photos, which happened to be more exciting than I thought it would be. Three of those winners were Tico 22’s, which after the month we’ve been having, it was refreshing to see good things happening to our group. Seeing my friend, Allen, win was definitely the most exciting part. Most of us knew that he would take it, but it was just so amazing actually seeing it happen. He totally deserved it. Not only is he super talented, but he is also one of the nicest people I know. He is also the kind of guy that prefers to stay in the background and shies away from the spotlight. To see him get recognition and be the center of attention for a day was something else. The kid was so stoked too. You couldn’t help but be happy for him.

That night we celebrated by making some top ramen for dinner and having drinks at the hostel with the other volunteers. Nothing particularly exciting happened, but it was definitely a night that just makes you feel good when you look back. I guess the only downer was that it was Tina’s last night. Even so, the general mood was pretty good. It was confirmed that all my Celtic blood must be in my liver. It actually surprised me considering that I stay away from all forms of alcohol in site and figured my tolerance would be a lot lower. Guess not!

So after crashing out, I woke up the next morning realizing that Tina had not woken us up like she told us she would to say goodbye and had already left. I have talked to her since, but it is still kind of weird to know that another one is gone. Every time someone leaves, it naturally makes me reflect about how I would feel if it were I. All I know is that I’m not ready to go home. I have experienced very miserable times. I battle with mosquitoes, mold, fungus, and sweat every single day. Yet if someone told me that I had to pack my bags and wouldn’t be able to come back, I think it would just be devastating. It’s actually quite weird. I long for home and all the comforts, and yet the thought of being forced to go back for good is horrible. Don’t get me wrong. I can’t wait for Christmas to come around so that I can go back and see everyone, but I’m not done here. I kind of love my dysfunctional community and I would hate to leave it before my time.

Anyway, after saying goodbye to the rest of the volunteers, I had lunch with Allen and Maitreya before going back to site. While I was waiting for my bus, I ended up having a conversation with this guy from Florida who was here for the craziest reason. It turns out he comes to Costa Rica often to surf and the last time he was here, he brought his 15-year-old daughter and one of his friends who has a hotel here had attempted to rape her. He was on his way to beat the crap out of the guy and then go around town and ruin his reputation. It was really a crazy story. I’m not sure if it’s true, but it is quite believable. Things like that happen. Who knows. This might enforce my general hesitation to engage in conversation with other gringos.

So, I made it back to site and things have gone on as usual. I introduced a new song in my English music project. It was pretty exciting. Kids are coming up to me telling me that they’ve downloaded the last song onto their phones. It’s just satisfying to know that even if the messages aren’t getting through, I do hope they are, at the very least I am making connections with these kids. Plus, it’s just cool to see them be excited for something related to school. My next project is to work with Asociación de Desarollo to activate another committee that specializes in kids. If we can launch that, we may be able to use some of those funds to build the playground that the parents have been requesting. Today, a kid from the high school came to my house looking for me wanting help with her English. I was kind of surprised that someone found me looking for assistance. It was kind of exciting. I then found out that there are lot of kids who are struggling with English and might be interested in help, but are too embarrassed to seek me out. Well, I’ll start with the girl tomorrow and if there is a legit interest, I might just have to start an English Club. That just might be the step I need to get to know the high school kids in order to launch other projects. Oh, the life of a volunteer. There’s always more work to do if you just look.

Well, that’s all for this week. I’ve decided to add some pictures of my new house as requested by my mother. Until next time.

My new house.

My room.

Our family room/dining room/kitchen.

The chicken coop.

Our outdoor stove.

Lots and lots to Celebrate

The past couple of weeks have been incredibly crazy. Not only have I been transitioning to my new host-family, but the country has also been busy with celebrations for the past couple weeks. Last week was Día del Niño, which I think should be celebrated in the States. It’s basically like Mother’s Day or Father’s Day, but Kid’s Day. This week we were busy with el Torche, Faroles and of course, 15 de Setiembre, which is their Independence.

Like I was saying, besides adjusting to my new house, things at the school were kind of crazy. Everybody was busy getting ready for some kind of celebration. It was complete chaos. People were stressed out making decorations, training kids how to march in formation, or trying to figure out who was going to run the torch. I was busy minding my own business, aka spacing out, when all of a sudden a bunch of teachers grabbed me and asked for my help. Of course I want to help, I’ve got nothing else to do. I don’t have any projects running. Why not? They drag me to one of the classrooms and I realize that they want me to dance. OK, let’s clarify things. They didn’t want me to just dance for their own entertainment; they wanted me to participate in a dance with them in a performance for Día del Niño. So, if you know me at all…dancing is kind of horrific. I’m kind of bad at it. Thus, the prospect of having to dance in front of an audience, sober, is slightly terrifying. Then I think, “Well, I’m gonna be asking these kids to put themselves out there and challenge themselves with some of my projects. I need to step it up too.” I learn the moves, which actually were fairly simple and agreed to attend the last minute practice the next morning.

So the next day, I went to the school dressed in a plaid button-up and jeans as everyone working at the school was told to dress up like cowboys. I was ready to practice the dance and perform in front of the kids. However, Rodrigo was taking over for Don Carlos, the principal, for the week while he went off to Peru. Oh yeah, our principal decided to take off during the craziest week of the year. Anyway,Rodrigo needed my help using the computer and figuring out how to get into Don Carlos’ e-mail and such. Well,this caused me to miss the dance practice, which led to me not being able to participate in the performance. Oh, bummer. That probably ended up being for the best as I decided to bust out my SLR camera and take photos throughout the day. I’m much better at that than dancing.

Día del Niño was a lot of fun. There were no official classes and the day consisted of performances and eating. Not only did the teachers do a dance, but also almost every class had some kind of performance. The kids were also allowed a free-dress day and kids who dressed in costumes were entered into a raffle. After the performances,the kids went to the classroom where the cooks catered lunch and later everyone got ice cream cones. Yum. Since the school is divided into an AM class and a PM class, we basically did the whole show in the morning and repeated it in the afternoon.

Some of the kids dressed in costume.

3rd Graders doing a performance.

One of the students during a Michael Jackson dance contest.

The teachers doing their dance.

Monday rolled around and I decided to collaborate with Erlin, the English teacher, and launch an English music project. It basically consists of popular songs in English that we listen to during English class and translate into Spanish. The goal is to get kids to learn English in a medium they enjoy, while also exploring positive messages. I figure it’s an easy project for starters and I don’t have to work too hard in finding a counterpart or a space to work in. Small steps. So, I started out with Katy Perry’s “Firework,” because I’ve heard it on the radio here and thought it would be good to start off with something familiar. The kids seemed to like it and were really trying hard to translate they lyrics themselves. I would say that it was a good experience all around. They were learning English, I was learning Spanish, and Erlin was picking up some new English phrases. Win, win, win. Couldn’t ask for better.

Later that day, Erlin invited me to stay the night at her house to visit and hang out with her family. It was definitely an interesting experience. Living in my town, I can sometimes forget that not all of Costa Rica is like this. It was a bit surprising to stay at someone’s home where there’s a master bedroom, each kid gets his own room, and they even had an office. It felt familiar and comfortable. Sometimes it blows m ymind when I suddenly remember, “Oh yeah, I used to live like this.” It’s so different from what I now experience every day. On the one hand, it made me happy to see that not everyone in Costa Rica lives in poverty. On the other hand, it makes me sad that so many do.

That night, I went to a Tae Kwon Do class with her family and was pleasantly surprised that I could keep up with everyone. I was kind of nervous that after being sick and not working out for the last few weeks that I would be out of shape,but it turned out that I had no issues with the cardio part of the class. Once we got to the part with the kicking, spinning and turning, I got confused. It was still fun, but it quickly became clear that I have two left feet. It wasn’t horrible,but it did resemble the montage in Karate Kid where Ralph Macchio sucks and is trying super hard. However, I never got to the part where I become awesome and kick ass. Either way, it was still super fun. I would totally keep doing it if the class wasn’t an hour away from where I live. Sigh. I guess I’ll just keep running in the field. Maybe I’ll start my own exercise class here. We’ll see.

On Wednesday, the school’s official Independence Day celebrations began. The country has a tradition in which students from all the schools and high schools are chosen to carry the torch. It’s very similar to the Olympics’ torch run. A team of students visit a school, where they wait for the light to pass to their torch and run to their own school where another team of students wait to light their own torch. It’s actually really cool to watch. It’s kind of intense for the kids who have to run longer distances. In our school, teams of eleven kids from the 6th grades were chosen to run the torch. Somehow after Día del Niño, the school named me the official photographer. This meant that I was lucky enough to do a ride along and watch the process.

I rode with Rodrigo to a nearby school a few kilometers away and met up with the team and their teacher, Gabby. When we got there, I realized that we had to wait for their students to arrive with their torch before we could run with ours. It felt like half the day consisted of waiting. It was hot and there weren’t many places to sit, but it was a cool opportunity to get to know some of the kids a little bit better. I couldn’t have been stuck with a better bunch of kids. Finally, their team arrived and we did a lighting ceremony and we were off! Gabby decided to go on foot and I jumped in the car with Rodrigo where along with paramedics and police escorts, we tailed the team. We lost Gabby really quick as she was walking and the team was running,but we continued on our way following the students. It was one of the most fun things to do. Some of the kids that were lagging had to jump in the car to hitch a ride for part of the way because they wouldn’t have made it to the end. Besides that, a few falls, and the torch going out a few times, it went pretty smoothly. Half of the team ran the whole way. I have to say, I’m especially proud of Julie, the one girl who made the whole way. What a bad ass. Not to take away anything from the guys either. It was a tough run. It was hot and in the middle of the day. A few of the guys had to hitch rides part of the way also. So we finally made it back, passed on the flame, and had an acto civico. After that, I went home to rest before having to return that evening for the faroles. I could have stayed at the school and helped decorate the school with the teachers, but I was beat and needed a break.

The team, fueling up before the run.

The kids and Gabby waiting at the other school.

The team running on the freeway.

The team during the last stretch of road to the school.

Some of the team resting after their run.

Later that day, I went back to the school with both my host-sisters for the faroles. Faroles are basically lanterns. Another tradition Costa Rica has is that students make faroles and everyone lights them walks through the streets at night. I guess it’s their version of lighting up the night for Independence Day. We have fireworks. They have faroles. It’s actually a really cool site to see people walking together with all these lanterns lighting the way. Oh, so finally Gabby turned up. I was getting worried about her. I would recommend that she ride in the car next time

My host-sisters, Beatrice and Anita, and Anita's friend.

The following day was September 15, the day of independence. I went to the school early to take some pictures of everyone getting ready for the acto civico. I’m glad I went early because the parents were starting to gather around the fence and that always makes me nervous. There is just something very scary about a crowd of over-excited parents. It seems like a disaster waiting to happen.

So the ceremony started and it turns out that all the practice that the kids had been doing for weeks paid off. It was super cool. Of course, it started with the flag being carried in and the national anthem, a prayer and a speech from Don Carlos, who had come back the night before. Actually the speech from Don Carlos, while a good speech, lost me a few times. Don Carlos is a man who likes to talk. His speech reminded me of those long-winded often times off-topic speeches my dad used to make. To quote my dad, “A good speech is like a dress. It should be long enough to cover everything, but short enough to keep people’s interest.” Let’s just say that Don Carlos’ speech would be compared to a ball gown as opposed to cocktail attire.

Anyway, the good stuff started and it was really impressive. The younger kids did traditional dances in traditional garb, a few kids did some bombas, traditionally from the Guanacaste province, and the selected “best” did a march with the flags. The ceremony ended with a traditional dance with kids dressed up in masks taking people from the audience to come out and dance with them. Again, being the “official” school photographer, I took many photos and got to be up close and personal. At one point, I almost got run over by a kid dressed as a bull during one of the dances. I did get a good photo though. Through all the stress and hard work, it ended up being quite fun and successful.

My day didn’t end there, however. I then went with Manuela, our school cook, to Orotina to catch the festivities there. There was a huge parade consisting of people from various schools and high school marching down the street. My host-sister, Beatrice, was in the parade and my host-mom wanted me to get photos of her. Also, Manuela’s son, Luis was also in the parade. It was crowded! It was hard to get a good spot, but I managed to get a few shots. After that, I quickly lost interest. I was hot and tired and the parade was just sooo long. There were some cool things like cheerleaders doing stunts and such, but otherwise it was more of the same. Lots of marching, lots of dancing. My host-dad found me and asked me to take some pictures of him and Beatrice after it was over. I then lost him. It was so crowded that I never found him. Manuela then took me out to lunch and as we were eating it started to pour. Well, we had to go through it to make it to our bus, but unfortunately her daughter, Kendi and a friend were also with us and they didn’t have umbrellas. So we had to put to people under each umbrella and run for it. I took Kendi under mine. Being the good person that I am, I let her have most of the umbrella and I got soaked. That didn’t matter. All I cared about was that my bag that had my camera and other electronics stayed dry. Mission accomplished. I didn’t end up ever finding my host-family, and I figured that they went home. I got there and they still hadn’t made it home. They decided to wait out the rain before taking a bus home. Well, we didn’t get to take the pictures, but we all agreed that it was a good day. Exhausting, but good day.

Don Carlos during his speech. At this point he's talking about the trees, I think.

The kids doing a traditional dance.

The kids during the march.

The kids in masks coming towards the audience.

One of the kids in masks asking for someone in the audience, Manuela, to join in the dance.

Speaking of my host-family, I know people must be wondering how my new situation is going. I must say that it is pretty amazing. They are the family that I have been waiting for since training. Everyone is so sweet and not over-bearing about it. The house is comfy and doesn’t overheat. I didn’t realize it before, but now that I have them again, I have really missed doorknobs! It’s so crazy how simple things can make me so happy. Also, I really like my host-sisters. They’re super cute and really mellow. They are easy to hang out with. I’m kind of hoping that as we get to know each other better, it continues to go swimmingly. We seem to share a mutual respect of each other so I think that we won’t run into any major problems. Plus, I’ve seen what dysfunctional host families look like, I have a deep appreciation for the good ones. So, I’m keeping my fingers crossed that I’ve finally found my Tico family. Ironic really…my town was expecting a blond-haired blue-eyed American and got a Filipino-American where I was expecting to get a typical Tico family and got a Nicaraguan-Costa Rican family. Already we are breaking stereotypes. Cross-culture win!