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.