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!

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

As David Bowie sings, “Turn and face the strange, Ch-ch-ch-changes…” The past couple of weeks have been full of changes and strange happenings, so sit tight because there might be some good stuff in this story.

A couple of weeks ago, two days before I had to leave for San Jose for PDM (Project and Design Management Workshop) and IST (In-Service Training), the couple that is living in my house had their baby. They brought home their bundle of joy the day before I was set to leave and I have now have an understanding as to why new parents always look so tired and haggard. It’s not a myth that babies don’t sleep, except in the case of my nephew back home...like the rest of us Suba’s, he’s been a sleeper since birth. Anyway, that was not the case with this baby. I was so tired and delusional, that when I woke up the morning I had to leave, I thought, “Wow, that chicken sounds really weird. What’s wrong with it? And why does it seem so close? Is it outside my window?” Blink, blink. Think. “Wait! That’s not a chicken. That’s the baby!” My chain of thought then jumped, “Ok, somebody take care of that! Saying a quick, ‘shhhh’ is not helping.” Now, I’m not a parent and thus no expert, but I’m 99.99% certain that when you have a newborn fussing, shushing it does nothing.

I got ready, and made sure everything was packed since it was decided that I would move my stuff that day so that when I got back from IST, Peace Corps would just have to check my new house and I would be set to move. The fact that the shower broke that morning only confirmed my convictions that I had to get out of there. I went to school and waited for my counterpart as he was going to help me speak to my host-mom and move my stuff before we set off for San Jose. I was also bringing him to participate in the PDM. Anyway, so we went to my house and realized that my host-mom had already left at like 4 am. Well, thanks a lot lady. No “Good night,” no “See you later,” or even “have a good trip.” I can only come to the conclusion that it doesn’t really matter to her what I do or where I am. Anyway, it was decided that I would move after training since it would be rude to just move without informing her.

Anyway, we went on our way, and PDM was awesome. It was actually really awesome. Not only was it fun to see my friends, but it was cool to work with our counterparts also. All of a sudden all of our training doesn’t seem so abstract anymore. Also, it was really interesting to see what all my peers have been up to and what their plans are for their communities. It made me super excited to start projects with the school and I’m thinking that Don Carlos, my counterpart, was getting excited also. He’s always been supportive of my ideas, but working together to go through the steps and process of carrying out a project is so helpful. My first project is going to be a Chic@s Poderos@s. That’s basically a 10-week workshop on a gender-focused group to work on self-esteem and positive attitudes, something that the kids here definitely need.

On the last day of the PDM, Don Carlos didn’t show up to the session. Being the paranoid person I am, I automatically dreaded the possibility that something had happened to him in his room. So, a few of the Peace Corps staff started to look for him. My boss finally got a hold of him and found out that someone had broken into his house and attacked his dogs. The good news is that after a trip to the vet, the dogs are OK, but it was definitely a scare. Other than that, PDM went super well. After being assured that everything was OK with Don Carlos, I was able to continue enjoying my time there.

To top things off, we were staying at a really nice hotel. It was really nice to live the cushy-life for a bit. It was exactly the break I was looking forward to for the past month or so. Life was good. The beds were incredibly comfy. There were hot showers with great water pressure. Rooms came with a flat screen TV. The gym! Oh man, I know it’s been a while since I’ve seen a gym, but really…a few of us just stood outside of it gawking and the machines. It’s quite the shock after being away from such technology for so long. What’s more of a shock is looking at your reflection in the mirror after months of not really seeing yourself. It’s not pretty. It’s quite scary actually. I have realized that when I’m at site, I’m walking around looking like a hot sweaty mess all the time. What a revelation. Anyway, we took advantage of all the resources available while we were in the city. I’m pretty sure that I gained back some of the weight I lost at site. It was a time to work hard during the day and play hard at night (or if you’re me, just relax and enjoy the company of friends).

All of a sudden, things took a change when the IST part of our training started. I’m pretty sure it not only surprised the PCV’s but also our Peace Corps staff. Let’s just say that there were a lot of WTF moments. I’m not sure what exactly set it off, but the tone of our group got pretty grim quickly. I think it started off with a few shared stories of rough times and just snowballed from there. One of our peers was especially having a tough time and it definitely set a ripple through our little group. It not only affected me because I was concerned for him and his well-being, but I know it made me check myself and where I stand in my service. I’m sure the others did as well. Our group cohesion was also brought into question. There is still debate as to whether that problem exists or not and whether it was relevant to our personal experiences. Anyway, our project team addressed the situation and gave us the time and space to talk about our expectations and how to improve our situations. Like mother wolves they shook us by the scruff a bit and reminded us that there’s a reason we’re here and that we shouldn’t so quickly go running with the negative events that have happened. The truth is that if any one of us keeps riding that train, he or she will lose the motivation to stay here and our already tiny group will dwindle further. Considering that we swore in with 14 and are now down to 11, it would be tough to lose anyone else. I suppose it’s a good thing that I am “blindly optimistic,” as my friend Maitreya describes me. I never really thought of myself as optimistic, in fact it’s kind of scary that people believe that I’m the optimistic one in the group. I would rather say that through all the chaos and mess that we call life, I’m just crazy hopeful. Either way, I’ll take it as a compliment. It can only work for me. I also believe that deep down the rest of us are silly people also living on the upside. I mean if I were the only optimistic person, nobody else would be here. I know we can bitch with the best of them, but we’re still here and moving forward, so we must be doing something right.

Anyway, the last day of IST I was not feeling so well. I went through the day feeling nauseous and light-headed. By that night, my joints were aching and I had a fever. My roommates, Emily and Claire decided that we should call the medical officers and go to the hospital. Turns out that was a bright idea. Claire took me to the hospital where they were surprisingly quick at getting to me. So I left her in the waiting room while I went into the triage room, they discovered that my heart was beating a bit fast and I expressed my concern about dengue since I seem to be the food of choice of all the insects in Costa Rica, but most especially the mosquitoes. There was also a bit of an outbreak in my region. Don’t worry; after the doctor checked me out, he said that it was a bacterial infection. I was then brought into the back where they had me lay on a bed. That was when one of the nurses brought out a cart. At this point I expected that they were going to draw blood for tests. I have to say, I can take shots like a champ, but something about sticking a foreign object into veins and blood makes me queasy. So, I look over to see what the nurse is doing and to my horror, he’s holding an IV needle. Oh man, that was some scary stuff. I actually broke out in a sweat. While I waited for whatever it was they were giving me, I updated my friends back at the hotel. They then rushed over with a bunch of stuff. While I couldn’t eat any of the goodies they picked up, I definitely appreciated the effort. It was really comforting to see my friends come out to support me. Although, I must say now having been the visitor and the patient, I would much rather be the visitor. Not only are you sick when you’re the one having visitors, but it’s also really disconcerting to see the worry on everyone else’s faces. It’s touching and at the same time completely freaky. After a couple of liters of whatever solution it was, they pulled out the IV (it hurts a lot more coming out than going in, thank you Claire for the heads up) and I was sent home.

The original plan was for me to go home the next day with one of my bosses, but because I was sick, I was ordered to stay in San Jose another day. That ended up being OK as there were a few others who had to stay in town for medical reasons as well. Here began the great hotel/hostel tour of San Jose. I managed to get another med day off and used some of my nights out to stay out of site for a few more days. From here, a bunch of us infirmed hopped around San Jose trying to find the most comfortable place for the best price. It was exhausting yet interesting. I now know which places I would never want to go back to and those that are nice but I probably will not use again unless Peace Corps foots the bill. While moving around was kind of a pain, it was nice to decompress among friends and do absolutely nothing. A few of us did go see Captain America which was a much better than the last movie I saw here in Costa Rica. I must say that I miss going to the movies. I truly am an escapist. It was also fun getting to spend some time with the RCD kids, since there hasn’t been much RCD/CYF inter-group hangouts.

After bumming around San Jose and refusing to return to site unless I could move houses straight away, the time finally came when I had to go back. That was definitely an interesting experience that I never want to repeat again. “They say that breaking up is hard to do…” and it’s true! Yeah I know, it’s just a host-family who I wasn’t super stoked on in the first place, but when you reject the crazy, they react, well…kind of crazy. So I was told to call my host-mom before I left the Peace Corps office with one of my bosses so that she would know when we would be getting into site. Naturally, after she assured me that she would be there, I assumed that when we got to the house she would be there. Well, we got there and she was not. So, we waited a bit and then decided to check my new house to save time. That went well. My boss really liked the family and thought it was a good fit. We went back to my house and my host-mom was still not there. So we waited for as long as we could before my boss had to leave. She did help me move some of my stuff first, though. So after she left, I went to the school to talk to one of the teachers about moving the rest of my stuff. She agreed and when we got to the house, my host-mom was there and we tried to explain why I had to leave. Let’s just say the reaction was bad. She refused to address me and didn’t believe that Peace Corps was behind me. She went into hiding as I took out the rest of my things from my room. I had to hunt her down to say thanks and tell her I was going. Her reply was a snooty, “Fine, I’m calling your boss.” I left the keys and went. Good riddance. I then e-mailed my boss to give her fair warning about voice mail that was waiting for her and explain the situation. As expected, she supported me and didn’t think it was a problem.

That situation does make me think that there should be some kind of training on how to break up with people with whom you would like to end relations. It sounds silly, but it can be tricky in another culture and language. Add the fact that most people want to get rid of their families or counterparts, it can be an extremely sticky situation. It produces lots of anxiety! I know many of us are experiencing this anxiety in some form or another. There really should be some kind of session on it.

So, now I’m settling into my new home. It consists of two parents and two daughters. It’s so different already. They are not only so mellow and peaceful, but they talk to me and want me to feel part of the family. They definitely have a humble lifestyle and don’t have much, but they are so nice that it’s easy to get past the lack of creature comforts. Also, the house is way better than my last one. The government has a program where they sometimes build poorer people houses. They were lucky enough to be one of those families. Don’t start to think I’m living it up though. My bed is basically a 2-inch foam cushion on ply board, but I don’t mind. I feel like I’ll be gaining a lot more than losing with this change. I guess the next step is to get to work and start projects. Let’s see how that goes.

Vote 4 Pedro

Why, hello again. The last couple of days have been pretty interesting and I thought that I should write about them before I go off for training in a few days. Wouldn’t want to leave out the details.

On Thursday, I went with a few of the teachers from the school to the larger town, Orotina, to support a few of our students whose projects were accepted into the science fair. Remember a while back I talked about that little girl who did a project about the environment and how we are destroying it? Remember how I called her Miley? Well, she and her partner made it to the fair and it turns out her name isn’t Miley. It sounds like it though. I looked at her station and realized her name is Maylin. Oops, my bad. Anyway, I couldn’t help but be excited for her and her partner, Nathalie, because they worked really hard on the project and truly believed in it. Another girl from the school was invited to the science fair on her project about growing lettuce. She’s a pretty smart kid in general so I wasn’t surprised that her project made it there. It’s actually kind of inspiring to see these kid’s passion and accomplishing things. It gives me hope for the execution of my future projects.

It was cool to see how a science fair is executed here. It turns out that they aren’t much different from how it works in the States. Basically a bunch of schools bring a few students with the best projects to showcase in the county science fair. Judges come around and the kids try to impress them with their knowledge and their projects. Every project had it’s own station set up and people walked around to see what these kids have been working on. It reminded me a lot of my grade school days. People had the three-part posters and everyone rocked the scientific method. I’ve mentioned in previous blogs how the education system here is tough, but I must give these kids credit. There were some really cool projects. There was a station on the uses of bamboo, a station on burns on skin, a station where the kids converted solar energy into air-conditioning, a station where the kids made paper by recycling paper. It was really impressive. Unfortunately none of our kids went home with a trophy, but they seemed stoked about their participant’s medals.

Oh, I must mention that when the fair started, like all official gatherings I’ve been to, it started with the national flag being carried in, the national anthem and then a prayer. Sometimes at these events, they will have some form of entertainment in the beginning or the middle of proceedings. Like past performances I’ve witnessed, I found the one performed at the science fair to be quite hilarious. I feel a little bad about wanting to laugh at kids putting themselves out there and performing in front of others because I know that can be really tough and also performance is an expression of self and should be taken seriously. Not to mention that the two kids performing were students from the other school in my town so I extra support them and their ambitions. That said I have to ask, have you ever watched Napoleon Dynamite? If you answered yes, remember that scene with the happy hands club where they do that little performance to Bette Midler’s “Like a Rose.” If you answered no, then go to youtube and look up “Napoleon Dynamite Happy Hands Scene,” or better yet, go and watch the movie. Now back to my story. Well, lets just say that the kids’ performance was very similar to that with the hand and arm movements. They even performed to what I can only call, the Latino answer to “Like a Rose.” Ok, so that alone makes me very giggly, but now imagine those two kids dressed in black with face paint that turns them into mimes. Also add to that, the very serious/sad expression on their faces as they perform. In a nutshell, I basically watched the Latino version of the Happy Hands scene in Napoleon Dynamite with the added layer of unhappy mimes. I cannot lie. Not only was my face twitching as I tried to control myself, but my entire body was shaking throughout the performance. I mean, when they went out there with the face paint and the clothes I thought, Jabbawockeez and instead I got Napoleon. Who wouldn’t want to laugh?

The mime dancers.

Maylin and Nathalie waiting with their project at the science fair.

Now that my diagnostic is technically done, I haven’t had much to do. Yet, I still go to the school to kill time, study some Spanish and hang out with the teachers and students. Yesterday, I went to the school expecting to bum around, which pretty much took up my entire morning, but in the afternoon, Rodrigo, one of the teachers asked me if I wanted to help him and a few students plant lettuce in the school’s makeshift greenhouse. Of course I jump at the opportunity to do something productive, let alone fun and amazing. The lettuce that they grow ends up being used in the kitchen to make lunch. Of course, Pamela, the kid who did her science project on planting lettuce was there teaching me the basics of how to plant lettuce heads. It became quite the experience. First, I learned that the little baby heads of lettuce cost like 20 colones. If you consider every dollar equals 500 colones, that would mean that you would get 25 heads of lettuce for a buck. We ended up planting about 120 heads of lettuce.

While we were in the middle of our little lettuce project, it suddenly started to pour rain. This is very common. Especially when the temperature in the morning is extremely hot. Now, science says that when hot air suddenly meets cold air, it produces electricity. Science isn’t wrong. Soon after the rain started, the lightning followed. Normally, I like when the lightning comes. I even like the thunder that comes with it. I find it violently beautiful. However, this lighting storm was different as I could tell that it was really close to where we were. At first I wasn’t too worried, but it was coming on strong and the thunder was really loud. It was obvious that it was coming our way fast. After hearing a story about a friend’s friend who was killed by lightning recently, and the fact that Rodrigo looked freaked out, I got extremely nervous. I finished planting the last few lettuce heads and ran to the “teacher’s lounge” which is basically an overhang outside the cafeteria. The kids soon followed and after Rodrigo checked that all the heads were properly placed, he ran too.

Soaked, Rodrigo and I sat in the teacher’s lounge for a bit talking about the lightning when he decided that we should move. I was more than glad to move considering the teacher’s lounge is pretty exposed and the lighting was close enough that when it would strike we would half crouch into the fetal position. Going into the corridor where the classrooms were was a much better plan. At that point, a few of the classes were done for the day, but obviously nobody was going home. So we all just stood together and waited. Then Erlin, the English teacher said, “I don’t understand this. This never-” and this is where I thought she would say, “happens here.” Instead she finished with a, “-happens before September. This is crazy.” Oh. I guess I need to get used to finding shelter because September is just around the corner. When the lightning started to die down, she offered to drive me home. The first/second grade teacher was also getting a ride. As we waited, I found a dry spot to wait in because I’m fairly certain that if lightning struck the metal roofs which are held by metal poles, which were sitting in a stream of water, if you happen to be standing in that water, you would be toast. I tried explaining this concept but the teacher kept insisting we wait in that little stream of water, as it was closer to where the car was coming around. Fearing my safety, I actually decided to not move until the car pulled around and I could jump in safely. Obviously, as I live to tell the tale I made it home safe. However, I have a whole new depth of respect for the elements. When you can feel the thunder vibrating through your body, it gets pretty scary. No wonder everyone here is scared of lightning. It’s scary!

In other news, my sister sent me a couple episodes of Grey’s Anatomy since I haven’t seen any since I left. I have learned a couple of things. Watching Grey’s Anatomy can sometimes feel very sad and traumatic. Sometimes it’s the storylines and sometimes it’s the images, but it always feels too familiar and it can make me cry. Also, watching these things and crying it out can be very cathartic which makes me feel better. So, since I was feeling down all last week due my dad’s birthday and such, I watched Grey’s, felt traumatized by the images, cried, embraced the pain, re-watched those two episodes I have access to, cried some more and now I’m starting to feel better. All I have to do now is go to IST, meet up with my friends and I’m back to normal.

Next time on my blog...probably stuff about the debaucheries that will happen during training. Tune in!

Pamela and I getting the lettuce ready to be planted.

Me taking out the lettuce from the little planter container.

Rodrigo putting holes into the dirt for the lettuce heads and one of the students getting ready to water the soil.

One of the kids washing his hands with the water pouring off the plastic covering of the greenhouse.