well there is always february

Faith. I never thought so much of my life was ever going to be based around such an intangible concept. But here I am, 2 months into my site, a couple surveys distributed, a handful of cafecitos attended and a few preliminary ideas about the dynamics how things work around here jotted down on some paper. I try and stay positive, mostly because it physically pains me if I say too many negative things to myself in one day. I realize everything is a process, and this process is what all my faith and “get up and go” is betting on at this point. I mean, if so many people before me went through this same agonizing integration process, I’ve got to make it to the other side right? They keep saying it’ll all make sense one day and that I just need to keep putting myself out there. People here and volunteers encourage me by saying my Spanish will be perfect before next year even! None of these things feel like they are going to happen anytime soon, but this is where faith comes in. I believe these past truths may one day become my past truths. My story won’t look like their story because I will have made it my own along the way. But it helps to know that before me, people were struggling through the ambiguity of “what the hell am I doing here” and making it to the other side of clarity and purpose. February brings the new school year, maybe new ideas and a revived motivation. Maybe I’ll actually be able to hold a conversation with someone in Spanish that’s more than describing how flat Florida is or what Peace Corps is. As much as it feels like life is running at the speed of molasses right now, I’m hopeful. The light at the end of the tunnel is the hope that all this faith in the process will have manifested into reciprocated faith in me to do what I set out to do; start with the people, facilitate positive social change, make it last. It’s a lot to ask but what can I say, it has always been a go big or go home kind of ride.

November, my sense is returning?

November, 26^th to be exact. The skies still get grey and rain still falls on occasion. But for the most part, nights are colder, winds are quicker, and I have less and less of an urge to go on morning runs. Christmas lights are out which makes me feel a little closer to home. For students its their winter break, the equivalent to our summer break. Next year brings a new school year but in the mean time, streets fill with screams (of joy mostly)  and games, like throwing rocks up in the air over each others head or building random things to race your bike over. For me, this means less time in the schools, just as I got used to a schedule, it changed, no real surprise there. It means more time in the community, more time in the streets, time to write my casa. The most daunting part is that it has to be in Spanish. I have come to terms that it will be a document, an incomplete one. Because there is no way I will have gotten to know the community inside and out or well enough to develop any sort of true diagnostic. Also lets be real, my surveys are far from board certified. I feel useless kind of and as though I’m still more of a burden rather a help. Still, I feel like people have faith in me, like my counterpart here at the escuela. He seems to think I’ll play a great roll in my two years here. I have two years but at the pace I’m going I feel like in 2 years I’ll have barely got some new project off the ground. It doesn’t help that it is the end of the school year when everyone just wants to leave and vacation. If I can just wait out the next couple months, do what I can, help with what I can find or what’s thrown my way, maybe next year, I’ll stand taller and be a part of something, collaborate or understand. Never the less, I am part of this place, whether those people I always smile at that never smile back want me here or not. I make friends with kids hanging out on light posts that go to my school and in the mean time I’m being more myself and realizing that no its not perfect, I’m not exactly doing any of the 100 things I may have thought at one point I’d be doing, The kids and parents don’t really know who I am, I don’t have a concrete purpose, I haven’t made any real difference here, and I don’t fully understand everyone that talks to me…yet. In time, things will make sense, this I was promised and this is what I have.

what peace corps problems?

18 November 2013

Things just got a little more real, a little more sad, and slightly awakened. My life choices are mine to live with and this includes the sacrifices of the time lost while they play out. My two years away means in fact, I am not home, to help, to call, to hug. It means I am still 22 months out from being there. Reality hits like waves from different oceans. So many things are coming together in my life to make a stir of emotions reach the brink of the pot they are in. I’ve been in site one month and  a half, I can feel a change, not only in the weather, less rain and more wind, but also in my attitude, my relationships are deepening. These aren’t just people I want to like me for now. They are people, with ideas, contradictions, prejudices and people who genuinely care. I was invited on the teachers trip at the escuela and they offered to combine money so that I can go. I was speechless because it means a lot to me that even though they don’t know me very well, they are willing to do such a thing for me. I was upset to learn that is the same day they need me to go into San Jose to get my ID, so I wouldn’t be able to go. For me the sentiment remains. Teachers are starting to wave at me at the high school, I find myself, even on rough days, smiling and smiling even bigger when I get a genuine smile back from one of the students. I went to the store to recharge my phone in my sweatpants the other day…everyday is less and less a front, and more and more me. Devastating news from the home front and in my own relationship in combination with an intense hike yesterday have all left me drained and tired. Time and patience…poco a poco, I must never forget.


 

Update

Nov 16
I know its been a while, I'm sorry. So much has happened since last time I think. I can start with me, I am doing better. Sometimes it takes a good old fashion come apart to feel better. Life really isn’t all that bad. I'm doing what I love, volunteering and I’m in a beautiful country and have the opportunity to stay for two more years. What really pulled me from it was talking with my mentor and taking a day to not feel obligated to anyone. I don’t always have the opportunity to do this, especially since I live with a family and my existence is currently being folded into theirs. But this past Monday, I stayed in my sweatpants all day, and I refused to feel bad about it. Last weekend I got to see CJ, cause he is awesome and came to see me.
As far as work goes, the school year is ending but activities are picking up. I got to finish up and give out some surveys to high schoolers, 50 or so to start, I’ve been helping a couple students who want are going to try and get a certification in English coming up this Saturday. We talk about all sorts of things, which is awesome to get to know them, although they are seniors and will be leaving this year, they will be nice to see around town. I’ve been helping with inventory at the escuela, which just means counting books and organizing them. I’ve been invited to a few things, teachers end of the year hangout day, which sadly Ill be in San Jose receiving my cedula/identification in CR, that day, but I feel loved that they invited to take me. I’ve sat in on charlas for human trafficking awareness and today, ladies and gentlemen, Laura and I ran our first taller with a group of kids at MUSADE. Although its not news for her, its my first chance to stand in front of kids and give them activities and stuff to think about. Granted I don’t have much experience with youth, and sometimes I wonder about my effectiveness at giving charlas. Maybe Ill figure it out one day, maybe Ill just stick to what I'm good at...as soon as I figure out what that is. I have a growing list of ideas from gardens to murals and tutoring, and its only been a month and a half, working on 2! The end of this month is Thanksgiving, one of the 2 official PeaceCorps Costa Rica holidays we get off, and Ill be hanging out with Ramona and Adrienne at some nice ambassadors house and then, Uvita, in cabinas with everyone who can make it. I’m really excited to have a volunteer hangout again, its been a long time. For now, days are moving by fast. Tomorrow is a hike with my counterpart and his family and Laura, then starts another week. Filled with sitas and little time to slow my roll but really it is exactly what I had asked for, guess you’ve got to be careful about that ;) In the mean time, Ill try and squeeze in me time. First there was too much, now there’s too little, next stop, right in the middle, right where I need to be.
 

 

 

I just cant seeee

Some times I have days like today, when I wake up and I feel like I’ll mosey around, pura vida, take my time, adopt more of the tranquila lifestyle. It helped that today I didn’t have much to do. I offered to help with inventory… of what you ask! Well today it was anything with the word book in it; book, booklets workbooks, etc. It was roughly 5 hours of me by myself in the “archives” room, otherwise known as a storage room in the back of the school where nothing happens and people don’t even realize you’re there. It was nice to listen to my own music and spend a day “doing” something. With as much as I worry and complain about feeling useless, often I find myself explaining to one person or the other that I won’t be back the next day or why I wasn’t there yesterday. (I’m not even sure why they want me there, I don’t really “do” anything, in fact I barely talk). So far, at my school, I have the interdisciplinary team and the director. I have yet to break into the teacher or student circle. At the high school I have a couple of the English teachers, mostly just one, and a handful of students who think I’m weird for sure. I don’t want them to feel like I’m not there for them, but I can only integrate into one place at a time and school days are precious this time of year, I’m running out of time. The last class I observed at the high school, 3/4^ths of the time they were taking a test. I offered to play games next time which got a good response but now I’m terrified… what the hell do I do with them? My “work experience” with youth stops at putting them in harnesses and walking them through a course. A bunch of 8^th graders, awkward as they are, who probably think nothing much of me are going to be my first group… well baptism by fire didn’t become a motto of mine for nothing, it seems to be a theme in life. Hmmm and then I have days like Monday and Tuesday when it seems like nothing I do, not even eating, I’m doing right. I feel like that one time at water park I got stuck under a raft with a whole family on it at the end of a ride…. If I could only stand up, I could breathe and be ok. If I only had an idea what the hell I was doing, or felt like I was useful/helpful/ a part of things, I could breathe, and smile and answer the question “how are you” honestly when I say “good”. It’s like walking in a field with heavy fog and you aren’t sure if you should run or walk but you hear voices saying don’t worry you’ll be fine, just keep moving… Well I know I’ll be fine, its just a field, but I can’t seeeeeeeeee.

 It was more than helpful to talk to my mentor, Alexis. She had walked in these shoes before and has felt this strain. I want to write what she told me so when I have another Monday and Tuesday I can re read it, although ill probably just call her. She asked how things were and I told her what I was doing, she affirmed that I wasn’t alone, that what I was doing was actually the right thing, just being around, cause teachers and students will see your face and they’ll remember that you were there and they will begin to trust you. As long as I make myself available to talk to and help out where I can, play games, get a few kids to remember my name for next year, the process of getting teachers to let you in (their classes) and share ideas takes this time, these first couple months. She made me feel less alone, she offered to help out with a camp and when I said I had no plans for any, she said when I do, whenever I need the support, she can come help out. This next weekend we made plans to get together, so I can get out of the city, onto a beach and I think above all else, I could use this. Not even cause I need a vacation, or even earned one. But I have to remember that I’m not alone, and that yes it’s my job, but I’m also a volunteer and in order to be successful in helping other I have to take care of myself first (thanks Jenny for that reminder as well).

baby steps (oct 24)

Today I write because it was a hell of day. So many things happened to me, for me and with me. I woke up late again… 620 but didn’t get out of bed til 720..seems like that not wanting to wake up early thing followed me here. Anywho, I showered, dressed in my painting clothes and headed out. I painted for most the morning. I took on this job because one…I want to help do whatever I can and two… I really enjoy painting and physical work, so in a sense it was just as much for me as it was for my counterparts office make over. Turns out my second day of painting, when my mind was absolutely blank and my eyes only reflected the stokes of my paint brush in mint green, was not just for the sake of paining. The immortal advice of fellow PVCs and my program managers, “just be present” never felt more apt. A man in a ball cap came in mid morning and I was introduced to a man that had a lot of ins in the community. Quite an understatement since he sits on three boards, 2 for development, the Junta of education. But I was reassured that somehow, he understood my purpose and that he works with low income, low resource families and great people. He gave me his phone number and invited me, with opens arms and enthusiasm I have yet to find, to their meeting tomorrow. Of course there isn’t a time and of course it’s a day that CJ is visiting but this literally fell out of the sky, into my lap and seems to be one step closer to wedging myself into the community. What luck! In the afternoon, because I had no idea that the afternoon classes at the high school start at 12:10, the same time I left the escuela, I felt a sense of urgency and it was unsettling. I felt late and rushed.. and how are those things possible here? Latent remnants of my US “punctuality”, I'm sure. My host mom reassured me to take my time and eat and I’ll get there when I get there. When I did eventually get there, there were no sentiments to the contrary and I sat in on Yesi’s English class. I was invited to sit in on another English class next door. I should mention here that it rains, every afternoon, pretty much without fail. I was in a hurry and wearing open shoes seemed like a dumb idea, so I strapped on my hiking boots, to walk faster and keep the water out. Whether it was because of the boots or not, I was invited my one of the other teachers to their hiking group that goes out on Saturdays! How perfect! It’s like someone pulling the strings of fortune was listening to my thoughts. All in all I saw three different groups of students, and I feel, finally, like I’m chipping away at the mountain of ambiguity and the how and what my next two years may look like. A.great.day.

Oct 19

I like today, it’s a Saturday but I still feel productive. Laura and I went to a charla at the museo in samram centro discussing human rights. The majority of women (cause all but one were) were mothers and concerned for their children in the school system. They all have children with unique needs and “diagnoses”. Learning abilities that span a spectrum are not exclusive to the US, nor is the push from pharmaceutical companies to sell their cures for these diagnoses. Children around the world face issues surviving and in a system that leaves little room for contextual education. Despite Costa Rica spending nearly half of its GDP on health and education, a point of pride for many Costa Ricans, the system still suffers inadequacies and shortcomings. The top down approach permeates the culture at administrative levels, and this is certainly not new. The difference for me continues to be the grassroots of it all. In the meeting, I scribbled in my notebook, thoughts I hope that will guide me in these next two years: I started my process of personal change step by step, you have to keep at it, change is difficult and never happens overnight, its that nagging voice that develops in the back of your mind, a collection of voices of people who made an impression on you because they have said something you knew deep down was right. My personal change happened when I got to college, and no one told me how to do it or what to think, I was offered the chance to think for myself. This group of moms, all with so much to share, represent an opportunity to realize that they have it within themselves to make a change; for themselves, for their children, and in the lives of others who struggle and suffer as they do. It was really encouraging to see what I have been studying actually happening right in front of me. People coming together, sharing stories, creating a safe space to express their feelings and get the support they, at one point or another, didn’t think was out there.

 I get exciting when I’m in situations like these, I get motivated and start thinking of all the possibilities my time here will bring. Talking with Laura, as we walked around, bought random shit we will throw out one day, eating lunch and splitting a cinnamon roll, I realized a few things.  I feel at odds with myself because I want to move forward, I want to show my worth, my skills, I want to share what I know, collaborate, motivate, encourage, etc., all the things that drew me to be a peace corps volunteer in the first place. And if I had just started a new job in the US, these things probably would be expected of me at this point. However, I am not in the US, I am not (really) getting paid and if I take a day or an afternoon off in the middle of the week, no one would probably know or care. I am a volunteer, in a new and different country other than my own, learning a language I have yet to come close to mastering. I try to remind myself to take my time, breathe, but I realized today I have another step backwards I could take; I’m not up against a wall just yet. I have two years and yes it is short but pushing head first into these expectations I’ve imagined for myself, makes me feel more at a loss, ineffective, and disappointed than anything else. Some where I heard or read a piece of advice that says: lower your expectations and you’ll feel better about your work. At first I thought this was unreasonable and almost depressing but from where I sit today it’s starting to make sense and for my sanity I think I need it to. Conversations, chatting with a few students, introducing myself to one new person a day, these are great successes, reasons to celebrate and appreciate the time, my time here. The other things will come, after trust is built, communication established, ideas are informally shared; but for now I need to pay respect to the passing of time, like appreciating the slow momentum of canoeing on a lake when fog sets in think and heavy. For now I need to work on my Spanish, the foundation that will make my work here possible, and learn about my neighbors and their stories, that will make my work here meaningful.

Oct 16

Today I went for a run and the rest of the day kept the same pace. Slow, because I’m either adjusting to the rhythm of life here or I ran out all my energy first thing. Yet fast because time passes whether we will it to or not. I walked to school in a cloud, not a metaphoric one, but quite literally a cloud, which made me smile. Since I got here almost 2 weeks ago, I haven’t smiled as much as I used to, I haven’t laughed or felt on top of the world like I’d like to or even how I was just 3 short weeks ago.  I’ve had many thoughts. There are moments in time during the day that I feel confident and ready to take on the challenges ahead, whatever they are, I’m not afraid. I’ve been through rough times, in fact as a team leader it was almost intrinsic in the job description to be lonely and do things your team didn’t always like you for, but I survived! This is supposed to be fun and I’m all about having fun. Then I have moments where I just want to stop talking and cry because speaking Spanish is like lifting heavy weights from the back of my throat that are tied to synapses in my brain. Words fall out of my mouth awkwardly, every syllable is wrong, every word is a raised eyebrow and I just don’t understand how after three months I can feel this inadequate. I lose patience with myself, assuming that others are wishing for me to be better or just stop talking all together just as badly as I want to be better. I give up. My brain feels swollen with effort but really I’ve done nothing but say things wrong all day long. Today I hate Spanish. Today I sat in a chair and at the brink of tears because I just don’t get it and sometimes, it feels like drowning.
Today I made a list of things to do, which I realized was approaching dangerous after my 5^th item, I knew I was asking too much of myself. Sure enough one or two items were completed. I can feel good also knowing the ladies that work at the school invited me to come in early to help; at least they are putting me to work. Trying to explain my purpose in English is hard enough, considering I’m not really sure what the hell that is anymore. I had an idea at one point didn’t I? I’m here for the kids...no it's not just that. I’m here to make a difference…that’s not good enough. I have things I’d like to do, visions of what me working here looks like, girls empowerment groups, boys empowerment groups, classes on sexuality, team work, tolerance, decision making, fun, man these kids are going to love me! Right? Sure. So far I’ve poorly articulated my ultimate objective to work with youth (super specific) while in the meantime I’ll be around to help with whatever (also really specific) and ask strangers questions regarding the issues their community faces (not intrusive at all). Taking my ability out of the picture, when can I start saying what it is I want to do without interfering with a genuine community analysis? First, when will people start inviting me to chat? Don’t they know I’m a good listener and I love coffee? No, I suppose not. Slow and steady, poco a poco, and everything in its own time. Nothing I knew that worked well came easy or overnight. I suppose this is no exception. For now I’ll stick to filling my calendar with things to do, sand desks, attend charlas, help at Día de los Adultos Mayores, read Spanish, breathe, eat, sleep, read English, run, walk, listen, talk.

from my front porch

This city is rooted in the mountains of the central valley, just west of San Jose.

This barrio has layers of life and cement and paint, with abrupt sidewalks made of weathered pavement, mud and rushing water.

This is my barrio, its people will know me and my bright green rain jacket, one day.

Once a day, the main street of this barrio fills like a river with the green and celeste uniforms of students going and coming, with in no particular pattern and in no hurry to figure it out.

This city is covered in tin roofs; amplifying the sound of rain to a deafening level, and deflecting the sound of my footsteps crackling pebbles beneath my feet as I run into the quiet morning.

This city is full of colour; beige and greens, pink and yellows, blues and reds. And just like others, it is a guarded city; with bars on windows and gates that tuck in their respective families at night.

This barrio is wet; with muddy streets and muddier rivers and try as they might umbrellas can’t keep the water out.

My barrio sits in clouds. On a walk one day, I wasn’t sure if I was walking into the hanging droplets of water in the air or if they had gathered enough gravity to fall towards me.

My barrio is quiet; except during a futbol game where you can hear cheers and yells from all the neighbors, or when Friday night energy spills over into Saturday mornings.

My barrio has a quiet beauty, seen from my front porch at any hour or in the faces of people who live happily and simply in the midst of a shanty town where sidewalks equal thru roads that exist as front yards and where very few things exist for just one persons use, these things just belong here.

This is my home and it is growing on me.

my first week of many

I don’t feel bad for waking up late 7:45, working out and taking my time at this breakfast nook… nope. And I'm not even sure I have a right to feel this way. But I'll justify it by explaining that I have had 4 relatively productive days, in a row! I met with all counterparts; devised a temporary work schedule for myself at least at the high school, and I have a date with most of the faculty in the high school in two weeks to deliver my not yet finished surveys. I have a tutor that has agreed to help me continue my Spanish learning and I initiated email correspondence with Hazel (best teacher ever) to further help me with my Spanish. I've been to the escuela everyday and the high school almost every day, been to the EBAIS and PANI and met with Laura, half for funzies and half cause we had our meeting with Enid at MUSADE. Every day I have had at least one meeting, one good conversation, or mini goal achieved.  My host mom and sister seem to think I'll have lots of friends in no time. Social, professional, personal development, check check check for this week. Again, I'm not sure I have the right to feel this way, I may just be justifying laziness and underachievement, but right now I'm enjoying it. I know other volunteers have given charlas, taught classes, are already famous in their towns! Ill get there, I have two neighborhood kids that call my name when they see me walking up the street. Poco a poco is how it goes. There are over 400 kids in the escuela, and over 800 in the high school, and I have two years to get in with them. So, basically I’m happy with where I ended up. All things considered, I feel accomplished. One bad thing, I totally forgot that I have objectives that I can fall back on to explain myself. When my new work partners at the high school look at me and ask what I need help with or what projects I'm interested in, I was too busy worrying if they realized I still have the post of my piercing in my lip. Note to self, I should start working my actual objectives into their (and my) understanding of why I'm really here. Tomorrow is an acto civico, at 7 am. First off who celebrates things this early. A 3AM march in Los Angeles? 7 AM community get-together at escuelas around the country for Dia de Cultura? Anyway, I have that tomorrow, should be fun, then an afternoon hanging out with Laura, maybe a mountain to climb? Vamos a ver que va a pasar!

the days keep coming...

Today was a day unlike but very like the rest. I woke up “late” around 730 and began the second piece of my present for my host sister, today being her birthday. I’m broke, and this being the case for many years, I have increasingly become more apt to making my gifts. Friendship bracelets it is! She is turning 11 and I’m leaving soon and although she gets her room back and her mom back, I’d like to think that she’ll at least keep me in mind. I know that I'll miss her either way. The rest of my day, almost in its entirety, was spent building and decorating a piñata. Tomorrow is our family party for our families and instructors. We were encouraged to bring some of our culture into the mix so its bbq themed with root-beer float deserts. Keeping in mind we are not actually in the States, we kept some Costa Rican traditions around, like piñatas and cafecito. There was an attempt at committees and planning, but then life happened and the balance of keeping sane between new experiences pushed it back until now, when it’s in our laps. I have faith that as long as the food is alright, and it doesn’t rain too much, we will be just fine. My piñata reminds me of a spongebob character but for a first attempt at hand making one, it’s not half bad. At least I’m expecting it to be destroyed. From now until Wednesday we are chock full of activities, none of which I think will give me the time to let it all sink in. Family party, final interviews, final language class, talk by the stand in ambassador, graduation, lunch, dinner, packing, gift giving, saying goodbye, and a bus ride. It’s fair to say that I have made it to the full-fledged  “homesickness” stage. KFC commercials make me both hungry and sad, the breeze puts me back in Vermont on my mountain side campus, laughing makes me miss my mom. It started as something I couldn’t believe, mostly because I don’t have specific home to miss, but I guess it’s about time I missed all of it. The things I once knew and were familiar with are fading into a background as something totally new takes up the space between my ears. A new language, new rhythm, new job, new people to meet, new tasks at hand and new expectations. It’s enough to make one miss KFC commercials and find a newfound appreciation for 80's pop music.

hammocks to hiking to the Basilica

We are working on a month now since we first arrived, suitcases in toe, to Tres Rios. Now as we settle into our communities, I feel a level of comfort in knowing a few things about a few things. Spanish is still a real challenge. While I can catch on to things quicker than before, my host family at times ends up finishing my sentences when I start to stare off into space looking for words. They have been a key part in my adjustment here for sure.  Mother’s Day is coming up and for Ticos, it’s a national holiday, most people have off and more impressively so do we.  I feel pressured to do something nice but judging by the egg I made the other morning, maybe cooking isn’t going to be something I do. We have only one more day off and that is CR’s Independence Day coming up in September.  

                Last weekend was our site visit weekend, where they shipped all of us off to different corners of Costa Rica to visit with current volunteers. They sent me to Limon, the eastern most province that stretches from Nicaragua in the north to Panama in the south. It is the province that most people agree is a whole different world. It has a Caribbean feel and all the tropical diseases you have ever heard about. I left my house early for a Saturday and hopped a bus to San Jose. In efforts to meet up with my travel buddies, I strolled along, trying to look normal with my 3 day pack and gringa accent…I’m not one with an acute sense of directions but I’d like to think I can read street signs. It is important perhaps at this moment to explain how Ticos give directions. They go by commonly understood major landmarks, such as the museum, the clinica biblica, the pedestrian calle and so on. Having to make it to a random corner in the middle of the city turned out to be harder than I thought. Given that everyone here knows these landmarks and what 100 meters is, street signs are seldom, so much for finding it on my own. I stopped and asked two different people working in two different stores and they told me two different directions.

But after a phone call, I found my group and we made our way to the main bus terminal that would take the four of us to southern Limon. The landscape changed from rainforest and ear-popping mountain ranges to palm trees and flat lands. It got hotter and more humid and I’m pretty sure I didn’t dry out the whole time I was there. I was in Bribri, the last “big city” before you get into the indigenous territories. It was a hub for those who lived there to commute out, and for some to come to school, over an hour away. The bus dropped us off where the two main roads intersected and we meet with our volunteers and had pizza (again something done a bit differently here).  Because it was the weekend, not much was planned; some grocery shopping and a hike back to the house, passed the guy with a pig, the cow field and over some streams. That first night two of the next door neighbor girls came over for art hour in the art room/ guest room. The next couple days were peppered with work, waiting and play. I had the chance to visit a classroom at a close by escuela for 1-6^th graders and play that origami fortune game. We also had a nice cafecito with a good friend of my volunteer. I was excited to be able to follow most of what was said, except of course when I was asked things directly…in which case my brain panics. We had the chance to meet up with other volunteers and my fellow trainees both nights as well, being so close to the beaches has its advantages, to be sure. In Calhuita we had our first sloth sighting accompanied by a monkey and raccoon sighting as well. The waves could give you a run for your money but it was good to be near water again. I was also grateful for the mornings of pancakes and French toast we had while I was there, as well as my mosquito net, even though I think it inspired a few bug nightmares.

My last day, the class we had prepped for ended up being cancelled. So we sat around for a few hours chatting through the early morning. Our bus left Bribri around 1030 and would not get back to San Jose until close to 5:30. There was a couple hours of traffic, a quick stop by the feds looking for fugitives or something and a check point for drug search. Needless to say it was a long day and I was ever so happy to come back home.

Since last weekend and this one, there was only 2 days of class/ training. This past Friday was a holiday as well and an annual pilgrimage to the Basilica in Cartago. It has roots in the Catholic story of a girl who found a stone virgin Mary, and no matter how many times she took it from the place she found it, it would reappear at its original location every time. A church was built on the site the stone would return to but burned down in a fire. People took this as a sign and the church was supposedly rebuilt on the land the girls house was. Every year close to half the entire population of Costa Rica take the pilgrimage, mostly on foot to visit this church and pay homage. This year, with the help and coordination of a few volunteers a good handful of us got to go partake in this significant cultural event. From San Jose to Cartago is about 22 kilometers or 15 or so miles. Although many people now-a-days still go for religious reasons, there are some who appreciate it more for its traditional and cultural significance, or do it for the exercise. There was a man we would see often who had been walking, at least from San Jose in his bare feet and when you arrive at the church there is the option to go the last 100 feet, on your knees, and even watching it is a humbling experience. We celebrated our accomplishment at a restaurant in Cartago before the ride back home and once again, I was ever so grateful for a shower that waited until I was almost done to tap out of hot water and to crawl into bed.

Indeed, a note to self, don’t leave things that have juices or open bags of peanuts in your back pack…ever ever ever ever…

Buenas!

For having prepared  myself to leave and work abroad for two years and for the almost year and a half application and assignment process, I slept very well the night before I boarded the plane to DC for Staging, the event that brought all 31 of us together. The year and a half leading up to this was spent thinking of the things I would be doing around the world, Kenya, Guatemala, Kazakhstan, who knew? Since February however, I had spent my time in disbelief and waiting for someone to tell me it was a typo or wrong email. Costa Rica you say? That’s just a joke, no one gets that lucky. 2 weeks in at this point and I still say its all a dream.

I left FLL around 8 am and said good bye to mom and dad at the airport, something I hadn't done in years. I made it safely into DC around 1130, all things accounted for. I took a cab ride with a man from Egypt and we talked about politics, the massive protests going on and how when people are oppressed for so long, they could and will fight back. He did most of the talking, rightly so. Being American I have realized, we only get worked up about short term injustices, and televise them for a few months before we all return to normal. Alyssa was the first person I met and we shared a room. We wondered around to get food before our official orientation began at 1230. We waited in line and struck up conversation with our soon to be colleagues Laura, Jessica and Kiara. Staging was a mix of getting to know you activities and explanation of expectations from our side of the fence as well as the Peace Corps outlined list. After staging, we set a time to meet back up and go out for dinner. As per usual I was late, but this time only by 2 minutes! Still, I was two minutes too late so I talked with my mom and Jason on the phone and pretended that they were with me as I sat at the restaurant/ bar in the hotel, ate a giant cheeseburger and had a glass of whiskey on the rocks before heading to bed; my final fling with my North American cuisine.  I don’t think I was sad at actually being alone. I think I was sad more at the concept of being alone the night before I leave the country. All's well that ends well, I had a nice chat with Alyssa before bed upon both our safe returns and we napped for a few hours before we had to meet downstairs for check out at 230 am…flight leaves at 6. The expression “hurry up and wait” never fails to be accurate in so many instances. Fading in and out of dreams, I remember thinking to myself, hey Marlee remember that day you are supposed to fly to Costa Rica, to which I quickly realized my plane was already headed that way.

 

 The ride to Costa Rica was a few hours and let me tell you how excited I was to see mountains again, real mountains; I knew, even if it was still a dream it was a damn good one. After we landed and got our things we were shuffled around the small airport until we reached our buses and were whisked away to Tres Rios for orientation week. It was beautiful there. We didn’t get to see the three rivers the name boasts about but we saw plenty of romantic city lights in the valley below and spent the better part of those four days bonding over food, soccer, giant moths, lack of language proficiency for some of us and the state of awe we were all still in. Even when it rains in Costa Rica, I smile. Four days came and went and we were once again shuffled out and onto the buses that would take us to our new families. The night before however we celebrates by dancing and showing off our talents and or lack there of. There was juggling and nun-chucks and dance lessons, it was nice to hang out all together in such an atmosphere.

 

The day we got to our family felt to me, and some agreed, like a team reveal day at an orphanage. We were all homeless and going to be completely dependent on our new families for quite a few many things until we got the hang of it…if we got a hang of it. Christopher, Ramona, and I were placed carefully in the boundaries of our new community and in a few short meters, I was home. My new family has a beautiful home, open for family and friends alike; and to me it is quite cozy. I have a lovely mother who is a wonderful mom to her three kids, two boys 17 and 19 and one girl, who is 10 and my best little teacher. My host dad is also a wonderful dad; being able to be an outsider it isn’t hard to tell that there is a lot of love here. I feel akin to the littlest one, probably because we are both growing into own at the same time. My first night was a little overwhelming as they had some family over, including kids and because I couldn’t keep up with the adults, I hung out with them and they taught me some Spanish. The little one also wrote me a note of which I’ll probably keep forever. I am so very grateful for my family here. They remind me of the way things were for me when I was about 14 or 15. There are lives and girlfriends and plans and, well no cell phones in my day ;), but us kids had lives of our own and yet home was where we all orbited each other and the force that tied us together. My family has made me feel more than comfortable, which perhaps I should keep in mind. I feel safe and although I am miles and miles away from home, there is a very familiar feeling, like I really haven’t gone all that far.

 

 Indeed, there is much more of my North American/ western roots here than I planned on seeing and in some ways it makes me sad to see such a heavy influence. Where at the same time, progress takes on many forms and it has been welcomed from what I can tell thus far. People I have encountered are incredibly hospitable, sincere, and willing to help; even when my Spanish sounds more like Chinese for all they or I know. In the mean time, I am learning the language, poco y poco, and I’m finding my way around. Every day is a new lesson, a new adventure, a new story shared and a new one to tell.

My hope

So many beautiful people and things I'm going to have to say good bye to, and have already. There is a lot about Vermont I'm going to miss. For example: how quiet it is, how few people actually live here; how people don't always suck and are actually interested in doing good for each other and living as part of a greater community; the hills that change colors like a kaleidoscopic; cows, strolling rivers, and the stars on a clear night. It has been an incredible place to come study and call home for a while, and I am so very grateful for it.
It's the people, though, that I'll miss the most, and being surrounded by so much sincerity and willingness to learn to be better than yesterday for the sake of tomorrow. They listen, not for a break in conversation so they can tell their story, but so they can really understand you. People realize that time here is short and go out of their way to be supportive when you're having a bad day, even when theirs may be worse. I'm far from seeing and doing all that there is to do and see. But, if I may, there are a few things I've picked up on in all my leaving's and starting over's, and that is that when you see something great, you don't let it pass without recognition. Granted we are all departing very soon, and I realize time is limited, but I've tried to spend these last moments telling/showing those who have made me feel special that they have done so. For what its worth, in my travels, I have come to embrace the practice of gratitude. Its really the only parting gift I have to offer in many ways and it's a gift that keeps giving.
I'm not going to pretend that I'll see everyone again, I won't. I may see some around the internet and in six months, I'll have a complete come apart as I flip through pictures of their faces and all the wonderful things they are doing in this world. But that's the thing! That's what makes this experience so great, and these people so wonderful. We are all connected through this institution, this campus, and our learning's from one another, always. I honestly look forward to the day we get to cross paths in our future adventures. I realize there is a range of sentiments. Not everyone is leaving on a high and some bad blood has been born out of some not so great experiences. But, I will venture to say that these are not altogether void of a lesson learned, although maybe not immediately apparent.
I have seen great humanity and despite hurt and offense, I am better for it. I will miss these hills, canoeing, hiking, soccer, beer on front porches and some of the most amazing people I've had the pleasure of getting to know. To have this experience once is a blessing and in moments of doubt about the human race, I hope to always remember the people I've met to bring me back from the edge. Thank you all for being the reason I came here and the hope I'll carry with me moving forward.