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 1-6th 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…
