Un Año, Pero Lleno

Even the locally-grown, gourmet coffee I purchased
the day before was stolen that night, so you know
I'm not joking when I tell you it was rough. 

One year ago tonight, things changed quite a bit for me in my journey in Costa Rica with the Peace Corps. 
Waking up to an empty apartment and the sobering discovery that virtually all of my personal possessions had been stolen while I slept in my bed will always be one of my most difficult memories. The flood of emotions that swept through me - fear for my personal security, despair for the loss of material items, anger toward the guilty person(s), and failure in my role as a volunteer in my community - tossed and turned inside me for what seemed like an eternity. 
In the hours and days that followed, however, I began to realize the stellar quality of the people I had around me. My neighboring volunteers, numerous office staff members, and a few wonderful host country nationals rallied around me and offered some pretty outstanding support in my process of starting over. 
It would be a sisyphean task to try and depict the twists and turns of the following twelve months. So many changes unfolded as I worked to reset my trajectory: A new site, a new community, a new region, a new host family, a new local development association, new documentation, and many other intricate adjustments were required in the new undertaking. It would be some time before I felt even a shred of what we call normalcy.

My site change landed me
back in San José's backyard

Despite all the tumult of those days, I still say - with no hesitation whatsoever - that I look back on the overall outcome with a broad smile across my face. One of those ear-to-ear jobs. I landed in a very special place in El Llano, working with motivated individuals and groups, living with a tender and caring host family, and I ended my two years of service on what I think was the highest note possible. 

Sonia Mora Bermudez, my host mom in my
second site. She's one of the best people I've met. 

The experience absolutely led me to consider extending my time here in Costa Rica with the Peace Corps, and it surely influenced my decision to apply for the Regional Leader position - a role I'm very much so enjoying these days. 

My newest family: PCCR's Regional Leaders along
with our wonderful coordinator, Mónica Salas

Bottom line: I'm not here to deny that life comes with enormous challenges; no one could ever claim such nonsense. Life is hard, and then you become an adult. Rather, I'd simply like to reach into my own tattered bag of life experience and pull out a glimmer of hope for you. If you find yourself in the midst of some considerably trying times, press forward. Press forward with as much positivity as you and your support network can muster, and I promise you it will end up for the better. 
Learn from everything, and you'll always come out on top. 

Love y'all.

Siempre Esperando

< sigh >

You were probably just as exhausted from 2016 as I was around 11:30pm on December 31st. Amid all the horrific headlines, ridiculous memes, and news of celebrity deaths, it was a pretty tough year for a lot of people. I count myself among those affected by the throes of the previous 12 months.

Among many things, I...

• Moved to Costa Rica (in case you missed that)
• Endured 3 months of PCCR training
• Met some of the most amazing people in this world
• Ate cow tongue
• Ate cow tail
• Went to my first international soccer game
• Fell in and out of love
• Became a cat person (RIP sweet Molly)
• Survived my first earthquake
• Endured Costa Rica's first hurricane in over 100 years
• Rang in the 2017 with some of my Tico 31 fam

Puerto Viejo w/Dan, Tory, & Joe - 3 of the best folks I know.

One of the many, many other things that took place over 2016 was an uptick in my Spanish-speaking abilities. Combined with 3 months of language lessons during training, immersion in my site has gone a very long way in helping me sharpen my español. There are so many things I've learned about this beautiful language that I never, ever knew before coming here, and that's what I want to write about here. 

Not pictured: +/- 2,500 people and every star
known to mankind showing up just in time
for midnight on New Year's Eve.

As I stood on the beach in Puerto Viejo to ring in the new year among so many other anxious souls, I found my thoughts drifting to one simple Spanish phrase: Siempre Esperando. I've only now begun to fully understand the impact of it. See, I thought for the longest time that the word siempre only ever translated to "always." As it turns out, it can also be used to mean "still" - as in an ongoing action. I also thought that the verb esperar - especially in its progressive form esperando - always translated to "to wait/waiting" or "to wait for/waiting for," but I've learned that it can also mean "to hope/hoping." 

So, feeling the sand between my toes and the cool water from the Caribbean flow over and around my feet, I stared up at the stars - nostalgic as ever - and considered the enormous difference between both compound phrases made by those two words.

Siempre esperando... 

That night, looking back on 2016, I could have easily classified myself as still waiting. With everything that transpired over the last 12 months, I could have thrown myself into that category and said that I was still waiting for some specific things / outcomes / results / answers from last year - in other words, still waiting for some shadow of what I thought might've been. Perhaps it was a project that didn't unfold the way I expected. Or maybe it was a friendship or a relationship that turned out a little differently from how I'd planned. There were more than a few things that simply didn't go the way I'd foreseen, so one could make the argument that on that beach that night I was still waiting for something - anything - to give meaning or purpose to any number of the wild events of 2016. 

Then again, I considered, maybe I can take that small but crucial step that we're so wont to do and yet often fail in our attempts to accomplish: to look ahead. And so the other side of the concept behind siempre esperando could be always hoping, That is to say that, in spite of all the perceived negativity from last year's 366 days of ebb and flow (yes, it was a leap year), maybe I can say that I'll always hope for what is to come.

What an incredible difference between the two potential translations. 

[Just to clarify, I believe it's 100% okay to wait for some things. I feel most folks would agree that it all depends on what or who you're still waiting for, but there's nothing wrong with holding out for something good. That said, in some cases it's wise to simply let go and move forward - always hoping for something better.]

Wherever you find yourself as you embark on this new year, know that you're right where you're supposed to be. Whether you find yourself looking over your shoulder still waiting for something, or you've got your eyes on the horizon always hoping for what is yet to come, breathe easy knowing that everything's going to work out just fine.

 ... but if it doesn't, you can always come sit with me on my porch here in San Isidro. You and I will sip good coffee together as we wait until it does.

Pura Vida, my friends.

Between Volcanoes

I live between two volcanoes. My site, San Isidro de Aguas Claras (SIAC), is wonderfully located between Volcán Miravalles - 10 kilometers to the southeast - and Volcán Rincón de la Vieja - 15 kilometers to the west.  We're located toward the northeastern end of a long, rugged line of volcanoes that grooves along the center portion of Costa Rica, and I have the pleasure of living right between two of those bad boys.

Sweet dreams, my sweet Miravalles

Miravalles, which roughly translates to Look at the Valleys, is an inactive volcano, and its last known activity of note took place 70 years ago in 1946. Despite such a sustained period of relative dormancy, the site is still known for its high level of heat flow; in fact, the largest geothermal field in the entire country is in the heart of its foothills. Talking with some locals, I've learned about the brilliance involved in the process of harnessing energy through the geothermal activity - the more energy sucked up from the earth surrounding the volcano, the less the chance of any future volcanic action. So, there was once potential for much more activity, but time and the influence of mankind have severely dampened the chances of any truly terrible event occurring.

Let's just hope this Old Lady's Corner stays niiiice and calm.

On the other side of my community lies Rincón de la Vieja, which literally means The Old Woman's Corner. One of six active volcanoes in Costa Rica, this old lady's last measurable activity took place in September of 2011, but I have heard first-person account of someone who hiked up to the rim this past May and witnessed a lot of movement in the crater. Suffice it to say, it is entirely possible this sleeping giant may one day become much more active than it is today.

As such, my home for the next 21+ months is located precisely between two massive boiling mounds of molten lava and white-hot ash and smoke. Yet, here I am, living in peace, enjoying every day that passes a little more than the last as I learn more and more about this whole Pura Vida thing.

The cute lil' star marks my home, San Isidro de Aguas Claras

Every single day I wake up and look to the east and to the west, and I see these two reminders of the brevity of life itself. One of the lamer jokes I tell people when describing my site is that I start my morning by praying to the gods of the volcanoes, entreating them to let us all live another day. Truth be told, I love living here in SIAC. Seeing those massive volcanoes every day brings a smile to my face, and it makes me consider not just where I live, but the days in which I'm living as well.

Allow me to explain.

 But really, who doesn't love a stroll down memory lane?

Although I'm not the biggest fan of Facebook, there are aspects of it that fascinate me. One of those would be the On This Day part that reminds you what you were doing 1, 2, or 10 years ago, depending on what you posted about or were tagged in on that day in the past. I'm a super nostalgic person, so it's pure joy to look back and see where I was, what I was doing, etc. As I glance back and survey the memories, I also pause and consider the tumult from which I came.

When I decided to apply for the Peace Corps, I was in the middle of shutting down a non-profit that I'd created from scratch, and it was a difficult time for me. I was also still smarting from the decision to leave my previous job which I loved with all my heart. Times were tough in a financial sense as well, as I was faced with a monthly student loan payment of over $400 on top of car payments, health insurance, and all the other things adulting involves. It was a tough time to be me, and I don't hesitate in sharing that. There were lots of difficult things that had happened, and I was in the process of getting them all under control. I ended up getting two different jobs to make ends meet and try to save whatever I could for the upcoming two years of living abroad.

That's a whole lot of techno-mumbo-jumbo.
Suffice it to say it's turning potential bad into good.

You might say that the days, weeks, and months leading up to my service were similar to Volcán Miravalles. I see the process of bringing to a close all the difficult things during that particular season in my life as the same concept behind harnessing the geothermic energy of Miravalles for positive, productive purposes. Instead of letting the slow boil of potentially-negative circumstances get to a dangerous point, steps were taken to ensure the stress was mitigated in a productive, helpful way. After all of that, all the hurt, all the struggle, here I am living in paradise.

Conversely, I look at Rincón de la Vieja and consider all the days and ways that I have yet to live. While no one is promised tomorrow, I confess that I often ponder what my future may hold for me, including the remainder of my time as a Peace Corps volunteer and beyond. Will I return to Pensacola, only to fall right back into the daily struggle of scraping out a living while I strive to enjoy each day? Will I look for and accept a position somewhere else in the States, in some new and exciting place? Perhaps I'll settle down right here in Costa Rica, eventually coming to terms with the inevitability of gallo pinto and the necessity of umbrellas.

So you might also say that the days, weeks, and months that lay ahead of me are similar to Volcán Rincón de la Vieja. While I view them with the purest form of hope, I really know nothing about them. They could hold nothing but good, safe, enjoyable moments; however, they could also be rife with danger, struggle, and negativity. It's impossible to know in this moment. Only time will tell.

And so it is, I live between two volcanoes. One has been contained, controlled, and converted into something very, very good. The other is still a bit of a mystery, with many unsure as to what the coming days might hold. Either way, both signify some potential for craziness, but here I am, between the two, living a peaceful existence and trying to help my fellow man one day at a time.

It looks like it's going to rain. I think I'll go have some more gallo pinto.

La Esquina

Saturday afternoon, on the return bus ride following my weekend visit to San Jose, I looked up from my book and noticed a little girl sitting in front of me - maybe all of two years old - staring out the window. The look of awe in her eyes caught my attention, and I noticed her mouthing something over and over. I took out my earplugs to listen. She was whispering "hola. hola. hola." over and over again as people, cars, houses, trees, mountains, and life Itself passed by her two precious, little eyes.  The smile on her face rose and fell with each greeting, as if learning the beauty of new things all over again from moment to moment.

It set me to thinking about how I've come to be where I am. I recall the day I pulled up the Peace Corps website, Tuesday, February 24, 2015. One of my dear friends was telling me about her own application process and, for the first time, I considered the notion of being in the PC. I confess that, at the time, I imagined them as nothing more than the people who shove flowers up rifle barrels; however, I have come to find they are so much more than that. They truly are a force for good in this world. 

Not Pictured: Peace Corps

But this post stretches back much further than last year. No, to understand this process, I have to take you back to June of 2007, a full nine years ago. I was dating a young lady whose church small group wanted to take a mission trip to Costa Rica. I was surprised to get a call asking if I'd consider joining them. They justified it by saying they needed help with a soccer camp and another Spanish-speaking member. I jumped at the chance, even though my Spanish was very limited in those days. So we spent a good chunk of July in Las Juntas de Abangares in Guanacaste, a cute little former mining colony. During our time in Juntas, I met Gabriel ("Gabo" for short), an 11-year-old local boy with whom I had an instant connection, playing, laughing, joking, and being best buds. I didn't know it at the time, but Gabriel would play a pivotal role in my life. 

That's Gabo on my back!

See, I fell in love with Costa Rica - with Las Juntas, to be more specific - during that trip. So much so that I made a mental note to return. And I did! Thanks to some great support from my awesome friends and family, I was able to head back in December of that same year on my own. I spent some fantastic time with Roberto and his family camping out on the Pacific coast, climbing up Monteverde, and taking in the views at Vulcan Arenal. It was a magical time, and I'm forever grateful to the Barrantes family for their hospitality and everything they did to make this gringo feel at home. As I was dragging my bags up the ramp at the Liberia airport, something happened that would stick with me for years to come. I was in the middle of saying my goodbyes, and in the back of my mind I was wholly unsure as to whether or not I'd ever see these great people again. The goodbye that stuck with me the most was from Gabo. He reached his lanky arms up around my neck, pulled me back down to his level, looked me in the eyes and said, "Regrese a mí, por favor." (Come back to me, please.) Speaking softly, I looked right back in his eyes and promised that one day I would. SIDE NOTE: Would you believe that I get to see Gabo for the first time in almost nine years this weekend? Win!

And so I returned from Costa Rica for the second time in late 2007, and I jumped back into the US lifestyle. College, career, job, relationships, etc. all took precedence over my daydreams of one day returning to this incredible place. There were brief moments when I'd plot a trip, going so far as to have a flight picked out and a couple hundred bucks set aside to book it, but it never materialized. Something always got in the way - classwork, a girlfriend, work, the basic elements of life. So I slowly let the notion of a return trip fade over the next few years. Eventually I graduated college and got a full-time job that allowed me to travel all over the country and a little bit overseas, and places like the Bahamas, Puerto Rico and Uganda supplanted my first foreign love.

While Costa Rica never fully left my heart, there certainly were moments when it was firmly seated in the back row of my mind, but I very clearly remember when that Tico whisper started up again. It was a particularly rainy afternoon in North Topsail Beach, North Carolina, and I was about to wrap up another summer camp and head back to Jacksonville, Florida, for some downtime. There wasn't a specific event that took place; rather, my camp setup mind was working overtime, pondering what potential locations we could add to the list. For whatever reason, as I stared out the office window and listened to the driving rain, Costa Rica resurfaced. After a few days exchanging emails with some Ticos, I was informed of a prospective location no more than a half hour from Las Juntas. 

Eventually everything fell into place for my much-anticipated return to the land of Gallo Pinto. I spent the next few months researching travel tips and building up a network of support with whom I would eventually touch base when I finally arrived for my initial site visit in Guanacaste. Plane tickets were purchased, rental cars were reserved, and I even booked my stay at a nearby cabin, all planned for the end of March 2014.

But there was one problem - I never got on the plane.

Heck, I never made it to the airport. The day before my scheduled return to Costa Rica, I had a very honest conversation with my boss at the time, and I made an enormously difficult decision to do the unthinkable: I resigned from the organization. It was an incredibly emotional decision in the first place, not to mention the fact that I was tossing away the opportunity to revisit those people and places I'd missed for so long. It took a long time to get over those circumstances, but, as is always the case, life moves on.

It wasn't long before I was distracted by something else, this time manifesting itself in the form of creating a brand new organization from scratch. Enter CO | MISSIONS. Funny, even typing that word brings up so many mixed feelings. CO | MISSIONS was a faith-based non-profit missions organization I was asked to start with the backing of a work contact from years before leaving my former job. Although it lasted less than two years from inception to dissolution, there were many dreams. Among those was a direct-trade partnership with a Costa Rican coffee farm, as well as further discussions with the same potential site near Las Juntas. 

Remember this little fellah? Weird, isn't it?

Then the storm came, figuratively speaking. From both internal and external sources, it quickly became nearly impossible to maintain the organization's operations. After a few months of hanging on by what seemed like a thread, I had a very emotionally-charged conversation with the board of directors, confessing to them my feelings of outright exhaustion and an inability to continue on the current path. And so, with a deep breath, I waved goodbye to yet another potential return to Costa Rica, as the board and I agreed that dissolution was the best available option.

Hopefully by now you can see how bizarre the dance is that I've shared with this country for such a long time. Imagine, then, my joy when I received an email in early March informing me that I was, in fact, under consideration for service here in Costa Rica. Visualize the waiting period from early March to the middle of April when my interview was eventually scheduled. Then, take into account all the Spanish and the subsequently required CLEP test, the nearly-insurmountable pile of medical exams and immunizations, and all the little minutiae that had to be done before coming. It was quite the arduous process, finally getting to a point of departure. 

Then came February 23rd. The wheels touched down in San Jose, and I was home. 

There are many ways to look at the last nine years of my life and how certain things have transpired for me to inevitably return to this place. That's the real focus of my attention as I write this piece. Perhaps at this point in your own journey, you're wondering, "What the hell am I doing with my life?" Or maybe you feel, as I so often did, that you have a goal, but it feels so incredibly unattainable and you can't find it in yourself to continue in that direction.

Please, please, please hear me when I say KEEP MOVING. The light is just around the corner, just around la esquina, and oh is it ever worth it. If only I could recount how many times I had resigned to the fact that I just wasn't meant to come back here. I could have stayed in Pensacola, continued on with CO | MISSIONS, or perhaps pursued a career in education. I could have stayed close to home, able to see my family as often as I'd like. I could have stayed in the land of air conditioning, and perhaps met and settled down with a young woman who'd eventually be my wife and a mother to my children. I could've kept all my stuff - my truck, my guitar, etc. - and lived a content life with my things. But I didn't. I wanted to see what was around the corner. 

Here I am, living in Costa Rica, content to look out the window from time to time and quietly whisper 'hola' to all the wonderful people and things that make up my new home.