La Luna

Tonight I had the joy of playing a little fútbol in the yard with my new host family. At one point, I turned to reach the ball behind me and noticed my shadow on the grass. Mind you, it was well past sunset and we were in the yard between two houses. I was caught off guard until I looked around and up at the night sky. There, in all its beauty, hung the moon. Not just any moon, mind you; no, tonight we were treated to a full moon - "La Luna Llena," as they say here. I was awestruck by the light from the moon, and then I was caught up in the notion that, in fact, there was no light from the moon. It's very simply just a reflection.

The sun, sitting some 93 million miles from the surface of the moon, somehow illuminates one entire half of the moon, causing it to, in turn, brighten the night for us here on Earth. This phenomenon blows my mind every single time I ponder it, and tonight was no exception. I also considered how this applies to my own life.

I'm here in San Isidro de Aguas Claras to (hopefully) do great things, and I fully intend on dedicating my next two years to this endeavor; however, I am just one person. What I see unfolding in and around me is far less my own efforts and abilities, but rather the reflection of all the incredible people I've been blessed to meet and know in my lifetime. This post is, very simply put, meant to celebrate those people, and it's been a long time coming.

It starts, as always, with my family.

My mom, Diana, is just wonderful. Despite countless bouts with my stubborn, hard-headed manner, she and I are still as close as ever. She's been with me through virtually every difficult time in my life, and she's always been my biggest fan. I would not be the man I am today without her love, patience, and example. I miss her like crazy!

Momma!

My dad, Harry, is my guru, my go-to, and my sage. He's always got an answer for whatever issue with which I find myself wrestling. Ever since I was a kid, his nickname for me has been "Bud," and I've only recently come to realize that he is, in fact, one of my best friends. The amount of wisdom and guidance he's unconditionally offered me in my life is immeasurable. Without his help, I know in my heart I would not be here serving with the Peace Corps in Costa Rica.

Pops! (War Damn Eagle)

My big sister, Bree, is easily one of my favorite people to have ever existed. There's no way to fully describe the ridiculous nature of our brother-sister-ness; just trust me when I tell you it's a lot of fun being her little bro. She's been through a slough of junk in her lifetime, but you'd never know it to look at her. She's got a smile that would melt the coldest heart. The way she loves her son - my nephew, Aidan - gives me hope to know and understand how to be a parent if one day I'm blessed with children of my own.

Bwinney!

Then you've got all the people who've been crazy enough to call me their friend for a long, long time.

My oldest friend, Mr. Christopher Terrell, is as good as they come. When I was born into this world without a brother, I was offered a wonderful alternative in this guy. From the olden days of solving detective mysteries in the neighborhoods to more recent adventures such as our 3AM bonfire discussions of women, faith, and everything in between, my life wouldn't be complete without the brotherhood I've shared with this guy. His kindness and adoration for his fellow human being lead me to believe his influence on me will only serve to greatly improve my own experience here. That said, I can't wait to see him again, whenever that may be.

Hermanos siempre.

My boo, TC Bodiford. This freaking guy. Who knew when I met him at a recruiting event at my old college we'd be the pair of foolish buddies we are today? The list of inside jokes would stretch from Tijuana to Boston and back again a thousand times over. Recently wedded to his beautiful bride, he seems to be settling into life, but I'll never forget the days of yore when we traveled around the world and all the hilarious and heartfelt moments we shared therein. Truly, TC has left his unique mark on my life, and I'm grateful for his heart and his spirit.

Chowin' hard with my boo in Uganda

My bro from the younger days, Ryan DeLaune, has seen it all with me. From fishing illegally at Scenic Hills Golf Course to discovering the hard way what a tonsil is, we laughed and cried our way through adolescence together, and I'm thankful for the example he set and still sets for me. He's neck-deep in ministry alongside his wife Rachel, and they're blessed with a beautiful daughter, Emmaline. At times I can hear Ryan's fun-filled spirit echoing through my own laughter, and I think on what his own life has meant to mine.

Sipsey 2006 with Ryan!

My northern br'h, PJ Tiemeyer, the king of Extroversion. If you ever wanna see something funny, throw the two of us in a car and send us on a country-wide, week-long road trip. I have no idea how to even approach an accurate description of our friendship; all I know is that PJ often times represents everything I'm not, and I actually really dig that. We balance each other out. I'm single and living in a foreign country, while PJ is married with three kids and lives and works in the same city in which he was born. There are so many good things about both of our lives, and it's pure fun to heed the differences that exist between us. I feel like we both take a measure of joy from the contrary nature of each other's lives.

PJ and family, from my last visit up to Michigan!

My main squeeze, Saro Azizian, who really does kind of seem like me in an Armenian body. I do wish I could grow a beard like he can, though. Saro and I have been friends since around 2000, maybe a little longer, but what's important is his big-brother influence on my life. Countless times I've vented to him about some pithy issue I'm struggling with, and he always seems to start out with the same phrase: "Well, I'm not gonna tell you how to live your life, but..." and then comes the wise way in which I should live my life. During the days leading up to my departure for service, Saro carved out some time and made a special trip to visit me down in Pensacola, and he helped - perhaps more than he realize(d) - to set my heart at ease in the face of a two-year commitment to serve with the Peace Corps. I'm so happy to have him in my life.

Me, PJ, Saro the Dude, and Chris
enjoying some good ol' Krispy Kreme donuts

Then there are all of the people who I've met since this Peace Corps journey started. First there's Mr. Edwin Lugo, or Mr. Ed for short. If you'd asked me back in April of last year what kind of Spanish practice I would have before coming to Costa Rica, I would have probably told you I'll read a textbook or fiddle about with Duolingo or some other app a few times a week, at best. All that changed back in May of last year when I walked into Ed's office. I was only looking for some help with my current insurance policy. Little did I know I was about to meet one of the biggest sources of encouragement prior to my departure. It started innocently enough: after wrapping up my quick review of my policy, Ed cordially asked if there was anything else he could do to help me. Having detected his Latino accent (as if it was that hard to hear... Haha), I took a second or two to ponder what I wanted to say next. I sheepishly asked if he'd ever possibly consider helping me sharpen my Spanish skills. To my great surprise, he agreed, and we started meeting that same week. Every, single week we met after that, from May to the following February, with Ed faithfully showing up every time to sit with me an hour or two at a time and patiently suffer through my gringo misunderstanding of his native tongue. He was and is so much more than a Spanish tutor; he has become my friend. I know in the deepest part of my heart that his willingness to dedicate a huge part of his time to helping me has and will continue to permeate throughout this community. If you're reading this, Ed, thank you. You're incredible.

Stately, as always.

My Language/Culture Facilitators, don Armando and Elena, have most definitely played a massive role in my integration process into this beautiful country. Despite my introversion and shyness, they both succeeded, in their own ways, in pulling me out of my comfort zone with patience and understanding. They made Spanish make sense, and through my experience with my training community host family and what's transpired so far here in Aguas Claras, I can see how much of an influence they've both had on my language abilities. I'm super thankful for their efforts, de fijo.

Host sister and mom w/Armando!

Spanish class w/our teacher, Elena!

Speaking of my training community host family, I learned so much about Tico culture from Doña Elsa, her daughter/my host sister Melissa, and the rest of their wonderful family (Marvin, Raquel, Elena, Josue, Hansel, and Robert... whew.). Although I only got to spend three months with them, the impact they had on my life is and always will be a part of who I am. It blows my mind to consider how much change occurred in my heart and my mind over those twelve weeks in that house. We laughed, we cried, we danced, and we shared our lives with one another. I will visit them, and I will visit them often. They were and will forever be my first Tico family.

My training community host mom, Doña Elsa!

Then there's my CED program team, don Luis, Vinyela, and Evelyn. These guys. Oh man, where do I even start? From Vinyela's hilarious teaching antics to don Luis' vibrant morning greetings, these folks made our Tech classes a blast. I learned so much from them, not just about how CED works within the confines of Peace Corps, but also how it interlaces with life here in Costa Rica. Day in and day out, this team was vigilant in teaching our group the best known practices to not only work with the community but to become part of it, and I've already seen a lot of the lessons they shared with us play out into my new life here in Aguas Claras.

Shenanigans, I tell you.

Of course I'd be remiss if I didn't mention my own Peace Corps group, Tico 31. This group of complete strangers in February has rapidly become my family. From late night dance parties and frolicking on the beach in Manuel Antonio to sweating my soul away in Puerto Jiménez with my Tech-week buddies, the twelve weeks of training would have been nothing without this special crew. It's an absolute honor to be a part of this group, and, as I took part in the swearing-in ceremony on Wednesday, I was so proud of what we represent. As we parted ways the next day, I took account of all the incredible relationships I've been blessed to cultivate with so many from this group, and, while it's bittersweet to say goodbye, I know that we're all going on to so many great things. I can't wait to hear how everything unfolds for each of us.

Tico 31 CED!

There will undoubtedly be more people to add to this list as time marches on, but for now, these folks are the ones to whom I'd like to give thanks. Without your love, patience, guidance, wisdom, and joy, I would be lost in this place; however, because each of you has shared a little bit of yourself with me, I promise I'm going to try and reflect it in this community over these next two years.

Here's to shining bright.

La Tierra

Reaching down, I grasp a handful of this earth - this Costarricense earth. Meanwhile, I am more and more conscious of my own heartbeat. Surely, two things of equal importance occur simultaneously both within and without.

As the grains of this earth slip silently between my fingers and fall back to their place, I can't help but ponder the enormity of this world. I cannot help but give thought to the diversity represented therein. The granules of dirt that compile this enormous, twirling sphere sustain and support millennia of life, and have for some time. I weigh the thoughts toward gravity and the endless process of life and death, and, after a deep breath both in and out, I settle on the simple notion that my life is a gift. Indeed, all life is a gift.

As my heart continues to keep pace in my chest without my consent, I'm immediately mindful of the fragility of our own existence. What a brief breath of brevity we're given, yet what is it that we have done to deserve it? I smile and nod upward, signifying in the same single motion my ignorance to the reason but also my gratitude for it all the same.

This earth - this Costarricense earth upon which I've tread in recent weeks and months - is my home. There exists a home in another place, another long-off place. A place where family and friends gather to commune, to share, to love, and to speak a language that is my own; however, I am not there. I am here.

Time passes, and I see the changes in my own life and in the lives of those around me. It is not so different, despite what my own previous premonitions might have led me to suspect. This earth and its people love, too. They laugh, too. They smile, they cry, they feel, and they try.

I shed a thin layer of my spirit and embrace this earth - this Costarricense earth. Although I know nothing of what the future may hold, I breathe in this air and I feel this earth, and somehow the knowledge of good takes root in my soul.

Today, I am home. 

Día Uno

So I’ve been here in San Isidro de Aguas Claras for something like 24 hours, and I can already see brilliant potential here.  I’ve been placed in an amazing home - my host family consists of a wonderful woman named Jeanneth who serves as a missionary in the local community, while her husband, Oscar, is a construction specialist. [Get this: when I woke up this morning, I mentioned that I needed to spend a little bit of time filling out some forms that coincide with my site visit. So Oscar walked out to his workshop, and in an hour and half he BUILT a desk for my room. No joke. He just grabbed some wood from his massive stock and built the very desk on which I’m now typing this blog post.] Oscar and Jeanneth have a daughter named Zaylin who lives in the house next door with her husband and their daughter.

My new Tica family! Zaylin (sister), Doña Jeanneth, and Don Oscar.

I’ve already been invited to dinner twice, to coffee three times, and to teach English about 837 times. It’s a shame I only have three days on this visit. One thing that’s obvious about this community is that they’re aware of what’s coming. They may not know my name yet, but there’s an innate sense of acknowledgement that good things are going to take place. My counterpart Jose took me around this morning for a bit, walking by the school, the internet cafe, the hardware store, the supermarket, and a few houses, and just about every time Jose would introduce me as “the volunteer coming to work here” people’s eyes would light up and they’d let out this long, drawn out “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh” as if realizing this is actually happening. Here’s the gringo. He’s literally right here. 

Vulcan Miravalles, 12 kilometers from my house...

Last night Jose also invited me to his house here in San Isidro to have dinner and watch a semi-final soccer match with him and his family. What a blast that was! Jose and his wife Noily have four kids - three beautiful daughters and one feisty 3-year old son - and they took turns asking questions about the strange fuzzy man who came over to eat. Noily cooked some amazing fried fish filets and we talked about just about everything you’d expect a gringo and his new Tico friends to discuss: family, work, music, and sports. Noily is especially excited about having someone in the community who can help teach English, and she made sure that I knew that, too.

Upon returning to the house after dinner, I watched the rest of the Alajuela/Saprissa match with the family. At one point toward the end, when Li Liga was well ahead and attention could be appropriately divided, Oscar turned to me and said, “I need to tell you something else very important.” All the innards I have started to spin around inside my skin as I thought, This is it. This is the moment we’ve been learning about. This is when things get weird. He’s going to tell me we don’t eat meat or that my curfew is 7:30 or that I can’t wear shorts here or something like that. He looked at me and began by saying, “We’re people of faith. We have our beliefs and we know who we serve.” More spinning. More sweating. More panting. More red flags than a Russian Parade. He continued, “However, I want you to know that it’s completely fine if you have a beer every now and again.” *BREATHE* “As a matter of fact, when I’m out in the back grilling up some steak/chicken or I’m working in the heat of the day, I’ll even have one myself. And we also sometimes enjoy a nice glass of wine every now and again if the occasion calls for it. We hope that doesn’t offend you,” he concluded. 

With that he flipped all the tables on me. Here I was worried beyond measure that I’d already done something to offend this awesome family, and he comes out with a “Hey we drink. Don’t judge, please.” kinda statement. Okie doke. No problem here!

This morning started with what I would describe as a mini-hurricane blowing through Aguas Claras. Welcome, says the weather. Interestingly enough, I had shut the windows in my room because a small army of mosquitos chose to attack me around 1:00AM, making it impossible to fall asleep. Since the windows were closed, the rain from Hurricane Site Visit stayed outside and I got to sleep soundly all the way until 7:30. Call it providence, if you like.

The storm passed, and I shared an enormous and tasty breakfast of scrambled eggs with peppers, gallo pinto, coffee, and some of the most naturally delicious platanos maduros I have ever had in my life. We talked about all the un-fun stuff like how much I’ll pay for rent and what my personal emergency plan will consist of, but their playful spirits made it all pass by in an instant. We even got to talk a bit about their faith, which was - of course, with my background - of interest to me as well. Doña Jeanneth shared with me a brief history of how she and Oscar had worked with the church for thirty-six years but after somewhat of an enlightening moment, they decided to focus more on cultivating their own personal faith. These days their focus is people, not tasks, and I couldn’t agree more with them. If there were ever a sign that I’m in the right place, it’s that right there. Very thankful for that.

My new home!

This afternoon I got to walk around town with my main counterpart José, and we stopped by a few community spots like the school, the police station, the internet café, and a couple houses as well. The smiles on peoples’ faces were like gasoline on a fire for me, and I’ve never felt more ready to get things going. While my mind is filled with a billion different things, there's also this strangely calm, underlying peace that streams through my blood as I take each step in this place. It’s not just the people, nor is it just the tropical climate. It isn’t just the lush green landscape, nor is it just the fact that I’m about to live in the shadows of two enormous volcanos. It’s not just the hospitality of my new host family, and it’s not just the openness of the community to new visitors. It’s more than just the sum of these things; it’s something greater. 

I think it’s called hope. 

San Isidro²

My heart is beyond full.

There are two major things I want to share. There's my site assignment, and then there's that whole turning 30 chunche.

First, my site assignment. My group had been looking forward to Friday morning for so long, and finalmente it arrived. We piled into a pair of buses and sat in traffic on our way to Belen for the big reveal. We sat in traffic, chewing on our fingernails and trying to appear less nervous than we all were. Thankfully, the PC staff didn't waste much time getting the whole process started. We circled up in the shade and our Program Managers unveiled a giant map of Costa Rica. One by one we were called up to receive our assignments and pin our picture to our spot on the map. By the time my name was called, the amount of butterflies in my stomach could've carried an elephant to the Sun and back.

At long last I learned where I'll be heading: A rural community in the Northwest of Costa Rica called San Isidro de Aguas Claras. There are somewhere between 300 and 400 people there, and it's right next to Aguas Claras, the community hub, which has closer to 1,000 people. So it's not nearly as big as my current San Isidro (de Heredia), and I'm sure it'll be its own amazing adventure. I cannot WAIT to get there and meet all the people.

From my info packet, I know that there's a huge push for eco-friendly initiatives, such as a recycling campaign, and they're also interested in building a gym for the community. They're pretty interested in nature in general, and I'm stoked to experience that side of Costa Rica as well. I found it particularly interesting that, under the Project Partner/Counterpart heading, there were six different people who'd listed themselves as interested in working directly with me. Now, they don't know me from Adam, and for all I know they all cheer for the Yankees and love cats, but it certainly does bring a smile to my face to see that many people on board already, before I step foot in their community.

I understand the vital information we'll continue to learn throughout the remainder of our training, but I must also admit that I am so ready to go and meet these people, ready to dig deep and establish those relationship, ready to do life with the people there.

In other news, I'm thirty. Whoa. Saying that might take some getting used to. I've said it a ton but it bears repeating: I could not have picked a better place to turn thirty. Here's how it went down. After our Site Assignment, we had some free time to share the news among our group and with all the PC staff, and then we played basketball, soccer, swam in the pool, and pretty much just hung out for the afternoon.

After a bit, we got back on buses and made our way to the other event, Welcome VAC. So, VAC is the advisory council among PC volunteers, and they act as a go-between for us. They also know how to throw one heck of a party, so we discovered on Friday night. They put on this huge gathering of all the in-country volunteers, and we had a blast. A few brave folks from my crew even jumped in the pool (it was colder than you might expect) at the stroke of midnight to celebrate my birthday. The next morning I took my time getting out of San Jose and back to San Isidro, mostly because I'd been told to not return until 6:30PM.

Now, although I'm smart enough to figure out that something was up, I had no clue as to details. I'd already put a few pieces together as far as who might be there, but BOY was I wholly unprepared for what went down.

I turned the corner down to my house and was immediately met by three smiling boys telling me to wait. They sprinted back into the house to summon my host sister, Melissa, who walked me into the darkened house. As I walked into the living room, the light was switched on, and before me was a beautiful group of people crouched, ready to pounce, screaming "Cumpleaños Feliz!" Introvert or not, I was so thrilled, touched, excited, and amazed to see all these people who I've literally known for 2 months (almost to the day) gather to help me celebrate the big 3-0. There were lots of my CED and TEFL buddies from Tico 31, everyone from my host family, a bunch of locals from the neighborhood, and my awesome Language Facilitator, Elena, even made it!

The kids came out to play too! Mis amigos por siempre!

Nancy R, Tory, and Sami!

Nancy T, Joeta, and Yenia!

 

Cheesin' with that CAKE

Elena w/Hansel!

But that CAKE tho!

So much joy. Melissa gave a poignant speech (def had some wet eyeballs for a bit, there) and then proceeded to slam my face down into the cake in keeping with the local tradition. We sang, danced, ate, drank, and just enjoyed the night. One of my group members - who shall remain unnamed for the moment - also definitely got a little freaky with Doña Elsa on the dance floor, but that's a different blog post.

Learning, sheepishly, how to properly pour a beer...

Katie and Doña Elsa!

Cara de Pastel

Wouldn't be una fiesta without the Piñata!

Melissa, my host sister!

Bottom line, I've never been happier in my life. With the community vibe/Pura Vida, the incredible people in my Tico 31 and Peace Corps family, and the excitement of my impending service, it's better than I could ever dream.

Thank you all for being a part of it. Love y'all.

Tech Week

This past week, we took part in what Peace Corps calls Tech Week. After nearly a month and a half of classroom training with a few spots of community interactions, we were all shipped off to a handful of different sites - CED to the south and TEFL to various sites in Guanacaste and Limon - to live and work with active Peace Corps volunteers. 

Playa Preciosa, just before a storm blew in

            My group, six strong, was assigned to Puerto Jiménez on the Osa Peninsula, working alongside a married couple of volunteers, Luke and Brittany. Luke is a CED volunteer, while Brittany is a TEFL volunteer, and it was really cool to see them working as a team. Right off the bat, they showed themselves as incredible hosts. They planned out an entire *cough* week of work for us, both with local businesses and with the local high school. They were even able to find housing for all six of us.

            I ended up with the best of the housing options, if I do say so myself. I bunked with Luke and Brittany’s neighbor/landlord, Hector, and his family. I got to spend some really great time with Hector and his kids, Keilee (20) and Keiler (15). They both speak English (if I happen to have spelled your names incorrectly, I do earnestly apologize), and speak it very well. Keiler is actually heading to Washington, D.C., in May, for a three-week trip in recognition for his studies there in Puerto Jiménez. Keilee, meanwhile, works in a swanky tourist-laden restaurant nearby and has aspirations for more - including finding herself a nice Gringo with whom she can settle down in the U.S.

My host for the week, Hector, along with one of my group members, Jackie

My host sister, Keilee

             I can honestly say that an overwhelming portion of my positive experience in Jiménez revolved around my host family. Every night - and I do mean every night - we found ourselves lounging in the living room next to the fan with a game of some sort on. Most nights it was a soccer game, but there were a couple opportunities to share with them the beauty that is baseball (Peace Corps 2^nd Goal whaaaaaaaaa). Talk about a boost to my own Spanish: imagine trying to explain stealing a base, the balls/strikes count, and what it means to tag up before advancing on a fly ball. Thankfully, Hector and his family possess a near-infinite amount of patience, and they interestedly listened as I fumbled (pardon the cross-sports reference, please) through the vocabulary. Despite my own struggles to explain all the rules of America’s Pastime, Hector was super interested. He would ask new questions with every pitch and hit. The most confounding thing for him? The fact that there’s no time, that there’s no definitive start and end, that it all depends on the teams getting 27 outs (or 24, depending on the score). I had a genuinely great time with them, and I hope they did too. By the looks on their faces with every new question, they did.

            The community of Puerto Jiménez, in my pit-stained opinion, begins and ends with one thing: the heat. Even before my journey southward, I was hearing about it from seemingly anyone and everyone with whom I spoke concerning my destination. One conversation sticks out over all the rest: I was in the local sports clothing store chatting with the employees, and the topic swayed toward my trip. The moment the words Puerto Jiménez left my lips, both guys immediately lowered their heads in some strange reverent homage to those who still live under the burden of the heat. I was at once inundated with story after story of the heat: how it affected their jobs, how it made their friends and families sick, and how it eventually caused them both to move away to the cooler climate of San Isidro de Heredia.

             I really felt like I was prepared for it. I felt like, being from the Sunshine State, I could handle the heat. Dear heavens, I could not have been more wrong. I can honestly say I’ve never been in a hotter place. Of all the places I’ve been fortunate to visit in my life, Puerto Jiménez takes the cake. And that cake is burnt to a blackened crisp.  From the moment the sun rears its molten head over the horizon, the temperature seems to skyrocket to Satan’s oven, and it only gets worse as the day groans on. The only solace, seemingly, was the ice cream. Oh did we consume our (un)fair share of ice cream.

Another member of my group, Ed, holding a soon-to-be-opened coconut

            But here’s the thing: the heat didn’t get in the way of having an amazing week. I could continue to bellyache and conjure all the funny analogies about how freaking hot it was, but the fact is we dealt with it. More than that, we set it aside and lived in Puerto Jiménez for those few days. We helped teach schoolchildren how to tell time and describe their daily activities in English. We explained the necessity and process of both resumes and interview skills to a class of respectful, attentive seniors. We met with a group of women who run a recycling center and who are very passionate about their community, its people, and its environment. We met with a local agricultural cooperative with some very real needs, and we got to discuss some options for moving forward and offered a handful of suggestions for bettering their operations. We encountered a woman who owns her own artisanal shop with all kinds of handmade goods, and we had a chance to share with her some basic business practices that might improve her overall profit margins.

Some of our group members, Anne and Princess, working with the artisan

            Talk about a needed reprieve from our classes. Although I can say I’ve enjoyed an awful lot of what we’ve learned in our day-to-day training lessons, it was a massive boost to my spirits to use these tools in the community with real, live, breathing people. The looks in their eyes when they explained these things - their livelihoods - and then to have the chance to share with them a new vision, seeing the lights in their eyes get a little brighter, that is something I’m very, VERY excited about.

           On Friday, we were given an opportunity to reflect on our week and share our thoughts among our group with our host volunteers. We headed for the beach, Playa Preciosa to be exact, and relaxed in the shade while the waves crashed on the sand. We played a solid game of ultimate (got a sweet set of scrapes from an all-out dive into the tidewater sand and rocks!), dined like kings and queens on mashed pinto and tortillas, and even fit in a few hilariously fun games of volleyball. The whole day was much needed, and I found myself in agreement that the week in its entirety couldn’t have gone any better.

Beautiful day on the Southwestern Coast

            When I think about what I came to Costa Rica with Peace Corps to accomplish, it was almost all wrapped up in this one, sweaty week. Connect with the local people? Check. Enjoy the environment? Check. Find new ways to help those in need? Check. Come away with a new appreciation for a different people group? Check.

            I find myself much more prepared, so I feel, for my service after Tech Week. I’m grateful for my group members, my host volunteers, my host family, and PC Staff for helping organize the entire experience for us. I’m beyond excited to learn my site assignment next week, and I can’t wait to start planning, preparing, and learning about what will be my new home. 

Let’s just hope there’s some shade.

Language and a Smile

Among the lesser-known perks of the Peace Corps Costa Rica experience, the ocean of books that comprises its office's library must be mentioned. All sorts of works are included; Harry Potter rubs shoulders with Aristotle, and dusty hardback classical texts writ by names I'll never remember snuggle among various editions of Chicken Soup for the You-Name-It Soul. If only for my lack of exposure to consistent English, having an opportunity to chew on some familiar words from time to time is a bigger blessing than I'd expected.

One of my recent written meals consisted of a short piece by Anthony Doerr entitled Four Seasons in Rome, a story of his family - his wife and their two newborn twins, Henry and Owen - and their life and times during a year of study in Italy's capital city. His writing style, while new to me, was and is a welcome breath of fresh air. Almost everything is in present tense, and his mastery of brevity is something to enjoy, to be sure. Among the heavy scenes and dazzling descriptors of the City of Seven Hills, Doerr takes a moment to describe his progress related to his own language ability:

"Toward the end of May, I walk into the little grocery store, Beti, after living in Rome for nine months and say good afternoon to the same exact woman from whom I once demanded grapefruit sauce and ask her in Italian for a loaf of bread, two hamburger rolls, an apple muffin, three-tenths of a kilogram of pizza bianca, and a can of tuna fish, and I don't screw up a single syllable.

What happens? I get my groceries. No streamers drop from the ceiling, no strobe lights start flashing. The grocer doesn't reach across the counter and take my face in her hands and kiss me on the forehead. 

You communicated. So what. Go pay at the register.

No, instead she asks me something in quick-fire Italian about Henry and Owen, something about their hair, but she speaks so quickly that I miss 80 percent of it and sheepishly, stepping down from my throne of fluency, have to ask, "I'm sorry, more slowly, please?"

Funnily enough, I can relate with this in so many ways. My own slippery grasp of the local language ebbs and flows by the minute. At times I feel my first language isn't even English, but that I picked it up during a recent visit to the United States. Other times, I feel as though I've just landed on a distant moon on the other side of Saturn with nothing but a watch and a smile to help find my way.

But then there's the people, and that's really the point of this short, Semana Santa post. Whether it's my innate comfort level with strangers over known entities or simply an acceptance of the fact that I will almost constantly need help, I find myself at a new height of willingness to speak with strangers here. It only requires a few seconds of bravery to strike up a conversation with a random, but, here in Costa Rica, I've come to find the general population beyond inclined to share in discourse.

Just this morning, I spoke at length while waiting at the bus stop with a cheery man in his mid-thirties about the change in the vitality of our city due to the advent of Semana Santa. With a smile as warm of the sun over his shoulder, he spoke with excitement and pride about the extent to which the locals enjoy the many processions and activities that accompany this most important holiday.

I'm grateful for this opportunity to communicate, in more ways than with just words, with a new culture. Who needs streamers and strobe lights? A sincere smile from a once-stranger is enough for me.

Don't Stop Believin'

It's funny how easy it is to speak English when you're belting it out during a nice round of Karaoke. Such is the case here in Costa Rica. Okay so maybe it didn't happen at an official karaoke bar setting, but the public bus on a weekend morning is close enough, right? Sure it is.

I was on my way to the Caribbean coast, to the town of Gandoca, when I got my first real experience with Tico Karaoke. It was new, yet oh so familiar. It was foreign, yet so very known. As I sipped my coffee and bounced along the rough rural road heading south toward San Jose on Saturday morning, I was completely caught off guard by this particular fellow a few rows behind me who saw fit to celebrate the end of the work week with a Costarricense rendition of Journey's Don't Stop Believin'.

Perhaps it was the elderly woman snoozing next to me. Or it might've been the fact that that morning I happened to have been sold a hotter-than-usual cup of coffee. Whatever the reason may have been, it took every fiber of my being to not join in with him. [Lesson learned; Next time, if I want to join in the fun, I'll have to just choose water over coffee.] This joyous Tico was just loving life and didn't care who knew it, including the long-haired gringo blanco who couldn't stop smiling at the moment.

It made me think about something I've been turning over in my mind over the last few amazing weeks: I'm living in Costa Rica.

Allow me, if you will, to repeat. I'm living in COSTA RICA. It's a place that's been securely fastened in the deepest part of my thumping heart since I first touched down in Liberia back in 2007, and I can't even begin to tell you how many times my own patchwork plans to return to this amazing place have fallen apart. (Side note: Probably the most notorious would have to be when I had a 10-day research trip to Guanacaste planned for a potential camp location, but I resigned from that particular non-profit the day before I was scheduled to fly out.)

It's one of those things where I have to pinch myself every now and again just to remind myself that I'm actually here. It's never been a problem for me, that whole situational awareness thing. Ordinarily I'm really good at knowing where I am, what I'm doing, and what's happening around me; however, I can't even begin to list the times I've just been walking about the square in San Isidro, sitting on a beach on the Caribbean, or strolling the busy streets of San Jose, and I have to stop and introspectively pronounce, "Yeah, Dak. It's real."

The view at sunset from just outside my house, to the north.

Another good shot, just after sunset, facing south from my community.
The lights are the capital city of San Jose

What a beautiful life I've been allowed to live. 

Jumping In

I would be remiss if I didn't start this post by sharing with you a picture of the cutest little Tica girl I have ever met/will ever meet, as far as I'm concerned. Her name's Asly, she's all of five years old, and she is just the best. She's one of the many children who stay at my house throughout the day as her mama is at work. She is remarkably intelligent for a five-year-old, and you should see her dance!

Hand on her hip, as sassy as she is adorable.

So before arriving in country, my expectations of the learning process throughout my time at training were barely formed into more than a vague classroom setting with a myriad of topics. I recall the moment during our orientation when we received a thick binder full of information regarding our entire training process. As I flipped through the pages I dealt with the initial syllabus shock (been a little while since I've gone through that) and eventually breathed again as I processed the course of the next twelve weeks.

One of the more impressive sections was the schedule. I'm a planner to a fault, but these put to shame any of my former project plans quick, fast, and in a hurry. The attention to detail is remarkable; they have items planned for May 17th down to the half-hour. Being such a planner in the past, I understand that there's always flexibility for unforeseen events, but I'm still enormously impressed by the organization of this... organization.

The training itself has been extremely helpful. For example, just today we had a session in which we learned about Junior Achievement, an organization designed to assist in teaching students across the world about financial literacy, entrepreneurship, and work readiness. The primary operation is partnering with local business and organizations to provide experiential learning opportunities for students from kindergarten all the way up through high school. After a brief lesson on the basics of JA's operations - especially here in Costa Rica - we split up into groups and used existing curriculum to create a teaching session based on popular methods. Afterward, the PC training staff gave us some valuable feedback. It was a great chance to get our hands on the materials used by JA volunteers (which the majority if not all of our group will be at one point or another during our service) and experience what it's like to lead a class. Mind you, teaching a particular lesson to a group of peers is one thing; successfully navigating a lesson with local schoolkids will undoubtedly be a completely different set of hurdles, but I certainly feel more empowered with this distinct experience under my belt.

That brings up a very interesting point about how PC encourages our learning throughout the Pre-Service Training process.  As my group walked out into the sunshine to sit and discuss our lesson plan, I thought to myself, "Man, it doesn't seem like Peace Corps really believes in the concept of a shallow end." Truth be told, I'm thankful for it. One of the things I remember considering when applying a year ago was the different ways in which I'd be stretched as a person. For example: is Dakota the kind of person who would volunteer to teach a 20 minute lesson after having 10 minutes to prepare? No way. Nonetheless, that's what I was asked to do today, and according to some others in our class, it went pretty dang well.

And I gather that's the point. The training methods that Peace Corps utilizes are like a pair of semi-familiar hands that essentially push you into the deep end. There is no shallow end here. It's truly a sink-or-swim form of learning, but can you think of a better way to show someone how to live in a new country with a foreign language? It works.

In other news, I had my first live show last night. That is to say a microphone and electric guitar were placed in front of me, and I was encouraged to play Hotel California at the birthday party for a women I'd just met about 45 minutes earlier. It ended being a blast. The birthday girl even filmed it (and I'm talking about a camera alllllll up in my face for parts of it), so if you see a YouTube video from a Costa Rican backyard with me crooning to the Eagles' classic, well now you know.

Friday I was working on some of my own homework when I heard a bit of a commotion in the next room. One of my house nephews - Hansel, the one in my new profile pic of FB - was having a little trouble focusing on his assignments (maybe we're more related than I originally realized). A few minutes later while Hansel was taking a lap to work off his frustration with having to do homework on a Friday, I walked into the kitchen to get a drink. Not much could've prepared me for what awaited. The picture below is of what is called "San Pedro" (I think I'm remembering that right), and he only shows up when kids refuse to finish their homework. Heck of a parenting tool, huh? I feel like we could've used a little San Pedro when I was growing up. He sure did scare the piss out of adult-Dakota.

Also, today I found out the site to which I'll be heading on Saturday for my current-PCV visit. As it is, I'm headed to the southernmost point on the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica in the Limon region, to a indigenous little town/village called Gandoca. To me, it's interesting because the last time I was in country, my hosts took me a place called Junquillal Bay, which was on the northernmost point of the Pacific coast of Costa Rica. Seems I'm covering all my bases here, slowly but surely.

This weekend's site visit is going to be a whole new adventure. I'll get to spend time with a current PCV who's in a completely new part of the country, I'll have a chance to ask him about his own integration and what works vs. what doesn't work, I'll have many opportunities to meet the locals - more than likely indigenous people groups - and learn more about their ways of life, and I'll learn a whole lot about what it is to ride on a public bus in Costa Rica (it's somewhere around 6 hours to Gandoca).

One of the ways I've viewed a lot of what I've experienced during this process has been through the lens of getting over the next big hurdle. Be it designing a presentation about something I myself just learned, being introduced to scores of Ticos whose language I'm still very much so learning, being prompted to belt out a 70s classic rock song at a Tica's birthday party, or taking a bus to the edge of Costa Rica to meet a complete stranger and do life with him for four days, I'm learning more and more to just go for it. To just take a breath and get on with it. To accept that I will be uncomfortable at times, and that's okay. To be at peace with a common and frequent lack thereof.

To just jump in... to the DEEP END!

Primeros y Ultimos

As of today, I’ve been in country for a total of nine days. It’s been everything I’ve thought it’d be and so much more. On the way home from San Jose yesterday, I had about an hour and a half to myself (apparently talking to strangers in public transportation is almost as uncommon here as it is in the U.S.), and I found myself reflecting on the last month or so and all the change it has brought.

At the beginning of February, I was entrenched in a massive journey during which I visited over two dozen friends and family in seven states. It was a truly memorable experience, and I’m grateful for all the people who helped put that whole thing together. What sticks out to me most of all is the massive amount “lasts” that took place up until my departure: Last visit to Michigan, last NHL game, last home-cooked meal, last jam session (thanks for recording that, Bearden), last time seeing this person or that, and many more.

Then, all of a sudden, I was awoken from my reminiscing by a gust of Costa Rican wind, and I found myself beginning to account for all the firsts that have transpired since arriving last week. Although I’ve visited this country a couple times in the past, there have been a number of variants on my “firsts” here in this wonderful place. For example, first time in a particular part of the country (San Jose, Cartago, Heredia, and others), first time eating ribs in a foreign country (oh man.), first time meeting and living with my current family (I’m still learning more and more how awesome they are), and so much more.

The point is I’ve had one heck of a time transitioning from Lasts to Firsts, and I know there are so many more Firsts to come. With all the things I’m learning from the Peace Corps Costa Rica team and all the beauty in this place, I have a solid feeling that this is going to be the experience of a lifetime. It’s going to be a beautiful ride.

More specifically, yesterday was a day of exploring the capital city of San Jose. I’ll admit, when I first received the map along with instructions for our day in San Jose, I was a tad bit intimidated. If you know me, you know my love for maps; however, the city seemed like a giant, and I was a strange combination of nervous and excited to get this one under my belt, so to speak. My group was a great help; they were so great about going with the flow of it all, making sure to hit on all major points at each stop. Once my feet started moving along the streets of San Jose, I realized quickly that it isn’t as huge and intimidating that I had considered it to be. It was a beautiful day complete with a nice breeze and a bright, shining sun.

Teatro Nacional, near the center of San Jose

On top of having a chance to learn a new city, I also got to visit with an old friend from years back. Roberto Barrantes, a pastor in a local church, was previously assigned to a location in Las Juntas, somewhere around four or five hours from San Jose. After sending him a quick email upon arriving, I learned that he had been transferred to a new location: one of the oldest (if not the oldest) Methodist churches in all of Costa Rica. Studying my map, I got a quick idea of where exactly his new assignment is and scouted whether or not our potential route might lead us anywhere nearby. Sure enough, my team was able to take a quick break, which gave me a few minutes to visit my friend. It was a short visit, but it was so good just to see him and give him a quick embrace after nine years of distance. Now that I know he and his family are in San Jose, it will (hopefully) be much easier to visit him in the future. What a great thing it is to see an old friend.

Getting back to my neighborhood was an adventure as well. Our plans in San Jose culminated with a visit to the Peace Corps office in the Northwest portion of San Jose and a short time of debriefing. After the debriefing session, we were free to return to our training communities by way of the public bus system. While my normal inclination would be to wait for other PC trainees to join me and head back together to make sure I knew what I was doing/where I was going, I chose to test myself by heading home on my own.

Long story short, I made it back with the help of a lovely lady who works for a local non-profit, a pair of helpful police officers, and super shady gentleman who was very, VERY interested in my backpack. I have to say with complete transparency, it felt good to accomplish something like that. Successfully navigating a new city in which I don’t necessarily speak the language is a great feeling.

Yesterday was another good day, and I yet again find myself very grateful. 

Hombros

Tico 31 CED PCTs at the end of Orientation in Cartago

Just wanted to give you all a quick update. 

There’s so much to share, but I’m short on time (would you believe I have homework?) so I’m going to do my best to squeeze the best I can out of my five days in-country. Also I'm not really sure why the format is so quirky. Let's just deal with it together, eh?

First of all, it’s astounding to see the diversity represented here. They say that everyone in CR these days has the blood of the indigenous people, Spanish ancestors, AND Afro-Caribbean ancestors flowing through their veins. The conversations I’ve had with various people in the surrounding communities have only deepened my admiration for this place. Even the language itself seems to have a bit of fluidity, depending on where you are and with whom you’re talking. 

Tobias, our vigilant guard dog

- Second, this place is gorgeous. Granted, I’ve only seen the city of San Jose and small portions of Cartago and Heredia, but it is FREAKING BEAUTIFUL. Everything is green and luscious and full of life. The air is magnificently clean and pure, and the people are - for the most part - incredibly nice.

Woke up to this little gem on the first morning in my training community

Staging (in Houston) and Orientation (in Cartago, Costa Rica) went well. It was a joy to meet all these other people who have similar passions and drives to help a foreign people group in such a huge way. We, like Costa Rica, are a diverse bunch of people, and I love it. Some are louder and more outspoken, some are quieter and more reserved (I’ll let you guess in which group I fall), but there’s a great mix among us all, to be sure.

View from Juan XXIII, our Orientation site

My training host family is amazing. I am the 8th volunteer to come through this household for homestay during Peace Corps training. I’ve been here for about two days now, and I’ve already eaten arroz con pollo, sopa de carne, ensalada (with some crazy tasty sauce/dressing), huevos fritos, gallo pinto (local staple of rice and beans with herbs), pescado frito, hamburguesa frita, muchas tipas de fruta, and empanadores. You should look all those up and figure out how to make then on your own because they’re amazing. I’ve also received two separate invitations to play on soccer teams, an invitation to jam on a guitar, and just last night, I was told that I might be heading to a professional game between Heredia and Saprissa (the big team in CR)! What an awesome family, for sure. More to come later about them.

My host mother, Elsa (left), and her second cousin, Raquel (right) in the kitchen

Training has been strenuous but so, so good. There’s a plethora of information to soak up in the next 12 weeks or so, but I can see how it’s broken up into intelligently planned sessions; I’m definitely looking forward to seeing what the CED sector is truly all about in Costa Rica. Don Luis, our CED Program Director is energetic and full of life, and he will surely make for a wonderful teacher during my time here in Costa Rica with Peace Corps. One thing I instantly liked about Don Luis was when he mentioned that he enjoys somewhere around 10 cups of coffee a day. A man after my own heart, to be sure. The rest of the staff have been so accommodating to our various situations, and I can tell that each of them has a passion for this country and Peace Corps’ work here. It’s a beautiful thing.

When I say there are dogs everywhere, it's not a joke

Monday starts our Spanish training, and I’m excited to jump in and deepen my understanding of the language. Wednesday sees our group heading into the heart of the capital of San Jose to learn more about the local area, landmarks, etc. I’m especially excited because I GET TO USE A MAP! It should be a great time. 

Mi cama!

Another view of my bedroom

You may or may not be wondering why on earth I chose to title this particular post "hombros." If you know a little Espanol, then you know hombros means shoulders. So, there's a bit of a joke among some friends of mine about shoulders: When you want to share in the emotion of the moment but not give away your man card too soon, you simply grab the other guy's shoulder. Twice this week during Orientation and the first bit of our Training, I've heard some Peace Corps staff members use the shoulder as an analogy. First of all, we heard about how, as PC Volunteers, we are not going into the communities to be the fixers; rather, we're going to integrate into those communities, establish relationships, and stand shoulder to shoulder with the locals and figure out innovative ways to improve the overall quality of life in ways that are sustainable and manageable for them long after we're gone. Speaking of long after we're gone, another PC staff member spoke briefly about coming into a community as a new PC Volunteer and remembering that we are simply continuing the good work that has been put forth by so many others. In a sense, we will be standing on their shoulders. So yeah, hombros. Gotta love it.

Yep. No caption needed

Thanks so much for all your support. It’s one hell of a ride, and it’s only going to get better. 

Love y’all.