Things Change

It is 1pm and I am sitting in my borrowed plastic chair at my borrowed plastic table filling out a grant application to build a play area for the local elementary school. I am drinking dark steaming coffee out of a brand new mug (I broke the other one a few days ago...so some things don't change). Its one of those afternoons where the sky is dark and looming, and every few minutes it tries to convince me that a downpour is imminent. But I know better now. I will leave the clothes hanging in the gentle breeze until the late afternoon, when the sun will subside to the cloud's demands and the rain will hit the roof so hard that not even the cicadas will be heard. 

Some things have certainly changed. Hot coffee never sounded good on hot afternoons, until it did. The coffee alone makes me sweat, but I don't mind because the caffeine helps prepare me for my favorite part of day. When the sun begins to set, and the sky paints itself with blues, reds, pinks, oranges, and my favorite - purples. The temperature settles into a comfortable 80-something degrees and the breeze gently passes leaving behind a slight chill. The first breeze of the late afternoon always makes my arms break out in goose bumps, not from the cold, but from the anticipation.

I still crack my knuckles though. That hasn't changed.

I don't chew ice anymore, the lasting effect of my prolonged fridgelessness.

I always knew that I loved hammocks. I do miss plush overstuffed sofas and down comforters. But it was a solid trade. 

Local fresh produce. If I want lemons (which are green outside and orange inside), I go to the tree down by the stream. Oranges and cassava come from the neighbor two doors down. There are platano trees in my side yard and coconuts and mangos in the back yard. Eggs come from my host mom's hens, and natilla (its sour cream like, but better) and cheese from her cows. Fish come from the river, or a long afternoon bike ride to the Tilaperia. Papaya, corn, passion fruit and the like are common gifts from neighbors after a late afternoon visit. I still shop at grocery stores, but I have developed a gratitude for local and fresh produce.

I never do my hair. So if you see me when I'm visiting, be kind with the "Are you leaving the house like that?" comments. 

My feet are always dirty. Actually, now that I think about it, perhaps the doesn't represent any big change. 

I speak Spanish now. And when I speak English it is usually with other Spanish speakers, so I throw in Spanish vocabulary casually. I will probably continue to do this and find myself lost searching for forgotten English words.

I have adjusted (adopted, internalized) to a slower pace of life, that is more focused on people and less focussed on accomplishments. Work is important, and no one who makes their living farming will tell you otherwise. But there seem to be secret corners of time, that once found, can only be filled with personal connection.

I will probably say "Upe," instead of knocking on doors. I will lean in to kiss your cheek to say hello. I will say "Ciao," instead of goodbye. I will ask for "Permiso," when getting up from the table, and answer "Excuse me" with "Propio."

As I stare down the days approaching on the calendar and contemplate stepping onto the plane that will temporarily whisk me away from my familiar - I just thought it deserved to be said. Things change. I look forward to sitting down with you, and learning how you have changed....and how you haven't.

Saying Goodbye and Returning Home

Tico 22 set our alarm clocks, crawled into our unfamiliar hotel beds and tried to catch a few winks of sleep before our early morning flight. Sitting in the lobby at 2am the next morning, dreary eyed and anxious I began a journey with 32 strangers. Over two years later, only 22 of us have held on for the ride, a rather fitting number. In the months of April, May and June our journey will come to an end. We have fulfilled our 27 month commitment. My Rural Community Development peers have become my adopted family. We celebrate holidays together, we support each other in times of need, and we make the daily phone calls- just to check in. I am grateful to each an everyone one of them, in ways they know and will probably never know.

Saying goodbye to my fellow volunteers was difficult. I am excited to begin my new journey as an extension 3rd year volunteer, but every time I look at my cell phone and pass by all of the numbers that represent friends who I can no longer send a text to, or meet up with in San Jose, I feel disconnected. Life in my site continues as normal, English classes, grant writing, computer classes and the like. But every once and a while I stop and think about my adopted family, who are now back in the United States, eating delicious foods, hugging family and confronting the uncertainties of life. They have always been the people who understood me, they knew what culture shock felt like, how frustrating language learning was, how challenging isolation could be, and how exhausting it can be playing the motivator. And now they are undergoing new challenges and readjustments. And I am in my house, washing dishes, wishing it would rain.

I am lucky that there are other volunteers in my region, and I am looking forward to further developing friendships with them. And I have wonderful relationships in my community. So I will be fine, in this next year I will have the opportunity to work with motivated community members, execute important development projects and delve even further into rural Costa Rican life. And I wish my adopted family the best of luck, we may drift apart as the years pass on, but you will always be part of my transformation in Costa Rica.

The Rainy Season Ends Again

First three months completed in my new site. I am slowly but surely establishing my work and becoming a community member. I have a successful English class, which at least for the moment I am really enjoying (side note: historically I have not always enjoyed teaching English). I was introduced to a breathtakingly beautiful river, 10 minutes from my house, which is perfect for swimming or fishing. I continue to get to know the women in the women's group and have started an inventory project with them. I see familiar faces when I go on walks around town, and I'm pleased with the number of people who can greet me with my name. And most importantly, having a small toaster oven and blender has transformed my culinary life!

As for the holiday season, I enjoyed Christmas in site with my extended host family, and tried to recreate some home tradition (like cinnamon rolls for Christmas morning, stockings, and delivering Christmas cookies to my neighbors). On the 24th I attended a family party with singing, dancing, eating, fireworks and merriment. The music may have been cumbia and the food arroz con pollo but it was a wonderfully festive way to celebrate Christmas. On the 25th I exchanged a few small gifts with my host family, made (unsuccessfully) cinnamon rolls, and played English Christmas music on the computer.

A few days before Christmas I participated in the traditional pig killing and tamale making (I didn't kill the pig, but I did have to help carve the dead pig). We executed the entire process by hand, and it was a long process!! First the corn has to be peeled and cut off the cob, then cooked and passed through the grinder (twice!). Then we added the broth from the boiled meat, some pig lard, onions, garlic and cilantro.  And cooked the masa until it was thick. The meat had to be boiled, taken off the bone and shredded into bite size pieces. The shredded meat was then seasoned. Rice had to be cooked, but not completely, it was a little crude when we added it to the tamale. Finally my family adds hard boiled eggs and potatoes, but those are only two of the many things that one can add to tamales. The banana leaves had to be cut down, cleaned up and ripped into appropriate size pieces. Finally the assembly! Two banana leaves, masa, rice, meat, potato, boiled egg, wrap the tamale and tie it up. Boil to cook and ta-da! Needless to say it took all day, but they were delicious.

For New Years I joined a group of 12 other volunteers in the West Coast of Costa Rica to explore some caves. It was not something I would have organized myself, (seeing as I am still irrationally frightened of the dark), but in the end I am very glad that I went. It was great to spend some time with other volunteers and the caves were impressive. I even convinced a few volunteers to join me on the way home for a beach stop off :-)

Now as school vacation almost comes to an end, I find my days filling up a little quicker and time passing by without my even noticing it. Moral of the story: I'm happy and life is good.