Thursday, March 27, 2008
The Water is Wide
If you would like to know what is going on with me in Costa Rica, please proceed to your local book store and purchase The Water is Wide by Pat Conroy. While his experiences as a Teacher were in the late 1960's and South Carolina, he still, somehow, manages to capture all of the little moments that I seem to be experiencing as of late with more eloquence than I could ever hope to emulate. I've got to run, but I'll write again as soon as I can. The good ol' USA was perfect and I'm glad to know that some things never change.
Monday, March 10, 2008
You can't choose your [Host] Family
I’m mildly upset with my host family today. It is mostly cultural as far as I can tell. Over the last couple of days they have been commenting on how much I eat. (Which is a lot, but it wouldn’t be as much if they would feed me well.) They have all taken to calling me teacher at Home. I HATE this. It makes me feel dehumanized. I don’t mind if the students call me Teacher outside of the classroom, but it really drives me crazy when my family does it. They know to call me Carolina, they just choose not to. It bugs me and I think they get mad when I correct them, but I don’t care. It’s not like I am trying to make them say “Radford” I gave them an easy name.
The next thing on the list is my creepy host Dad. It is completely acceptable for Tico men to walk around their houses without their shirts on; this custom creeps me out. My host Dad is a relatively large man and whenever he is home he is shirtless. I’m obviously not going to complain about it, I just wish it weren’t so. Why I am really frustrated with him is the following. Firstly, he rubbed my belly the other day, which made me more than mildly uncomfortable. Then on a separate occasion while I was reading in a hammock, he kept petting my hair, which isn’t nearly as much fun for me as I think it is for others. Finally, today, he accused me of being mad at them because I never talk. I told them that I wasn’t mad, I was just reading. Then he said I was homesick. I wasn’t and so I told him “no, I’m fine, I just want to sit and read I am very content.” Then he kept pestering me and trying to get me to tell him that I was really mad because I never talk to them. I don’t talk to them because I have nothing to say to them. Sorry. Plus he said I was being weird. I don’t even know what that means,. Anyway, it’s been a self-fulfilling prophecy because NOW I am mad at him. I don’t mean to be cold, I just don’t have anything to say most of the time. How would the conversations go? It’s not like I can talk about the books I’ve read and they always seem to exhaust novella topics before I can say anything.
“Did you see that burning trash earlier Miguel?”
“No, where was it?”
“Oh just outside. It was on fire.”
Or Perhaps,
“My goodness, I am sick of rice and beans.”
“Sick of Rice and beans? How is that possible? What else is there to eat in the world?”
“Fruits and Vegetables?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, here have some more fried plantains and sour cream.”
Or Maybe,
“How is it going host family?”
“Pura Vida Teacher.”
“Carolina.”
“Ay, Teacher of course. Carolina.”
Ooh wait, how about:
“So Carolina, how do you like Tico men?”
“Well, to be honest with you, I’m not too fond of them.”
“Really, Alex liked Tica’s a lot. He said they were very nice.”
“Well, the women are very pretty, I just have a height requirement, dental requirements and a ‘No-baby-mama drama’ requirement. I have no interest in getting pregnant or married and that seems to be inevitable here so I am going to hold off. But thanks.”
-I should figure out how to say that in Spanish.
Then of course there is the fact that school was cancelled on Friday and no one bothered to tell me. Well, technically school wasn’t cancelled, but only the 6th graders came and they didn’t come to my class. I just don’t understand how at some moment my host mom didn’t say “Oh by the way Teacher, I have a meeting on Friday so there will be no class.” I guess its okay for them to not talk to me, but I have to talk to them. They also forgot to feed me dinner on Sunday Night. I was basically able to fend for myself, but they had eaten all of the rice and all of the fish. So I just ate a big bowl of beans. IT SUCKED.
My eldest host brother, who has the sole access to the family cell phone and works 8km away is constantly forgetting who has called me and to give me the messages. I guess that he can’t write things down while he is working, but still it makes things difficult, considering that emailing me is hardly the fastest mode of communication.
My final frustration comes with my host siblings Quito (7) and Melissa (9) who ALWAYS call me teacher, who drink the soda I have in the fridge, who borrow my colored pencils and markers all of the time, who act up in my classes, who throw tantrums and never say please or thank you. These are the same kids who put their milk and cereal in the microwave but think its weird when I put salt on my rice and beans. Melissa has (as of late) taken up the habit of laughing and saying every curse word she knows in English in my presence, which I find really offensive and mildly insulting. I know that they are just kids, and I recognize that they are a lot more independent than most kids in the states their age, but they still drive me crazy.
I guess that this is just the first real dip in the culture shock. I just hope that it doesn’t prevent me from wanting to come back after spring break. No real choice there. I just have to remind myself that I am doing the right thing and that this year is good for me. Because it is and much as I may love California, Costa Rica needs me.
The next thing on the list is my creepy host Dad. It is completely acceptable for Tico men to walk around their houses without their shirts on; this custom creeps me out. My host Dad is a relatively large man and whenever he is home he is shirtless. I’m obviously not going to complain about it, I just wish it weren’t so. Why I am really frustrated with him is the following. Firstly, he rubbed my belly the other day, which made me more than mildly uncomfortable. Then on a separate occasion while I was reading in a hammock, he kept petting my hair, which isn’t nearly as much fun for me as I think it is for others. Finally, today, he accused me of being mad at them because I never talk. I told them that I wasn’t mad, I was just reading. Then he said I was homesick. I wasn’t and so I told him “no, I’m fine, I just want to sit and read I am very content.” Then he kept pestering me and trying to get me to tell him that I was really mad because I never talk to them. I don’t talk to them because I have nothing to say to them. Sorry. Plus he said I was being weird. I don’t even know what that means,. Anyway, it’s been a self-fulfilling prophecy because NOW I am mad at him. I don’t mean to be cold, I just don’t have anything to say most of the time. How would the conversations go? It’s not like I can talk about the books I’ve read and they always seem to exhaust novella topics before I can say anything.
“Did you see that burning trash earlier Miguel?”
“No, where was it?”
“Oh just outside. It was on fire.”
Or Perhaps,
“My goodness, I am sick of rice and beans.”
“Sick of Rice and beans? How is that possible? What else is there to eat in the world?”
“Fruits and Vegetables?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, here have some more fried plantains and sour cream.”
Or Maybe,
“How is it going host family?”
“Pura Vida Teacher.”
“Carolina.”
“Ay, Teacher of course. Carolina.”
Ooh wait, how about:
“So Carolina, how do you like Tico men?”
“Well, to be honest with you, I’m not too fond of them.”
“Really, Alex liked Tica’s a lot. He said they were very nice.”
“Well, the women are very pretty, I just have a height requirement, dental requirements and a ‘No-baby-mama drama’ requirement. I have no interest in getting pregnant or married and that seems to be inevitable here so I am going to hold off. But thanks.”
-I should figure out how to say that in Spanish.
Then of course there is the fact that school was cancelled on Friday and no one bothered to tell me. Well, technically school wasn’t cancelled, but only the 6th graders came and they didn’t come to my class. I just don’t understand how at some moment my host mom didn’t say “Oh by the way Teacher, I have a meeting on Friday so there will be no class.” I guess its okay for them to not talk to me, but I have to talk to them. They also forgot to feed me dinner on Sunday Night. I was basically able to fend for myself, but they had eaten all of the rice and all of the fish. So I just ate a big bowl of beans. IT SUCKED.
My eldest host brother, who has the sole access to the family cell phone and works 8km away is constantly forgetting who has called me and to give me the messages. I guess that he can’t write things down while he is working, but still it makes things difficult, considering that emailing me is hardly the fastest mode of communication.
My final frustration comes with my host siblings Quito (7) and Melissa (9) who ALWAYS call me teacher, who drink the soda I have in the fridge, who borrow my colored pencils and markers all of the time, who act up in my classes, who throw tantrums and never say please or thank you. These are the same kids who put their milk and cereal in the microwave but think its weird when I put salt on my rice and beans. Melissa has (as of late) taken up the habit of laughing and saying every curse word she knows in English in my presence, which I find really offensive and mildly insulting. I know that they are just kids, and I recognize that they are a lot more independent than most kids in the states their age, but they still drive me crazy.
I guess that this is just the first real dip in the culture shock. I just hope that it doesn’t prevent me from wanting to come back after spring break. No real choice there. I just have to remind myself that I am doing the right thing and that this year is good for me. Because it is and much as I may love California, Costa Rica needs me.
Friday, March 7, 2008
A note on La Hija del Mariachi
Part of my induction to Tico culture has included dedication to my first Novela. It’s called La Hija del Mariachi and is about the daughter of a Mariachi. You see our Heroin, Rosaria is the daughter of a Mariachi. Her father passed away years ago but before he died, he sparked a great love for Mariachi music in his daughter. She sings in a Mariachi band to help work her way through school. Also in the band is her Love interest, a hunky young man with a good heart from a wealthy family in Mexico City who got caught up in some trouble and decided to disappear in Columbia. The Men cry, the women tremble and all the children are played by actors who are over the age of 18. What’s not to love? (I mean, if I were on the run from trouble I would DEFINITELY go to a country fighting a giant drug war, you know they aren’t looking for you there.) They sing at least 2 times an episode and the acting is just as bad as it is in American Soaps. The head Mariachi in the band is also quite the looker and has an illegitimate son who occasionally visits and sings in the bar with the band. (What a catch.) It’s glorious. PLUS they NEVER change out of their Mariachi outfits. What is even more interesting is that I have actually started to like Mariachi music. There are a number of very lovely songs that I would have already downloaded if iTunes worked here.
I was a bad teacher today, but we had a lot of fun. I played Uno with my 6th graders, watched The Little Mermaid with my 1st graders after singing for 20 minutes and watched The Rescuers with my 4th graders. We also made fans to combat the day’s stifling heat, but I don’t remember if I taught them the word for Fan or not. I think that we all needed a break from English. At least the movies were in English. Right?
Tomorrow I am going to Boruca and I may actually get to see where Kevin lives, which ought to be exciting. I am having a lot of fun getting to know my neighboring towns. It makes me feel like I really LIVE here, which I do, but I often forget because I so regularly get treated like an outsider.
In other fascinating news and vital information, I have decided that I prefer black beans to red beans and it took me three days to make a phone call here in the Zona Sur. Oh, and I booked my flight home. See you all on the 17th for one week of . . . well, you know
Later days.
Rad
I was a bad teacher today, but we had a lot of fun. I played Uno with my 6th graders, watched The Little Mermaid with my 1st graders after singing for 20 minutes and watched The Rescuers with my 4th graders. We also made fans to combat the day’s stifling heat, but I don’t remember if I taught them the word for Fan or not. I think that we all needed a break from English. At least the movies were in English. Right?
Tomorrow I am going to Boruca and I may actually get to see where Kevin lives, which ought to be exciting. I am having a lot of fun getting to know my neighboring towns. It makes me feel like I really LIVE here, which I do, but I often forget because I so regularly get treated like an outsider.
In other fascinating news and vital information, I have decided that I prefer black beans to red beans and it took me three days to make a phone call here in the Zona Sur. Oh, and I booked my flight home. See you all on the 17th for one week of . . . well, you know
Later days.
Rad
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Living in Paradise Doesn’t Pay, But Hey, You’re Living in Paradise
As I walked down the Pan American Highway today, the sun was setting over the hills and the last light of the day was glistening on the river. It is unfair how beautiful it is here. In 100 meters, I saw 200 shades of green. The vegetation is surreal, and for the most part, undeterred by mankind. With the exception of a few “houses” and the two-lane highway, the grass, trees, flowers and fruits all grow as they please. During the day, you can see the river from the highway; it seems to be rising all of the time. I can’t imagine what’ll happen during the rainy season. Though I am glad that I have the advantage of living in a house 200 meters from the base of the river. If I wanted to paint a picture, there is no way I could find the right colors I would need to paint the perfect river. It’s just beautiful, I keep meaning to take pictures, but I am afraid that trying to document it will cheapen my experience. My advice is that you come and visit. Then you’ll really understand. So what if volunteering doesn’t pay. The view is completely worth it.
I had quite a journey this weekend. I went to visit my friend Laura in La Fortuna, which is about 4 hours north of San Jose. So, on Friday night I took the “direct” bus from my town to San Jose. (It took about five and a half hours.) The man I sat next to on the bus told me about his family in Boston and his experiences living in Chile. We chatted about Economics and science, though for the most part he talked and I tried to translate the words he was saying.
However, even if I had the vocabulary, I doubt that I would have been able to contribute much. I arrived in San Jose at about 9:00 and spent the night at Hostel Bekuo, the place I spent my first night in Costa Rica. Interestingly enough, as I sat checking my email, two other world teachers (Becca and Johanna) and our assistant director Leilani spotted me. It’s quite a small world we live in.
The next morning I got up before dawn to take a bus from San Jose up into La Fortuna. On that bus I made friends with and Argentine Dentist named Fabian. I had assumed that he was a gringo because he was blonde and a giant, but when he started speaking to me with a far too perfect Spanish accent I realized how wrong I had been. I am forever going to be a fan of Fabian because he shared his IPod with me for the last hour of the Journey. As it turned out we were staying in the same Hostel and after my friends greeted me at the bus stop, we all walked over to check in together.
When I got off of the bus, my glorious friends Kevin, Kate and Mikki were waiting for me. I felt like a celebrity. A few minutes later, Laura the birthday girl, met up with us. We checked into the hostel and went for a walk, ending at a 100 foot waterfall. Kevin and Mikki both braved the water, but I took the day off of being a great adventurer. I did however take my first hot shower in a month and IT WAS AMAZING. I really almost couldn’t believe it. I had definitely forgotten how good the hot water felt. It was by far the hottest shower that I have had since I got to Costa Rica and maybe the best, I don’t really know. At this point, I am still just trying to figure out whether or not it was real.
When we went back into La Fortuna, we found Paul and Cara in the center of town and we all went out for the best lunch any of us had had in a while. Really. Ham, avocado and provolone on Ciabatta never tasted so good. The Fig-Espresso-Chocolate shake wasn’t bad either. For dessert we trekked over to Musmani (Costa Rica’s premier bakery chain) for snacks and “gifts” for Laura’s house Mom. My nearest town (Palmar) does not have a Musmani and I had been craving it since we left our orientation site (Orosi). It was everything that I remembered and more.
After visiting La Fortuna I am very glad that I did not choose to go to either of the bilingual sites. There are a few reasons for this. The first is that, the schools are even more challenging and discipline is almost impossible because of the lack of support from Costa Rican Education officials and local Directors. The system isn’t good or bad, its just very different, which can be extremely frustrating, I am sure. The second is that I am not sure I could be around so many Gringo’s all of the time. Living in those sites, you could actually spend an entire year and not use Spanish. The number of Americans is almost disheartening and the “Real Costa Rica” is somehow lost in translation. I know that I complain about my site regularly, but I am very happy here and it feels real, I feel like I am contributing. I don’t feel like just another American passing through. I like that I live here in Costa Rica. I like seeing the kids in their school Uniforms, I love having a relationship with the local fruit vendors and I am delighted to live on the Pan American Highway. It’s like nothing else I have every known. The third reason is that I don’t believe that I could really teach in all English all of the time. I’m technically supposed to now, but I find that when I try, the students stare at me like deer in the headlights, so I cheat, and I use my Spanish. Oops.
Saturday night we had a picnic and sat in hammocks for the better part of four hours and I could not have been happier. We compared stories about the first month at our host sites and vegged out on mangoes, avocados, chips, salsa and American foods like peanut butter and cheddar cheese (though obviously not together).
I didn’t sleep very well that night and so I got up early to take a trip to Musmani and buy breakfast for the group. A couple of ham sandwiches, glasses of orange juice and slices of mango and we were on our way. Mikki, Kevin, Paul, Cara, and I took the 8 am but to get back into San Jose. Mikki, Kevin and I then took a 1:00 from San Jose to our homes in the Zona Sur. Unfortunately, that bus was standing room only for 5 hours, but after a couple of hours someone offered me his seat, so I have no reason to complain. A year before, I had been
running the marathon. Standing is Easy.
Overall it was about 18 hours of travel for 18 hours in La Fortuna, but it was absolutely worth it. I got home at about 8:00. Fell asleep by 8:30 and didn’t wake up the next morning until 6:30. At which point I realized I hadn’t planned any of my lessons for the day. What can I say? I’m a champ.
The only other thing that has happened to me in the last few days that is of interest is that I waited for buses for an hour and a half yesterday to no avail. Granted two went speeding by me at 65 miles an hour, but none of them actually stopped for me. Miss you all and hope that all is well in the good old USA.
The Pura Vida is standard: rice, beans and social deviance.
Besos y Abrazos
I had quite a journey this weekend. I went to visit my friend Laura in La Fortuna, which is about 4 hours north of San Jose. So, on Friday night I took the “direct” bus from my town to San Jose. (It took about five and a half hours.) The man I sat next to on the bus told me about his family in Boston and his experiences living in Chile. We chatted about Economics and science, though for the most part he talked and I tried to translate the words he was saying.
However, even if I had the vocabulary, I doubt that I would have been able to contribute much. I arrived in San Jose at about 9:00 and spent the night at Hostel Bekuo, the place I spent my first night in Costa Rica. Interestingly enough, as I sat checking my email, two other world teachers (Becca and Johanna) and our assistant director Leilani spotted me. It’s quite a small world we live in.
The next morning I got up before dawn to take a bus from San Jose up into La Fortuna. On that bus I made friends with and Argentine Dentist named Fabian. I had assumed that he was a gringo because he was blonde and a giant, but when he started speaking to me with a far too perfect Spanish accent I realized how wrong I had been. I am forever going to be a fan of Fabian because he shared his IPod with me for the last hour of the Journey. As it turned out we were staying in the same Hostel and after my friends greeted me at the bus stop, we all walked over to check in together.
When I got off of the bus, my glorious friends Kevin, Kate and Mikki were waiting for me. I felt like a celebrity. A few minutes later, Laura the birthday girl, met up with us. We checked into the hostel and went for a walk, ending at a 100 foot waterfall. Kevin and Mikki both braved the water, but I took the day off of being a great adventurer. I did however take my first hot shower in a month and IT WAS AMAZING. I really almost couldn’t believe it. I had definitely forgotten how good the hot water felt. It was by far the hottest shower that I have had since I got to Costa Rica and maybe the best, I don’t really know. At this point, I am still just trying to figure out whether or not it was real.
When we went back into La Fortuna, we found Paul and Cara in the center of town and we all went out for the best lunch any of us had had in a while. Really. Ham, avocado and provolone on Ciabatta never tasted so good. The Fig-Espresso-Chocolate shake wasn’t bad either. For dessert we trekked over to Musmani (Costa Rica’s premier bakery chain) for snacks and “gifts” for Laura’s house Mom. My nearest town (Palmar) does not have a Musmani and I had been craving it since we left our orientation site (Orosi). It was everything that I remembered and more.
After visiting La Fortuna I am very glad that I did not choose to go to either of the bilingual sites. There are a few reasons for this. The first is that, the schools are even more challenging and discipline is almost impossible because of the lack of support from Costa Rican Education officials and local Directors. The system isn’t good or bad, its just very different, which can be extremely frustrating, I am sure. The second is that I am not sure I could be around so many Gringo’s all of the time. Living in those sites, you could actually spend an entire year and not use Spanish. The number of Americans is almost disheartening and the “Real Costa Rica” is somehow lost in translation. I know that I complain about my site regularly, but I am very happy here and it feels real, I feel like I am contributing. I don’t feel like just another American passing through. I like that I live here in Costa Rica. I like seeing the kids in their school Uniforms, I love having a relationship with the local fruit vendors and I am delighted to live on the Pan American Highway. It’s like nothing else I have every known. The third reason is that I don’t believe that I could really teach in all English all of the time. I’m technically supposed to now, but I find that when I try, the students stare at me like deer in the headlights, so I cheat, and I use my Spanish. Oops.
Saturday night we had a picnic and sat in hammocks for the better part of four hours and I could not have been happier. We compared stories about the first month at our host sites and vegged out on mangoes, avocados, chips, salsa and American foods like peanut butter and cheddar cheese (though obviously not together).
I didn’t sleep very well that night and so I got up early to take a trip to Musmani and buy breakfast for the group. A couple of ham sandwiches, glasses of orange juice and slices of mango and we were on our way. Mikki, Kevin, Paul, Cara, and I took the 8 am but to get back into San Jose. Mikki, Kevin and I then took a 1:00 from San Jose to our homes in the Zona Sur. Unfortunately, that bus was standing room only for 5 hours, but after a couple of hours someone offered me his seat, so I have no reason to complain. A year before, I had been
running the marathon. Standing is Easy.
Overall it was about 18 hours of travel for 18 hours in La Fortuna, but it was absolutely worth it. I got home at about 8:00. Fell asleep by 8:30 and didn’t wake up the next morning until 6:30. At which point I realized I hadn’t planned any of my lessons for the day. What can I say? I’m a champ.
The only other thing that has happened to me in the last few days that is of interest is that I waited for buses for an hour and a half yesterday to no avail. Granted two went speeding by me at 65 miles an hour, but none of them actually stopped for me. Miss you all and hope that all is well in the good old USA.
The Pura Vida is standard: rice, beans and social deviance.
Besos y Abrazos
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