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.