Costa Rica. Day 3. Journal 1.

Hello hello. I haven´t the vaguest idea how to start this entry, other than to say, the last three days (my first 3 days in Costa Rica) have been some of the most wonderful, fulfilling, genuinely happy days I can ever remember. I can´t summarize, so instead I´m going to write about a few specific moments out of the ever increasing number that particularly stand out. Maybe. I might get carried away.

After a relatively easy plane ride, in which I got to know some of the wonderful and inspiring people who have also come here to volunteer in Costa Rica, my ears began to pop and I saw lights from my window. I remember saying to Asya, a new friend from Harvard, that these lights looked just like any other lights that you would see from the window of a plane, and that for some reason, until that moment, Central America only existed in books, and I couldn´t possibly be moments from stepping foot on Costa Rican soil.

The airport was clean, comfortable, and when I stepped out the door into the thick humidity, it was crowded with literally hoardes of young men offering taxi rides. Overwhelming, but exhilirating.

At the end of a 1.5 hour bus ride from San Jose, southeast to Orosi, we began to slow down as we came into this small central village. I told Asya (girl´s name, if you were wondering, originally from Belarus, goes to Harvard...which reminds me, most people on my program are incoming sophomores in college...that means nothing down here, we´re all likeminded...) that I loved the mysteriousness of arriving in a foreign place in the dark, especially this one, which I knew would be nestled against the base of a mountain, in a valley if you will, knowing that in the morning this place would reveal itself to be something spectacular. When the bus crawled to a stop outside the ÓTAIC here in Orosi, all the host families, their children, and their dogs, perhaps 40 Ticos (costa ricans) and 4 dogs, were standing with eager eyes, backlit by the hostel type building that we would soon enter, patiently awaiting our arrival. When I walked off that bus, through that crowd, past those unbelievably soft and curious eyes, it was infinitely more gratifying, comforting, and exhilirating than walking to the podium 13 days ago to recieve my diploma.

My host family here in Orosi consists of a mother in her late 50´s, and three boys, Luis age 20 who works 6 days a week at a local grocery store and is hardly ever home, Randy age 17 but looks 12, and Pablo age 15 but looks 10. I don´t know why that is, but trust me when I say, it is. They live in a very modest house (many houses consist of tin roofs, and stucco esque walls, while some are more impoverished and are fashioned from tin, wood, and other scraps), while mine is comfortable, with a green exterior and caballos in the window curtains, red tile floor on the inside that reminds me of a souther california mexican restaurant, 3 bedrooms with thin plywood walls, a small living room with a tv, radio, so forth...we spend a lot of time talking at the living room table, my portions at meals are always 2 or 3 times larger than theirs, not because I ask for it, but Ticos are non confrontational, and tend to make assumptions...if i were to tell her that she gives me too much, i may end up with too little...I laugh to myself everytime i look at my portions compared to theirs...one meal a few of my plates ( yes i get more than 1) were actually on the other side of randy´s plate...i had to ask ¿para mi?...

I have had conversations with my family that have lasted up to 3 hours. In spanish. They know no English. Except Pablo. He knows some colors, some days of the week, some fruits, and Thank You. Doña Luz, my host mom, knows none, but I think she may have said Tuesday this morning. There have actually been two nights where we´ve talked for that long. Both nights began by all of us playing Uno. I guess it was a commonality. It helps though, I learn some new words, commands, joking phrases...we get to poke fun at each other, and last night, after dropping 4 draw 4´s on my host mom, she jokingly said No puede cenar con nosotros...something like that...whatever it actually was, it meant no dinner for you....of course, I did eventually get dinner, and once again my portion was enormous. Last night though, we watched the US beat Costa Rica in soccer...for some reason I kept saying sorry, probably cause I could care less, and all the ticos were hanging on the edge of their seats as we won 3 to 0. Nonetheless, after the game we got to talking about Costa Ricas economic situation...Luz´s husband died 10 years ago (a picture of him looking 16 or 17 hangs above the kitchen table), and the only one who works is Luis. It seems that Luz spends her days cleaning an already immaculately clean home, and preparing food. I asked her about this last night, and she said that without a college education, women over 40 can´t work...she can´t afford to send her 2 youngest kids to school, cause uniforms and books cost too much, and food apparently costs her 170 dollars per week ( I have my doubts about that, rice and beans can´t cost that much). Nonetheless, I was very touched when she expressed, and I understood in Spanish, that although she doesn´t have much, and the family doesn´t have much, the only thing in her life is the happiness of her family...and after 3 days, I have no doubts about this.

By the way, these kids...the first morning I asked Pablo, Tiene discos? y...puedo buscar sus discos? He brought out his CD and popped in Pink Floyd, another brick in the wall...I was, how do you say...shocked? I asked him if he knew what the words meant, and he said no, so I went off to my first day of orientation, and with the help of our field director Emily (who is wonderful...one of the most self aware people I´ve met, she started Dance Marathon at UCLA and is going back to school soon, with the goal of devoting her life to international development and specifically, with a medical background, fighting AIDS)...as I was saying, Emily helped me transcribe the song into spanish. Pablo loved it when I brought it back, though I don´t think he picked up on the metaphor.

I love our orientation town, orosi. People walk everywhere, houses are next to restaurants which are next to pulperias which are next to supermarkets which are next to hostels, all of which is built around the center of town...a plaza, which is...you guessed it, a soccer field. There are towering mountains that surround the town and a winding river that runs through it. The hills are COVERED in coffee plants. This is what a community should be. Kids play in streets, throw rocks at bottles, run around...you know, things kids in the US used to do... People stop and talk with each other, nobody ever seems to be in a hurry.

The town is full of stray dogs. I was shy at first, but now I pet most all of them. 4 joined us on a hike today in the hills above orosi, past banana trees, coffee plants, cilantro bushes, over rivers, up hills, to a waterfall where I stripped down and jumped in with my fellow volunteers, water cascading over my head. I have pictures to prove it. We had a guide, Nano, who took us to his house. The walls are tin, the beds are wood bungalows, there are cows, coffee plants, horses, dogs, everything...grandparents, kids, all in this little fort where he lives. I swung from vines, ate coffee berries (they´re sweet on the inside...two white coffee beans are surrounded by a thin skin...green if they´re not ripe, red if they are...and it does taste a bit like coffee, though it doesn´t compare at all to the final product, which, here in orosi, comes right from the hills, and is smoother than any I´ve ever had).

I hope this gives you a feel for things as they´ve been so far. I feel safe, energetic, thrilled. It all feels so right. THIS is the real world. THIS is how most people in the world live, like the people in this town. Thanks for reading, I miss you all.