PostCard

Dear Family and friends,

I hope that you all receive this postcard on Thanksgiving. I have missed you all dearly and nothing reminds me of my absence more than spending Thanksgiving without you. I imagine waking up to text messages and phone calls wishing each other a Happy Thanksgiving. You all spending the day slaving over the stove, opening the front door despite the cold November day. Dressing in cozy sweaters and jeans awaiting the arrival of other friends and families. Saying thanks as you gobble down your 3rd plate. Games, drinks and snacks after dinner. Preparing your plates to go (or if you’re my grandma, preparing your tubberware containers). Instead of writing about my Thanksgiving, I’ll share these photos. Enjoy!

-Q

 

Thanksgiving 2010 VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL

Saul

A branch of the town’s family tree is headed by a 70ish year old man, Saul and his wife, Teresa. Saul was born in Cartago and worked on various coffee farms throughout his youth. In a tiny city of Cartago, he met a young girl named Teresa and fell in love. At the age of 18,they decided to marry but when they asked for their families’ blessing, the two families insisted they were too young to marry. Disobeying family wishes, the couple married. Hearing of good coffee crop in the south and following other family members, the young couple migrated to MonteCarlo.

  

Together, they raised 9 children 6 boys and 2 girls while living off of Saul’s wagers as a coffee picker. From this couple, more than half of the town can claim relations. In the elementary alone, majority of the kids identify Saul as grandfather or uncle.

The sons picked up the same trade, working on the same farm as their father and migrating to the US to help buy land for a house in MonteCarlo. Retiring, Saul maintains a tradition of making baskets to supplement his government pension.

Early in the morning, he walks into the mountain and collects the material. Washes it. Dries it for about two days. Weaves it into beautiful baskets and sells in the community and neighboring towns.

    Saul is the only person in town who practices this tradition. Neither his sons nor other family members have picked up this dying art. On the other hand, the 6 sons and father formed a singing group. During the year, they randomly serenade the women of the town.

This past Saturday, I rode a buseta filled with Saul’s immediate descendants (sons, grandchildren & daughter-in-laws) to hear the group play at a senior citizen home. I went expecting only to hear them play.

However, I received 5 invitations to dance with men over the age of 70. Serious dancing. They went crazy over salsa, kumbia, and corriente. One of the invitations was from a man with a walker. He could barely walk but insisted that I dance with him. When I declined, the girls teased me about my new “boyfriend.” Failing to get a young lady to dance with him, the elderly man magically turned his walker into a woman. Moving him and stepping with more pep than he walked.

Random Post

Whale Steaks! I almost forgot about Labor Day! The beautiful (and unfortunate) holiday that marks the end of summer, the return to school, the end of wearing white, the last Summer cookout and the endless SALES!!! Luckily, a fellow volunteer hangs on to the American traditions and reminded me. In holiday spirit, I went to Playa Uvita to see the annual whale migration. For 15 mil colones ($30), I got to see a 22 day old baby whale and its mother as well as 3 dolphins that decided to play with us. [Animal lovers can relax because no whales ni dolphins were harmed.] Labor Day win!

Chacos y Skin Irritations Ever wonder how weird new friendships can be made? Well, that was the starter of a conversation. Waiting for the bus with a fellow volunteer, an(other) American walked up to me and asked me how to loosen her Chaco straps. The strap (with the heat) rubbed against her skin and left nasty marks. Five minutes later (learning that she volunteered to pick coffee for 5 months & telling her that we are PC volunteers), she then pointed to her neck. “Do you guys know what type of rash this is?” Well, this is apparently a good conversation starter because she was also going to see the whales & hung out with us for the day.

Speaking of skin, my skin is completely irritated thanks to the mosquitoes, ants and other bichos that constantly bite me! Unconsciously, I scratch at night so there are two raw spots: one on the thigh & the other on the forearm. Reminder to self: request more Claritin.

War of Teeth: As recess ended, the kids gathered around the sink to brush their teeth. As they brush their teeth, they start comparing tooth brushes. The difference between a hard toothbrush vs. a soft toothbrush. The newest Colgate toothbrush, which has a feature on the back of the toothbrush so that you can brush your tongue as well. The appropriate size of your toothbrush. Different techniques to reach your back teeth.

Listening to their conversation, I thought of how pleased my Dentist would be to hear this conversation. A dentist’s only remaining lesson (and probably that of a nutritionist) would probably be to start a war against their eating habits, especially that of candy. While they are in the habit of brushing after every official meal, they eat candy throughout the day, especially after dinner. Brushing before bed is not encouraged :( And as a result, I see children with the same amount of gold teeth as Lil Wayne.

Made in China I recently decided that US items made in other countries should say “Made in China…designed in US.” A past time is to play games with my Tico friends. The favorites are: Jingo, UNO, cards, checkers and soon enough, there will be Monopoly (Costa Rica version.) In looking at the boxes of these games, a few friends have commented on how smart the Chinese are for inventing these games and most of the games that we all love. I gently tried to explain the idea of globalism: Most of these games were invented in the US but in the past 30-40 years, production of the games have been shipped oversees. Of course, my dear Ticos don’t believe me.

Tanto Speaking of games, a favorite card game here is called Tanto. One card is removed from the stack without anyone looking at it. The remaining cards are dealt. Within your hand, you form all the pairs possible (2 Aces, 2 Threes, 2 Eights, etc) and disregard those cards. Finally you play: Hold up your hand and allow the person to your right to choose a card. That person wants a card to make a pair; with the object of being the first person without cards. Because in the beginning a card was removed, it means that one card will not have a pair. The person with that card is Tanto…or in English, STUPID! What a game más Tanto.

Dia de los Ninos (Day of the Children) On most calendars found in the states, there are holidays that are completely ignored. Grandparents Day. Teachers Day. Father’s Day (Alright, we recognize that but all fathers can admit that in a race with Mother’s day, it places 5th.) Children’s Day. I remember once pointing to Children’s day on the calendar and asking Collette why we don’t celebrate this particular day. Her response: Christmas or Children’s day, which is your preference? Well here, it is widely celebrated. I’m also at an age that I can fully appreciate Collette’s response.

 That’s enough of randomness. This upcoming week sounds promising for more!

 

-Q

Learning to skate (and fall)

The earliest lesson we learn in life is how to fall. Your parents love to tell the story of how they dropped you as an infant. Or how you rolled off the bed and onto the floor. Or, at 9 months, you finally test the limitations of your legs. Or, when you finally get the idea of walking under control and start to run; but that run leads to a hard fall.

The second lesson is recovery. As a baby, a parent is always near. They use their hands as railings but give you the space. When you do fall, they come to your side and pick you up, dust off the dirt, a kiss on the boo-boo, and reset you on your feet. What exactly are you learning? The pain is only momentarily. A bruise might appear. But eventually, you’ll get it right. But most importantly, the physical impact of a fall is never as dreadful as you thought.

These lessons are repeated throughout your life: learning how to ride a bike, learning how to read, applying for colleges, etc… You learn that with each new challenge/adventure, the possibility of falling (or failing) is always there.

This past Thursday, a skating company came to my community. In the days leading up to openning night, I asked a few friends if they were going. The consensus: No, I’d die if I tried to skate.

On opening night (a special for 2x1), I showed up and a 10 year old girl looked in on the guys skating. I asked her if she wanted to skate but she refused saying she’d die.  After watching me skate for 20 minutes, I reoffered to get her some skates and she accepted as long as I would teach her. Adjusting her skates, I stated “You’re going to fall. Accept that,” and then pulled her onto the skating ring, not giving her time to change her mind. Mentally, she accepted that it was impossible to skate and figured it would be easier to hold my waist or have me pull her. I put her next to the wall and walked beside her instead. (Here, I have had a few young girls try to hold on to my waist or lean on me for support as we walked uphill. Socially, this is acceptable as you can often see a younger person lean on an older person as they walk. However, the idea of someone younger than me with more energy stealing my strength makes me sick.) After walking her around the ring 3 times, I pulled my hand away and left her be: You learn how to skate by first learning how to fall.

Halfway through the night, she and 6 other young ladies (along with the young guys) were falling all over the floor—alone.

As I skated freely around the rink (not falling but lacking the grace of a professional skater), I realized that the lesson of falling is one missing from the culture of my town.

Of course, they all experience falling but the lesson is never seeded into their lives. If you want to learn a new skill, you must be prepared to work hard, fall, and work harder.

Education

I recently interviewed my school director and as an educator, asked her opinion about the number of high school aged children not in high school. Her response: “Son vagas” (They’re lazy).

In the past, the opportunity of attending high school wasn’t available because the nearest high school was 10 km away and your family could not afford it. But in the last 15 years, the increase in scholarships and transportation has made it easier for all to attend high school. In my town, there are about 6 girls not in high school (the number is amazingly higher among guys.) While 6 does not seem like a lot, take into consideration that my town has less than 300 people and 30 of those are high schoolers. That’s means that about 20% of the high school population dropped out.

My interview took place during the 6th grade class. Coincidentally, it is the last required level of school for all Costa Ricans. At the end of my interview, the director (who also teaches classes), polled class on who planned on continuing onto high school. 50% firmly stated no.

What’s my interpretation of the education problem? Two things: Cultural and Individual.

Parents see the value in education and if a child is interested in attending, will fill out all of the paperwork to enroll the child and receive the scholarships. However, I noticed two deadly mentalities. First, parents allow their children to give up and drop out. (I’m pretty sure that their is discussion before the decision is made. But I’ve asked in front of the parents and all seem at peace with the decision.) Secondly, making good grades is perceived as an innate gift. If your child doesn’t make good grades, he/she simply is not smart enough to attend school and cannot handle school. This would be the cultural inputs

At this point, all of my family and friends would be preparing the arguments to disagree. The Educators should be packing their bags to head for Costa Rica.

Culturally, there exists an alternative to not attending high school: Stay in the community and help out around the house.

The decision not to attend high school is just as much individual. When asking the girls why they don’t attend school, I receive two answers: 1) School was boring and 2) Cuesta mucha (It’s too hard.)

Well, yes. School can be boring and often is. But staying at home all day is just as boring. At least be bored with your friends that are in school. Is school too hard? Depends on who you ask. There are the few that don’t need to study. They simply show up for an exam and ace it. But for the majority of us, some type of effort is required.

We stumble in our skates.We test and receive a bad grade. Not liking the feeling of this fall, we work harder. Studying. Homework. Taking advantage of teacher’s office hours. Practice. After some time, we end up like the young girl in the center of the skating ring: skating, falling, accepting the temporary hurt, and retrying.

Sigh. One of the phrases I hear to often here is “Cuesta mucha.” Yes, learning a new language is difficult. Doing well in school requires works. Learning to drive takes time. Walking 2 hours up to the mirador takes commitment.

As a child, I remember saying “I can’t….” My mother’s (and every other adult’s) response: That word is not in the dictionary and I never want to hear it in your vocabulary. What’s the equivalent of this phrase in Spanish?

What I do know is that Costa Rica is following the same road as the US: education is absolutely necessary. Coffee is no longer the reliable income families depended on. Land is becoming less available. Future and good jobs depend (just think, the main industry is tourism) on education.

I hope I see that young girl tonight in the center of the skating rink, falling and laughing.

Sally the Cow

I recall watching a commercial about cows; the name of the company or the product I don’t remember exactly. But in the commercial, Sally the Cow decides to travel to California, where cows are apparently happier. Watching that commercial, the cows seemed peaceful and inviting. They sold the product and made you think “consume me.”

Accepting an invitation to make queso, I stood a foot away from a cow. Sally the Cow seemed anything but inviting. Her sheer size threatened me to approach. Her intense stare had knowing eyes. Her tongue stood ready to accuse me of consuming her family.

I feared this cow: her body itself was 5’6 and she probably weighed 3 times my weight. You’re probably laughing at me; I even thought my fear of this cow was pointless and tried to imagine it sliced in many parts. But that thought occurred simultaneously with her intense look. In sum, tenia miedo and I could not bring myself to milk her.

Celebrating the 4th Abroad (6/6/2010)

The thought of DC in the summer has been on my mind lately. Seafood. Lazy summer nights. Cookouts. Ribs. Potato Salad. Watermelon. Intolerable hot days pacified by air conditioned buildings. Movies. Drinks. Seafood.

The thought makes me jealous of those enjoying a summer in DC (or NC).

As the 4th of July approached, these thoughts became stronger and the desire to be amongst my fellow volunteers grew. Quenching that desire, I traveled to San Jose for a 4th of July Celebration sponsored by the US Embassy. For 2.5 mil colones (or $5), the hosts provided unlimited hot dogs, ice cream, bagels, popcorn…and most importantly, beer!

Happy 4th!

Past Month

Recently, I described my activities to a friend back home via chat. Reflecting on the text written, I realized that my daily activities seemed boring, hence the lack of blog entries. But later, it occurred to me that those daily activities led to new discoveries: meeting interesting people, making and tasting new foods, learning new trades.

First, what is a usual day for me? At this point, I’d describe it as purely social. It involves playing with school children and answering endless questions. Visiting one household in the morning: introducing myself and Peace Corps, informally interviewing them while they interrogate me on my personal life, family and US culture; drinking coffee and receiving warm welcomes to return. Lunch and nap. Visiting another family in the evenings. Dinner, games, television with host family.

Rereading this, I’m convinced that I’m a lazy bum. :) But I’m playing the role of a learner while integrating myself in the community.

• Making tamales and watching the World Cup
• Reinado, Cabalgatas, y bueys (Town Queen, Cowboys and Bulls)
• Tour of a garden that would put the National Arboretum to shame
• Observe an elderly man make natural baskets while his wife shared the story of their life
• Wine made of water apples : Yumm!!!!!
• Learning to play the guitar : This is by far my favorite new skill. An old many in my community is teaching me to play the guitar and I have blisters on my fingers to prove it.
• Attending two different religious concerts: Catholic and Evangelical
• Beaches!!
• Hiking
• Meeting Colombianas, Hondurans, Cubans and Americans
• Read books

I have a good friend here named Jocelyn. Every day, she likes to ask me “What did you do today?” I respond “I worked hard today. I visited with ______ and spent 3 hours with them. Then I ate lunch and visited with _______. I am exhausted from today’s work.”

Her response “Vaga.” (lazy)

23!!! (5-25-10)

Dear Q,

Feliz Cumpleanos. This year, I gift you:

1. Hot Flashes at 1am (Yep, you’re only 23)
2. Explosive Diarrhea
3. Vomiting after lunch
4. A middle school dance

I hope this year (and many more to come) is as eventful as today!

After being in my permanent site for 3 complete days, it finally sunk in that I’m a Peace Corps Volunteer and will be living in a foreign country, in a remote town, speaking Spanish only for the next 2 years. While those are the very reasons that brought me here, an approaching birthday while being miles away made the idea more concrete, possibly even scary.

Calling it “hot flashes” is probably extreme. But I definitely woke hourly starting at 1am to my body sweating. Kicking the covers off, I got colder but as soon as I returned to my sleep, the heat returned. Ironically, it rained the entire night and there was a strong breeze: possibly the coldest night I’ve experienced here.

Explosive diarrhea needs no explanation. It comes with the territory.

Now, the vomiting is a different story. My new host mom (Adis) loves to cook. She is “Ama de la Casa” and takes that role to heart: always in the kitchen cooking. She’s also a good cook, so no complaints. The problem? She prepares my plates with 2 servings of rice & beans, a serving of meat (larger than the palm), and the 3rd piece of the meal. Repeat this times 3 and you can just imagine how my system is reacting. At this point, “full”no longer describes me after a meal. Perhaps, “stuffed, “bloated", “fat.” When the next meal arrives, my stomach actually frowns.

You’re probably saying “Stop being lazy and fix your own damn plate of food”or “Tell her you want less”or “Stop Eating.” Well, all of the above challenge Tico culture. Here, the woman of the house prepares the plates for both males and guests. For the men, I’ll simply mention the word “machismo”and leave it there. For guests, its meaning is similar to “Welcome to my home, where we have plenty to eat.” To offer a guest only a little bit suggests that the family is poor and no Tica wants to give off that image. Interesting enough, it is customary for the guest to refuse big portions because they do not want their host to think they do not have enough food in their home.

With that said, it is not acceptable to come into a new house and fix your own plates. Also, telling a Tica that you want only a little invites the “teaspoon” game. For example, today, I told my host mom that I only wanted to eat a little rice. She takes a teaspoon and halfway fills it with the rice on my plate, thus removing it. “Menos, por favor.”She repeats the same steps. “Menos, por favor.”Again. Finally, I ask for the spoon and remove 2/3 of the rice on my plate.

In doing this, I was still being polite. The truth is that my stomach was beyond full. Throughout the meal, I thought Ï need a Pepsi or Sprite!! Halfway through, I got up, went to the bathroom and vomited all that I had eaten. Too much info, I know. But finally, I asked her if I could fix my own meals. This question seemed simple enough, but I’m positive that I had to go through this dance before she gave me her permission to prepare my own plates.

Also, skipping meals is just as troublesome. “No tiene hambre? (You’re not hungry)” Porque no? In this scenario, you simply do not like the woman’s cooking. Refusing a meal here is basis for being committed to an insane asylum. Okay, that’s an exaggeration (just barely.)

Back to my bday. Later that evening, my host sister, Johanna, told me that the youth of the community were getting together to celebrate my bday. Excited (mostly because I’m still meeting people), I walked into a room of 30 kids under the age of 15. Not exactly what I expected, since youth was defined by my program manager at 15-25ish (or until they are married. Oh well…

Immediately, the music started. Salsa. Karuumba (sp). Bachacha (sp) etc… The girls immediately grabbed each other and started dancing whereas the guys sat on the wall and stared. Middle School, anyone? When a young lady tried to convince a guy to dance, the other boys would make a hissing sound; which in turn made him even more hesitant. My life for the next 2 years!

Eventually, American music came on and they wanted me to teach them how to dance. Hmm…Impossible, perhaps? I tried to explain that there is not a set dance (unless a particular song such as Cupid Shuffle is playing). Furthermore, it would be morally inappropriate for me to teach (or display) dancing (as done in a club) to little kids. Luckily, they had more Latin music than US.

Happy Bday Q! You are already beginning to love MonteCarlo.

Random Photos

 

This photo sums up my Tico 20 RCD group.

Loving Life!

Saying Goodbye (again) and Hello (again)

One more week until I’m an official Peace Corps Volunteer! The swearing-in ceremony is this upcoming Friday at 9am. The very next day (Saturday morning), I leave for my site permanently.

Am I ready? YES!!!!!!

Training has been exhaustive and busy. Best to describe it as formal education with field visits. Not surprisingly (especially if you’ve been reading the past blogs), my favorite part of training has been the time spent with my host family. It is such a comfortable, loving and peaceful environment. They included me in family activities; taught me about Costa Rican culture; and had patience while I treated Spanish as a scratched cd. But most importantly, they embraced me as another member of their family.

Today, we (PCTs) held a party in their honor. While it was a “goodbye” to our families and communities, it demonstrated the relationships built. Giving hugs and kisses to the other parents, I made promises to visit the other families when I return to visit my own host family.

Enough of blogging. Time to focus my attention on the Saprissa soccer game!!

“Sandwiched by Gringos” (5/12/2010)

As announced through Facebook, I finally received my site assignment! For the next 2 years, I will be living in MonteCarlo de Cajon in Perez Zeledon. There is much to say about the beauty of Perez Zeledon; but until you have seen San Jose, the beauty of Perez Zeledon cannot be understood. Think Cinderella and her ugly step sisters: San Jose is loved by the stepmother but Perez Zeledon is prettier and kinder.

As I write this, stories of the past week continue to pop up. So please excuse me beforehand for the randomness of this blog.

“Mommy has always wanted a brown daughter.” First, this past Thursday, PC took the trainees and their counterparts (members of the communities that will host and work with us). As in PC tradition, things are never as simple as: This is your Counterpart. Instead, we had to find our counterparts by asking questions. After finding Maureen (counterpart / sister) and spending the day conversing, she made a phone call to her mother. “Mami, the volunteer is exactly what you wanted.” She hangs up the phone and explains that her mother has always wanted a morenita (brown girl). When Maureen and her sisters were born, the mother was disappointed that they were blancas. Therefore, the mother is very happy to have me living with her. I died laughing and made a mental note to share this, particularly with Collette. I wasn’t insulted or even shocked.

As far as I’m concerned, I’ve had the most positive, welcoming experience with my complexion. I’ll put it like this: If I didn’t already know that black / brown was beautiful, Ticos have boldly remarked on the beauty of my skin. Example: Standing at the bus stop at noon, a random person states that my brown is the most beautiful color that she has ever seen, especially with the sun reflecting off of it. But I share this because it reflects the bluntness of Ticos.

“Sandwiched by Gringos.” Heading to my site for a week signified a new phase in my Peace Corps service. First and foremost, it marks the transition from Trainee to Volunteer. After swearing in on May 21, I will be living amongst Ticos and speaking Spanish 98% of the time. Seeing Americans & / or my fellow volunteers will require that we make arrangements to meet up in the nearest city or wait until official Peace Corps training. Or at least I thought this before arriving in my new site.

Seventy percent of my new site is owned by foreigners. A Swiss families owns a large farm and employs majority of the town. Actually, this family established the town by bringing the original families to the area in order to work the farm. The farm’s main product in coffee, but it also has sugar cane. Who owns the other 30%? Not quite sure. There are 300 permanent residents and I suspect that majority of them own their land. But interesting enough, my 3 closest neighbors are….Gringos!! While two of them own property and come to Costa Rica for vacations, the third neighbor is a Returned Peace Corp Volunteer (he served in Peru, Jamaica and a 3rd country) and lives here year long.

Best View in Costa Rica. When revealing our site assignments, my program director gave me a couple descriptions: 1) I have the best view in Costa Rica and 2)My family spends all of its time on the back porch. He definitely understated the beauty of my new site! I didn’t take photos of the new site, but trust me, it is absolutely gorgeous! My entire site is on a slight incline with only three road. My house lies off of the main road with the front porch facing the road. But the back porch overlooks La Valle de el General. The family eats EVERY meal on the back porch. There is also a hammock and I have claimed it as my thrown, so useful for watching sunsets and sunrises.

Get on the scale! My final night of site visit summed up my new life with my host family. While eating dinner, my host brother brings the Mom a shirt to be ironed. The Mom looks at him and then brings out the scale. While weighing him, my host sister reveals another of the Mom’s secrets: to fatten me up. YIKES!!!

El trabajo. While the visit was overall pleasant, it also demonstrated that I actually have a job to do. My job title is even more defined by the community’s expressed needs: build a new clinic; new ebais; school cafeteria; computer knowledge; youth group; women’s group; English. The only thing that concerns me is building things. Sidenote: I won’t physically be building anything! If I am involved in infrastructure, it will entail that I help the community petition different government agencies for funds and approval to build. While I explain my role in building to you, its more so something that I will have to explain to my community: the role of the volunteer.

But that’s jumping ahead (building things.) My first 3 months will be spent completing a diagnostic of the community: attending meetings, identifying and helping the community to prioritize the needs; and identifying the resources (human capability as well as financial and goods), interviewing people, etc…

I think that this random collection of stories/thoughts describes my site visit. If not, no worries. Two years to fill in the blanks!

Significance of Pura Vida (4/25/2010)

“The eyes are in love and the heart continues to grow.” –My inner conscious spoke these words as I rode a 7 hour long bus to my training site.

In the US, “southern hospitality” is definitive of Americans welcoming others into their homes. It is being offered sweet tea and warm conversation. After a relaxing visit, it’s leaving with a comforting hug that is filled with sincere invitations to return. Southerners proudly claim this hospitality. And while Northerners love their “fast paced, eventful, culturally enriched lives,” the thought of visiting family and / or friends in the south and being showered with that hospitality brings smiles and a moment of relaxation to one’s face.

Just the thought brings Chapel Hill to mind.

Well, imagine that hospitality to the nth degree. That would be enough to describe my visit to San Vito (southern part of Costa Rica near the Panamanian border.)

This past week marked the 6th week of training, also known as Tech Week. Myself and 9 other trainees went to visit an outgoing volunteer in a little town in San Vito called La Pintada Piedra with 700 inhabitants. If I could determine my ideal site, La Pintada would be it!

For details of events and a little political reflection, see “Role of Government and the Citizen.” (coming soon)

In addition to the various organized activities we witnessed, what made this trip remarkable was my host family. This family was composed of a mom, dad and three children (14, 11 and 7). Time with the family was simple: meals, watched telenovelas and futbol, played dominoes and answered a million questions. This family was of limited means as well. There house was a one floor dwelling perhaps the size of my living room, dining room and kitchen combined. (Imagine the biggest room in your house and that would accurately describe this family’s home.) But the emphasis on family and the pure pleasure they received from being amongst family was absolutely incredible.

This emphasis on family extended to friends and guests as well. The family welcomed me into their home as if I were the eldest daughter that went to the big city for college and was returning home for Spring Break. After 6 days with the family, I departed feeling like the daughter returning to college with goodbyes and advice from loving parents.

This family (and most of the Costa Ricans I have met) are content with life. They have been blessed with family and each knows that they are truly loved. In loving themselves, they are able to share their love with a community.

I think that I finally understand the phrase “Pura Vida.” (A popular phrase in Costa Rica that is typically the response to everything.)

Here, life is pure. Costa Ricans place emphasis on the simple things of life: family. They live in present while reminiscing about the past.

Thinking of the past allows them to reflect on the progress they have made while allowing them to enjoy their ancestry. For example, their ancestors were coffee producers and it was the source of income for all families. Today, coffee may no longer be the main source of income, but the significance of coffee is still as strong. Sharing cafecito (a cup of coffee) with family and neighbors is a daily activity. While sharing the cafecito, memories are exchanged and conversations are soulful. The present self is happy and life is fulfilling.

The future (as we define as progress and improving the world) is of no importance in one’s heart. Instead of chasing dreams and keeping up with the new technology, they focus on the happiness of their family and appreciate the technology currently available.

La Comida: A collection of thoughts regarding food

In two years, one of two things will happen: 1)I will vow never to eat rice & beans again or 2) my mouth will become a battle ground between my dentist and cavities. Actually, they both are likely.

While reading this, you’re probably thinking “What’s for dinner?” or “I want something different for lunch.” In my Spanish vocabulary, those sentences do not exist. If my hunger forces me to pose a question, then it would be “What will I eat with gallo pinto.”

Rice and beans are a daily part of my diet. I eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Surprisingly, I have no complaints again eating gallo pinto every day because  mi Mama Tica usually dresses it up. For example, for breakfast she will prepare gallo pintos w/ cilantro, toast and fried eggs. Lunch might involve “alimenta”—which is a salsa of sweet onions, tomatoes, and herbs—for the gallo pinto. Believe it or not, even the texture of rice & beans can change based off of how she reheats it.

But no worries, I am getting plenty to eat. Vegetables of all type. Fried chicken. Hamburgers. Beats. Salads. Tortillas. Tomates (spelling). Espaghetti. Pastas. Bananas (ps…there are three types in the banana family. One type is extremely small and you can cook with the gallo pintos..The second is platanos and must be cooked before eating. Then there are bananas!)

Not sure how far I can carry this list but my daily meals usually include some variation of the above. The reason that I am just writing this blog is because I have a hard time learning the names of foods here. Regardless of what I eat, my last sentence at any meal is “Estoy llena” in response to mi Mama Tica encouraging me to eat more.

One of my more interesting encounters with food involved spaghetti. My host sister cooked spaghetti for lunch and it was absolutely delicious! For dinner, Mama Tica reheated the spaghetti and placed the plate in front of me. I couldn’t hide the smile on my face. As I’m eating, she brings a bowl of beans and says “the rice is almost ready.” I kindly decline and she looks at me as if I’m crazy. My Aunt Tica tells me that spaghetti without rice & beans is not enough to eat. I chuckle but sternly decline the rice & beans.

I’m thinking that the spaghetti fulfills enough of the required food categories. But in their opinions, rice & bean is another food category that must be eaten at every meals!

Still, no complaints. It doesn’t bother me and I’m sure that I can eat it for 2 years. After that, I’ll view them as oodles noodles and refuse to eat them again.

While gallo pintos describe one aspect of Costa Rican food, sugar describes another. In the past month, I have seriously lacked a sweet tooth. Twizzlers sound wonderful in theory, but I could survive without them because I am constantly eating something sweet.  Platanos. Platanos en miel (honey). Tapas de azucar. Chiverre. Pan dulce. My intake of sugar here is probably lower and healthier than in the US. The difference is that I am not deceived by the amount of sugar in mi comida. When I eat platanos in honey, I am fully aware that it is soaked in sugar.

Before I forget, in the past 2 weeks, I visited a coffee farm and a sugar farm. The farmers took us through the entire process: planting, collecting, processing, etc… Both field trips ended with us tasting the products. I’ve never appreciated a product more than coffee from the farm and sugar in its purest form.

Alright all, that is it for now. I am leaving my town in the morning to go to San Vito, a place close to the Panamanian border and will return in a week.

If you have not done so yet, please send me your mailing address!

-Q

El Camino de Jesus

To all, Happy (belated) Easter!

My parents would be proud to hear that I attended church ceremonies about 4 times this past week. According to my calculations,  I have experienced enough religious ceremonies in the past week to meet the quota for attending church for the next two years.

As a Catholic country, Costa Rica celebrates Semana Santa with a passion! Schools were closed the entire week and all businesses closed from Wednesday to Sunday. The Life, Crucifixion and Resurrection of Jesus Christ are not only celebrated; they are reenacted over the week.

The Civil War reenactments are put to shame by this town’s reenactment of Jesus’ crucifixion.

I’ll avoid giving an itinerary of events. But just a taste of La Semana Santa:

Friday’s theme was El Camino de Jesus y La Crucifixion. At 9 am, a procession started in Jerico (2 hours away from San Juan Norte). Members of the local church carried statues of Jesus and one of his Disciples From Jerico, the procession stopped in every town and carried out the activities of Jesus. Here are some pictures pictures of the stopover near my house (it’s also where Mary and another Disciple joins the Walk).

 

The procession approaching my houseCloser look. Image of the Alter Boys (and girls) with the Priest

Mary waiting for Jesus (Jesus was also a statue) 

More alter boys

Mary Magdalena

I forget his name…but its the guy that helped Jesus carry the cross

 

A disciple

You know the rest of the story.

What is that smell?

Have you ever walked around thinking “What is that smell?” You smell it so much that you become paranoid and start to slyly smell yourself? Your body begins to sweat profusely and the smell becomes stronger and stronger until your nose recognizes the smell of shit? You attempt to stay away from others to save your reputation. The only thing on your mind is a nice hot (or cold) shower. You can just imagine the dirt running off of your body and into the drainer?

Well, that was my day. Its been the past couple of days actually. I apologize for the graphic image and assure you that it wasn’t actually the smell of .... Smelling my clothes after a nice long shower, I realized that they didn’t smell at all. It was not the smell of fresh laundry that I love. Instead, it was the scent of a long, hard day of work—in the sun.

The days here are long and hot. Each day, I estimate that I do an hour of walking. Which isn’t bad and I actually enjoy it (I’ll be returning with some strong legs.) But the sun is strong and violent!

(Photo of Nisha on the mountainous road we walk every day)

Why exactly do I walk so much? More importantly, what am I doing here?

That is an easy question, and I love the answer: I am learning about Costa Rican culture. The American taxpayer probably wouldn’t like that answer but it is the Peace Corps approach to development.

On Monday, Wednesdays and Fridays, I have Spanish class. Half of the day is spent in the classroom and the other half, we walk around the community and practice with the locals. Tuesdays, I go to Jerico for class. The class discusses development: different methods of development, how to use our skills and different tools in a community, how to assess a community’s needs, etc…  On Thursdays, I go to San Jose (1 & 1/2 bus ride) for medical, technical, safety training.

 

L to R: Nisha & Meredith in our Spanish classroom

If that sounds like an easy job, just remember that I wake up at 5:45. Complete a 9-5 day. Return to my community to practice and familiarize myself with the community. All done in the sun.

 

(Taking the 6am bus to San Jose)

Why are these activities important? Well, Peace Corps take an interesting approach to development: Helping people help themselves. PC volunteers do not enter communities with projects lined up. Nor do we independently determine what a community needs. Instead, we perform activities with the community to help the community identify what it needs. Then we make sure that the community has the necessary tools to implement the change. Think of the proverb: Give a man a fish and he eats for a day. But teach a man how to fish and he can eat forever. (Or something like that).

But to do such, we have to be able to integrate ourselves into the community. To understand the culture and speak the language. My success here cannot be measured by projects (especially not now.) As of now, I only have the sweat running off of my body and into the drain.

Free time: I am having a great time with my host family and my fellow Tico 20s! Two Saturdays ago was Jacob’s birthday (another volunteer). His host family had a barbecue and all of the volunteers in the area came over. Music, dancing, birthday cake, enjoying Ticos!

This past Thursday was my host mom’s bday. I had to go to San Jose that day and tried to rush home to celebrate with her and the family. As I was walking up the hill, they started to sing Happy Bday. But my host sister saw me and made everyone stop and then restart after I was comfortably placed among the family. :)

Playing Pool…Not exactly work related, but deserved.

Goodbye English, Buenas Espanol

March 5, 2010

Stationed next to my bed are a pair of tennis shoes and a fleece because there is a possibility of another small earthquake in Tres Rios, Costa Rica and I am prepared. The key word being “another.” Experiencing my 1st earthquake (along with 6 other women in my retreat room) involved us remaining immobile for 30 seconds. Finally, we got up and just stood around. Common sense would have been to go outside, but we didn’t associate the moving of the earth as an earthquake. Smart girls, right?

The California ladies just diagnosed it as a 4 on the measuring scale. Let’s just hope that we have no more tonight because I am too excited about meeting my host family tomorrow to focus on my safety in an earthquake.

Retreat is coming to a close. Throughout, I’ve found it draining on my energy. Sitting around all day receiving information, drinking lots of coffee (perhaps 4 cups per day), and socializing with my fellow Tico 20, I was mentally drained! But today has been the best day of retreat and marks the start of life with my host family.

We finally received our host family assignments and community assignments! Drum roll…For the next 11 weeks (3 months), I will be living in San Juan Norte with the Quiros Hidalgo! Family members:

• Maria (Mom)
• Jorge (Dad)
• Jorge (Son)
• Briggitte (Daughter)
• Dogs:  Sami

March 6, 2010

Donde Estoy?

Dear English,

I started to tell you a story about how Peace Corps blind folded and dropped me and my 2 suitcases off randomly on a mountain, telling me to fend for myself. But as I stated before, the integration process is thoughtfully planned and implemented.

Retreat ended at noon and then we loaded the bus to begin the 1 & 1/2 travel away from San Jose to a rural community called San Juan Norte. San Juan Norte is located in the mountains and is a drive with great scenery. The roads were well paved, so there wasn’t any danger. The bus dropped four of us off in San Juan Norte and our host families met us there.

Meeting my host families, I had two concerns: 1)the language barrier and 2) their reaction to receiving an African American volunteer. We didn’t talk much on the ride to their house but I did hear them say “negra” and “like to dance".” I laughed at this and the mother (Maria) turned around and said “You understand Spanish….” Both fears were short-lived. (I later learned that they hosted another black volunteer)

Arriving at the house, I was thoroughly impressed. It is a cute log cabin with a breathtaking view. Jorge built the house for his family and focused on giving it character and modern conveniences. The kitchen is large and has everything that a US kitchen has. But its the tile and craftsmanship that stands out and allows it to retain the Costa Rican flare. The bathroom is tiled as well and the focal point is a glass shower. Before I forget, my bedroom resembles my room in Suitland. But instead of being lavender, it’s Carolina Blue!!!! My room also is also off of the balcony, which faces the incredible view. To give you a visual, I would say to think of a vacation cabin in the mountains of the US.

                                                        

(A view of my house from the main road…Look at the top left hand corner for my house.)

Enough of the house, la familia es mas importante. Communication is not a problem. I understand 85% of the language (when they speak slowly) and when I do not understand it, they repeat it.

• Maria, the mother, is a sweet and loving woman. She is a stay at home wife and prepares all of the meals as well as keep the house spotless. She is very patient and I just found out that she sews.
• Jorge, father, is a crafty man that seems to be very much about family. We usually sit at the dinner table together waiting for dinner to be served and he is really good about engaging me in conversation.
• Briggette, sister, is a 24 year old art teacher. She is talkative, which makes it easy to communicate. She is also patient and speaks a little English. She actually traveled to the US to visit an older brother in New Jersey, so we had lots to talk about. She loves American music as well.
• Jorge, brother, is a 19 year old that works in an auto store. He speaks a little fast, but I will catch up eventually. He rides a moto (motorcycle).
• Danny, brother, lives in NJ but travels back and forth often. He has two little girls with his wife in NJ and works for a translation company.  Danny speaks fluent English. Maria has nicknamed him “My walking dictionary” because when I struggle for a word, Danny provides it.
• Carino lives about 10 minutes away with her husband and son, Sebastian. Sebastian is an active 5 year old that drinks coffee. He beat me 5 times in a game of Jingo.
•  

Oh, did I say that this family is very modern? Electronics are very much dominant in this house: PS2, Xbox, Dell computers, video games. Oh, did I mention that there is internet in this house? I’m being spoiled.

 

Well, that’s enough for now. Goodbye English. I am using you less frequently except in writing this and my thoughts. Buenas Espanol.

 

-Q

“Oh The Places You’ll Go”

Dear Dr. Seuss,

Let’s just say that today’s been a long day. Six hours of flight has left me less than delight. The entrance to San Jose has been a sight. Ending our destination at 8…

Alright, enough with the rhyming. Traveling from the US has been pretty uneventful but the company has been great. I’m getting to know my 55 fellow Tico 20 volunteers. We are an interesting, lively and diverse group.

After arriving at our retreat site (PS: It was a convent but converted into a retreat / conference site), we met our Country Director. Understanding our long travel and desperate need for rest, his welcoming message was a bedtime story: Oh the Places You’ll Go by Dr. Seuss. Easing our fears and anxieties about being in Costa Rica, he sent us off to bed.

All of that was to say that I made it safely, now off to sleep under these sheets.

(No more lame blogs, I promise.)

Small Case of Anxiety

Dear Life,

After waking up at 6:30 am on a Sunday morning, I must admit that my anxiety has increased to a point where my body is showing signs: stomach rolling, tossing and sweating in bed, and finding it hot enough for me to open a window in Winter.

This anxiety is not a sign that I’m second guessing myself. Since beginning the Peace Corps application process in November 2008, I knew that this was the right path for me: a combination of traveling and helping others while learning (or improving) a foreign language. The source of this anxiety is more so a final realization that Life is about to change significantly. That I am leaving those that have been constant factors in my life (either briefly, few years, or my lifetime) and Washington DC / North Carolina for the next 27 months

But as I write this, I am reminded of the friends and family I fellowshipped with in the month of February and that brings a smile to my face and calmness to my stomach. I won’t go into details of how I spent this month, but know that if I saw you, it meant the world to me (special shout out to LSOL, Line Sisters, Theta Nu Xi, CCE and of course, Family. The calls, cards, emails and facebook messages also hold a special place in my heart.

Just realized that some might not know the details of my two year adventure:

The simplified version is that I’m going to Costa Rica for 27 months as a Peace Corps Volunteer. My job description / program is Rural Community Development, meaning I will help a community create sustainable projects and I will teach English. Vague, right?

March 1, 2010, I meet at a hotel in DC for orientation and to meet the other 55 Peace Corps volunteers (to be known as Tico 20). (Tico is the indigenous name for Costa Ricans and “20” represents the program sequence). March 2 at 6:30 am, Tico 20 will depart for the airport and officially leave the United States at 10:20 am.

The first week will be spent at a retreat site for in-country training. At the end of the first week, I will meet my host family and live with them in San Jose, Costa Rica. I have no idea who these people will be. But they have been carefully selected by the Peace Corps office as a reliable and appropriate family with a spare room. Living with this family for three months, I will continue my training: cultural, language, technical skills, etc…

At the end of the three months, I will take a language exam and be sworn in as an official Peace Corps Volunteer. From there, I will receive my site assignment. This is most of the information that I “officially” know, meaning that the Peace Corps has communicated to me. But through research (reading blogs from current volunteers), I know that I will spend the next three months living with another host family in my site. My activities will include getting to know the members of the community, inquiring about their needs as a community and assist them in implementing projects. The ultimate goal is to become a part of their community. To shed the title “tourist” while encouraging a cultural exchange. My actual job responsibilities will not become apparent until I have lived in my site for a few months. It will all depend on the needs of the community. This could be having a women’s club, organized sports, improving the library, etc…The community will need to sustain these projects but l will lend them my experience and training in community activities to help them.

Questions that I have received thus far:

Communication: Yes, I will have internet access. During the first three months, I will be in an urban area and should be able to check my email at least once a week. When I am able to connect, I will probably visit my gmail account and blog. I encourage you all to communicate with me throughout this adventure. You can either leave me a post or email me at qfullard@gmail.com. Letters and care packages will also be appreciated. Skype me: q.fullard

Visiting: I can receive visitors after the first six (6) months, which is around September. Also, visitors are not allowed the last 3 months of my service (March – June 2012). If you are serious about visiting, let me know and arrangements will be made.

Returning to the US: Vacation time is accrued and a visit to DC is likely.

I am completely calm right now! I guess that means I should start this day, my last official day as a regular citizen. Tomorrow, I embark on my journey as a Peace Corps volunteer!

-Q