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.