PREFACE:
Dear beloved blog readers,
I imagine for the past two months you have been up at night musing on possible reasons as to why I have not written since October 21st. Perhaps you came up with such outlandish stories as I was kidnapped by a herd of wild Costa Rican monkeys and taken deep into the rain forest, escaped into Panama to became a drug mule to Columbia, decided to quit Peace Corps to pick coffee day and night, or became a surf bum and had away with technology. Well, the truth is, no such shenanigans have occurred.
So I have no excuse.
Here it is: I was walking down my road one day in my site to go make Christmas cards with a group of youth. When I arrived, I reached in my bag to pull out my computer to fill the air with musical festivities. Much to my surprise and dismay, along with it came a steady stream of water dripping off from the corner. My careless actions were the result of this - haplessly putting my water bottle in my backpack with my computer, cap not fully tightened.
There it is. I have been without a computer since November, which in the life of a Peace Corps volunteer is almost like living without air. But thankfully, I survived, and I hope you did too, and you are reading this now, graciously rejoicing for a new blog post.
Or so I can only hope. ;)
Anyway, now begins the actual post.
______________________________________
I write this from the comforts of my parents' living room. The Christmas music is blaring from the stereo, the lights illuminate the tree, the house is warm, snow is falling softly outside, comfortable carpet engulfs my bare feet, the shower has the capability to rain hot, hot water, and the fridge is stocked with varieties of diverse foods. Basically, I feel like I am in heaven.
But then things took a turn for the worse. This year Santa brought me something I didn't want....he brought me Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease. Yes, that's right, Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease, not to be confused with Hoof and Mouth disease which is found in farm animals (hold the jokes, Jonathan). I spent part of Christmas day in the ER, and am still recovering. It's a bummer I have to spend my vacation laid up in bed, listless, and zapped of all energy, but it's also a blessing I'm not alone in Costa Rica battling some mysterious illness. Thanks Santa.
Perhaps when I have more energy, I'll post more, including photos........from a new computeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrr!!! Really, thanks Santa!
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat!
I thought the United States was bad....Christmas stuff has already hit the stores full-force here!
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Autumnal Whisperings
Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves. - John Muir
Today I went for a short hike at dusk. I cannot even begin to describe the beauty Copey holds at this time of night. But I will try.
First, imagine a quaint little town tucked in a tiny, tiny valley high in the Costa Rican mountains surrounded on all sides by various shapes and sizes of lush, emerald hills. Now imagine being able to walk up any of those roads/trails to see what's tucked around/in/between/beyond and below them. Now, imagine dusk - that warm golden glow of the sun casting it's light and long shadows upon which it falls. The big dome above still half blue from the day with small, puffy clouds turning mixed hues of pink and orange, and the other half to the west - a flat, white gray where the fog takes shape. It's that very fog that begins to gently cascade lower and lower amongst the hills and into the valley as the sun sets deeper far beyond them, only casting remaining slivers of brilliance here and there. It hangs just below the mountain tops, leaving a vast opening behind the tops themselves, creating a magical illusion of floating peaks. That's why they call this mystical place a cloud forest- where billowy clouds marry the lush, succulent flora. Looking down, the dirt is wet, the rocks in the road are smooth and glassy yet jagged, puddles of water left over from the afternoon's rains look like chocolate milk, and leaves are scattered about...those oversized, polished leaves that evolve with the seasons into new shades of pigment.
On the way back down, as the light dwindled, I stopped to notice these leaves. Something was strange. One, there were leaves on the ground in the first place. Two, these leaves weren't green. They had turned to a golden shade of autumn with black spots, as if just past their prime. And three, Fall doesn't happen in Costa Rica! I took a deep breath, a cool breath of the fresh air and re-evaluted. Where was I? This surely felt like Fall as my scarf engulfed me and my thin jacket didn't stop the chills from occurring. Surely, this did not feel like Costa Rica, as in Costa Rica only two season exist - rainy and dry (also known as humid and hot). As autumn being my favorite season, I didn't care where I was, it just felt amazing to feel the world ripe with autumn, if only for one short walk.
Like the leaves and trees and winds of autumn, I too, experience change during this time of year....even where autumn doesn't exist. Things are a-changin'. How so, you may ask. Well, mostly work-wise, life-wise, all around just -wise. I'm getting into the groove of things. I'm learning that this really is pura vida, as they say, and no one is really too concerned about things. It's okay that meetings go four hours and nothing gets accomplished; it's okay that when it rains no one leaves their houses, its okay that everything closes for lunch, it's okay that it takes 5 months to paint a world map on a wall, it's O. K. Everything here is OKAY. PURA VIDA.
This land of pura vida is becoming not so foreign like it once was. Things are becoming commonplace: I'm no longer annoyed at how much rice and beans everyone eats. I'm no longer bothered that no one here has carpet in their houses. I'm no longer frustrated that I spend half the days doing very little. I'm no longer sickened that I have to share my room with probably 20 different species of spiders. I'm no longer frustrated by my spanish ability. I'm no longer bothered that every bakery in the country has the exact same thing (okay, that's a lie, I'm a baked good snob). I'm no longer wishing I was somewhere else a lot of the time (just some times, but hey, the grass is always greener...). I'm no longer bothered by the fact that bugs like me, and they will eat my legs to pieces. I'm no longer angry that I have to sleep on pieces of foam and wooden slats. I have just learned to deal. Call it cultural adjustment. Call it complacency. Call it what you may. But ch-ch-ch-changes are occurring, and I couldn't be happier with that fact.
I realize I haven't talked much about work. Well, to be honest, that's because there hasn't been a ton. As stated above, things take TIME to get accomplished here. If it isn't the rain, it's another thing. And trust is important - trusting to do work with a white person who just moves into your community for two years. Today, though however, marked day one of my girls empowerment group, Chicas Podersosas. Out of 12 girls, I was very pleased that 9 showed up to the first meeting. I fear that when I listed the themes for the three-month program on a permission slip to the parents including one as "sexuality and dating," I scared off a number of extremely Catholic mothers trying to protect their innocent 5th and 6th grade daughters from the "sexually-liberal" American who is probably going to shove condoms in their daughters' faces and tell them to go have sex. Well, not the case, and I assured the mothers who expressed concern over this topic that I would do none of the sorts. Anyway, day one went well, and things are moving along. Slowly but surely. Now I just have to figure out how to teach a group of sixth graders about the concept of 'ecological footprint'...in spanish on Friday. All sorts of other mini-projects are up my sleeve and currently in the works too. More on those in the future...
So, as I head to bed tonight, I am tucked under two blankets and my down sleeping bag, as I am every night. Every night here in my bedroom, my little cave tucked aside from my host-family's house, it feels like Fall. And today, out in the world, felt exceptionally like Fall. I don't know if it was the dusk, the cool, crisp feeling in the air, the feeling of normalcy being in this culture or the feeling that I am actually being needed here now, but I do know every year when this time rolls around, I too, become rich like the colors of the leaves.
"Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns." ~George Eliot
Today I went for a short hike at dusk. I cannot even begin to describe the beauty Copey holds at this time of night. But I will try.
First, imagine a quaint little town tucked in a tiny, tiny valley high in the Costa Rican mountains surrounded on all sides by various shapes and sizes of lush, emerald hills. Now imagine being able to walk up any of those roads/trails to see what's tucked around/in/between/beyond and below them. Now, imagine dusk - that warm golden glow of the sun casting it's light and long shadows upon which it falls. The big dome above still half blue from the day with small, puffy clouds turning mixed hues of pink and orange, and the other half to the west - a flat, white gray where the fog takes shape. It's that very fog that begins to gently cascade lower and lower amongst the hills and into the valley as the sun sets deeper far beyond them, only casting remaining slivers of brilliance here and there. It hangs just below the mountain tops, leaving a vast opening behind the tops themselves, creating a magical illusion of floating peaks. That's why they call this mystical place a cloud forest- where billowy clouds marry the lush, succulent flora. Looking down, the dirt is wet, the rocks in the road are smooth and glassy yet jagged, puddles of water left over from the afternoon's rains look like chocolate milk, and leaves are scattered about...those oversized, polished leaves that evolve with the seasons into new shades of pigment.
On the way back down, as the light dwindled, I stopped to notice these leaves. Something was strange. One, there were leaves on the ground in the first place. Two, these leaves weren't green. They had turned to a golden shade of autumn with black spots, as if just past their prime. And three, Fall doesn't happen in Costa Rica! I took a deep breath, a cool breath of the fresh air and re-evaluted. Where was I? This surely felt like Fall as my scarf engulfed me and my thin jacket didn't stop the chills from occurring. Surely, this did not feel like Costa Rica, as in Costa Rica only two season exist - rainy and dry (also known as humid and hot). As autumn being my favorite season, I didn't care where I was, it just felt amazing to feel the world ripe with autumn, if only for one short walk.Like the leaves and trees and winds of autumn, I too, experience change during this time of year....even where autumn doesn't exist. Things are a-changin'. How so, you may ask. Well, mostly work-wise, life-wise, all around just -wise. I'm getting into the groove of things. I'm learning that this really is pura vida, as they say, and no one is really too concerned about things. It's okay that meetings go four hours and nothing gets accomplished; it's okay that when it rains no one leaves their houses, its okay that everything closes for lunch, it's okay that it takes 5 months to paint a world map on a wall, it's O. K. Everything here is OKAY. PURA VIDA.
This land of pura vida is becoming not so foreign like it once was. Things are becoming commonplace: I'm no longer annoyed at how much rice and beans everyone eats. I'm no longer bothered that no one here has carpet in their houses. I'm no longer frustrated that I spend half the days doing very little. I'm no longer sickened that I have to share my room with probably 20 different species of spiders. I'm no longer frustrated by my spanish ability. I'm no longer bothered that every bakery in the country has the exact same thing (okay, that's a lie, I'm a baked good snob). I'm no longer wishing I was somewhere else a lot of the time (just some times, but hey, the grass is always greener...). I'm no longer bothered by the fact that bugs like me, and they will eat my legs to pieces. I'm no longer angry that I have to sleep on pieces of foam and wooden slats. I have just learned to deal. Call it cultural adjustment. Call it complacency. Call it what you may. But ch-ch-ch-changes are occurring, and I couldn't be happier with that fact.
I realize I haven't talked much about work. Well, to be honest, that's because there hasn't been a ton. As stated above, things take TIME to get accomplished here. If it isn't the rain, it's another thing. And trust is important - trusting to do work with a white person who just moves into your community for two years. Today, though however, marked day one of my girls empowerment group, Chicas Podersosas. Out of 12 girls, I was very pleased that 9 showed up to the first meeting. I fear that when I listed the themes for the three-month program on a permission slip to the parents including one as "sexuality and dating," I scared off a number of extremely Catholic mothers trying to protect their innocent 5th and 6th grade daughters from the "sexually-liberal" American who is probably going to shove condoms in their daughters' faces and tell them to go have sex. Well, not the case, and I assured the mothers who expressed concern over this topic that I would do none of the sorts. Anyway, day one went well, and things are moving along. Slowly but surely. Now I just have to figure out how to teach a group of sixth graders about the concept of 'ecological footprint'...in spanish on Friday. All sorts of other mini-projects are up my sleeve and currently in the works too. More on those in the future...
So, as I head to bed tonight, I am tucked under two blankets and my down sleeping bag, as I am every night. Every night here in my bedroom, my little cave tucked aside from my host-family's house, it feels like Fall. And today, out in the world, felt exceptionally like Fall. I don't know if it was the dusk, the cool, crisp feeling in the air, the feeling of normalcy being in this culture or the feeling that I am actually being needed here now, but I do know every year when this time rolls around, I too, become rich like the colors of the leaves.
"Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns." ~George Eliot
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Who knew?!
Did you know that line-drying two loads of laundry in the sun per week saves as much energy as it takes to run your fridge for four months? I didn't either. So now every time I get out of the shower and have to use that crunchy bath towel and then put on that overly stiff, stretched-out pair of jeans, I will try and remember how I am saving lots and lots and lots of energy (so people with dryers can use it). :)
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Today, and its story
Today I painted, danced, laughed and listened. That's the short story.
The long story went like this: I woke up in my own bed, freshly returned from my first In-Service Peace Corps Training (3 months into service), unsure of what to do with my day, after re-grounding with other volunteers and discussing our experiences. Feeling a little bit overwhelmed from all the ideas I accumulated at training, frustrated that not much has been done at my site thus far, defeated by adversities of international development work, and just completely unsure of where to start all over again, I went for a hike to clear my head. The early morning air was fresh, slightly warm, and rich with untainted mountainous fragrances. The Costa Rican fauna (the area I live in is well-known for bird-watching) was strongly resonant high above me in the trees. And my body and soul were happy - happy to be moving, alive, and right where I was, despite my feeling of lack of purpose.
Shortly upon arriving at home, the unmentionable happened - a youth from my town texted me (yes, I have a cell phone) asking if today she could help paint a world map mural we are working on at the school. Sounds so simple, but I was overcome with excitement and humbled that someone wanted to help me and sought me out to ask. Peace Corps work is difficult for this very reason...oftentimes I feel I am begging people to help me in projects, or having a hard time motivating them to realize their own projects. Apathy is plentiful in these parts. But I was so touched that this one youth cared enough to offer her help on a project that has been on hold for awhile because I was away at training. So it was, I had a purpose for the day (in Peace Corps doing one productive thing per day is considered successful). I would meet her (and her younger sister) at the school and we would begin painting the background ocean color for our 4x8 meter map. Taking up most of the afternoon, the painting led right into my dance lesson. Yes, that's right, I'm in dance. Okay, let's not say I'm in dance - more accurate is that I am learning a traditional Costa Rican dance to perform at my site's Independence Day festivity September 14th (the actual day is the 15th, but festivities begin the night before). I'm prepared for the whole town to silently chuckle at the gringa dancing baile típico donned in full traditional Costa Rican garb. But I can't help chuckle myself! Well, when in Rome....
Then later, I realized something important...though I felt like I had no purpose today whatsoever, as I found myself sitting in the salon comunal (community center) with a woman with nothing around us but the two chairs beneath our bodies, I realized I did have a purpose - I was there to listen. This woman sought me out to ask me a question. She began telling her story of her son who has lived in New Jersey illegally for the past fourteen years. He recently discovered a cancerous tumor on his leg, and has had a hard time receiving sufficient medical treatment...specialist treatment, more accurately. The woman broke out in tears as she retold the fresh news of her son to me. Due to his specific situation, receiving chemotherapy was proving very difficult, and cutting out the tumor would mean cutting the tendons that enwrap it, thus making his lower leg immobile. The tears continued to fall. At this point, I had no idea what this woman was going to ask me...money to visit?...help finding better medical treatment as an illegal immigrant? I had absolutely no idea. But then she said, "My question for you is this: I just want to know if the medical treatment in the United States is advanced?" That was it...a simple request for a little reassurance from someone who knows where her son is living. This land of the United States is so completely foreign to this woman, she has no understanding of most things there...all she simply wanted was to feel a connection to her son through me, and be confident in and comforted by his important journey he is about to embark on...as an illegal immigrant in a foreign land. She asked if I knew the the specific hospital her son was at, and questioned its ability. I assured her that New Jersey and New York yield many very specialized, skilled doctors and that her son would be fine with the medical system there. Though I can't be sure this is the case, I said so because I am confident that our medical system will realize and recognize the importance of every human being, illegal or not, and their right to have adequate health care, ability to pay or not. It was a bittersweet interaction - I felt extremely powerful, yet completely powerless at the same time. I wanted to tell her that I really had no knowledge whatsoever of the medical system in New Jersey, and that getting treatment as an illegal would prove difficult, but I held back. I have learned that hope is what gets me through my days here, and so I continued to exude that same aura in that moment towards that woman. I can only hope it worked.
So you have it...very simple things happened today after waking up purposeless - a text message, laughter, a desire for a lending ear. But then I realized that this is why I am here. I need to give up this strong desire to move mountains. Idealism is important, but too much can lead to frustration. It's in the simple day-to-day things that really make the difference. I am here to listen, to help, to collaborate, to laugh with the people, to dance, to paint, to give advice, to see, to learn, and ultimately, this is what will move mountains.
The long story went like this: I woke up in my own bed, freshly returned from my first In-Service Peace Corps Training (3 months into service), unsure of what to do with my day, after re-grounding with other volunteers and discussing our experiences. Feeling a little bit overwhelmed from all the ideas I accumulated at training, frustrated that not much has been done at my site thus far, defeated by adversities of international development work, and just completely unsure of where to start all over again, I went for a hike to clear my head. The early morning air was fresh, slightly warm, and rich with untainted mountainous fragrances. The Costa Rican fauna (the area I live in is well-known for bird-watching) was strongly resonant high above me in the trees. And my body and soul were happy - happy to be moving, alive, and right where I was, despite my feeling of lack of purpose.
Shortly upon arriving at home, the unmentionable happened - a youth from my town texted me (yes, I have a cell phone) asking if today she could help paint a world map mural we are working on at the school. Sounds so simple, but I was overcome with excitement and humbled that someone wanted to help me and sought me out to ask. Peace Corps work is difficult for this very reason...oftentimes I feel I am begging people to help me in projects, or having a hard time motivating them to realize their own projects. Apathy is plentiful in these parts. But I was so touched that this one youth cared enough to offer her help on a project that has been on hold for awhile because I was away at training. So it was, I had a purpose for the day (in Peace Corps doing one productive thing per day is considered successful). I would meet her (and her younger sister) at the school and we would begin painting the background ocean color for our 4x8 meter map. Taking up most of the afternoon, the painting led right into my dance lesson. Yes, that's right, I'm in dance. Okay, let's not say I'm in dance - more accurate is that I am learning a traditional Costa Rican dance to perform at my site's Independence Day festivity September 14th (the actual day is the 15th, but festivities begin the night before). I'm prepared for the whole town to silently chuckle at the gringa dancing baile típico donned in full traditional Costa Rican garb. But I can't help chuckle myself! Well, when in Rome....
Then later, I realized something important...though I felt like I had no purpose today whatsoever, as I found myself sitting in the salon comunal (community center) with a woman with nothing around us but the two chairs beneath our bodies, I realized I did have a purpose - I was there to listen. This woman sought me out to ask me a question. She began telling her story of her son who has lived in New Jersey illegally for the past fourteen years. He recently discovered a cancerous tumor on his leg, and has had a hard time receiving sufficient medical treatment...specialist treatment, more accurately. The woman broke out in tears as she retold the fresh news of her son to me. Due to his specific situation, receiving chemotherapy was proving very difficult, and cutting out the tumor would mean cutting the tendons that enwrap it, thus making his lower leg immobile. The tears continued to fall. At this point, I had no idea what this woman was going to ask me...money to visit?...help finding better medical treatment as an illegal immigrant? I had absolutely no idea. But then she said, "My question for you is this: I just want to know if the medical treatment in the United States is advanced?" That was it...a simple request for a little reassurance from someone who knows where her son is living. This land of the United States is so completely foreign to this woman, she has no understanding of most things there...all she simply wanted was to feel a connection to her son through me, and be confident in and comforted by his important journey he is about to embark on...as an illegal immigrant in a foreign land. She asked if I knew the the specific hospital her son was at, and questioned its ability. I assured her that New Jersey and New York yield many very specialized, skilled doctors and that her son would be fine with the medical system there. Though I can't be sure this is the case, I said so because I am confident that our medical system will realize and recognize the importance of every human being, illegal or not, and their right to have adequate health care, ability to pay or not. It was a bittersweet interaction - I felt extremely powerful, yet completely powerless at the same time. I wanted to tell her that I really had no knowledge whatsoever of the medical system in New Jersey, and that getting treatment as an illegal would prove difficult, but I held back. I have learned that hope is what gets me through my days here, and so I continued to exude that same aura in that moment towards that woman. I can only hope it worked.
So you have it...very simple things happened today after waking up purposeless - a text message, laughter, a desire for a lending ear. But then I realized that this is why I am here. I need to give up this strong desire to move mountains. Idealism is important, but too much can lead to frustration. It's in the simple day-to-day things that really make the difference. I am here to listen, to help, to collaborate, to laugh with the people, to dance, to paint, to give advice, to see, to learn, and ultimately, this is what will move mountains.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
28 overstuffed envelopes and the passage of time
Exactly one year ago today, I turned 27. And I can remember that day so clearly. I had spent the day with my lovely roommate Erica playing around in the Blackfoot River near Missoula, Montana, getting lunch and just relaxing. But I also remember receiving something in my mailbox that day. After arriving home from the river, I walked across Pattee Canyon Road to our row of mailboxes. There I saw a huge envelope forcefully stuffed inside. I was giddy with excitement, as I knew just what it was - it was my long anticipated invitation to the Peace Corps, and that day I found out what country I would live in for the next two years. I sat in my backyard by my garden and stream, grasping the overstuffed envelope, barely holding back from carelessly ripping it open like a child and her gifts on Christmas morning. I remember telling myself to be mindful and remember that feeling....that feeling of complete uncertainty, delight, mystery, excitement (what a wonderful birthday present). When I opened the letter and saw the words "Congratulations," and one line below it, "Rica," I instantly knew I was headed to Costa Rica, but I had no idea what was in store for me. So here I am, celebrating one year later in Costa Rica...but this time 28 years.
My day is nearly over and my first birthday in Costa Rica was simple yet lovely. It began at the school where I taught the pre-kinder class to the play the childhood game red-light/green-light. They sang a long rendition of happy birthday to me, and then ten pre-kinder kids swarmed me at once to hug me.....a big group hug. I had a relaxing afternoon at home, and just before dinner went on a run in damp, foggy, mysterious weather. It all ended with the most deeeeeeelicious dinner (yet) of vegetable lasagna, red wine, salad with homegrown yellow, green and orange cherry tomatoes (a welcomed relief from rice and beans) with a wonderful couple in their home (and two more happy birthday songs). This may have marked the latest night out yet (since being in my site)....11 pm......whooew, this Peace Corps life is crazy.
Another year has come to a close. I look ahead (as I did this same time last year) and once again, it is filled with uncertainty, delight, mystery, and excitement...another overstuffed envelope waiting to be opened and unveiled through the passage of time. And so, mindfully I go, into my 28th year.
Thank you all for the wonderful birthday wishes!!!
(pictures to come soon).
My day is nearly over and my first birthday in Costa Rica was simple yet lovely. It began at the school where I taught the pre-kinder class to the play the childhood game red-light/green-light. They sang a long rendition of happy birthday to me, and then ten pre-kinder kids swarmed me at once to hug me.....a big group hug. I had a relaxing afternoon at home, and just before dinner went on a run in damp, foggy, mysterious weather. It all ended with the most deeeeeeelicious dinner (yet) of vegetable lasagna, red wine, salad with homegrown yellow, green and orange cherry tomatoes (a welcomed relief from rice and beans) with a wonderful couple in their home (and two more happy birthday songs). This may have marked the latest night out yet (since being in my site)....11 pm......whooew, this Peace Corps life is crazy.
Another year has come to a close. I look ahead (as I did this same time last year) and once again, it is filled with uncertainty, delight, mystery, and excitement...another overstuffed envelope waiting to be opened and unveiled through the passage of time. And so, mindfully I go, into my 28th year.
Thank you all for the wonderful birthday wishes!!!
(pictures to come soon).
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Beef and milk.....and electrocutions
Recently I watched a cow get slaughtered.
More recently, I milked one.
But first, I got electrocuted.
Yes, that's right, electrocuted. I firmly gripped an electric fence with two hands tight as fists as I said "Hola!" to my friend Rafa. You live and you learn. Orrrrr rather, you learn to watch for bright yellow signs that say danger. Then you laugh it off and chalk it up to a "cultural" experience.
Here's some pictures from the two latest experiences. Unfortunately I have none of me being electrocuted nor milking the cow.
**To clear up some confusion: Only the first two photos are of the cow being slaughtered. The rest are from the dairy farm. Alma did not get slaughtered.
More recently, I milked one.
But first, I got electrocuted.
Yes, that's right, electrocuted. I firmly gripped an electric fence with two hands tight as fists as I said "Hola!" to my friend Rafa. You live and you learn. Orrrrr rather, you learn to watch for bright yellow signs that say danger. Then you laugh it off and chalk it up to a "cultural" experience.
Here's some pictures from the two latest experiences. Unfortunately I have none of me being electrocuted nor milking the cow.
**To clear up some confusion: Only the first two photos are of the cow being slaughtered. The rest are from the dairy farm. Alma did not get slaughtered.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
iPhone=iFun
My friend Josh (also in PC-CR) came to visit me in my site this past week. We had crazy adventures and enjoyed lots of relaxing non-work time. Visiting other volunteers and having them visit you keeps one's sanity in this whole experience. We took all these pictures with his iPhone.
I realized I'm having a love affair......with Salsa Lizano.
On the way to the river:
Heeeeere......vaca, vaca vaca.
Little did he know.....
Where I sit most days when I have nothing to do.....but think. And so did we:
Gettin' artsy with the iPhone:
One of these days, I'll use more words.....
I realized I'm having a love affair......with Salsa Lizano.
On the way to the river:
Heeeeere......vaca, vaca vaca.
Little did he know.....
Where I sit most days when I have nothing to do.....but think. And so did we:
Gettin' artsy with the iPhone:
One of these days, I'll use more words.....
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Making tamales!
Recently, I had the opportunity to learn to and make tamales with my family and a few of their friends! We are still eating the copious amounts they made.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
A-ha!
When I found myself sitting around three tents in my pajamas with ten 5th-7th grade girls in their pajamas talking about time zones of the US, how icicles form on gutters in the winter, and what is now in place of the Twin Towers after 9-11, I realized something. Not only did I realize again how fun pajama parties are, but, I also realized, that something has clicked. And by something, I mean that part of my brain that has been stretching and stretching so hard for the past four and a half months to finally feel competent in Spanish.
My other friends in Peace Corps in other countries (and ahead of me by half a year) kept telling me that an “a-ha” moment would occur…I didn’t believe them. Well, ladies and gentlemen, I think it has. Don’t get me wrong, I’m far from fluent. But understanding the natural flow of a conversation and being able to respond has become so easy lately. I don’t fear anymore that I won’t be able to understand someone, or that I won’t be able to respond. Especially when I am being barraged with questions about the US and my culture by ten 5th through 7th grade girls…even then, I understood...
This inquisitive bunch of pre-adolescent teens sat around in their pajamas at 10 pm munching on Pringles and other midnight snacks. I’m not sure I exactly how I ended up at this overnight leadership/values camp in a different part of Costa Rica from where I live, but I did, and it wasn’t long before I reverted back to being a giddy 5th grader curious about the world. But at this slumber party, I felt different. I was an oddity, novel and something exciting for my new friends. That must have been the reason for their barrage of questions, like I was the guest of the party, each question on top of each other, creating space for an awesome exchange of cultures.
Some of their questions were just too interesting, I had to note them, and share them:
1. Are there parts of America where people speak only Spanish?
2. What time is it in the US?
3. Do a lot of people build “snowdolls” (i.e. snowmen)? Have you built a snowdoll?
4. Have you been to Disneyland?
5. Is it true there are a lot of theme parks in the US?
6. What is in place of where the Twin Towers were?
7. Was this your first time in an airplane?
8. Did a lot of people in the US cry when Michael Jackson died?
9. Do you know the Staple Center or Michael Jackson’s ranch?
10. Is it true that there is no trash in the US?
11. How much does Playstation or Nintendo cost in the US?
12. The US is really big, right?
13. Is the US really cold?
14. Do you live with your parents?
15. Are there lakes in the US you can ice skate on?
16. Do snowstorms sometimes prevent cars from passing through a road?
17. What are you parents’ names?
18. What other countries have you been to?
19. How many states are in the US?
20. How did you learn Spanish?
21. Is skiing the sport where you have two boards on your feet?
22. Do you have kids?
Interesting, right??!?! Nothin' more to say, except a couple photos to share from the camp that I took with my crappy point and shoot Canon.
Where we slept:
Talking about the world:
In the US we go snow sledding, here, they go mud sledding:
My other friends in Peace Corps in other countries (and ahead of me by half a year) kept telling me that an “a-ha” moment would occur…I didn’t believe them. Well, ladies and gentlemen, I think it has. Don’t get me wrong, I’m far from fluent. But understanding the natural flow of a conversation and being able to respond has become so easy lately. I don’t fear anymore that I won’t be able to understand someone, or that I won’t be able to respond. Especially when I am being barraged with questions about the US and my culture by ten 5th through 7th grade girls…even then, I understood...
This inquisitive bunch of pre-adolescent teens sat around in their pajamas at 10 pm munching on Pringles and other midnight snacks. I’m not sure I exactly how I ended up at this overnight leadership/values camp in a different part of Costa Rica from where I live, but I did, and it wasn’t long before I reverted back to being a giddy 5th grader curious about the world. But at this slumber party, I felt different. I was an oddity, novel and something exciting for my new friends. That must have been the reason for their barrage of questions, like I was the guest of the party, each question on top of each other, creating space for an awesome exchange of cultures.
Some of their questions were just too interesting, I had to note them, and share them:
1. Are there parts of America where people speak only Spanish?
2. What time is it in the US?
3. Do a lot of people build “snowdolls” (i.e. snowmen)? Have you built a snowdoll?
4. Have you been to Disneyland?
5. Is it true there are a lot of theme parks in the US?
6. What is in place of where the Twin Towers were?
7. Was this your first time in an airplane?
8. Did a lot of people in the US cry when Michael Jackson died?
9. Do you know the Staple Center or Michael Jackson’s ranch?
10. Is it true that there is no trash in the US?
11. How much does Playstation or Nintendo cost in the US?
12. The US is really big, right?
13. Is the US really cold?
14. Do you live with your parents?
15. Are there lakes in the US you can ice skate on?
16. Do snowstorms sometimes prevent cars from passing through a road?
17. What are you parents’ names?
18. What other countries have you been to?
19. How many states are in the US?
20. How did you learn Spanish?
21. Is skiing the sport where you have two boards on your feet?
22. Do you have kids?
Interesting, right??!?! Nothin' more to say, except a couple photos to share from the camp that I took with my crappy point and shoot Canon.
Where we slept:
Talking about the world:
In the US we go snow sledding, here, they go mud sledding:
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Images
No words today, but images of note, as of late:
Kids photography camp:
Manzanitas de agua:
Fourth of July celebrations:
Don Lorenzo y Doña Elba, my neighbors, and their fruit stand:
I'm conjuring up my next post....stay tuned.
Kids photography camp:
Manzanitas de agua:
Fourth of July celebrations:
Don Lorenzo y Doña Elba, my neighbors, and their fruit stand:
I'm conjuring up my next post....stay tuned.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Shades of green…and how it’s always greener somewhere else
This time of year Costa Rica is incredibly green. But right now, the grass is greener somewhere else…on the other side of the fence. The fence I speak of is the fence that separates me from the United States…or more specifically, my home state of Colorado, where right about now a retirement party for my father is winding down in my backyard. I can just imagine it…the sun is setting, the tables of gourmet, homemade food are emptying, the trash cans are full, and the last of the party stragglers are laughing boisterously after a few too many drinks. For this reason, this post is dedicated to my father, and his forty-some years of hard work in the field of Educational Administration. Wow, if only I could be that diligent and stay longer than two years in one job… ☺
Anyway, this is a chronicle of my day…in photos, in honor of my father, who was my original teacher of photography, and Master of ‘being’ rather than ‘doing’. (Blogger has done something horrible with the saturation...please excuse the lack of brilliant color).
First, after an early-morning hike up the mountain, I got dressed up (in Peace Corps terms) in honor of dad’s special day, while listening to some of his favorite music (Willie Nelson)…
Then I called home to attempt to get in on some of the pre-party fun. After my mother passed me around to everyone else (because she was too busy to talk), my sister (with uncompleted tasks still at hand), snuck on Skype to chat with me.
Then dad, still in his work clothes, joined in for a bit.
On my walk home from the Internet (i.e., my neighbors), I stopped to notice the post-rain beauty and took these photos.
Upon arrival at home, my host dad was just sitting down to his afternoon cafecito, and I, to my lunch, a soup with vegetables and what else, but rice and beans, and homemade tortillas.
After lunch, I went into my bedroom to unwind. In the very same window that I wrote about in the last post where the Buddhist prayer flags hang, so do sit seven small plastic animals with interchangeable heads. As I looked out the rain-covered glass, I took all the heads of these previously normal animals and switched them all around. I thought their new state was photo worthy. And I couldn’t help but think I was feeling a bit like these strange, mismatched, frozen figures, all courageously poised on my sill.
After, I decided to head out and explore our property with camera in hand. But first I took this photo of my host dad and my 18-year-old host sister, Raquel.
Here’s a few photos I took from our property behind the house.
Peeeeaches (with my house in the background)!
Avocados!!!!
My house is the one on the right:
This is looking out from the hill behind our house:
Upon getting back to my house with muddy feet, I noticed how much I love my new rug. And how I partially wished that bicycle could cycle me all the way home…thousands of miles, in time to make it for the retirement party.
Buuuuutttt, since it couldn’t, I decided to walk less than one mile into town with my host sister and meet her friend to sit on a park bench and talk. It rained (surprise, surprise), so I took these photos, most of them from the under hang of a small super market of my site.
Costa Rican footwear...of high schoolers:
Downtown at my site:
And finally, the church with the fog settling in over the mountains:
After more rain, we made it home just by dark (unfortunately this time of year it’s about 6 pm), ate dinner, thought about my family in Colorado (some more), and got into my bed, all bundled up.
So my day has come to an end. And I survived it…even though I didn’t think I would this morning, so green with envy for that greener grass on the other side of the fence. And by now, dark has fallen upon that greener grass in Colorado. Father is probably fast asleep in his bed, exhausted from a night of celebration, ready to greet this next stage of his life with eagerness and desire tomorrow. Even though I couldn’t physically be there to celebrate, I spent a day in your honor…being rather than doing and just noticing the simple things. Throughout, I sent blessings your way for your new life of retirement! Congratulations, and go pick yourself out that new puppy now.
Anyway, this is a chronicle of my day…in photos, in honor of my father, who was my original teacher of photography, and Master of ‘being’ rather than ‘doing’. (Blogger has done something horrible with the saturation...please excuse the lack of brilliant color).
First, after an early-morning hike up the mountain, I got dressed up (in Peace Corps terms) in honor of dad’s special day, while listening to some of his favorite music (Willie Nelson)…
Then I called home to attempt to get in on some of the pre-party fun. After my mother passed me around to everyone else (because she was too busy to talk), my sister (with uncompleted tasks still at hand), snuck on Skype to chat with me.
Then dad, still in his work clothes, joined in for a bit.
On my walk home from the Internet (i.e., my neighbors), I stopped to notice the post-rain beauty and took these photos.
Upon arrival at home, my host dad was just sitting down to his afternoon cafecito, and I, to my lunch, a soup with vegetables and what else, but rice and beans, and homemade tortillas.
After lunch, I went into my bedroom to unwind. In the very same window that I wrote about in the last post where the Buddhist prayer flags hang, so do sit seven small plastic animals with interchangeable heads. As I looked out the rain-covered glass, I took all the heads of these previously normal animals and switched them all around. I thought their new state was photo worthy. And I couldn’t help but think I was feeling a bit like these strange, mismatched, frozen figures, all courageously poised on my sill.
After, I decided to head out and explore our property with camera in hand. But first I took this photo of my host dad and my 18-year-old host sister, Raquel.
Here’s a few photos I took from our property behind the house.
Peeeeaches (with my house in the background)!
Avocados!!!!
My house is the one on the right:
This is looking out from the hill behind our house:
Upon getting back to my house with muddy feet, I noticed how much I love my new rug. And how I partially wished that bicycle could cycle me all the way home…thousands of miles, in time to make it for the retirement party.
Buuuuutttt, since it couldn’t, I decided to walk less than one mile into town with my host sister and meet her friend to sit on a park bench and talk. It rained (surprise, surprise), so I took these photos, most of them from the under hang of a small super market of my site.
Costa Rican footwear...of high schoolers:
Downtown at my site:
And finally, the church with the fog settling in over the mountains:
After more rain, we made it home just by dark (unfortunately this time of year it’s about 6 pm), ate dinner, thought about my family in Colorado (some more), and got into my bed, all bundled up.
So my day has come to an end. And I survived it…even though I didn’t think I would this morning, so green with envy for that greener grass on the other side of the fence. And by now, dark has fallen upon that greener grass in Colorado. Father is probably fast asleep in his bed, exhausted from a night of celebration, ready to greet this next stage of his life with eagerness and desire tomorrow. Even though I couldn’t physically be there to celebrate, I spent a day in your honor…being rather than doing and just noticing the simple things. Throughout, I sent blessings your way for your new life of retirement! Congratulations, and go pick yourself out that new puppy now.
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