Mangos and Christmas

On this day in Rey Curré, I was sitting on the porch wearing shorts in November and sipping milk from a coconut, when suddenly a salamander dropped excrement on my foot per usual and one of my students invited me over for chicken with rice to celebrate her birthday, and I smiled to myself knowing that these moments are numbered and, partly, for that very reason, priceless.

Our delicious Thanksgiving day din din.

The other 16 volunteers and I attended our end-of-service meeting this past week in Orosi, a suitable place considering it was where our service began 11 months ago for training.  During one of our sessions, we shared one word to describe how we feel about leaving Costa Rica and another word to describe how we feel about going home, which is cleverly the same question in disguise.  Confused.  Scared.  Excited.  Just to name a few.

The new field director and I kicking it before the meal.

To stay true to character, I went allegorical and said "mangos" and "Christmas," respectively.  When I think about leaving Costa Rica, I think mangos because they are so so good, and I can't get enough of them; but, they are only for a season and that is part of what makes them so special.  There is an old proverb that says, "You don't know what you have until it's gone."  Knowing from the get-go that this year was finite has made me be as present as possible in every moment...every class, every hike, every meeting, every conversation, every meal, every cold shower, every sunset, every bike ride, every soccer game, every coffee break, every bus ride, every church service, every dance break, every chill time, every vacation, every chat.  [Wow, when I put it that way, that doesn't sound all that different from my life in the States.  Aside from the cold showers and the coffee breaks.  I'm all for adopting the coffee breaks, but I could do without the cold showers.]  Point is, we have a choice each day to sleep through it or bound into it with eyes wide open.  Each day is a gift.  If there is one thing that Ticans never tire of saying it's, "si Dios quiere," or in another words, "God-willing."  We don't know if we will wake up tomorrow morning, but the point is that we would be prepared either way.  What does it mean to be prepared to die?

And, Christmas.  That one word describes exactly how I feel about going home.  Christmas means loved ones and a celebration of hope.  I will soon be reunited with friends and family, and I am reminded that there are good things ahead. 

"For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."  Jeremiah 29:11

An unforgettable day

 On this day in Rey Curré, a day passed that I'm sure I will never forget.  I got up and taught classes this morning in Curré like normal.  And, in the early afternoon, I hopped on a bike with my friend and went to teach at Las Vegas, a couple of kilometers down the road and over the river and through the woods, as I've done numerous times over the past few months.  But, today was different.  When I arrived, I saw balloons hanging on the walls and chairs sitting around in the corridor, but not a child was to be seen.  The director greeted me and then reached over and knocked lightly on the classroom door and, next thing I know, the door swings open and 20 familiar little faces pop out with grins as wide as the Térraba river during the rainy season.  They gave me kisses and hugs and filed into their seats.  The director invited me to sit down as the students were eager to present to me all the songs and chants that I had taught them in the previous weeks.  They sang "Hello students!  Hello teacher!  How are you?  How are you?  I am fine, thank you.  I am fine, thank you.  How are you?  How are you?"  They chanted the days of the week with the hand motions.  They sang, "Head, shoulders, knees, and toes."  And, one student did jumping jacks as the others counted in English.  The director ended the presentation by commenting on how much they had learned in such little time.  "This is the fruit of your labors," she told me.  I did my best to express my gratitude in Spanish:  "Thank you so much!  It has been an absolute pleasure to teach each and every one of you.  You should be proud of yourselves because you have all learned a lot in a very short amount of time.  I have no doubt that each and every one of you can learn to speak English."  But, if I could do it over, I would have told them much more.  I would have told them that English is only one of the hundreds of languages spoken all over this vast world that God has created.  That this has been a stretch of your minds to begin learning a new skill and a proof to yourself that you can learn new things and reach your dreams.

That teaching you a little bit of English is very little in comparison to the overwhelming love that you have showed me in your enthusiasm, in your smiles and hugs, and in the truckload of fresh fruits and vegetables that you sent home with me:  oranges, mandarins, lemons, coconuts, 2 species of bananas, and a pineapple. (Which, by the way, made for quite the difficult trip on the bicycle over the hills, through the woods, and crossing the river...but, well worth it to see the looks on your faces as your proudly gifted me crops taken off of your own land.)  

And, on top of all this, I got to know a young lady that I would say is close to royalty.  In her colorful knit hat and subtle smile, she came up to me and proudly gifted me three little painted, wooden knick knacks and begged me to take a picture with her.  Thirty minutes later, I'm walking past her house, my bike handles and arms loaded down with fresh produce, and she comes running out to me, "Teacher!!"  "My mom wanted me to ask if you could find a wig for me in the United States."  She quickly pulled off her knit cap, revealing her hairless head.  "It's just that, I am like this."  My heart jumped up into my throat, and I smoothed down the few remaining hairs and drew her close for a hug.  "I will do everything I can to send one to you,"  I told her.  And, as I'm walking away, a tightness in my throat, she yells out to me again with a grin on her face, "Teacher!  And, let it be a normal one!" And, with a deep breath and a smile, I quickly shouted back, "Okay!  Of course!"  Somehow, the weight of the fruits and vegetables didn't seem so much anymore.  And, that verse in the Bible where it says that God calls us to love like little children took on a whole new light.  Some children are facing problems that bring grown men to their knees, but they can still show a smile to the world.  I arrived back to Rey Curré, tired but different.  I went into my room and cried like a baby and then I wrote this down so that I will never forget how precious children are and what a tremendous role it is to protect them and teach them and love them and forgive them and believe in them and hope for them.  

 

Put yourself in these shoes

On this day in Rey Curre, I came across a very interesting, very pertinent passage in the science fiction book that I'm reading...

"Ever since he awoke on the space-ship Ransom had been thinking about the amazing adventure of going to another planet, and about his chances of returning from it.  What he had not thought about was being on it.  It was with a kind of stupefaction each morning that he found himself neither arriving in, nor escaping from, but simply living on, Malacandra; waking, sleeping, eating, swimming and even, as the days passed, talking.  The wonder of it smote him most strongly when he found himself, about three weeks after his arrival, actually going for a walk.  A few weeks later he had his favourite walks, and his favourite foods; he was beginning to develop habits...and the young of the species were different again.  They were delightful."

This is an excerpt from C.S. Lewis' Out of the Silent Planet.  He has a way of writing that puts me in the shoes of the characters, but I didn't need to try these shoes on;  I've already got a pair.  ;)

Bobbing for apples

On this day in Rey Curré, I bobbed for apples with my second, third, and fourth graders.  I printed for the first time from my classroom thanks to your generous donations and the all-day efforts of the tech guys putting up the cables.  And, I took a short bike ride to clear my thoughts and view the Térraba river whipping through the hills. 

With 50 days left, I'm trying to keep my senses alert and notice everything.  The full moon.  The theatrical voices of the soap opera in the next room.  The still night air.  The thump of the bar music.  The tractor trailers driving past on the InterAmerican.  Wait, is this a scene of rural America or a an Indigenous territory in Costa Rica? 

But, the full moon illuminates a palm tree rising into the night sky.  And, the voices of the soap opera are chatting in Spanish.  And, the late October night air is warm enough that I'm lounging in a tank top and shorts.  And, across the street from the bar is a hut with a leaf-thatched roof that sells hand-made, hand-painted Indigenous masks and purses knit from naturally tinted threads.  And, the trailers driving past on the Interamerican are carrying loads of plantains and coffee and bread for little coffee breaks, staples of the Costa Rican diet. 

And, I'm sitting under a tin roof in my coral and sea green room, walled with two by fours, planning for tomorrow's English lessons with my first, fifth, and sixth grade students.  My mind is racing through the dreams I'd still like to fulfill here: visit the Osa Peninsula, one of the most biologically diverse places on the planet, hike to the third sizeable waterfall on the reserve, milk a cow, and make a mini-film of all the pictures of the year for the graduation in December.

And, I'm sitting here under the night sky, wondering what it will be like to sit under the same night sky a thousand miles to the North in less than two months.  My family and friends will be within an arm's reach again.  My hands will grip a steering wheel.  My mind will drift back to Costa Rica.  I will unpack a year's worth of memories, and I will tell stories if you let me.  But, most of all, I want to listen.  I want to listen to your stories.  I want to listen to the English language.  I want to listen  for the quiet Shepherd leading me.  

All in a year's work (and play! ;)

On this day in Rey Curre, I administered an exam to the fifth and sixth graders, ran into a barbed wire clothes line while trying to hang up my laundry, learned a song in Spanish to sing at church, and watched an ancient clay Indigenous pot being dug up by some archaeologists.  All in a day's work.

On top of all that, I'm still nursing some sores on my feet from a hike last Saturday to a 60-meter high waterfall that happens to be a 2-hour walk from my front door.  How have I not been there yet???  It was another reminder of what an absolute privilege it is to be living here this year...

In January, when I got off the bus in Rey Curre, it was a dusty little town with a few corner grocery stores and a bar.  Now, it's a lively town filled with familiar faces and memories.

In February, my students were just brushing up after summer break and now they yell up to me when I'm at the bus stop, "Teacher, where are you going?"  And, when I greet the students with "What's up?" one student slyly replies, "the sky!"

In March, I spent the afternoons practicing soccer with the women's league and the evenings giving private English lessons in exchange for dance lessons.  Now, I spend the afternoons visiting houses, sipping coffee, chatting with the parents, and playing hide-and-seek with the kiddos.  And, the evenings are spent attending church, playing music with my friend, or hitting up my host mom with an amusing recollection of a past volunteer or a childhood memory.

In April, I traveled around to some of the best tourist spots when my parents came down for a visit:  Volcan Irazu, Monteverde, Manuel Antonio, and Uvita.  Now, I'm enjoying the local treasures and saving on the cash...visiting family farms and local waterfalls.

In May, I went to the mid-service meeting and couldn't believe how quickly the first part of the year had gone.  Now, I'm gearing up for the end-of-service meeting!  aaagh!

In June, I visited another volunteer's site and was inspired by her creativity and dedication as a teacher, and I was delighted to meet the family, friends, and students that appreciated her so much.  This month, I got to host a group of friends here in my town and found myself rambling on and on about every little tree and flower and introducing them to everyone we passed.  It's amazing how we begin to identify so much with our little towns!

In July, I was overwhelmed with more beautiful sites in Costa Rica, from the beaches to the monkeys to watching human-sized turtles lay their eggs in the dead of night, and awe-filled by traveling to the Panama Canal and witnessing several ships make their way carefully through one of the locks.  Now, I'm soaking up all the weekends I can in my little Southern town, even if it means building a canal in the front yard to keep the house from flooding from all the rain (like we had to do earlier this evening).

In August, I wore out my camera at the student art festival where I watched mesmerized as elementary and high school students performed traditional and modern dances, displayed their artwork, and showed off their talents.  Now, I'm beyond excited as we gear up for another festival a week from Saturday which will feature the culture, the food, and the customs of the Indigenous territory where I am living.

In September, I enjoyed the Independence day celebrations, including the numerous renderings of the national hymns, the torch run, and the evening walk with the hand-made lanterns.  Now, I'm making the most of every day here but thinking fondly on my own country and the special ones there that I will soon be able to tackle with a bear hug.

Earlier this month, I made snow angels on a beach in Guanacaste and learned "bombas," rhythmic poems typically about love, with my friend's host family.  Now, I'm trying to finish up some last minute projects to earn my TEFL certificate and winding down the school year with a unit on different countries/cultures.

Sigh...All in a year's work.  (Well, and play)

As always, thanks for tuning in and thanks for always supporting me with your kind words and prayers.

What is culture?

On this day in Rey Curré, I sat out by the bus stop watching the afternoon going by, thinking about all the nuances of this culture that still take me by surprise.  I've been living here for 9 months, but there are some things that I will always think are strange.

 

-There is a name for the slightly crunchy, toasted rice at the bottom of every pot of rice.

-It's common practice to throw salt on fruit.  "To kill the tartness," they say.

-Blue eyes are rare and strange.  One little boy looked at me today, probably seeing a white person for the first time in his conscious life, and asked, "What's wrong with your eyes?"

-Sour cream is for sweet things like bread and pastries.  It's unheard of to eat it with savory things like ground beef.  (Even though my host mother adamantly refused, she tried it on the tacos that I made one night and mentioned offhand that it wasn't bad.)

-On any given day, the police department in the nearest city might have speakers set up and Latin music playing to liven up the streets and entertain the passerbys.

-I just put on bug spray:  I'm in my room.   

-If we are approaching late afternoon, any given person will invite you to coffee, but they won't ask if you'd like to drink coffee; they'll just simply ask you if you have drank coffee yet and that's the cue for "come and get it."  It's just assumed that you drink it.  Even babies are served coffee.

-I can't even count the number of children, youth, adults, and elderly for which I have introduced peanut butter.  Meaning, they had never tasted it before.  They didn't know what I was talking about.  They didn't know what peanut butter was.  Did you hear me??

-Tamales are a specialty.  It's a dumpling made of rice and chicken or pork.  They wrap it up in palm leaves and boil it for 3 hours.  They make it for all the special occasions: birthdays, holidays, celebrations.  Someone once asked me, "Well, if you don't make tamales for Christmas, then what do you eat?"

-The soups are always made with large pieces of potato, beef, yucca, carrots, and whatever other type of vegetable.  But, the food on a plate is always served finely diced.  Isn't that backwards?  That must be the reason that I always end up with a sprayed shirt when I'm eating soup, feebly trying to make bite size the hand-size portions.

-"nhuv"  A chicken left me this message today on my computer as it took off running and tripped over my keyboard when I was chasing it out of the house.

-My host niece of 15 months waddled past me the other day gnawing on a cooked, seasoned chicken foot.

Culture:  It's something you might overlook until some young, white girl from the U.S. moves in for a year and cracks up laughing at every little thing.

A little Tica inspiration :)

On this day in Rey Curré, I realized that having internet has been a blessing and a curse.  On the up side, it has allowed me to keep in good contact with all of you and invite you to be a part of impacting this community.  (Thank you to all those who have donated to "Give a Little, Help a Lot."  Three weeks after beginning, we are already halfway to our goal.  For those who donated, you can expect a newsletter which will highlight the purchases made and the sweet faces that it will benefit.)

On the down side, in an effort to improve my teaching, the internet has sometimes been a distraction.  I've spent many an afternoon looking up new activities and games online, when all the while the best resources were just a few steps away.  After school today, I spent 3 hours at one of my student's house.  We played Frisbee, rhythm games, made paper flowers and airplanes, and on and on.  Her mind is incredibly imaginative.  (I wish I could have taken a few photos, but my camera is currently on the blink.)  She was spinning out game after game, and meanwhile, my mind was imagining the possibilities of incorporating them in the classroom.  I walked away with at least 4-5 ideas for spicing up the instruction and the ambience:  mouthing a vocabulary word and seeing if another student can guess, making paper leaves to decorate the room for fall, learning the song "Stand by me" to begin talking about future tense, playing musical chairs for review, making our own puzzles out of paper, making paper footballs to teach the kids about American football (or a favorite past time of American students in study hall)...

And, not only was I inspired by this bright, 5th grade student, but I had the privilege to be attended to by her lovely mother who I found out is only 4 years older than me.  First, she served me dinner:  beef with fried onions, rice, black beans with Salsa Lizano (I hope they sell that in the States!), and pico de gallo (which they call chimichurri).  It was rico!  Then, we shared about our families.  I told her that I have a lot of crazy, loveable cousins, admirable aunts and uncles, and inspirational grandparents.  And, thanks to my mom's thoughtfulness, I had a nice picture book to show them all the faces of the Eckstein's and Stenger's. 

Then, she shared about her adopted family because her mom gave her up for adoption when she was 3 months old.  Her adopted family was dirt poor, eating mostly plantains for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  But, for what little they had to offer in food and clothing, they more than made up for in love.  Her adopted mother told her the truth that her mother gave her up for adoption but that she should make no room in her heart for bitterness or anger.  Rather, by her example, she taught her to love above all; that God sent His Son so that we might be forgiven, and likewise, we must forgive others.

It was a lovely day in which I realized that every day I work with treasures, the kind that do not rust: dynamic, unpredictable, dream-filled, budding individuals who are worth getting to know and for whom it is worth making sacrifices.  I guess that's what mothers must feel; though, I wouldn't claim to come close to understanding the sacrifices that mother's make for their children.  As such, I've come to the conclusion that being a mother has to be the most challenging, exhausting, and worthwhile job there is.  To all of you mothers out there, thank you.  You are appreciated.  Your role is so important.  I admire you.

In conclusion, technology can be a great resource for a teacher, but from experience, the best resources are the ones found right under our noses: the bright-eyed students staring up at us.  Here's to many more house visits in the next couple of months!  I want to try to visit every home of every student.  I've got a few down, but many more to go.