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.   

4 more months to go! And, 4 more months to stay!

On this day in Rey Curré, I taught classes to the 3rd and 4th graders, sold ice creams to the kids during recess to raise money for the school, did some projects on the computer, went for a walk with a friend and got rained on, ate dinner (spinach cooked with eggs, rice, cucumbers, and tomatoes...lots of veggies tonight!), shared an ice cream break with a talkative little 4th grader, and came inside my room to escape the slight chill (rare for these parts) that I felt. 

Life as a volunteer in a foreign country can begin to feel really normal.  I rarely think twice about throwing the toilet paper in the trash can or eating rice and beans at every meal or taking two showers a day or waiting at a bus stop for 2 hours.  But, I'm never desensitized to the fact that I'm conducting almost every conversation (besides in the classroom) in Spanish.  I love speaking and learning about another language!  Not only that, but I don't get tired of being able to hop on a bus and be at a beach in 3-4 hours for under $10.  

This past weekend, I went to Jacó with my host mom to visit her daughter.  We went to a few local beaches where I was introduced to my favorite beach so far in Costa Rica...Playa Blanca.  White sand.  Blue water.  Scenic rocks.  Body-surfing waves.  The only down side was when I rode a wave in and cracked my monkey toes on a rock hidden beneath the surf.  But, I'm beginning to become infamous for my lapses in coordination.  Pictured here is the bruise I sustained after falling off my bike coming back from teaching in the nearby rural school of Las Vegas.  I learned something very important:  don't ride down a hill on a bike without rear brakes.  See, no one can say I didn't learn something in Costa Rica.

But, that's really only the beginning.  I learned that if your hand is itching, then money is likely to come your way later in the day.  If the fire is whistling, someone is thinking of coming to visit you; throw in some salt to secure their arrival.  And, if your ears are ringing, then someone is talking about you; and, you better hope it is the right ear because if its the left ear ringing, they may be saying bad things.

Haha...but, these are only superstitions that I found out about one day when I explained to a friend that someone must be thinking about me because my nose itched so much.  We can't be sure of the accuracy of folklore, but we can be sure of some things, like the common human experience.  One night, many months ago, I hosted a game night with several of the youth in town.  We were playing a game in which one person chose a question from a pot and the other players have to write down an answer on a slip of paper which are then read discretely to the person who drew the question, and he has to guess who wrote the answers.  One of the questions was "what do you want to be when you grow up?"  I began to think, and the truest response I could come up with won me a couple of strange looks but nevertheless, a peace of mind:  "I want to be happy."  I think that's really what everyone wants.  But, how do you find happiness?  Do you seek it in order to find it?  Or, does it find you when you stop seeking?

("Whoever seeks to save his life will lose it but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it."  Matthew 16:25)

I am happy.  I am happy that I only have 4 months to go.  I am happy that I have 4 months to stay.  I am happy that I made the decision to come here this year because it has been truly life changing.  I am happy that I have such amazing family and friends.  

Take care and until next time,

Sarita 

Keeping it in context

On this day in Rey Curré, I awoke with a recognizable feeling but one which I have yet to acknowledge up until now.  I didn't want to go teach at the school.  I wanted to be home.  I felt homesick.  Almost 7 months have passed of not laying eyes on the cornfields of the Midwest, my family, my friends, a steaming plate of Skyline chili, the streets of Indy and Cincy, the faces of Greensburg, my brother's big oak kitchen table, my sister's fluffy green L-shaped couch, my nephews...I will have to practically introduce myself to them when I arrive home for Christmas.  They grow so much, so quickly.  But, being abroad this long is like sifting for gold: the things I truly care about remain steadfast even after everything else has been washed away.  A sifting has been taking place in my heart these first few days after a long two-week break, and it has left me feeling rich in love but poor in spirit.

Yesterday, the day began with heart-wrenching news.  A mother of two of my favorite students is suffering from a very severe illness.  Her eyes welled with tears as she confessed her fears.  I threw the best arrows I know at the hopelessness and anxieties that haunt her:  "God is always with you, even in the darkest of times.  You have to have hope.  Our thoughts are powerful."  Needless to say, the day rolled on, and I spent the morning implementing a teamwork activity with my 5th and 6th graders that was just what the doctor ordered.  When a teacher assigns groups and everyone repeatedly begins grumbling, that calls for a little interpersonal workshop. 

Later, my eyes dampened again as I watched one of my 2nd graders finally leave the classroom, his mother dragging him in tow.  He had sat static in his chair for almost 45 minutes even after I had dismissed him from his 5 minute punishment for disobedience.  I spent the first few minutes telling him how special he is.  Then, I waited patiently while he tried to punish me for causing him embarrassment.  Discipline is always painful at the time, but it's worth the pain because it eventually yields good things.

After school, I made ice creams with my host niece to help raise money for some things the school needs.  Her calming and gentle way of being ministered to my weary state.  And, a short walk and some laughs with a good friend further lifted my spirits before I made my way to a weekday church gathering. 

For the first time since arriving, I confidently call myself a teacher because now I see it as one of the roles out of many that I am living out here: host daughter, host sister, host aunt, friend, sister in Christ, volunteer, comforter, counselor, "cook," reporter, writer, dreamer, singer, servant.  Each of them carries a certain responsibility that I embrace as equally important as all of the others.  It turns out that they overlap and collide and blend together in harmony like I never knew that they could.  Chatting with my host niece gives me new ideas for the classroom, communing with the church gives me inspiration and perseverance as a volunteer... 

After giving testimony to such a full life that I have here, how could I have felt so anxious to return home?  Because everything has its context, including this year.  It is a chapter in a book.  It is a step of a journey.  It is a breath.  There were breaths before it, and God-willing, there will be breaths after it.  It is a harvest.  There would be nothing to bring in if the farmer hadn't planted.  Everything that I have done up until this point in my life has served a purpose in preparing, supporting, and sustaining me this year. 

Each class I taught, each fact I sought,

each lap I swam, each mile I ran,

each vacation spent, each prayer sent,

each book digested, each dollar invested,

each song I sung,  each Spanish word on my tongue,

each friendship cultivated, each holiday celebrated.   
  

And, my expectations and dreams for what succeeds this year daily affects my attitude.  When I remember that this year is finite, I am that much more motivated to serve to my fullest capacity.  Not to mention, I'm that much more closer to seeing all of you that I miss dearly!  5 more months to go!

Therefore, I'm rich in love because I have more than I could want or ask for, but poor in spirit because I look around me and see so much more need than one person could possibly fulfill.  I am a volunteer, and I am only one person.  I can't change the world on my own.  But, I can't let that stop me from trying.  We can all be world changers, wherever we are.  Sometimes it costs a lot, but sometimes it only takes a smile.  A song that I have recently been listening to captures this attitude the best.  It's called "Walk on the Water" by Brit Nicole.  The chorus goes like this... 

 

"So what are you waiting for?

What do you have to lose?

Your insecurities try to alter you

You know you're made for more

So don't be afraid to move

Your faith is all it takes for you to

Walk on the water too."

What kind of faith does it take to walk on water?  Or, maybe it's not the measure of the faith that counts.  Better yet, in what or whom is the faith that conquers such feats?