If it’s December, Where’s the Snow?

Okay so I am seriously slacking on the blog writing. Here it is Nov. 31st and I haven’t written since the beginning of October. I blame it on my lack of Internet access. Once every one or two weeks to the Internet café is quite a change from my previous lifestyle in which my gmail box was constantly open on the computer giving me a nice little alert noise when one e-mail came in. Well, those times have changed. When I get to the Internet I have a pre-written list that has been compiled over the previous week or two. This list can sometimes be quite extensive. It includes e-mails to specific friends and family, research over a certain project, picture posting of a recent adventure, etc. etc. I have actually been able to keep pictures reasonably up to date on Facebook, so hopefully all of my avid fans have been satisfied with pictorial news.
The big news is this: I move into my own rented house tomorrow, Dec. 1st. Woohoo! Finally my dog will have a place I can care for her without worrying she’s dirtying something up. Finally I will be able to decide if I want to eat giant piles of rice and beans at every meal of the day. Finally I will be able to enter my home and my room after 9pm without fear of waking anyone. Ahh, it’s like I’m 17 again, finally leaving the nest and going out on my own. Except this has been doubly hard because, oh yeah, I already did all that; college dorms, house with friends, apartment solo. But here there are 30-something’s living with mom and dad still. It’s partially culture and it’s partially economics. But anyway, my house is in the center of town, therefore safe with many neighbors. It is semi-furnished with beds in each of the three bedrooms, a couch, a couple chairs, a fridge, and the owner says he will soon be putting in a little washing machine for me. It’s a pretty large house, especially for one person, but I have decided this is a positive for when I start my girls youth group. We can have our meetings in the house and do baking activities, etc. I’m in the process of buying a few kitchen supplies like a mini oven, a blender, and a microwave.
English teaching is definitely my biggest project in terms of work. Once per week I teach a 3 hour adult English class. I have 19 students ranging from age 15 to 65. The class has a wide variety of levels as well, but I am very happy with the Centro Cultural program I’m using. It caters to every level in my opinion. Some students definitely catch on quicker than others, but there is a lot of group and partner work as well as games. We finished up semester two for the kiddos in the primary schools. I’m extremely happy with their progress. The only thing that saddens me is that I will be losing 3 of the students to the high school this coming February. The school year here ends in December and starts in February. I will be gaining three new students for first grade- three little hyper-active boys. This scares me a bit. I’ll admit I prefer teaching to the older students as they don’t have as much ADD. But I will just have to adjust, be creative, and do more interactive things with the younger ones.
My parents and grandparents are coming on December 9th for a visit. I am super excited and have already made a bunch of plans to incorporate them into community activities. We will have a fiesta for the kids English class where Grammie is going to bake Christmas recipes with us. Also my adult English class will practice their English with the group for conversational practice. There also happens to be our yearly town dance during the time of the visit. I can’t wait to see my grandparents dance kumbya.
I’ve taken several beach trips that are always a total blast. I now know the area quite well and the 4 or 5 beaches within a few minutes of each other in car. I went ocean fishing for the first time. My favorite part was finding the bait. Basically Ticos use this pipe thing that they make out of plastic tubes and they stick it into the sand where you see the little air bubbles. Then pull out the inner tube of the device really fast to create intense suction and the little alacran del mar pops out. Alacran del mar is ”scorpion of the sea.” But don’t worry they aren’t poisonous or anything like real scorpions. So you catch a bunch of those guys and stick them in a bucket, and when you have enough you thread one onto the hook of the fishing line. You walk out into the ocean about waist-height and lasso the fishing line into the water. Trying to get the line to real out was the hardest part for me. But I did it. So, I stood there for about three hours, didn’t catch anything, and got stung by a jellyfish. The group caught 4 fish, no thanks to me. But I did get my picture with one to put on Facebook for pride’s sake. I also went river shrimping one evening in Quebrada. You go when it’s dark and shine a pretty high-powered flashlight into the water. The shrimps’s eyes glow and they are temporarily blinded. This is when you have to stab them with this pitchfork thing. They are super fast so you have to get them when they are blinded. I got one of those dudes all by myself!
Early in November Peace Corps Costa Rica volunteers had a mandatory retreat up in the mountains. It was camping-style in tents and it was cold. But the three day event was a blast. I think it’s always good to go re-center yourself with fellow gringos who understand your culture, background, etc. We all shared stories of triumphs, disappointments, and failures in our communities. And it was a relief to hear many of my own concerns voiced by others. I must say though, I almost did not make it to the event due to rain and transportation issues. The road out of my town partially washed out and the one and only bus that leaves my site was cancelled. Long story short I used my extremely well-tuned survivor skills and excellent Peace Corps training to get myself to San Jose and then finally to the retreat site. I won’t even tell you the variety of transportation methods used.
My final topic for this blog is baby showers. Wow I feel like I have been to a million baby showers in the last couple months. Okay, so it was only three, but these things are serious here. Women are serious about their baby showers. And I guess I proved myself worthy because I was asked to help in the latest one (the third one). This is quite an honor. These baby showers go like this: It is planned secretly as to surprise the mother to be. Everyone gets to the house at a certain time a crouches within. Then it’s usually the poor husband who brings the woman home from errands, a trip, etc and leads her into the house to be shocked into premature labor by a group of 20 to 30 women who jump out and scream “sopresa!” Okay, so I have not yet witnessed the premature labor part, but it’s only a matter of time. So then the mother to be sits in a chair specially placed and prepared for her next to the table of gifts. She leads baby shower bingo, baby shower scavenger hunts, baby shower word scramble games, etc. while the hosts of the party take turns bringing out plates of little snacks and drinks for everyone. I was one of these servers in the last one. Oh, and of course I am always the photographer. This is a new addition to baby showers since I have come. There is also an interesting tradition of this milky vodka drink. It reminds me a white Russian but hardly has any alcohol and I’m not sure of all the ingredients actually. Someone gives a toast and we all drink it down with good wishes for the mother to be.
Life has a funny way of working out. Since being here, three community members have died (all elderly). And now we are waiting for the third baby to be born (due date is mid-December). So, thanks to nature I don’t have to change the population statistics in my community diagnostic-- just a little change to the ages. So I have been to three funerals, three baby showers, a wedding, and a first communion. And the fun only continues.

So maybe it´s not so easy...

So here's the basic update:
My womens soccer team got new uniforms. They are pink with our names on the back and totally cute. The only thing is that I am “Kristel” instead of “Kristen.” But hey, it's close enough for me and easier to pronounce in Spanish. I head down the mountain most weekends to travel with them to surrounding villages for games and it's a blast. Although it is far less organized than my soccer teams in the States, the pure zest for competition is the same, and my undeniable desire to win is most definitely respected among Ticos.

September 15th was Costa Rica Independence Day. The school children of each village pass a torch from one school to another representing the passing of liberation of the Central American countries. I did the hike with the kids in the early morning hours when the school kids of Los Angeles passed the flame to us. In the evening of this celebrated day was the march of the faroles. They are basically like New Mexican luminarias, but far more extravagant and they are made to be carried. People design all kinds of different shapes with amazing drawings, cutouts, and designs. Then they all march through the village with the candles within each farole lighting the way singing Costa Rican songs.

The women's group held a party for the Day of the Elderly on October 7th. We invited all the elderly members of the community for a luncheon, had a raffle to give away prizes and also nominated a “king” and “queen” to wear crowns and represent the group. It was wonderful to get some of the older members of the community out of their homes for some fun.

And now for the personal update:
The initial vacation feel has faded rapidly these last couple months. Everyone knows you can't be loved by everyone, but unfortunately I feel my job description pressures me to fulfill this lofty goal. I feel plowed over by cultural norms that I just can't adapt to, expectations that I just can't meet, and a feeling of helplessness in that I'm simply not the savior that seems to be expected. Where did this idea that Peace Corps volunteers are some kind of experts come from? We are twenty-something recent college grads with liberal arts degrees and a zest for life. We are experts in all-night study sessions, last minute thesis-writing, and multi-tasking. I don't know anything about orchids, coffee farming, paper machete art and a host of other things that are a way of life here both in work and hobbies.

I try to stay positive; both about the project possibilities here as well as about my own self worth. I know I'm a good organizer. That's part of the reason I am a rural community development volunteer. But wow is it hard to organize here. I planned a meeting Peace Corps calls a FODA in which an assessment of challenges, problems, positives, and hopes for the community are established through a host of different exercises with community members. I walked to every single house in my 156 person community to hand deliver invitations and give a little overview of what it would be about. Out of the 156 people, 21 showed up in total, 13 of which showed up on time, and 3 of which showed up in the last 15 minutes of the hour-long meeting. This is only one example of this community's atmosphere for organizing.

I know I'm idealistic. I mean, I think idealism is pretty much a feature of Peace Corps volunteers. If one follows pure logic, it is far too easy to slip into the pit of cynicism. But I guess I had this idea of what it would be to enter into a community who asked for me, went through all the paperwork and phone calls to receive an outsider to come in with new ideas and passions. This idea included people being passionate about events and activities that I planned, advertised, and specifically invited them to. It doesn't matter that during training we were told numerous times that everything is harder than that, that this culture is passive and non-active, and that everything takes longer to accomplish.

It's like this strange middle region of existence. I feel the pressure to accomplish things to show that I am useful and that I was sent here for a reason. At the same time I feel like I am unable to accomplish anything because I am a foreigner in this place, new to the laws, the customs, the norms and I therefore am simply unaware of how to motivate organization. It's as if all my education, my experiences, everything written in my resume and all my deeply thought out theories on life are void in this rural jungle village.

Patience is key I realize. Both with myself, this place, and specific community members. I have been in my site for almost 5 months. In the grand scheme of things this is only a blip on the time line and I can't expect myself to have established the confidence and relationships necessary to make huge changes so quickly.

The Meaning of Work

The Meaning of Work

I think it is well known that being Peace Corps volunteers is a very different type of work. It's a far cry from a 9 to 5 office job in front of a computer. Even back in the PC interview stages I was asked how I would deal with such a different work environment in which I must make my deadlines, projects, goals, even work hours instead of these things being delegated by a boss or office rules. I admitted it would be a different way of life compared to my agenda, list-making, schedule obsessed daily routine back in Albuquerque, New Mexico where I went from being an avid university student to a paralegal in a law office. Yes, it will be challenging I remember saying. And here I am waking up to daily chicken screeches wandering if a scheduled meeting will actually take place later in the afternoon and hoping that girls mejenga I've been planning for weeks will actually have more than 4 people in attendance. That's life in my rural Costa Rican town of 156 people. Not only is there a totally different attitude about scheduled group events, but there are just not that many people. I've begun to get this through my thick skull and shrug it off when things don't pan out according to plan.

But here's the thing about work I really want to emphasize; here in rural Costa Rica work is physical labor. Period. Work for men is agricultural; planting cultivating, growing, chopping and clearing plant-life, using machetes, shovels, bare hands and raw muscle. For women it's scrubbing, mopping, sweeping, raking, washing, using amazing arm strength and a seemingly unlimited reserve of energy. After watching my host mother beat the crap out of clothes in the pila on a daily basis, I'm pretty sure she could take me in an arm wrestling competition.

I certainly respect this physical labor that signifies my community and probably many other rural Costa Rican communities. The problem that I have met is their lack of respect, and more importantly lack of knowledge when it comes to labor or work that is not physical. What about intellectual labor? Planning, organizing, writing, calculating, and even just thinking. I appreciate a good physical job where it is totally unnecessary to engage the brain and your body goes into robot mode as you allow your muscles to engage in a continuous pattern. And I definitely take every opportunity to participate in physical labor when the community needs me. But I also consider myself an intellectual. I like to read, I like to write, I like to learn and challenge myself with new ideas. It seems it shouldn't be an issue to continue with that facet of my personality in a new place, but I have met with some challenges.

After a super long and unproductive meeting about a new aqueduct system one day, my counterpart asked if I had a minute to talk. Sure, I said in my chipper PCV voice that I use to hide my discouragement about seemingly impossible projects like a new aqueduct system. After a nervous sigh he told me that several members of the community had approached him with complaints about me. These complaints in general were that I am a vaga volunteer, lazy, I don't like to work, and I generally just sit in my room listening to music. Wow, that was a bombshell. I was totally taken aback with surprise. There was absolutely no one in the community I could think of that I did not have at least a friendly relationship with. And I couldn't imagine anyone saying these things about me to my local counterpart. This is a whole other topic of course; the indirect culture of Ticos in which they give you one incredibly supportive and friendly face and then rear a totally different one to others on the chisme train. I mean, come on, if you think I'm not doing crap, approach me an tell me what you think this community needs, what you want to see change, what projects are important to you. I'm not Jesus, but I will always give a listening ear and always see if there is anything I can do. But no, instead I have be slapped in the face with these shocking words spoken from the mouth of my poor counterpart who tell me he's sorry and that he doesn't agree, and that he thinks I'm doing a great job teaching English, organizing mejengas, aerobics, attending all the committee meetings, etc etc. And in my heart I know I'm doing the best I can, but it doesn't soften the sting of resentment and that lurking feeling of unwarranted betrayal.

After much thought on this topic as well as discussion with other community members, volunteers, and friends and family back home, I have realized that differing conceptions of meaning of work is the culprit to this misunderstanding. They see me in my room, on my computer, a book in my lap, or a pen and paper in front me, and they think I'm just hanging out, passing some down town before the “real work”. And yes, I have my music on a lot, I certainly won't lie about that, but I also don't feel like defending my personal choice to “work” while listening to music. You know what I'm doing while I'm on my computer? Organizing English class lesson plans. You know what I am reading in that book on my lap? Possible funding options for your new and ridiculously expensive aqueduct. But the perception is different. The majority of my community did not attend school past the 6th grade and their lives are defined by physical labor. When they don't see sweat dripping off my brow or some tool in my hand, the significance is that I am lazy. They don't realize how much time and brain power is necessary to accomplish the non-physical goals of this community that they themselves have articulated to me.

Hopefully as time passes I can prove the benefits of this type work through real accomplishments and projects, or simply by introducing to people the beauty of newly acquired knowledge. And in doing this, I hope to better my personal image here as a Peace Corps volunteer.

Siga Pa'lante! (Keep it going!)

August was jam-packed with events in my little town of Quebrada Grande. (It's really not that “grande”... :-) The month was kicked off by a beautiful local wedding that took place here in the small Catholic church. Helen and Evelio tied the knot on August 8th and I volunteered to be photographer for the ceremony and dance that followed in the salon. It was a very fun experience to note the different customs in weddings here. The mass and ceremony in the church was a traditional Catholic service with the pair sitting in fancily decorated chairs in front of the altar. The dance and party that followed took place in the town's salon comunal that was decorated in the color theme of light green and white. A DJ played a wide selection of music that mainly revolved around Costa Rica's kumbya, salsa, and marengue. In weddings here the first few dances are specifically for wedding guests to literally pay the bride and groom for a dance. People approach the newlyweds and pin money onto the the dress or shirt of the newlywed to “pay” for a dance. This is a way of gift-giving to help the new couple start their life together. After taking a plethora of photos I participated thoroughly in the dancing.

Costa Rica Mother's Day took place in August and my English class made cards in English and a big poster to post in the Church during the mass. They all traced their hands onto the poster and wrote a message to their mother's. At the end of August my class completed semester one of English. They had an exam that covered the basics of what we had learned in the previous 3 months. I am very pleased with their progress. To celebrate, we had a movie day. I brought my computer and we watched Hollywood Chihuahua in Spanish and ate palomitas (popcorn). Semester 2 starts this month and will end in December for the holiday vacation. I will then lose three students to the colegio in Los Angeles, but gain 2 new first graders.

The encampamento of men's soccer has started. Every year a few of the surrounding communities (Quebrada Grande, San Bosco, Por Venir and Los Angeles) participate in a 3-4 month soccer competition. It's sort of a tournament amongst the teams that lasts for the duration. Every Sunday three games are played in one of the communities. They are all fairly close so the trek isn't too tough. There is a raffle to determine which teams play each other on any given day and points are tallied depending on the final score. In December there will be a winning team and probably a prize. I have truly enjoyed these Sunday games because I've gotten to know other communities, I love watching soccer, and I am able to help with run the festivities when games take place in Quebrada.

As for my own soccer interests, I have recently been asked to join a women's team out of Juan de Leon, which is located down the mountain near Coyote. It's a little far, but there unfortunately is no real organized team up here in the Los Angles/ Quebrada area. I am working to organize that myself, but the population of women interested is just not big enough here at this point. So, I said yes of course to the team and participated in my first game with the ladies last weekend. It was a blast and I have now realized there are many women's teams down the mountain and further south into Puntarenas that are talented and competitive.

I attended an all-day meeting in Juan de Leon one day with Quebrada's Comite de Acueducto. It was a meeting of many surrounding communities to learn about possible opportunities to obtain a new water system for each respective town. This project by far will be the most trying almost completely due to the incredibly high cost. But Quebrada is in desperate need of a newer system. We suffer from frequent water outages and the constant fear of unhealthy and dirty water.

I finally concluded my diagnostic report on my community to present to both Peace Corps and the people of Quebrada Grande. Forty-some pages of text, graphs, and statistics all in Spanish took a lot of time and effort. I feel that it has been worth it to get this information into an organized format both for my own benefit and for the community see their home in a tangible way. I will be presenting the information to the community this month at a meeting a will host.

Work continues in the Vivero de Orquideas in which we work weekly to ensure the growth of beautiful natural Costa Rican flowers in hopes to sell to tourists in the future. Also, we have made great progress in the trail blazing for rural tourism. I enjoy the walks up through the jungle myself on occasion and we recently added flowers along the sides of the trails in many parts. These and the howler monkeys make for a great Costa Rican jungle ambiance.

I attended a week-long retreat and meeting for Peace Corps last week in San Jose. It was a wonderful time to catch up with fellow volunteers, share all our similar and differing stories, and receive more training on a wealth of different things. I was very glad to receive training on a few new different types of funding opportunities that may be utilized for projects in my community. We also spent a day at Centro Cultural, a facet of the Costa Rican Ministry of Education where we learned of a possible program for adult English classes that includes a strict schedule and books. This might very well be a better organized method for me to teach English to the adults in my community.

I am continuing with weekly soccer for girls on Tuesdays. Also, some of the leaders of the community started a group for the elderly of the community in which every Wednesday there will be charlas on health, art classes, or games to offer events for the elderly of the community. Dia de Adulto Mayor or Day of the Elderly is in October and we are planning a fiesta with bingos, games, and music.

And still in planning phases for the future is the weekend sports camp, an environmental day/ community trash clean-up activity, and a drug prevention activity for the youth of the community. These projects and others have come to my attention as beneficial for the community in my three and half months here in site and I feel community members are very energetic for new things.

On a personal note I am absolutely loving my jungle paradise. Daily hikes with my canine companion Shakira, strong new friendships, and of course soccer, keep me energized to help work for all the goals I think this community wants to accomplish.

si se puede

The school year in Costa Rica is February through the first week or two of December with a 2-3 week vacation in July. The adults too take somewhat of a vacation during this time. During this July vacation period my satellite town of Los Angeles hosts a Semana Cultural every year. This year marks the 22nd year of the event, and the popularity is through the roof. I was raffled onto a team when I first arrived in Quebrada, not really knowing what that entailed. Well I soon found out the event is a highly energized, competitive week-long competition among community members divided among 8 teams. The teams are relatively fair considering it is done by raffle. I was raffled on to the blue team, which we named “Blue's Brothers.” The popular thing to do was to have a team name in English. The black team even named their team the “Obama's.” I found that pretty awesome. The week consisted of a very diverse variety of competitions; sports including volleyball, basketball, field soccer, court soccer, a running race, long jump, high jump, sack races, relays, penalty kicks and bike races. Others included performance competitions like dance, singing and painting and board games like chess. Then there were the goofy things like tortilla-making contest (men only), hot dog eating contest and wood chopping contest. Ending the week was a concert by a really good local band, fireworks, and a dance.

I can only tell you this was one of the most entertaining and fun week's of my life. My competitive spirit was most definitely ignited. I participated in nearly all the sporting events. I got second in the women's run and my team won the women's soccer, volleyball, soccer penalty kicks, and basketball free throws. We also took second in basketball. All the sports are divided into girls and guys competitions except the volleyball. I can honestly say it was the women on our team that carried us to a second overall finish. We were so close to first and actually we were in first place for much of the week, but then our guys lost in soccer, and took a pretty bad defeat in both tortilla making and hot dog eating. There was no way I was participating in hot dog eating, although they asked me, since I am “the Gringa” and gringos are supposed to love hot dogs. Right. I was asked to referee in several events as well. I reffed basketball which was scary because of how competitive and physical people were getting. I also was one of the refs in both tortilla making and hot dog eating. I never want to be that close to someone shoving wieners down their throat ever again. One guy had to walk away to puke. Nasty. One day was a type of obstacle course relay race that included climbing up this dirt hill, slithering under a plastic sheet, swimming through a mud bath thing, and a bunch of other stuff. I was the part of the relay that included a sprint down a hill and through a kind of mud hole that led to the basketball court for a free throw. It happened to pour rain on this day.... and I mean really pour. So you can imagine what we all looked like after climbing up sheer mud hills, etc. It looked as if we had been mud wrestling all day. And after this event was court soccer, so we all just jumped onto the court to play in our soaking wet muddy apparel. The court was full of mud puddles, but it was totally worth it when we won. I had mud ball marks on my face, chest, legs, everywhere. I got home and my host mom made me come in through the back door straight to the shower. Great fun. The women's race was a 2k. Doesn't sound like much I know, but shorter distances are actually more challenging for me than long one's, and the part that made this one super challenging was the fact that there is not flat place here. It was a run up a huge dirt hill and back down to the finish line at the field below. Sprinting back down the hill was scarier than anything else. But I did not fall to my death as I had pictured in my head prior to starting, and I sprinted through the finish line to secure second place at something like 12 minutes. It was a really tough run, but in that moment the sheer pleasure of team spirit, support, and the adrenaline of competition swept over me. This was unlike anything I had experienced before. Members of my team ran with me at different points. A guy on my team rode a motorcycle next to me with water. People lined the sides of the road and three of my teammates ran through the finish line with me, all the while urging me on, “vamos vamos, si se puede!”. This is the kind of thing I live for. The entire week transpired in this way; with passionate enthusiasm, support, encouragement, and the creation of unbreakable bonds. On the final night, fireworks were bursting into life in the darkening sky above when my team was called onto the stage to receive our medals. We charged the stage and began jumping up and down together chanting “azules, azules, azules” (blues, blues blues). I can't even explain the beauty of it, how much it meant to me to be a part of this team, this community, this family.

The dance was later that night, and everyone returned home to beautify in their flashiest attire. I embarked on learning the steps to meringue, salsa, kumbya, and raggaetone. After several different partners who assured me “si se puede” (yes you can), I gained some confidence and actually felt like I was fitting in on the dance floor. I bought a kumbya and salsa CD of the band as well. I really am growing to love the music genres here. They are very high energy.

On another weekend I traveled with my host mom to Tamarindo to visit her daughter and granddaughter who live there. I spent much of my time lazing on the beautiful beach that is walking distance from Gentry's house. I absolutely fell in love with 5 year old Yamilla (Betty's granddaughter). She ran on the beach with me and we found shells and drew our names in the sand. I also attended a motocross to watch Gentry's husband fly over dirt hills on his suped up moto. It was very entertaining. I was also able to see Playa Conchal, Playa Ventana, and Playa Grande, which are all in Tamarindo's general area. I swear beaches will never get old for me. I love swimming in the ocean, lying on the beach, running on the beach, sitting and watching the sunset/sunrise/waves. Although it is four bus rides to Tamarindo from my site, it goes relatively quickly and is relatively cheap. So I definitely plan to visit again.

English classes in my primary schools are in full swing. When vacation is over the kids will soon have a little quiz over the alphabet and some vocab. They take this very seriously and I was impressed with their interest in the syllabus I made for semester one. I have two groups of adults for Saturday English classes; level one and level two. Everyone seems pretty energized for some English every week. But my favorite thing is passing time chatting with community members on their porches in the afternoons. This is the thing to do here. And it is this time when I see the people who really want to learn English. They ask me to correct pronunciation, to tell them a certain vocabulary word. And of course I am learning new things every day. Every day is a lesson in Spanish, in Tico culture, and in life. Sure, I embarrass myself often out of sheer naivety, but I think that's part of the experience, and it shows I am willing to put myself out there, and that yes, I can do this. “Si se puede.”

Hogar Dulce Hogar (Home Sweet Home)

I have officially begun Peace Corps service as a Peace Corps volunteer. Tico 19 swore in as volunteers on Friday, May 29th on the beautiful sprawling lawn of the US Ambassador's house in the suburbs of San Jose. We all donned our finest clothes (for most of us, the only nice clothes we brought), and prepared to make one of the biggest commitments of our lives. The ceremony included speeches from important people within the Peace Corps and Costa Rican government, as well as some volunteers. Most significantly though was when we raised our right hands in the air and repeated the strong words of commitment that officially made us volunteers. The Ambassador read us the words and we repeated each line with heads high and proud, promising to uphold the commitment of Peace Corps and the United States as we serve the next two years of our lives in Costa Rica.

Shortly after this day I said heartfelt goodbyes to the family that hosted me for the three months of training in Jerico, San Jose. We exchanged contact information and gave teary-eyed embraces. Then I set off to my new home in Guanacaste. Again I took the 7am bus out of San Jose and approximately 4 hours later I arrived in Nandayure, one of the larger towns of the Nicoyan Peninsula. I had a two hour wait until the bus to Quebrada Grande departed, so I explored my new hub town, identifying the location of the bank, post office, a hardware store, and what can best be described as an office supplies store. Although this town is an hour and a half bus ride from my site and can only be reached two days per week, it is where I will have to take care of most of my shopping, mail, and banking. At 1pm I loaded onto the “microbus” with my bulging luggage and rattled and bounced my way to Quebrada Grande up and through the mountainous jungle of southern Nicoya. The distance is hardly anything when you look at a map, but you must consider the winding mountain roads and the fact that all the roads are dirt and rock and full of giant holes for which the bus often comes to a complete stop in order to bypass. After and hour and half and a few other stops, the bus halted in front of the Quebrada Grande pulperia and I hauled my bags off and entered my new “Hogar Dulce Hogar.” Many habitants of the small village recognized me from my site visit a couple weeks before, but not surprisingly, I was an object of curiosity, especially as I struggled to lug my giant pink suitcase up the steep rocky hill to my house. But I knew I was definitely home when I unlocked the outside door to my room and stepped in. Betty had put a soccer blanket on my bed after she discovered my love of the sport. She had also posted on the wall the pictures of family and friends I had brought and left when I first visited.

After unpacking and pretty much settling in, a new and strange feeling came upon me; I am here basically as my own boss, with my own schedule to make and my own goals to set and reach. The strange mix of instant freedom and my type A active personality jolted me for a time. It was an especially new feeling after three months of very intense training that included a packed schedule nearly every day of the week. It was also a big change to be alone in a sense. No more group projects of training, sessions in classes with my other trainees. Here I am, the sole representative of Peace Corps in this small place. Yet, after the initial shock, only excitement, enthusiasm, and ideas for my work here filled my mind, and now my biggest challenge is simply to not move ahead too quickly and actively in my projects.

But here's what has already begun to take shape: Starting the week of Monday June 1st I will be teaching English classes in the primary schools in Quebrada Grande and San Bosco. My site has a slightly interesting geography as San Bosco is a tiny village about a mile away (over another small mountain) houses a primary school as does Quebrada Grande. And strangely, the majority of students attending the San Bosco school commute from their homes here in Quebrada Grande. Therefore, I have 8 students at the San Bosco school and 6 at the Quebrada school ranging from 1st -6th grade. I will therefore be teaching two days per week at each school; Mondays and Wednesdays in Quebrada and Tuesdays and Thursdays in San Bosco from 1-2PM. I hope to occasionally plan activities that will bring the children of both schools together for field trips or other special events. The kids at both schools are very enthusiastic about starting English classes. I never remember being as excited about any class when I was their age. But I have had several of the kids approach me in town, eyes bright and questioning, and ask when I'm starting. It goes to reveal the life in the Costa Rican countryside a little bit more. There just aren't that many activities available to kids out here, and traveling to bigger places is expensive.

This leads to my next project. I have begun a girls soccer team that meets to practice and play every Tuesday and Thursday. I feel this project is important on many levels. First of all, womens sports are pretty much non-existent here. Boys play soccer every chance they get and there is a soccer field in every town, no matter how small. As much as life revolves around soccer here, it is starkly obvious that it is an activity of men. Of course, girls are big fans of the sport, and cheer vigorously along with the men when watching the games on television (very much like American football, wouldn't you say?). Yet, there is no organization for women and girls in terms of the sport. In addition, a girls soccer team promotes girls self-esteem as they realize they too have the ability to be an athlete, lead a healthy lifestyle, and organize themselves for something fun. So, at 3:30 (or 4... this is “Tico Time”) every Tuesday and Thursday, a little group of young women and girls forms behind me as I trot down the the long dirt road carrying my soccer ball to the soccer field in the valley below. If we can get enough people and become organized enough, I may even try to contact other small communities in the area to see if a game can be scheduled.

My next project is a facet of the incredibly organized Asociacion de Mujeres (Women's Association) here in Quebrada. The group already meets twice per week to care for the green house of orchids they sell to tourists when the season is right. Many of the women mentioned to me that they truly enjoy getting out of the house for the orchid care-taking both for the fresh air and bit of exercise as well as for the socialization. After some discussion with various ladies, I have scheduled a women's aerobics and walking group for Wednesday afternoons. (I have found that afternoons are the time to schedule events in this farming town.) The Rancho is a perfect place for aerobics. It's a nice flat new tile floor with a bamboo leaf roof and no walls- which is perfect in the tropical climate. It's something right out of a vacation movie scene and the community is very proud of the recent addition. The Women's Association raised the money to fund it. So I have begun sharing my experience of my last few years of attending cardio boxing, yoga, aerobics, step, and other exercise classes for about a half hour in the Rancho as a warm-up to a hike around the beautiful community. There is never a lack of caminatas (hikes) here as all the roads weave through jungle terrain and take you to some beautiful destination like the view of the coast from the top of one of the mountains, or a gorgeous little waterfall in the river below.

I also attend the meetings of the Junta (community organization) that consists of a president, vice president, secretary, treasurer, and two vocals. This is where the serious business comes up, and I only hope I can be of as much help as I know these community leaders hope I can be. Right now they are very much in need of a new aqueduct system for the town. The water currently shuts off randomly as the system is verging on 20 years old and is inconsistent and unreliable. The community is also in need of a new floor and lighting system in the salon comunal (central meeting hall). Currently there really is no floor, it's simply dirt. Also, the EBAIS is very inadequate for the population size. An EBAIS is a doctor's office provided by the country as part of the health care system. In small rural communities a doctor visits once or twice per month and he or she and an assistant use the facility to see patients. All the files of patients are also stored in this building. The one day I saw the doctor visit proved the need for a new facility. People lined up out the door waiting to be seen in the small office and the assistant was frantically working the books to get people seen. Obviously, it is not only the building that is to blame for the the situation, even though there is an obvious need for structural improvement. Socialized health care, like privatized health care has it's very negative aspects. Finally, the junta is very determined to open a computer center here in the town. There is a Costa Rican government organization that provides computers, computer equipment and set up all for free for those communities that officially ask for it and meet certain requirements. While I have been here I met with two men from the organization who came to inspect the community and determine if we are eligible. The surprise to me was that I am part of the requirements. First, a community must display the need for the technology, second, it must have a place to house the computers that is temperature-controlled, and third there must be someone in the community capable of teaching the other members how to use the computers. I am that someone it turns out, though I have always considered myself technologically-challenged, and I expressed very thoroughly my limited knowledge of the extensiveness of computers. Yet, after speaking to the representatives, they seemed very happy with the fact that I know basic programs such as Word, Excel, PowerPoint, and Windows in general. I guess my expertise comes from being part of my computer-saavy generation, even if I rank low on the totem pole compared to my peers at home. The only barrier of the junta in moving forward with this project is the location. There is a house in mind that is for sale and would be perfect for a computer center as well as offices for the association. Buying it is the next step. And there's a theme here; All of the aforementioned projects of the junta require money that just doesn't exist right now both in the community and the country in general. There are many organizations in Costa Rica that exist to support community development, but the junta president informed me they have sent proposals several times and been denied, as I'm sure many communities have been. They are hoping not only that I can help them “find” the money, but that I can also be influential in approaching organizations that would grant the funding. So yes, I feel a bit pressured, but I also know the community members and the junta members are aware of my purpose here, which is very much separate from finances and funding.

Finally, it would not be a hogar dulce hogar without me adopting a kitten. The cat of a couple in town had kittens a few months ago and they offered me one after seeing me ooh and ahh over the cute little things. His name is Mani (with a long 'a' meaning 'peanut' in Spanish). I love him very much and he has provided some companionship as someone to speak English to. My only slight disappointment in this situation are the rules regarding animals here. It's partially cultural, and it's partially just that this is the country, but animals are simply not allowed in the house, and the treatment of dogs and cats is very disciplinarian and physical, which has been difficult for me. I would love to cuddle with Mani in bed, but that is totally out of the question and he is forced to sleep outside in the dirt with the dogs. So he's dirty and has more chance for diseases and bugs in my opinion, which is part of the reason people don't let animals indoors here in the first place. Anyway, after years of having house cats, it's definitely an adjustment for me, but at least I have a mascota (pet). Speaking of animals, one day I was sitting in the living room with Betty watching Walker Texas Ranger in Spanish (a new favorite pastime for us), and the door to both my room and the front door were open, as most doors into homes are here in this climate. Also for clarification, most homes here are built with a room that is not actually in the house. It shares one wall with the house, but has its own outdoor entrance next to the front door, giving the impression of two front doors. My room is this outdoor room in our house and as I was sitting on the couch with Betty, I happen to glance out the door to the patio area and right then a long brown snake, probably three or four feet long, slithered silently into the my room through the open door. It happened so quickly I thought I imagined it and didn't react. But when I got up and walked out to look, there it was, under my bed, slithering around. And I'm ashamed to say I screamed like an absolute girl. At the last minute I attempted to muffle it, but it still came out at a high pitch shriek and of course Betty came running asking me what was wrong. And I forgot the word in Spanish for snake in my hysteria so I just kept kind of pointing a shrieking. And then I remembered the word- serpiente- duh. And Betty looked and also got a little freaked out by its size. We called across the street to the neighbor and he came over with his machete, reached under the bed and chopped off its head. Lovely. Then he pulled it out and deposited it in the open jungle. A few of the neighbors had come out of their homes to see what I was yelling about, but when they saw the long brown snake dangling from the machete, they just laughed at me in a friendly way. The sad part is, everyone told me this type of snake- a sabanera (I don't know what this translates to, but sabana is sheet)- is not a poisonous snake and just eats rat and rodents, which is actually good. So, I was sad we hadn't tried to get him out alive, but I also had no intention of trying to do anything. Ah, Peace Corps adventures.

This first three months of service is supposed to be the most challenging simply due to cultural integration, project start-up, and a general adjustment. I'm sure there will be bad moments and bad days, especially when I find myself missing family, friends, and activities I became so accustomed to at home. But I also feel the beginnings of a new and wonderful home here in my jungle paradise.

Quebrada Grande

In a fancy private country club in Alajuela on Friday May 8th, each member of Tico 19 finally learned their fate in terms of site location. You can imagine how much sleep any of us received the night before wondering where we would be living for the next two years of our lives. That morning the bus ride to San Jose felt longer than any other before it as we wound our way down the curving mountain road to the valley capital city. And the wait was prolonged even more when we loaded onto another bus to go to the wealthy suburb of Alajuela. I entered the place and felt like I was back in the States. People walking out with their tennis bags wearing Nike shirts and wrist bands, the glimmer of sweat on their brow from a workout. A giant pool lay in the center of the club, lined with sparkling tile. I felt like I was about to play in the Taos Open Tourney, but had forgotten my rackets. After a hurried breakfast served up in the dining area, we were herded to an outdoor area where a giant map of Costa Rica hung dauntingly in front of us. Tension and giddiness flooded the space as toes tapped impatiently and hushed whispers were shared between faces bright with anticipation. My fellow Jerico trainee Jessica happened to turn 24 on this day, and so she was given the honors of being the first to learn her site location. The staff blindfolded her, placed the marker on the map, then spun her around a few times. Then it was our job as the crowd to audibly lead her roaming hands to the correct point. After much feeling around she found it and discovered her site near Buenos Aires in southern Costa Rica. The pattern continued with several volunteers from each group being spun around in a similar game-like fashion, but soon the staff simply called each person up with a brief description of the site and then placed the marker on the map. We all screamed and cheered as each person made the discovery. I soon found that RCD volunteers were being called up in alphabetical order, so I waited with patience along with Danielle who has a 'W' last name as well. Together we were the conclusion of the session. I heard Moises FINALLY say, “and this next site is one where I see myself taking future vacations.” This was my introduction to my site in Guanacaste, and as I heard my name I rose with a giant smile on my face and a lightness to my step to see up close the marker he had just placed on the map. The site is two small communities; Quebrada Grande and San Bosco which are about 1.5km apart. The site is south of the larger town of Nandayure, or Carmona as it is sometimes called and is located in southern Guanacaste on the Nicoyan Peninsula. My site is about an hour and half ride south of Nandayure through rough mountain terrain. Many may not realize just how mountainous Guanacaste is throughout its center. It is known for its fine beaches of course, but its mountains too are something to admire.

A short week after learning our site location, we traveled with an assigned counterpart to the location for the final site visit of training. My counterpart's name is Oscar and he is the president of the ADI (the development group that exists in every community). It is important to have these counterparts as a sort of local boss- someone to turn to for help when needed and someone to work with on projects. I am very fortunate to have a very friendly counterpart who seems incredibly enthusiastic about me being in his community. After a day of meetings with the whole group- all volunteers of RCD, CYF, and CED and their counterparts- with Peace Corps, we each set off with our respective counterparts to our various destinations. And believe me, they did vary significantly. Daniel is as far south as you can get without being in Panama. He is in an indigenous reserve. Ashley is close to the southern border of the country, in a small farming community close to Nicaragua. And then I represent the farthest west in my southern point of the Nicoyan Peninsula in Guanacaste. There are volunteers scattered all over in between this in the Zona Norte, Zona Sur and Central San Jose region. My closest neighboring volunteer is from Tico 17 (meaning he will be leaving in September). He's in the town of Los Angeles about 30 minutes north of me. It is a larger town as he is a CED volunteer. Then Penelope, a Tico 19er is a little further north in Monte Romo. I wouldn't say I'm incredibly secluded like some. For example, Daniel must take a canoe for part of his journey. Yet, I am the furthest south on the peninsula and I only have a bus to my community two days per week; Monday and Friday at 5am with a return trip at 1pm from Nandayure.

My new host family consists of Betty and Memo; a couple in their fifties with two daughters aged 21 and 26. Both are recently married and moved out to other bigger towns in Costa Rica. Betty says I fit right in as the “middle daughter” now. My room shares a wall with the main house, but has its own outdoor entrance and lock. We have three dogs, a parrot, and a whole bunch of chickens. All of these animals are friendly and talkative so to speak. The family owns several parcels of land as most do in the community. They farm coffee and oranges and are mainly self-sufficient with gardens and natural plants and animals for food. On the first night I arrived, my new dad and a neighbor slaughtered a pig and barbecued up the meat for all kinds of delicious dishes. I spent much of the time cooking with my new mom as she is an amazing cook and cooks very healthily as well. She uses veggies in every meal and doesn't use a lot of oil. She also loves to teach me all these recipes. We made mango bread at one point and it was amazing. Kind of like banana bread, but heavier and with mangoes obviously. That was another part of the trip that is unforgettable; the mangoes. There are mango trees everywhere and so many mangoes are simply falling off the trees, ripe and ready to eat. But there are not enough people, monkeys, and insects combined to eat them all. So, many just lay there rotting in piles. I am warned this will only last for another month or so while mangoes are in season. I of course pick up as many ripe ones as I see to take back to the house and eat. Betty and I hiked a lot and we would often whip out our pocket knives and slice up a mango as a snack on the go. I feel very fortunate to have been placed with this family. Betty has a very like personality to mine; social, active, and opinionated, while Memo is quiet, sweet and easy-going. I felt right at home very quickly and didn't hesitate to begin setting up my room. I left many of my things there since I will be back in just over a week after the final touches of training and of course the ceremony to swear in as an official volunteer.

As for my site, the community seems very welcoming to me in general. They had a little introductory meeting at which I introduced myself to the junta (community group) and listened to some community members speak about their positions in the organization. We also discussed some projects the community has in mind. In general, the women's association of the community is very organized. They even have a fairly extravagant orchid garden they work hard to maintain. They then sell these orchids to tourists when the season is right. The group would like to do more projects like this that can bring extra income and they are especially interested in projects concerning the environment such as a recycling program. As for youth, I am surprised to find very few children in the community. Only 6 kids attend the local school ranging from 2nd-6th grade. The colegio (7th-12th grade) is located in Los Angeles and brings the first exposure to English classes. So, there is definitely a need for English classes, and after meeting with the teacher of the school, I know they will be scheduled easily into the students' schedule. I also will have classes in the other smaller community of San Bosco. They have even a smaller school, but there is also an interest in English classes there. Adults too in both communities would like to take classes once a week or so. I was surprised at how many community members approached me on their wish to learn the language. It has a lot to do with how quickly tourism has picked up in the last few years and how many Americans now come through the town. In fact, over half the land in and around the community is owned by Americans. Most of them are never there, and many of them have fancy big houses which remain vacant much of the time. This can be looked at positively or negatively. Positively, the need for maintenance of these properties creates jobs and brings in extra economic stimulations when these people come into the country. On the other hand, the gap between rich and poor in our world is more starkly seen and a community with so many empty houses never bodes well. Either way, knowledge of English is a coveted skill and I hope I can be a good teacher.

Overall, my site is absolutely perfect. The climate is warm to hot and humid. There are beautiful views and hikes everywhere. I am living in the jungle, the mountains, a river valley, and I am a short 45 minute car ride away from Playa Cayote- a beautiful local beach that is not yet fully touristy. From many of the mountain tops you can see the ocean in all it´s wonderful expanse. The grueling steep uphill hikes are worth every step when you reach the top and can look over the mountains below and the sprawling coastline. Pictures cannot do this justice, but you can count on me becoming quiet the photographer in this beautiful landscape. I will also need to invest in some rain boots and some crocs (or rip off crocs) for the rainy season which is September through November. I´ve been told it can get pretty nasty with washed out roads and such with all the rain. Sometimes buses can´t even get in and out. That probably won´t be a high point as I enjoy being outdoors and rain dampens (haha) the mood for that. But there is rain throughout the country and I am quite content with my site assignment. On May 30th this will be my permanent home after two bus rides totaling at about 6 hours from San Jose. I am eager to begin this exciting new chapter.

Home is where the Ticos are

After four bus rides totaling out at about 6 hours, my group of 9 RCD trainees arrived in Cristo Rey, CR. This community is probably too small to Google Map, but if you look up Los Chiles, CR and let your finger move to the southeast into that empty pixeled area you'll have an idea of where I was for the last week for site visit number 2.

This is a small farming community only about a 20 minute drive from the Nicaraguan border. The roads are red clay mud rolling over grassy hills and overlooking open fields that slope into a thick forested jungle marsh surrounding a slowly snaking river. There are cows everywhere and locals trot around on horses as a primary means of transportation. The majority of houses are government-issued cookie-cutter boxes with the same plaster walls and heavy tin roofs. Those who didn't qualify for the houses (mainly because they are Nicaraguan and not Costa Rican citizens) live in wooden shacks strewn together with nails and boards.

Despite the poverty, the people are some of the most friendly and happy I have ever met. Kelsey (the volunteer my group visited there) walked us through the community and we were welcomed with smiles and kisses on the cheek. We each lived with different families in the town and I was placed with a family consisting of a young couple and their three small boys along with their niece and her son. They also had a Futbolin (fuseball table) that brought hoards of neighborhood kids over to play.

Each day was a mix of Spanish classes, exploration, mini project planning, and teaching English in the local school. As a group we visited a different family for lunch everyday so as to experience a different home. I taught an hour long English lesson to 3rd and 4th graders, teaching them command words and playing several intense rounds of Simon Says. The project we carried out in site was a Peace vs. Violence charla (informational talk and activity) with 4th-6th graders. We split them up into small groups and each of the 9 of us facilitated a group. We then spoke to them (yes, in Spanish!) about different types of violence, how to deal with anger and sadness, and why peace is important. They were to draw pictures of what they thought of as peace and violence in their lives and we then placed all the pictures on a poster to make a Peace vs. Violence mural. It is astounding to see the depth of some of these students considering how little experience they've had outside their small community. I was in awe of their passion, creativity, and desire to learn.

We also attended a Cristo Rey ADI meeting. This is the community association that exists in Costa Rican communities but may or may not be active depending on the community. We witnessed Kelsey actively participate as the community board members discussed the building of a playground at the school, what the sports committee is doing, who will take over the officer positions for the next year, and much more. It took place in the town Salon Comunal made of rickety old boards slapped together on top of the natural dirt floor. It also acted as a bit of a sauna and some of the ladies took advantage of this by selling bags of flavored ice for 100 colones each (less that a quarter). The meeting progressed with some arguing, some applause, some cries of agreement and happiness as any meeting does. Kelsey even stood up to speak about how she has worked to get funding for the school playground. It should be built in the next few months. This is exactly what we are training to do; to be a working part of a community, leading them to improvement, facilitating their success. Seeing the tangible work of Peace Corps reminded me again of why I want to be a volunteer.

One evening I played soccer with the local kids on their red dirt (or clay depending on the rain) concha de futbol. They play barefoot, so I did too. I sprinted around with them, kicking the ball and dribbling rapidly toward my goal. My feet were callused and stained a semi-permanent pinkish color. They were surprised at this gringa's ability to actually play soccer. And they were all amazing of course. Everyone in Costa Rica can play soccer. It permeates all levels of socioeconomic status and ignites passion and competition in every age. The day I returned to Jerico, my womens team had a game and I again donned my number 8 uniform, Adidas shoes and shin guards, and trotted out onto a lush green field illuminated beneath bright, expensive lights. I was struck by the stark contrast of what I now see as a fairly wealthy San Jose suburb (Jerico) and the life of the campo (countryside) where I will most likely spend my next two years of life. I was also struck by the similarities. The same fiery will to play, the same goals (literally), and the same teamwork, friendship and laughter. This sport I love so much will be a wonderful tool.

One day we offered our time and our muscles to help haul water pipes and tubing to a house being built in town. Mano de obra, or manual labor, is a good way to show strength of character and pride in the community. Two hours later our muscles were burning and our clothes were covered in the community's famous red dirt, but we had moved hundreds of pipes and brick boxes into the shell of the new house. We then laughed and chatted and had caffeicito and arroz con leche with the local workers.

I woke early in the mornings to run before the extreme heat and humidity fully took effect. One morning took me to the host home of Leslie, a fellow trainee, as the family was milking cows. I of course had to try. Milking a cow is not as easy as it looks. Not only is a surprising amount of firm strength and pressure necessary to expel the milk, but the process is filled with challenges like dodging the feces when the cow decides to relieve itself during the milking. It is a common occurrence to be completely splattered. I was able to avoid that thankfully, but one of our Spanish instructors was not so lucky. We watched the processes of storing the milk for later sale as well as the making of cheese from the milk. These two products are the big income of the farms in this community. The Costa Rican cheese is very unique. It's called squeaky cheese and looks like a white sheet of rubber. When ground up I think it kind of tastes like parmesan, but it's definitely a unique taste. This farm house with it's many animals was also the place where we all had the opportunity to ride horses. I rode a large brown stallion and it was incredible. I felt some sort of connection with the animal and we even got up to a gallop at one point. It was comfortable and freeing and fun.

Nearly every night there was a downpour- I mean a real downpour. It woke me up without fail as it pounded down onto the tin roof as if wanting my undivided attention as it soaked and saturated the land. And this is dry season. You can tell it's dry season because during the day it only rains maybe once if at all. But I became accustomed to the nightly rage of water. This water fed the red dirt and often created the clay that cakes onto shoes in the most extraordinary fashion. When I look at this clay I of course think of the French Open, Rafael Nadal, or where I could build a red clay tennis court here....

I drank the juice out of a coconut- a pipa. All natural pipa juice is a common refresco here they have with meals. I also drank sugar cane juice or agua dulce. We crushed the sugar cane in a metal appliance that looked about a hundred years old and watched as the branches flattened and emitted the sweet sugary liquid into the attached bucket.

One night I returned to my family home to find a chacharra had flown into the house. This is the giant harmless insect that buzzes loudly through the night. It's hard shell is supported by long and detailed wings. My host brothers were a mix of fear, curiosity and excitement. The littlest baby boy (age 1 ½ ) loved it from a distance, but when we brought it close, he screamed in fear. The other boys enjoyed catching it and throwing it at me. This a is a fun game, as the bug almost always begins flying in the opposite direction from which it was thrown. It's sticky legs attach instantly to whatever it lands on first and with the large group of us in the room, it often stuck onto a person, creating all kinds of fun. The 5 year old brother's name is Christian and they call him Chris, which also happens to be what I am called in Costa Rica since the 'ten' at the end of Kristen is a difficult consonant in Spanish. He and I took to each other very early as we shared a name and a love of pineapple. He is shy, but drew me lots of pictures. On the last day, my family gave me a letter they had written telling me how much they enjoyed my visit and inviting me to come back again. Christian had painstakingly written a very detailed signature he had been practicing throughout the week. He even ran out and gave me a hug at the last minute before the bus arrived to take us away.

Reina is the niece that lives in the house with her baby. She is 15 and has only been through the 4th grade. One night she brought out a children's text book on learning English and asked if I would listen to her read in English. I was nearly brought to tears throughout the next two hours as we worked through pronunciation, vocabulary and other basics of the English language. English is incredibly difficult and yet so incredibly important to know in our world. Reina is Nicaraguan and has not had educational opportunities. Because she is not Costa Rican, she cannot attend the formal school here. But her passion to learn is so much stronger than I would have expected. I made correction after correction and each time she furrowed her brow in concentration and fixed her mistake. I am happy to report that Kelsey is working to open an non-traditional colegio (high school) for ANY adults and teens who want to learn. Kelsey will teach the English and hopes to find others willing to instruct other subjects.

On the final day of the week-long visit we took a trip into the jungle. We watched as the locals fished in the river using nets and a log with holes in it. There were no fishing poles in sight. They led us deep into a thick forested area where the majority of us received anywhere from 10-100 mosquito bites. Luckily, I was on the lower end of that spectrum since I had haphazardly sprayed on some repellente before the trip. It was here we saw the group of about 10 howler monkeys swinging in the thickness. I had heard their deep hoots throughout the night but hadn't seen them until now. They looked at us for a second, then lost interest instantly and continued their play high in the tree tops. We watched for a long time in awe of this natural siting. After much walking and a few more attempts at fishing in certain areas of the river, we came to the natural piscina (swimming pool). For girls, the American idea of a bathing suit is not really appropriate in this area. So we had our bathing suits under shorts and t-shirts and leaped into the river water. The bottom was all mud and as we climbed out to jump in again, our feet sank at least two feet into the soft malleable floor. Soon the locals led us around one more bend surrounding the natural pool and we were introduced to a gigantic tree with long, thick vines. One by one we ran with the vine and let it swing us far over the water below before letting go and plunging deep into the river. I must have done it twenty or more times and my arms ached from climbing out of the river and up the rock and mud wall below the tree.

We hoofed it back to the farm house muddy and soaked, but smiling from ear to ear and laughing loudly. When we got back we were surprised with a barbecue in our honor. They had slaughtered a cow and grilled it up for us along with arroz con pollo (a celebratory food). They also served up fruit like cantaloupe and pineapple that they grow right there on the farm. All the food we ate that night was naturally grown right there with no added chemicals. It was delicious and amazing and so much fun.

The next morning bright and early we climbed onto the first bus in the series of buses on our journey back to our training communities. We all felt pangs of sadness at leaving this magical place. We also all felt pangs of jealousy at Kelsey having this site. We each loved it for all of its aspects and on the ride home we chatted about how we hoped to get a site very much like it.

As I thought over the week on the ride home I left the bus window open and let the fresh Costa Rican air bathe my face and my lungs in the endorphins of my heightened happiness. I thought to myself, this country is magical, this country is now my home.

Semana Santa

I love my long walks and hikes throughout the mountainous wilderness of Jerico, Costa Rica during training. And during Semana Santa the Peace Corps gave us Thursday and Friday off in addition to the weekend for descansado (rest), or in my case, finally time for long hikes and runs. Well Thursday I began with this in mind. I took a nice long run around town, pushing myself up a few hills and finishing with a mild jog around the soccer field a few times. Then at about mid-morning my Tica twin sisters and Tico cousin Roberto said they were going on a hike to the “arbol con waco” or “tree with hole.” I had heard much about this local gem from my family and others, so of course I was on board. It was a pretty rigorous uphill hike over one of the mountains. Some of it was on a windy dirt road and when it got too steep, there were paved sections. Then we broke off of the road and into a thick forested area and onto a narrow path that shot steeply downhill on the other side of the mountain.

It was on this steep, narrow and rocky path that I rolled my ankle terribly. The spot was only a few meters from the magnificent tree and I could hear the laughter and mingling of the many visitors. As my left ankle rolled out onto the outer side of my foot in a small crevice of the path, I nearly fell to my knees in agony. I was able to remain upright, balancing on my right side and leaning heavily onto a tree, but I was hit with a strange and foreign sensation. It is best described as a very strong head rush. My vision clouded and darkened, and it sounded as if I were in a wind tunnel. The sounds of voices and wind and birds became faint and distant. I felt dizzy. One of the twins later told me my lips went totally white and I was wavering in balance. I think this must be what it feels like right before you pass out. Luckily, I didn't experience the full effect.

Strangely, I didn't have the urge to cry out or release tears of pain, it was simply nauseating. After regaining composure I was able to limp my way to the grand gift of nature. It was the most enormous tree I have ever seen, with giant protruding roots making up its trunk. People were climbing through its interior as the roots left a “hole” at its base. Others climbed high into the branches of the magnificent work. I obviously did not partake in this climbing expedition, but I sat, resting my incredibly swollen ankle and gazed up into its high reaches. Now was the going back part. Roberto fashioned me a handy walking stick and we began the trek back to Jerico and the house. Although going down was much easier on the lungs, it was actually more difficult on the ankle and I proceeded to tread very slowly, often shuffling sideways like you would do on skis if you were trying to make sure you didn't slide straight down the mountain. The others were very patient with me. I think they were nervous after seeing me turn ghostly white and nearly pass out. I felt so foolish and stupid. Here I was, in good shape, wearing my hiking boots, and I roll my dumb ankle. The others were in converse sneakers with no tread on the bottoms and they gallivanted easily down to the tree. I suppose you could say they know the terrain better, but I honestly think it was just a freak accident. And sometimes that just happens. It is a super bummer though, as it kicked off my four days of freedom as a gimp. Wonderful. So much for soccer and running this week.

We attended mass and other church festivities from Thursday through Sunday in celebration of Semana Santa, Good Friday and Easter (or here, “Resurrecion”). I also went to mass last Sunday, Palm Sunday and was fascinated by the ritual of it. The mass began outdoors and we were all given palms. We then processed into the church following the children as they gave a sort of skit. It was interesting to note the similarities and differences from my experiences of Palm Sunday in the States. I folded my palm into a cross as my friends and I used to do at St. Francis Cabrini, and everyone was fascinated by the idea. The twins wanted me to teach them how to do it. Semana Santa also brings out some unique types of food. I have been served a variety of meals this week that include a type of fruit called chiverre. It is sweet and has a strange, stringy texture, but when broiled (and my Tica mother broiled it for 24 hours), it becomes soft and delicious, especially when baked inside a pastry. The other favorite of mine that has been dished out this week is arroz con leche. It is amazing and has the texture of oatmeal. It is made with several types of milk and then boiled on the stove. It has totally become my comfort food. My Tica mother thinks it's strange I want it for breakfast... it is mainly just a dessert here.

Last weekend was a blast. About 15 of the RCDers took a trip to Jaco Beach, about three hours west of Jerico. On a map it looks like it should take about 40 minutes to get there, but you have to go through the mountains on the dilapidated narrow roads of Costa Rica. So we left at 5:30am to travel by bus to the popular and touristy Playa Jaco. I visited this beach in the summer of 2006 when I was staying in Flamingo, so it was very familiar. We spent the entire day battling some super strong waves, tanning in the soft sand, and playing beach soccer with my newly purchased soccer ball. (I figured this would be a good investment for my stay in Costa Rica). Check out my pics of the day on Facebook:

Peace Corps Orientation Retreat:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2082426&id=11600518&l=38ca3ad338

PC Training thus far in Jerico, CR:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2083400&id=11600518&l=7763d9f759

RCD Jaco Beach Trip:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2083827&id=11600518&l=a181a13954

PCV Visit: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2083481&id=11600518&l=0778e909fd

We are steadily approaching the midway point of training. Only 48 more days before swearing in as a true Peace Corps volunteer!

Mas o Menos Tico

I have recently returned from the PC Site visit where I “shadowed” the lovely Lindsay Webb. She's from Phoenix, Arizona and has been here two years. She'll be heading back home this month after the completion of her service. The site visit rocked. It was in Guanacaste near the beach and we were able to visit Playa Samura one day. I basically stayed with Lindsay for few days to observe her work and ask questions. I saw monkeys, helped her paint a world map on the elementary school and picked her brain for all the juicy Peace Corps details. Pictures of the trip should be on Facebook soon.

Lindsay taught English, was active in the community association, taught aerobics to a womens group, and much more. It was wonderful to see all the opportunities and possibilities. And let me tell you, this site was rural. Twenty minute drive in either direction along dusty, rocky mountain roads to the nearest town where there is Internet and phone. It was an extremely humid version of driving in the old blazer along the back 40 of Grammie and Grandpa's ranch. The other difference is that there is a beach about 30 minutes away. But, you have to cross a river to get to the beach, and that is really only possible in the dry season (which is now). Lindsay had a scare one time when she was trying to cross the river when it was too high. She thought she was going to be swept away because the current suddenly picked up, but luckily a local helped pull her across. The site is called San Pedro de Nandayure, near Carmona in Guanacaste. It is incredibly small- only a few hundred people. And a stark contrast of poverty near to summer beach houses of wealthy Westerners hangs in the humid air. The community loves Lindsay and I was awed by the experience in a very positive way.

The other trainees brought back similar stories of awesome visits in all kinds of places throughout rural Costa Rica. We compared and contrasted the experiences, projects, and general outcome of the trip. I for one have been revitalized to make it through the rest of training.

Next week is Semana Santa (Holy Week) in which we will be given a four day weekend (hallelujah... literally). I plan to partake in all the town's festivities which include a hike, a party (with a bunch of food according to my host sisters), a candlelight vigil, and some other interesting cultural things.

Soon after is the famous “VAC Dinner” (Volunteer Action Committee) on April 18th in San Jose at which all the Costa Rica PC volunteers come together to mingle and meet. It is supposed to be mountains of fun and we will all stay in a hotel in San Jose.

After that we will be officially half way through training. Yahoo.

In other amazing news, I somehow got myself onto a womens soccer team here in Jerico. (Found out there are no co-ed teams here... it's just not really culturally acceptable). I simply met a girl who was visiting the house one day (everyone is friends or family with everyone else here) and when she found out I played, she asked me to play that night with some other girls. After showing up, being decked out from head to toe in a uniform that included specific socks, shorts and a jersey that all say #8, I trotted out onto the field with 21 other highly competitive female players aging from 18-thirty-something. Wow... I have never been the weakest player on a soccer field, but the humbling experience only made me hungry for more. I was asked to join the team despite what I considered a pretty poor performance (it was raining and I was sliding everywhere in my indoor soccer shoes on the slick grass of the outdoor field). They even travel to other small towns to play. I hope that's feasible for me, and that Peace Corps allows it. The players all speak only Spanish, so I better learn all the soccer vocab quick.

So for now I'm back at the home base; Jerico. I've grown fond of it actually... even when it gets cold and wet and windy. Because now I have soccer, and I've also grown to love the many winding mountain roads and beautiful views. And we go into the city of San Jose every Friday which offers a nice change. Here are some things I jotted down on one of my walks through my mountain town when the mood felt right:

My Favorite Place

This is my favorite place
An overlook onto a great river valley,
Steep, jagged mountainsides compressed on either side.

Green, green, and more lush green
Sometimes you can see for miles south,
Deeper into the valley where the mountains fade into plains.

But today my favorite place is in a cloud

Everything damp and dewy from a recent downpour.
The air brisk and wet,
The grasses dance a slow dance in a moist breeze
Esta muy obscuro hoy.
The fog grows thicker and closer
I can see its movement as it makes love to the mountainside,
Caressing softly and slowly, quieting the busy life that chirps and hums and sings,
Readying for the night.
So thick, the fog brings early darkness, so calm,
Tranquilo.

This is my favorite place.

My first Costa Rican soccer game

Green and lush and mountainous
Cool breezes rush along winding valley roads.

When it rains, we're in a cloud, thick and cool and wet.
The power goes out and we wait for la luz.
Calm, dark silence hovers.

A Tico calls out a shrill whoop, echoing in the darkness.
A response comes wailing back from across the plaza,
A secret language, sounds of life.

The pulperia thrives; quiet chatter and commerce and caffeicito glowing under dim candlelight.
Motorcycles buzz loudly by,
Cutting through the country silence, overpowering the chatter momentarily.

Not rain or wind or extreme heat or cold
Can keep the jugadores de futbol home.
We wait and cheer as the flickers of light appear.
And out we trot onto the cancha,
the hum of excitement reverberating in the air.

The Birth of Tico 19!

Hola from Costa Rica! I have finally begun the adventure of a lifetime, and it is definitely an adventure thus far. Staging was a rapid fire four hour orientation in a Holiday Inn in Washington DC at which the 52 Costa Rica Peace Corps trainees finally met in person and received PC passports and many other important papers and forms. After a sleepless night and a departure from DC at 1AM, the group embarked on a four day retreat that felt like a mini summer camp at a gorgeous retreat center in the mountains near San Jose. It was different than summer camp however in that the days were long and full of intense learning sessions. By the time we let out for free time is was dark and the beautiful green soccer field remained untouched, much to my dismay. We played once on the very first day... the day that started at 1am eastern time, 11pm of the previous night in Costa Rica time. Who needs sleep when you have 51 other excited, nervous and energetic peers? For the four days the surface information of Peace Corps, the language exam, and Costa Rican culture was poured into our heads for 8 hours straight each day. Then came placement in communities and host families based on language ability, project program (RCD for me), and availability of host families. I am in Jerico, a very small mountain community south of San Jose. I live with an incredibly nice family. I have a Tica mom, twin Tica sisters (age 15), and a 19 year old Tico brother. My house is one in a sort of bundle of houses that all belong in the family. My Tica mother has seven sisters and three brothers. At least five of the sisters live in Jerico, and three live yards away as neighbors. It's a very tight knit family and I love how close they are and how much excitement is always happening. Every morning I wake to the smell of homemade tortillas and brewing cafe (coffee). I am also fed a host of delicious fruits daily as we have several fruit trees in our yard. I love the mango, the pineapple, and pretty much all the fruits that I am not spoiled with back home. The town is wonderful except for how cold it gets. We were told it is the coldest training community, and at night we get down into the 50's, so I really don't go out. I wish I had more clothing to support the climate, and I asked my host mother if I should have some sent to me. She doesn't think it's worth it considering it will begin to warm up significantly in April and I will only be here for the next 11 weeks. May 29th is the day we swear in as true PC volunteers (if we pass all the exams based on language and technical training) and May 30th we travel to the future sites at which the next two years of our lives will be spent.

Training is tough, and from what I've heard from current and past volunteers, the entire 11 weeks remains that way. It is supposed to be hard. It's supposed to challenge each person on every front. It is simply intense, and some people will inevitably leave the program. I heard several stories of last year's group and the 5 or so people who left for various reasons. Perhaps it's simply not right for some and there is no way of knowing that until later, I only hope I not only have the strength to make the commitment and follow through with it, but also that the entire process is the right thing for me. I am nearing the end of the first week of training and have experienced many challenges already. The language barrier is often the root of the difficulty. In English it is a challenging task to explain to people why we are here, what the Peace Corps represents, and the deeper reasons behind choosing to serve. I must do this is Spanish; a language I speak at the elementary level. In addition to this, we are given many challenging “assignments” which push us to leave our comfort zone, make fools of ourselves, and really reevaluate our personal choices. I feel I have had very little time to breathe in this process thus far. I hope it slows down a bit so I can catch up and possibly enjoy the training experience if possible. I want to get the most out of it, but my head and my heart are becoming full and tired already. It is fortunate that 52 people are going through the same experience. We all formed a fairly strong bond in the short retreat and it continues growing now even though we are spread into different communities. The RCDers (17 people) meet up every Wednesday for technical training and we are all also in somewhat of a cluster of communities that can be connected easily by bus. The 17 of us have become closer and more open with each other as we learn what community development means and what skills we each possess to aide in this grand task. Fridays all 52 volunteers meet in San Jose as Tico 19 to receive more general training. So each week (more or less) will contain the following: Monday, Tuesday, Thursday: Spanish class in Jerico all day; Wednesday: RCD Technical Training in Jerico all day; Friday: San Jose all of Tico 19 Training all day. Within this schedule are several “field trips” to observe current volunteers, etc. The last trip before the swearing in ceremony is to the site we will have been assigned. These sites will be determined after a series of interviews that take place throughout training. During these interviews we are able to voice our preferences in terms of site locations. So far I know I will ask for a warmer site.

Unfortunately here in Jerico there is no Internet Cafe and I am very limited in how often I can travel out of site. I may not check e-mail, etc. very often but on trips to San Jose I will try. Also, international calls are far more expensive than I thought ($6 for 20 mins or less!), so that will not be something I plan on unless it is necessary. I will hopefully be able to write, and I plan to receive mail at the Peace Corps headquarters in San Jose.



MY OFFICIAL MAILING ADDRESS

PCT Kristen Woodruff
Cuerpo de Paz
Apartado Postal 1266- 1000
1000 San Jose, Costa Rica

Love to all!