Thursday, May 21, 2009

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.

Monday, May 4, 2009

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.