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!

Only Days Away

Logistics have begun to fall into place. I now know that Washington DC will be the location of my staging event. On March 10th at 6AM I will fly out of the Albuquerque Sunport, make a stop in Dallas, and arrive in the capital city at 1:05PM. After checking into the Holiday Inn Georgetown I will join my fellow Costa Rica volunteers for a brief training regarding safety, logistics, and personal commitment to PC from 3 to 7PM.

Then, continuing with the early bird pattern we will depart the Washington Raegan Airport at 6AM for Costa Rica with a layover in Miami. My favorite part of the itinerary for the morning of March 11th, 2009 is the bold "1:30AM Checkout of Hotel." Yes, this is not a typo. 1:30AM has been nominated as the start of our day, probably because that's the window of time necessary to organize a sizeable group for departure via air. If the rest of the Costa Rica clan is anything like myself, the adrenaline rush of the experience will replace the need, and perhaps even the ability to sleep that night anyway. This will be a splendid way to get to know my colleagues. I can picture it now... we will be rushing around frantically lugging the personal items which are to sustain us for two years; crowding around each other in a herd of excited explorers preparing to take on our planet's problems; nervously laughing and chatting; making last-minute phone calls to loved ones in the wee hours of the morning; having the constant feeling of forgetting something important. Ah, travel.

Now to copy one of my fellow CR volunteers, Rebecca (since copying is the highest form of flattery),

A few things I will miss while in Central America:

1) My tennis team(s) and tournaments
2) My soccer teams(s) and tournaments
3) The Sandia Mountains
4) Satellite Coffee (Although I am sure I will not have trouble finding coffee in Costa Rica)
5) Comida de Nuevo Mexico (chile verde y rojo)
6) My 60-something pairs of shoes
7) 93.3FM
8) The monthly arrival of Tennis Magazine and Fitness Magazine
9) Deep and thoughtful conversations about the existence of god, the meaning of life, and our country's political situation with my nerdy friends
10) My mom
a. venting to my mom
b. crying to my mom
c. calling my mom randomly
d. traveling/partying with my mom
11) The friends and family who give me so much in every way
12) My cell phone... although it's probably good to break with my addiction to it
13) Sports and Wellness, specifically Cardio Boxing class with CJ

I'm sure there's more, but that's good for now. Eighteen days until departure.... wow.

And so it begins...

It's only January now, but I live in a state of energized excitement and slight trepidation as I wait for March 9th, 2009. This is the day I will fly to a two day staging at a yet to be determined US city. Following this sure to be hectic event I will fly to Costa Rica with a group of other Peace Corps volunteers to embark on a 27 month excursion of volunteerism, learning, and challenges.

This is simply my introductory blog in which I wish to introduce myself and my reasons for blogging. I hope for it to be a resource for myself and others regarding my life as a Peace Corps volunteer in rural Costa Rica. Through my research and reading I have learned that my project may limit my access to technology such as Internet, so my blogging may be sparse at times, but hopefully well worth the wait.

As a first entry topic for this blog, I would like to say that I was disappointed when I first received my assignment for Peace Corps. My reason? I have spent a significant amount of time in Costa Rica... traveling to three different regions within the country and exploring much of its attractions. From the very first interview with PC, I was honest about my preference to not be assigned in Costa Rica due to the fact that it is the only country in the Central and South American region to which I have traveled. I said I would be happy with any other location. When the final phone call came in December to make sure I was prepared to commit to Peace Corps, I was asked again about location preference and again I stated I would rather not be assigned to Costa Rica considering my previous experience there. And yet, when the Fed-Ex package came the next day, the assignment booklet clearly stated Costa Rica as my assigned location. I couldn't believe it. I was completely shocked and quite honestly, I was irritated.

After the initial fuming, I calmed down and the thought entered my mind that I was placed in Costa Rica partially due to my previous experience there. Perhaps it would be beneficial. I also gained more confidence in the assignment as I read about the many parts of Costa Rica that are not wealthy from tourism and need significant help in promoting the economy, education, and local stability.

Overall, I've decided to be thankful and positive about this placement. I need to learn to be flexible and accept not having complete control. I will be doing the type of work I had hoped for, and I know that Costa Rica is a beautiful country with much to offer. I only hope I can offer its people something in return.