That Beatles song is always running through my head here. People say ¨Adios¨ (¨bye¨) when they pass you in the street. Sometimes I´ll say Hola and the response I get is Adios...
Every place that I have gone in Costa Rica there are roosters that begin crowing before the sun rises and little dogs that bark aggressively and right when you think that you might get bitten a woman appears and yells calmly - as if all is normal and your life was never in danger. I´m going to miss this place.
This place has been a really important life experience for me, where I have learned mostly about myself. Here, I often feel that people are too kind, that I could be doing more or working harder, but any effort that I make or work that I do, the people seem so impressed with me. ¨Que valiente¨ they always say. So valiant. I don´t feel so valiant, but soon I will return to my country and the men will no longer constantly be telling me how beautiful I am and the woman will no longer be so incredibly impressed with my will to work outside and my ability to cook and life will be more how I expect it I suppose. I will be normal, not an anomaly.
I´m going to miss the people so much and the simple lifestyle. They buy milk from their neighbors and slaughter their own chickens and walk more than they ride, the showers are never hot, there isn´t glass covering the windows, people very very rarely eat out of the house, clothes are dried by the sun,... This life is rich. Everybody knows one another and greetings are hugs and kisses on the cheek. There is a lot of love in this community.
On my last day my mind is filled with preparations for leaving, loose ends here that need tying, excitement for something new, anticipation for the unknown, and the difficulty of leaving the people that I´ve met here knowing that I will likely never see most of them again, which comes with the desire to make evident how much I really really love them and the seeming inability to convey how strong my feelings are...
Pura vida, twenties, buenísimo, adios Costa Rica
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Friday, October 23, 2009
Tierra
"This coffee is going to the Un
ited States!¨ Francisco was glowing with pride. I spent the better part of five hours that morning picking coffee with Francisco on his farm. His entire family participated, which included his wife, Maritza, and his children: Jose 17, Jalitza 15, David 12, and Estefanie 4 - she wasn´t quite as helpful, but she was eager. The process was really beautiful especially when I was able to push aside the coffee-picking stories of spiders that give you huge welts or make you temporarily go blind or the snake bites that send you to the hospital or the catapillars that give you a mean sting. Such tales found little opportunity in my thoughts that morning, as my head filled with the constant Spanish conversation of the entire family and my hands raced to pick as fast as I could - I definately only had Estafanie beat in speed. The job seemed somewhat daunting as we raced through maybe one third of a hectare and the plants stretched across 5 hectares in total. Red is the color of ripe, but the season was early yet, so, like in most agriculture, we picked yellow to red. Some plants had to be thoroughly searched to find a few ripe beans, while others were dripping in red. When the rain began to fall at 11:30 I realized that we would never ´finish´this task. We walked to the house in a steady shower at 12; it was difficult to pass the large clusters of red. The family would return after lunch, but with the rains many of the ripe beans would fall, especially if not picked today - how could they pick everything?
A lot of things poured through my mind that morning with Francisco´s family. His son, Jose, loved working on the farm and was Francisco´s right hand man in every project. He went to school on the weekends and at night so that he could work in the field during the day. He would graduate in December and was planning on going to a university to study criminal justice. Although he hoped to find a job close to home afterwards and have a farm of his own, I wondered how altered Francisco´s life would be without him. I suppose David would step up to fill the gap, and then after that? Was it so different from American farm faimlies? Maritza worked in the field as well, which was different for Costa Rican households. I admired her for having such a large family and taking care of them and working hard outdoors. I wanted every person who says that women belong in the house taking care of their children and home to see her example. This ´house-bound´role for women is accepted here by men and women.
For large amounts of time Francisco talked to me about organic verse sustainable agriculture and how he produced very high quality products that on a rare occassion needed chemicals to prevent disease. He told me that there is no such thing as bad soil, only bad farmers. As he said that to me, I was struggling to keep my balance on the steep graded hill that his coffee was planted on. The ground was wet and incredibly slippery, since the soil here was mostly fine clay that had poor nutrient retaining qualities. His coffee plants did look healthy though and the row crops that he grew rested in rich, black soil that he had built up with compost over the years. He was a good farmer.
Markets drove the workers here like in the rest of the world. Fa
rmers learned to diversify their crops after the coffee crisis that devastated a lot families. Francisco grows over 30 different crops on his land other than coffee and all of them can be sold at different times as the market changes, but they always provide his family with food. Currently, coffee sold to America is his largest income. The other farmer that I work with, William, is glad to be out of the coffee business and only grows and sells row crops. My project with him is helping him start hydroponic lettuce, which Francisco says is for people without soil.
The people in this place are hard workers and take pride in their work, but simultaneously work in a more relaxed state. The ´pura vida´attitude is engaging and I´m glad to get a taste of it. I wish that more people in America could put these faces behind the products they purchase. Every piece of food that is consumed was grown sustainably or insustainably by a farmer or a corporation. Coffee is the second largest commodity that is traded in the world and most people choose cheap coffee that is destroying the land and lining the pockets of incredibly wealthy corporate individuals, as the farmers that produce it can barely feed their families and do not have the diverse crops to supplement their needs. Every choice we make is supporting something and in America we have the choice thanks to consumerism to support something good. Products that are certified Fair Trade mean that the farmers who grew them receive a fair price, that´s how Francisco is able to make money off of his small sustainable farm and not be another victum of NAFTA´s ¨free¨ entirely injust trade.
ited States!¨ Francisco was glowing with pride. I spent the better part of five hours that morning picking coffee with Francisco on his farm. His entire family participated, which included his wife, Maritza, and his children: Jose 17, Jalitza 15, David 12, and Estefanie 4 - she wasn´t quite as helpful, but she was eager. The process was really beautiful especially when I was able to push aside the coffee-picking stories of spiders that give you huge welts or make you temporarily go blind or the snake bites that send you to the hospital or the catapillars that give you a mean sting. Such tales found little opportunity in my thoughts that morning, as my head filled with the constant Spanish conversation of the entire family and my hands raced to pick as fast as I could - I definately only had Estafanie beat in speed. The job seemed somewhat daunting as we raced through maybe one third of a hectare and the plants stretched across 5 hectares in total. Red is the color of ripe, but the season was early yet, so, like in most agriculture, we picked yellow to red. Some plants had to be thoroughly searched to find a few ripe beans, while others were dripping in red. When the rain began to fall at 11:30 I realized that we would never ´finish´this task. We walked to the house in a steady shower at 12; it was difficult to pass the large clusters of red. The family would return after lunch, but with the rains many of the ripe beans would fall, especially if not picked today - how could they pick everything?A lot of things poured through my mind that morning with Francisco´s family. His son, Jose, loved working on the farm and was Francisco´s right hand man in every project. He went to school on the weekends and at night so that he could work in the field during the day. He would graduate in December and was planning on going to a university to study criminal justice. Although he hoped to find a job close to home afterwards and have a farm of his own, I wondered how altered Francisco´s life would be without him. I suppose David would step up to fill the gap, and then after that? Was it so different from American farm faimlies? Maritza worked in the field as well, which was different for Costa Rican households. I admired her for having such a large family and taking care of them and working hard outdoors. I wanted every person who says that women belong in the house taking care of their children and home to see her example. This ´house-bound´role for women is accepted here by men and women.
For large amounts of time Francisco talked to me about organic verse sustainable agriculture and how he produced very high quality products that on a rare occassion needed chemicals to prevent disease. He told me that there is no such thing as bad soil, only bad farmers. As he said that to me, I was struggling to keep my balance on the steep graded hill that his coffee was planted on. The ground was wet and incredibly slippery, since the soil here was mostly fine clay that had poor nutrient retaining qualities. His coffee plants did look healthy though and the row crops that he grew rested in rich, black soil that he had built up with compost over the years. He was a good farmer.
Markets drove the workers here like in the rest of the world. Fa
rmers learned to diversify their crops after the coffee crisis that devastated a lot families. Francisco grows over 30 different crops on his land other than coffee and all of them can be sold at different times as the market changes, but they always provide his family with food. Currently, coffee sold to America is his largest income. The other farmer that I work with, William, is glad to be out of the coffee business and only grows and sells row crops. My project with him is helping him start hydroponic lettuce, which Francisco says is for people without soil.The people in this place are hard workers and take pride in their work, but simultaneously work in a more relaxed state. The ´pura vida´attitude is engaging and I´m glad to get a taste of it. I wish that more people in America could put these faces behind the products they purchase. Every piece of food that is consumed was grown sustainably or insustainably by a farmer or a corporation. Coffee is the second largest commodity that is traded in the world and most people choose cheap coffee that is destroying the land and lining the pockets of incredibly wealthy corporate individuals, as the farmers that produce it can barely feed their families and do not have the diverse crops to supplement their needs. Every choice we make is supporting something and in America we have the choice thanks to consumerism to support something good. Products that are certified Fair Trade mean that the farmers who grew them receive a fair price, that´s how Francisco is able to make money off of his small sustainable farm and not be another victum of NAFTA´s ¨free¨ entirely injust trade.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Peeping
I went to brush my teeth in the designated ´tooth brushing room´. It was a mud room with a large tile sink and the washer and dryer machine. The dryer machines here were different; they just spun the clothes without heat and so they still had to be hung up afterwards. Before, it hadn´t really been significant to me that Aurora´s (my homestay mom´s) undergarments were hanging in this room from the ceiling on a circular devise, similar to a hanging basket, but just the rim with clothes pins on little chains. It was early that morning that the practice became very visible to me. The devise rested right at eye level and was placed just off-center of the tooth brushing sink. One would struggle to not at least notice its presence and if the underwear was bright colored, - as almost all of mine were that hung that morning - one may even be intrigued to look. As I stared at my own hanging undergarments, I thought of my father Jaukin and my older brother Yeisin. What did they think of my colorful underwear?
That night Yeison and I got back late from roller skating. Aurora and Jaukin were already in bed. The house was dark and I went to brush my teeth. Yeison had beaten me to it. I could not go in that small room with him and my underwear, so I went to my room to wait. Emerging with a clear coast, all of the lights were out and I had no idea where the switches were... I made it to the room and began brushing my teeth in the dark. Something was in there with me. The nose of movement on cardboard, something of reasonable size. A cat? A very large bug??? Where on earth is the light!? I quickly got out of the room (barely escaping alive) and retrieved my headlamp. There was a box on the floor, but inside was ...? Baby chicks.
Since that night, I´ve seen little peeping boxes everywhere. On the bus, at people´s houses, being carried down the street. Everyone here keeps chickens for meat and some for eggs. I´ll help my family slaughter theirs in November.
That night Yeison and I got back late from roller skating. Aurora and Jaukin were already in bed. The house was dark and I went to brush my teeth. Yeison had beaten me to it. I could not go in that small room with him and my underwear, so I went to my room to wait. Emerging with a clear coast, all of the lights were out and I had no idea where the switches were... I made it to the room and began brushing my teeth in the dark. Something was in there with me. The nose of movement on cardboard, something of reasonable size. A cat? A very large bug??? Where on earth is the light!? I quickly got out of the room (barely escaping alive) and retrieved my headlamp. There was a box on the floor, but inside was ...? Baby chicks.
Since that night, I´ve seen little peeping boxes everywhere. On the bus, at people´s houses, being carried down the street. Everyone here keeps chickens for meat and some for eggs. I´ll help my family slaughter theirs in November.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Extracurricular
Rain falls steadily from the sky. The sound is subtle and comforting, but the presence is strong. Where will I go with all of this rain pouring down... it entraps me. This is the beginning of October, the rainiest month here and my two-week anniversary. Life has picked up.
Mike arrived last Monday and another Gringo in the village has made life more exciting. Last week social events included dancing lessons, a river excursion to a beautiful waterfall, cruising the town, playing pool, roller skating to music in a gym, soccer practice, and a long hike to see a potentially incredible view, which was actually just a ton of fog. The town is quiet, but fun is here. I´m learning what young people around here do for fun, which brings me to my older brother: Yeison.
There had been a problem with the electricity I believe. That was why every single time that I arrived home they were all working on the car. Although it belonged to Yeison, his brother Octavio and sister-in-law Marisol spent long amounts of time on it. One day when I got home Mari was detailing with a tooth brush. The list of what this car doesn´t have would be easier to cover - a hot tub -, but to paint a clearer picture it is royal blue with impossible to see through tinted windows, very large built-in speakers, the extended bottom, a DVD player for the driver?, fancy blinker lights on the mirrors and crazy blue lights on the stick shift, tires with nice rims, and probably a bunch of other things that I don´t appreciate. Basically, this ride is pimped. So, when Yeison takes me out in his sweet ride, we drive a mile to Agua Buena, get a drink at the bar and then park on the side of the road (with all of the other very pimped rides) and sit on the curb of the sidewalk to hang out with everyone else. Such is the night life that I know in this town and the afore mentioned. As the rain begins to fall more frequently I wonder how motivated I will be to go out on foot.
Mike arrived last Monday and another Gringo in the village has made life more exciting. Last week social events included dancing lessons, a river excursion to a beautiful waterfall, cruising the town, playing pool, roller skating to music in a gym, soccer practice, and a long hike to see a potentially incredible view, which was actually just a ton of fog. The town is quiet, but fun is here. I´m learning what young people around here do for fun, which brings me to my older brother: Yeison.
There had been a problem with the electricity I believe. That was why every single time that I arrived home they were all working on the car. Although it belonged to Yeison, his brother Octavio and sister-in-law Marisol spent long amounts of time on it. One day when I got home Mari was detailing with a tooth brush. The list of what this car doesn´t have would be easier to cover - a hot tub -, but to paint a clearer picture it is royal blue with impossible to see through tinted windows, very large built-in speakers, the extended bottom, a DVD player for the driver?, fancy blinker lights on the mirrors and crazy blue lights on the stick shift, tires with nice rims, and probably a bunch of other things that I don´t appreciate. Basically, this ride is pimped. So, when Yeison takes me out in his sweet ride, we drive a mile to Agua Buena, get a drink at the bar and then park on the side of the road (with all of the other very pimped rides) and sit on the curb of the sidewalk to hang out with everyone else. Such is the night life that I know in this town and the afore mentioned. As the rain begins to fall more frequently I wonder how motivated I will be to go out on foot.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Farming
The people here are so kind. I FINALLY got to get my hands dirty today :) They´ve been too clean for too long. I spent the morning working with William the owner of one of the farms that I´ll be working on for the next few weeks. One of the main projects there is setting up hyrdropontic lettuce, but today we started out picking tomatoes and eating really delicious oranges. I had a really great time with him and thankfully understood almost everything he said.
We visited the other farm that I´ll be working on yesterday and they are also a really sweet family. Francisco the owner is growing a lot of lettuce and celery, as well as lots and lots of coffee, but the lettuce has developed a blight that is destroying it and the celery is showing signs of a blight as well. My job is to find a cure - hopefully organic, but Francisco just wants to be able to sell his product and feed his family.
A week here has passed so fast. I love learning about the people. I´m really glad that the farmers are happy to work with me and teach me. I have chosen to do ´trabajo de hombres´ (men´s work) as my homestay mother calls it, but I suppose that the people here have become accustomed to the Gringas.
Some important vocab words - Americans are Gringos. Costa Ricans are Ticos. Ojo de Gallo is the fungus that is destroying coffee in Coopabuena. Costa Rica is where the best coffee in the world is grown. Coopabuena is where the best coffee in Costa Rica is grown. Mai is dude. Catholic is the only true religion.
So I learn...
We visited the other farm that I´ll be working on yesterday and they are also a really sweet family. Francisco the owner is growing a lot of lettuce and celery, as well as lots and lots of coffee, but the lettuce has developed a blight that is destroying it and the celery is showing signs of a blight as well. My job is to find a cure - hopefully organic, but Francisco just wants to be able to sell his product and feed his family.
A week here has passed so fast. I love learning about the people. I´m really glad that the farmers are happy to work with me and teach me. I have chosen to do ´trabajo de hombres´ (men´s work) as my homestay mother calls it, but I suppose that the people here have become accustomed to the Gringas.
Some important vocab words - Americans are Gringos. Costa Ricans are Ticos. Ojo de Gallo is the fungus that is destroying coffee in Coopabuena. Costa Rica is where the best coffee in the world is grown. Coopabuena is where the best coffee in Costa Rica is grown. Mai is dude. Catholic is the only true religion.
So I learn...
Broken Camera
My camera broke. When I woke up that morning the clouds were heavy on the hills. The sun broke through the mist and illuminated the landscape - demanding a picture. So, I snapped a few shots and turned off my camera, but the lens wouldn´t shut... that remains the last time that it functioned.
Merlin the intern coordinator and I planned to go to Conoas to get a new camera the following day. Although that night I faced my first round of the infamous TD (traveler´s diarrhea), I knew that I had to pull myself together because I really wanted a camera. So, I skipped breakfast, which is equivalent to telling my homestay family that I´m not going to breathe this morning and I walked down to the coopertiva to meet Merlin. My stomache was not happy. Fortunately Merlin found a friend that would take us on the crazy windy drive to the boarder town with Panama. The car climbed up steep hills and wrapped and wrapped and wrapped around the mountain and now began the downward spiral... it occured to me - I´m going to throw up. The car stopped fast, I threw up a lot, and we proceded on our journey. Canoas was a crazy boarder town with lots of people and stores, something like Chinatown, but different. I successfully found a camera for a reasonable price and some shoes for indoor soccer and we were off. I slept the entire ride home and the rest of the day. That evening I sat with my homestay parents in the living room discussing remedies to my diarrhea - aiy. I woke up better the next day.
Merlin the intern coordinator and I planned to go to Conoas to get a new camera the following day. Although that night I faced my first round of the infamous TD (traveler´s diarrhea), I knew that I had to pull myself together because I really wanted a camera. So, I skipped breakfast, which is equivalent to telling my homestay family that I´m not going to breathe this morning and I walked down to the coopertiva to meet Merlin. My stomache was not happy. Fortunately Merlin found a friend that would take us on the crazy windy drive to the boarder town with Panama. The car climbed up steep hills and wrapped and wrapped and wrapped around the mountain and now began the downward spiral... it occured to me - I´m going to throw up. The car stopped fast, I threw up a lot, and we proceded on our journey. Canoas was a crazy boarder town with lots of people and stores, something like Chinatown, but different. I successfully found a camera for a reasonable price and some shoes for indoor soccer and we were off. I slept the entire ride home and the rest of the day. That evening I sat with my homestay parents in the living room discussing remedies to my diarrhea - aiy. I woke up better the next day.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Familia
"I need someone to wash my clothes, to cook for me, to take care of me. I need my mother." When my 32 year-old, male co-worker said these words I could not help but think: pathetic and wash your own clothes. The great difference between himself and me was our culture; he is Brazilian and I am very American.
Here in the small village of Coopabuena this characteristic of a family-centered culture is even further enforced. My mother is so kind to... everyone. Since I arrived yesterday she has been so attentive to any hunger pain that I might experience, as well as those of every person that enters the house from her son´s friends to the man who came to take pictures in order for them to consolidate their loans. She añready alerted me to the fact that she will wash any dirty laundry that I have. Her fulfillment is in caring for those around her.
The concept of family and responsibility is so broad in this world. In America the idea of being constrained to such a role for many women is a complete nightmare. For most here it is natural and a dream to have a family to care for. Children will remain in their parents houses until they marry and start a family of their own, if this hasn´t happened before they are thirty, forty, etc. this is not a problem. One culture that puts great emphasis on individuality and personal achievement and another whose most important accomplishment is family.
Here in the small village of Coopabuena this characteristic of a family-centered culture is even further enforced. My mother is so kind to... everyone. Since I arrived yesterday she has been so attentive to any hunger pain that I might experience, as well as those of every person that enters the house from her son´s friends to the man who came to take pictures in order for them to consolidate their loans. She añready alerted me to the fact that she will wash any dirty laundry that I have. Her fulfillment is in caring for those around her.
The concept of family and responsibility is so broad in this world. In America the idea of being constrained to such a role for many women is a complete nightmare. For most here it is natural and a dream to have a family to care for. Children will remain in their parents houses until they marry and start a family of their own, if this hasn´t happened before they are thirty, forty, etc. this is not a problem. One culture that puts great emphasis on individuality and personal achievement and another whose most important accomplishment is family.
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