Before I left for Costa Rica, I corresponded briefly with Glory, the volunteer who lived in Potrero Grande last year. In an e-mail, she promised to fill me in on her experience. She said she "had a great year, with lots of ups and downs."
When I wrote her back asking for details, she never replied. I asked my field director about the lack of communication and stressed that I really wanted to hear more about those "downs" Glory had mentioned. She said vaguely it had something to do with some health issues. I opened my mouth to ask what kind of health issues but stopped short of speaking.
Glory did eventually write me back to say she was busy trying to resettle in the U.S. and has answered several questions I've had about my site. I never asked about her health issues, and she never brought it up.
Yesterday, one of my fellow volunteers, Paul, left the beach to go to the hospital in San Jose. He first got sick after his visit to his year-long site, which is in a small, remote pueblo on the northern Pacific coast. All week, he has been feeling tired and sick at his stomach. Each day he's looked a little thinner, a little weaker.
This morning, Paul and I were the first ones to reach the school. He explained that he has not one but two bacterial infections and not one but two parasites. The doctor gave him medicine and sent him back to Orosi.
I relayed this information to one of the assistant field directors and a return volunteer today on our walk to lunch. After I walked ahead a bit, the asistant field director, who also volunteered here last year, turned to the other return volunteer and said, "Remember Glory had a parasite all year last year."
And then the puzzle came together. Parasite. Glory. Potrero Grande. Health issues.
"Close your ears, Jennifer," the assistant field director said as I slowly turned my head toward him.
Too late.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Tranquilo
I survived my trip to Potrero Grande.
By the time my friend and I got on the bus yesterday morning, we were completely frazzled. It had been sort of crazy getting from Orosi to San Jose and then to the hostel the night before, and the hostel is really no place to get sleep. I was up at 4 a.m. because I couldn't wait to take advantage of the hot showers, then the taxi was there to pick us up at 7.
We at first sat in the wrong seats on the bus, so the bus driver moved us. My traveling partner, who was overly nervous about the whole trip, kept asking if we were in the right seats. Finally, a little boy stood up and with much compassion and in English said, "Don't worry."
"Don't worry. Be happy," my friend said, finally relaxing.
Five hours later, the bus dropped me off in the middle of nowhere. The only thing there was a little soda, or small restaurant. The lady behind the counter picked up her cell phone immediately and said something to it in Spanish. Then she pointed at me and said what I assumed to be, "Your family is on its way."
I sat down and wondered what was about to happen. The soda is sort of outside, with just four posts and a roof. It was so hot. And I was getting nervous. Would I like my new family? Would my new family like me? Would they be patient and try to talk to me? Would I make a good impression? Would it always be this hot? Then a teenage boy came from nowhere and sat down at the table beside mine and started whisling and singing quietly to himself.
"Doo-do-do-do-do-d-do-d-do. Don't worry. Be happy."
Twice in one day! It had to be a good omen. So I stopped thinking and just watched the sweaty farmers stop by the soda for cool drinks. It was so hot. It was hot like the hottest day of the summer in Arkansas. So hot.
Then a truck circled in, and the lady behind the counter looked at me and pointed at the truck. It was my host mom. She gave me a big smile, and we kissed on the cheeks. We hopped in the truck and down a dusty gravel road we crept.
It smelled like my hometown, DeWitt, like plants and dirt. It was very tranquilo, or peaceful. The trees along the road were coated in dust. I could see fields of crops, but I didn't recognize the plants.
When we finally got to the house, I met my three host sisters. They were really friendly and asked me a thousand questions, all very slowly. They showed me to my room -- a tiny, tiny rectangle with just enough space for a single bed and a table with a fan on it. One wall has windows that open to the living room, and the door is split in two, so I can open just the top half if I want. I have my own shower and toilet, but I have to use an outside sink to brush my teeth.
One side of the living room opens to the outside, with metal bars 3/4 of the way down instead of a wall. It's that hot. And, of course, there's no air conditioning. I sat outside in a hammock with the family in the shade, then hung out with one of my host sisters in the pulperia. A pulperia is a tiny store that sells sodas and snacks and basic household items. The front of my family's house is a pulperia, which is good because people are always around.
My family's pulperia is really more like a concession stand. People don't walk inside it but up to it. Farmers were coming and going all day and into the evening, getting cool drinks and food. One farmer came up to the window on his horse.
Later, after it cooled down some, my two youngest host sisters (13 and 17) took me for a walk around town. There wasn't much to see, just a few houses, some broken-down buses and a couple of bars. We also went to the school where I will be teaching. It was pretty much just a big rectangular building with open walls. The rooms are nice and big, though, and there are chalkboards.
I slept well last night even though it was hot. This morning, my host mom walked me to the bus stop at 6 a.m., gave me some instructions in Spanish that I didn't understand and shoved me toward the bus.
It wasn't the same kind of bus I had been on the day before, and the stop was different. I had no idea where it would take me or when I would need to change buses. When she could see that I didn't understand, she just smiled and said, "Tranquilo."
Which can also mean "Don't worry. Be happy."
By the time my friend and I got on the bus yesterday morning, we were completely frazzled. It had been sort of crazy getting from Orosi to San Jose and then to the hostel the night before, and the hostel is really no place to get sleep. I was up at 4 a.m. because I couldn't wait to take advantage of the hot showers, then the taxi was there to pick us up at 7.
We at first sat in the wrong seats on the bus, so the bus driver moved us. My traveling partner, who was overly nervous about the whole trip, kept asking if we were in the right seats. Finally, a little boy stood up and with much compassion and in English said, "Don't worry."
"Don't worry. Be happy," my friend said, finally relaxing.
Five hours later, the bus dropped me off in the middle of nowhere. The only thing there was a little soda, or small restaurant. The lady behind the counter picked up her cell phone immediately and said something to it in Spanish. Then she pointed at me and said what I assumed to be, "Your family is on its way."
I sat down and wondered what was about to happen. The soda is sort of outside, with just four posts and a roof. It was so hot. And I was getting nervous. Would I like my new family? Would my new family like me? Would they be patient and try to talk to me? Would I make a good impression? Would it always be this hot? Then a teenage boy came from nowhere and sat down at the table beside mine and started whisling and singing quietly to himself.
"Doo-do-do-do-do-d-do-d-do. Don't worry. Be happy."
Twice in one day! It had to be a good omen. So I stopped thinking and just watched the sweaty farmers stop by the soda for cool drinks. It was so hot. It was hot like the hottest day of the summer in Arkansas. So hot.
Then a truck circled in, and the lady behind the counter looked at me and pointed at the truck. It was my host mom. She gave me a big smile, and we kissed on the cheeks. We hopped in the truck and down a dusty gravel road we crept.
It smelled like my hometown, DeWitt, like plants and dirt. It was very tranquilo, or peaceful. The trees along the road were coated in dust. I could see fields of crops, but I didn't recognize the plants. When we finally got to the house, I met my three host sisters. They were really friendly and asked me a thousand questions, all very slowly. They showed me to my room -- a tiny, tiny rectangle with just enough space for a single bed and a table with a fan on it. One wall has windows that open to the living room, and the door is split in two, so I can open just the top half if I want. I have my own shower and toilet, but I have to use an outside sink to brush my teeth.
One side of the living room opens to the outside, with metal bars 3/4 of the way down instead of a wall. It's that hot. And, of course, there's no air conditioning. I sat outside in a hammock with the family in the shade, then hung out with one of my host sisters in the pulperia. A pulperia is a tiny store that sells sodas and snacks and basic household items. The front of my family's house is a pulperia, which is good because people are always around.
My family's pulperia is really more like a concession stand. People don't walk inside it but up to it. Farmers were coming and going all day and into the evening, getting cool drinks and food. One farmer came up to the window on his horse.
Later, after it cooled down some, my two youngest host sisters (13 and 17) took me for a walk around town. There wasn't much to see, just a few houses, some broken-down buses and a couple of bars. We also went to the school where I will be teaching. It was pretty much just a big rectangular building with open walls. The rooms are nice and big, though, and there are chalkboards.
I slept well last night even though it was hot. This morning, my host mom walked me to the bus stop at 6 a.m., gave me some instructions in Spanish that I didn't understand and shoved me toward the bus.
It wasn't the same kind of bus I had been on the day before, and the stop was different. I had no idea where it would take me or when I would need to change buses. When she could see that I didn't understand, she just smiled and said, "Tranquilo."
Which can also mean "Don't worry. Be happy."
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
In a nutshell
I have made it to Costa Rica and am having a great time. It´s been very busy but tons of fun so far. I don´t have time to write much now because these people are keeping us busy learning Spanish, among many other things. My host family is nice, although I think they are annoyed with me because I don´t speak more Spanish. If only I knew how.
OK, gotta go. I´ll write more later and maybe try to take some photos to upload.
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