After a taking break from blogging over the holidays, Megon and I are back to share some of the stories we’ve accumulated throughout the last couple weeks. We’ve settled nicely into La Rambla by surprisingly keeping ourselves busy in this sleepy community until school starts in February. The people here have been friendly and willing to share facts of the community to a pair of strangers. Day by day we work in hopes of changing our stranger status to local status.
One of the first steps toward that change was purchasing rubber boots. One day of walking through cow manure in my sandles was enough to make me take the bus to Puerto Viejo and invest $10 on footwear that I won’t need to clean daily. Buying boots was also a ticket into the lechería, the lifeblood of our host family. I have gradually worked my way up from silent observer to gatekeeper to grain giver to hose master. The boys seem to like it when I help. They especially liked when I sat them down the other day and asked Spanish words for every object inside the lechería. Every word went onto a flashcards to improve my vocabulary.
Working in a milking farm is dirty, strenuous work, but I enjoy being inside their small family-owned farm. I like it because it could never survive in the large-takes-charge United States milk market. Here the milk is sold to Dos Pinos, a co-op that is the only of its kind in Costa Rica. Dos Pinos buys its milk from family-owned lecherías and then sells its products throughout Central America. Helping out in the lechería also takes me back to my Michigan days when I worked at the non-profit Tillers International, farming with oxen and draft horses. Agriculture was actually the driving force behind my desire to join the Peace Corps. I pictured myself farming in some rural village in East Africa, not in Costa Rica teaching English. But starting Monday, I will find myself working with the best of both worlds.
Megon and I will have our first English class scheduled for Monday at the Otoya Elementary, which is just down the street from our house. Our tentative plan is to have classes Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays from 5:30 to 6:30 p.m. Today we spent the morning planning and utilizing some of the school supplies people have sent to help us get started. I think we have enough supplies to last us for a long, long time. Now all we need are students! Note: I mentioned to Megon that today was the first time I’ve ever planned a lesson outside wearing shorts and a T-shirt.
We have advertised for our class mostly by word of mouth, but we also have a flyer posted at the pulpería. Tomorrow our mission is to ride our newly purchased bikes around the neighborhood and stop whenever we see a kid or adult and ask, “Quiere aprender inglés?” Everything we do here will have to be started grassroots style. The Asociación de Desarrollo, the governing body of La Rambla, are strong and willing to support our efforts. We got the okay this week from Luis, el presidente, to use the plaza de fútbol and salón for sports and other activities. That was a major step toward the creation of our sports clubs.
Another highlight to our week happened Wednesday when the Kalamazoo Gazette published an article about Megon and me. Much to our surprise, Gazette reporter Chris Fusciardi contacted us through e-mail after the Peace Corps headquarters in Washington D.C. contacted the Gazette. We felt a little undeserving of the attention, considering we haven’t really “done” anything yet as far as starting projects. One day, maybe we can give Fusciardi an even better reason to write a story.
A question he asked that really got me thinking was, “What do you miss most about home?” Usually the interviewer, not the interviewee, I’m hardly a quote machine. So I answered, “Peanut butter, watching sports and family.” Boring, huh? No wonder it didn’t make the story. Before Chris’ question, I hadn’t really thought about what I missed. Life for the last three months, it’s been total Pura Vida (the good life). So what do I really miss from home, other than family?
• I totally missed the World Series (didn’t miss much from Cleveland sports)
• A pint of IPA
• A gigantic bowl of cereal or Kraft Mac & Cheese
• Driving a car
• The feeling you get after cross-country skiing at Service High
To be honest, Megon and I never have much time to miss things from home. We’ve keep ourselves busy, especially with my counterpart, Ethel and her friend Jose, who have both taken us under their wings to show us Sarapiqui. They’ve taken us to hot springs, giant waterfalls and restaurants that serve good, cheap food. Ethel even took us to a big box store called Maxi Bodega, which is owned by Wal-Mart. What a strange feeling walking inside. I hope we never go there again. For a moment, it felt like we had stepped into the U.S., especially when we spotted things I didn’t know I had been missing, like U.S. brand cereal, maple syrup, and peanut butter and jelly.
For the first time in our marriage, Megon and I actually argued over maple syrup and whether or not we should buy it. “Can we afford it?” Are we living beyond our means? Are the boys going to like it if we make pancakes?” We buckled and paid $6 for a small, precious bottle of imported Aunt Jemima.
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