And then we were gone

Just when the rhythm of our daily lives was becoming predictable again, everything changed dramatically. These sudden changes, both unexpected and long-awaited, have really shaken things up for Kevin and me…. and we’re thrilled.

One rainy night after Eliza and Martin’s wedding, Kevin and I were at their family’s house saying goodbye to Martin’s dad before he flew back to England. I was the first one to the door when a stranger drenched and wearing motorcycle gear approached us and asked for directions to a nearby farm. The woman, sporting a Canadian patch on her jacket, a reflective vest and speaking perfect (though definitely foreign) Spanish, got the directions she needed from one of the family members and, after thanking us, drove away on her large motorcycle with another mysterious rider.

Everyone in the house had a different theory about the foreign woman:

“Definitely a Nicaraguan,” someone said.

“That accent’s not from around here.”

“I think she’s Canadian. Didn’t you see her patch?”

“She can’t be a Canadian- she speaks Spanish!”

I personally thought she was a police officer, riding around at night looking for someone’s farm and lost because Costa Rican roads lack signage. It turns out we really had no idea.

A couple days later, Nidia, Eliza’s mother, showed up to our community English class with two non-Ticos in tow. She wanted to introduce us to Deya and Brian, the Canadian couple who had shown up looking for directions the other night. So far from home and without a single friend in the neighborhood, she felt sorry for them, Nidia told me, and who better to introduce them to than the only other foreigners in town?

We hit it off immediately and made dinner plans for Thursday, which turned into Saturday plans, then Sunday morning plans, then Wednesday and Friday and Saturday plans. We got to know them both pretty well over the next couple of weeks. Both very kind, generous, adventurous, articulate, well-educated and open-minded, Deya and Brian left good jobs and a promising future in Vancouver, British Columbia, a year ago to take a two-year adventure on a pair of BWM motorcycles all the way to the southern tip of South America.

More than just free-spirited adventurers, these two have a plan. As they make their way through each country on their way, they stop at different factories, manufacturers, and businesses to study the similarities and differences in operations, processes and management from country to country. They also document their border crossings and experiences on the road in hopes of making the trip easier for other riders like them. They call themselves “Adventure Researchers,” and I borrowed the name of their blog for the title of this entry. (andthenweweregone.blogspot.com)

Over some great meals and wonderful conversations, they turned into great friends in a short amount of time and their presence here was definitely the highlight of our month.  They made us think critically about all that we’ve experienced here so far and helped us learn to value what we have. Hearing their stories and sharing our own with them has reaffirmed our belief in the value of our work here. They recently left to continue their journey south, but we’re very grateful for the opportunity to have spent quality time with them and to have briefly seen the world through their eyes.  We miss them already and wish them safe travels and a wonderful adventure.

We’ve done some moving of our own recently – about 800 meters down the road from our previous home. The time had come for us to find a new home and host family, and Eliza’s parents, Nidia and Norman, offered us the two-bedroom apartment attached to their house as a temporary home while Eliza and Martin work on securing a British visa for Eliza. The apartment is very basic, without any furniture other than the few basic things (bed, table, chairs) the family lent us in for the meantime. When Eliza’s visa comes through, we’ll move into her furnished and more comfortable apartment, but for now we’re completely happy where we are and are enjoying living on our own while still participating in the daily life of our new lovely host family.

The family treats us very well; they offer us all the yucca, plantains, lemons and oranges we can eat, all fresh off of their farm, and let us borrow whatever we need to make the apartment comfortable. We have plans to start a little organic garden out back, and we’re scoping out a good shady spot for the hammock we’re going to learn to make.

The biggest challenge and also the biggest comfort of this place has been the lack of a ceiling; with just a tin roof, the days are hot inside (up to 97 degrees) and the nights are mercifully cool (high 70s). The windows also don’t open, adding to the oven-like qualities of the apartment, but we’re fortunately not around very often during the heat of the day to experience it.

Now that we’ve said goodbye to the all the roosters and cows and neighbors we became close with over the past five months, we look forward to spending the rest of our Peace Corps experience here in La Rambla. We’re very content in our new home and are adapting well to the rhythm of our new host family and life.