Inspired by my good friend Mari’s two daughters who go to an elementary school in NYC, which has 4^th and 5^th graders read to 1^st and 2^nd graders, I recruited 8 high school students to volunteer to spend an hour reading to younger kids at the elementary school.

Finding books to read wasn’t easy. I bought a few, borrowed a few more from my counterpart, and one from my host family, and with that, we had 8 books total. The day before Book Day, I practiced reading out loud with the high school students. Reading to younger children is something they’d never done, and it was fun to watch them read to each other. They practiced holding the book up, reading slowly, pointing out animals and characters in the story, and incorporating Bribri whenever possible.  Although the books were children’s picture books, it was good to have them practice because some of them had trouble reading. Reading out loud is something they rarely do.

The day of, I split each teenager up with 4-5 kids and rotated the books around. A few children had written their own stories in celebration of book day, and so we read their books out loud as well. We read a few classics, such as The Three Little Pigs, Alice in Wonderland, and Pinocchio, (the three little pigs was by far the favorite among the little ones)

The children really seemed to enjoy it, but for me, what was most rewarding, was seeing the high schoolers own it. They got into it with voices, they told the story both in Spanish and Bribri, they asked the kids questions throughout the story and pointed at the pictures, to keep the children interested.

When it was over, we had a quick conversation where all the readers said they’d like to do this again, either at the same school or at other schools in the area, something I’d REALLY like to do.

People here say that kids don’t like to read, but I disagree, I think most kids here like books, they’re just rarely exposed to them, and reading is a hobby that takes some time to develop. I hope to be a part of that development for kids here in Katsi.

Dino Does Katsi:

My father came mid December, and it was awesome. I picked him up in San Jose, we spent a couple of nights there, then a night in Cahuita, mostly to break up the trip from San Jose to Katsi. He spent almost two weeks here in Katsi with me, came to my community class where we had a potluck holiday lunch, walked to Alto Katsi and other communities, just getting to know the area, shook hands with everyone he met, and became good friends with my host family and downstairs neighbor. We also had a lovely dinner with my counter part’s family who invited us over for Rice and Beans,

An interesting part of having him here was realizing how many small things I’ve adapted to that I hadn’t even realized. For example, being careful with what I say, and when I say it in Spanish. I live above a pulperia, and my apartment may as well be mic’d because everything I say is heard perfectly downstairs. As they say, “Pueblo pequeño, infierno grande.” Small town, big hell. People here like to talk, they like to gossip, and they like to share. More than once, I’ve had conversations with my counterpart in my apartment, and a few days later, discovered that someone had heard what we were discussing and passed it along. I’ve learned this, I’ve internalized it: when I skype with my parents or anyone who speaks Spanish, if the topic becomes something I don’t want to share, I switch to English. I do the same now with Jackie, if she is here, or if I’m on the phone with her, and we discuss something more private, I do so in English.

When my father and I would be having conversations, I would always insist/nag at him to “speak English” if the topic was a sensitive topic. Something that in NYC, in our apartment, you never have to think twice about.

Another example is how accustom to the roads I’ve become. The truth is, the roads are awful and getting around is difficult. However, I’ve accepted it as part of life, there is nothing immediate that can be done. Partially the problem is that the weather is bad, and if they do fix the roads, they crumble with the heavy rains. But that’s just part of the problem. I believe another part is that the local government, which is in charge of roads, knows they can get by without investing in them, and the people allow it. I’ve gotten use to the bumpy bus rides, having to get off and back on at tight bends to allow the bus to continue, roads being closed, creeks being too high to cross, etc etc. This however was something that SHOCKED my father. He could not believe how bad they were and talked to anyone and everyone about it. However, I think most of the reaction was like mine, yes the roads are bad, but there are bigger battles to fight, and there is very little that can be done about it. It’s a conversation my father and I had many times throughout his stay. I told him that I would prefer the government invest more in the education system of Talamanca (send English teachers, provide better training for teachers in general, make sure schools are fully staffed, etc) or in the health system (we need an ambulance in Katsi, a 24 hour medical center on this side of the river, more rural community outreach etc.) My father argued that roads are a basic necessity in any semi developed country, such as Costa Rica is claimed to be. I told him that unfortunately, Talamanca is rarely held to the same standards as the rest of Costa Rica.

Having my father here was an amazing experience, it was great spending time with him, and showing him Katsi, where I live, the work I do, and that overall I’m pretty happy here.

Mama Linda, Silvita y Keeeeeevin…

On Christmas Eve my mother, Sister and brother in-love Kevin joined me and my father. I picked them up in San Jose, we jumped in a car and headed to Cahuita. We spent a few days there and in Puerto Viejo, ate at really great restaurants where I usually don’t have the funds to eat, walked around the National Parks, relaxed at the beach, and spent some much needed quality time together.

Then, we loaded up (with lots and lots of awesome things they brought me… thank you!) and headed to Katsi! I’ll admit, I was a little nervous bringing my mother to Katsi. What if she thought it was too remote? What if she didn’t like me living there? The last thing I wanted was for her to spend 15 months worrying even more than she already does. But once we arrived, I realized I worried for nothing because my mother loved Katsi. We swam in the river, chatted with some of my students, did a tour of the schools and had a really great lunch with my host family. One of my favorite nights was when my counterpart, her kids, my host brother and my family all sat around and had dinner. We played some board games, Jenga and UNO, and just hung out together.

I wish my mother and sister could have spent more time in Katsi, but their trip was short, and I still wanted them to meet my training host family, so headed back to San Jose, took the most terrifying drive through the Zurqui, and eventually made it in time for dinner with my old host family, where my training host mom had called the entire family to meet mine. It felt great for my family to meet my training family, especially host mom, who has always been sweet and caring.

We all spent New Years together with a few PCV friends, had a great dinner, and brought in the New Year with some champagne. We each went around and shared our favorite memory from 2012, my father said his was experiencing Katsi, which for me, was incredibly touching.

All in all it was waaay too short, and I wish they could have stayed for longer. Peace Corps was something I’ve dreamed of doing for many years and my family has been incredibly supportive throughout the entire process.Having them here, made it more complete. It was tough saying goodbye, particularly to my sister and Kevin who live in Nigeria and I won’t see for a long time, but I’m really glad they came out and got to experience Katsi and see my life here in the Peace Corps. I’ll never forget my mother’s face swimming in the river, or her telling me she really liked Katsi and was happy I was here.

Although school officially ended December 12^th, classes basically stopped the first week of November. Seniors had their exams, teachers stopped coming to school, and just in case there was a chance learning might still be happening, there was a teachers strike in December. I’m not sure about what, and when I asked teachers who attended, none gave me a straight answer…

On my end, the teachers workshops finished, 6 teachers completed enough hours and work to receive credit! I moved out of my host families house, my parents and many friends came to visit, and I hosted a sports and art camp for kids in Katsi!

The idea to host a camp started last July during the two week school vacation when I realized kids really don’t have much to do around here when school isn’t in session. Mostly kids go swimming in the river, hang out at home, and many times get caught up in smoking pot and drinking chicha.

And so began to organize for Campamento Katsi:

First things first: get help!

I wanted the camp to be for younger kids, ages 5-13. In order to include older kids, I recruited my host brother and a few of the high school students to help me run the camp. I didn’t want it to just be my camp, I wanted it to be their camp also. My host brother really stepped up to it, and went around with me promoting the camp to the different schools and communities.

I also asked Eric, a youth development volunteer in Bribi to come help so we could incorporate art into the camp!

I asked several women in the community if they could come to help prepare the food, my host mom, her two sisters, and the elementary school lunch lady came and made us delicious food.

Finally, because I knew I needed more adult hands on board, a very good friend from England came to help. Although Oliver’s Spanish is a bit limited, his enthusiasm and great speed made him a hit with the kids.

Next – get the word out!

Before the school year ended, my host brother and I went around to all the elementary schools in the area to let them know about the camp, to play some games with the kids in order to get them excited, and also asked the principals to speak to parents at the graduations.

I put up flyers in all the Pulperias and at the Ebais, and had the local radio promote the camp as well.

Finally, the week before the camp, my host brother Erick, Oliver, and I set out to the different communities and went door to door inviting  people personally to the camp.

The camp lasted 5 days, 7am- 12pm, the local stores donated some food, friends from home sent board games, balls, and art supplies and also I had really great support from friends, and friends of friends which allowed me to hire the bus to pick up and drop off the kids who live farther away, and also to bump up the snacks!

We did team building exercises in Spanish, English and Bribri, we played capture the flag, freeze tag, blob tag, ultimate Frisbee, and kick the bottle. The goal was to try new games they hadn’t played before!

The town doctor came by on the first day and talked to the kids about the importance of hand washing before meals:

Three times during the week we played board games  most of which the kids hadn’t played before! Twister, Jenga and UNO were by far the favorites.

Eric the volunteer led an art section where the smaller kids made dogs out of paper, and the bigger kids made bracelets.

The biggest hit was kickball. Though it took a couple of rounds for them to understand the rules, once they, they got very competitive!

On the last day, we had a special lunch prepared, Ruth, my host mother came and made Arroz con Pollo and Rice Pudding.

I’m really proud of the teenagers who helped, I had two boys and three girls take turns during the week, and their leadership really helped motivate the younger kids and helped bring them out of their shells a bit.

The biggest challenge of the camp was the organization of it! It was difficult trying  to get people excited for it, hard to spread the word, and a bit of a battle trying to get the Pulperias to donate food.

It is also, by far, the most fun I’ve had in any activity I’ve organized in Katsi! It’s been a while since the camp, but when kids see me, they still ask me when the next camp will be, if Eric and Oliver will come back, and if I would organize a round of kickball!

I hope to be able to repeat it in July when school is out for two weeks and would like to get the schools involved, more kids to come, and more teens to help! I’d also like to include something about recycling and bullying as well.

Thank you to everyone who helped out in any and every way, it was a HUGE success, and I couldn’t have done it without your support and help!

I think of this quite frequently when facing my shower here in Katsi because the they are COLD. I dream of training and how I use to scoff at the slightly dangerous electrical water heater that alternated between warm and not warm water… how I miss that sometimes warm water. And if it didn’t work at all? Well my host mom would warm up a bucket of water for me and that my friends… was like a spa day.
I know I live in a hot place. I am aware, but you know what? Cold water is cold no matter how hot it is out… I try to be smart and shower in the middle of the day when it’s incredibly hot, but more often than not I find myself having to shower first thing in the morning or right before bed, when it’s cold out. (cold = mid 60’s! Like the artic!)

My not so full proof way to shower:

• Enter bathroom, run water, stare at water, contemplate not showering.

• Undress, shiver, and contemplate not showering again.
• Get into the shower as far away as possible and stick tip of foot under running water. Debate whether or not that counts as showering.
• Realize that a semi clean foot doesn’t equal having showered, grow some guts and decide to go for it.
• Back out immediately and proceed to start to splash water on the least amount of surface area possible by cupping water and tossing it at myself.
• Realize this isn’t working, jump under, jump back out, lather.
• Stare at lathered body parts cursing myself for washing my arms and back of neck and all those places that require really really getting wet. Wishing my grandmother was around to just make me do it.
• Jump back under rinse off. Jump out
• Realize that I’ve missed a whole section that is still soapy (always happens) Jump back in, whimper.

And finally I’m clean!

I NEVER wash my hair unless it’s smack in the middle of the day, and still, I stand as far from the water as I can and dip my head under, usually accompanied by lots of complaining which is usually followed by host mother who is on the other side of the wall, laughing saying I’m worse than the two year old. But what the hell! I have long hair and have to dunk my hair under 3 times to get it wet, shampooed and all the conditioner off!

The shower I stare at…    and my friend the spider who lives in the shower.

So to my grandmother – thanks for preparing me for these showers, if I’m mas o menos clean these days, it’s because of you.

To my old shower at home – I miss you more than you’ll ever know.
To the bucket – I’ll always have a special place in my heart for you.
To the electric heater with sparks – you were worth the possible electrical shocks.

I asked some volunteer friends for advice and here is what they said:

“ I have never had tricks up my sleeve on how to avoid standing in it and freezing. Just on, off…soap…on, off. – Whitney M. (they just… let her in?)

“ I put one hand under the water and spritz my body with it or run in circles in the shower letting the water hit me a little each time. Seriously, take the dive quickly while chanting ‘the water can’t hurt me’”- Bradford B. Aka Daddy T

“Don’t do the toe test. It leads to fear and ultimately depression. Its all-in or nothing. Get the stinky parts first. Do something hot first so you’re sweaty and ready.” – Liani, Patua Speaking volunteer

“Work on a backward bend. Then hop play the hokey pokey to get all parts wet. Pee as a last resort to stay warm…it works” – Taylor, La Macha

“First, wet hair by leaning forward, without allowing any other part of your body to get wet. Shampoo. Rinse hair using same hair wetting strategy as described. Second, wet and wash face without getting any other part of your body wet. Third, insert entire body under the freezing stream of water, standing with your back to the showerhead. Wash, rinse, and get out. “ – Nate, who smells like poop
“Just lower your head, let it hit your neck first, let out a bellowing scream, and let it happen. . Pains over in three seconds” – Carlitos, who spends enough time in the ocean to make up for these 3 second showers.

“Go on a run first. Take deep breaths to get over the initial shock.” – Darien, Healthier than you.

“Workout beforehand. doing squats before you shave helps you warm up enough to avoid razor bumps. and showers after 4 pm in the rainy season in the mountains can be hazardous to your health” – Jenny, I actually saw her doing jumping jacks before a shower…

“Shower together. It warms you up.” – Hanna, is the coolest

It’s hard. Hard to stay motivated. Hard to not start to look forward to classes being cancelled, hard to not look forward to weekend trips…

But then, sometimes a project comes along that makes you feel like you might actually be doing something worthwhile as a volunteer. That project for me right now, is the Talamanca English Teacher Workshops.
At the end of last September, 4 regional volunteers and I led the first of five 7-hour workshops for English teachers. The workshops will cover many topics including lesson planning, material development, various techniques for teaching reading, writing, speaking and listening and a large portion of the workshops are dedicated to giving the teachers a space to practice English. Basically, attempting to give alternatives to taking something out of a text book, writing it on the board, and having students copy it, which is the standard way of teaching in Costa Rica. A big focus will also be on improving the teacher’s English level. In addition, teachers who complete the 40 hours with us will receive a small salary raise and points from MEP, the Costa Rican department of Education.
We had 10 teachers attend the first workshop and 14 teachers attended the second. On both days I walked out of them feeling like I had actually had a productive day.

We had the usual bumps in the road you experience when trying to organize something in Talamanca and with MEP. The workshop was only offered to high school teachers, even though it was open to elementary school teachers as well, the room we had reserved had been given away to another group, and a couple of the teachers had to leave at lunch because they have to travel very far on weekends, the teachers union was on strike so there was no space for us to meet and on and on and on. Essentially an event planners nightmare, but, so far, they’ve managed not only to happen, but also to be very successful.

It’s hard to say if these workshops are having an impact, but my counterpart, Katsi’s High School English teacher, Jackie, has attended both and I’ve already seen her implement some of the activities. If nothing else, that feels like a success.

We have three more workshops in the next two months, and I really hope that this is a project we can continue over the next 20 months of my service.

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If you wanna read a short and sweet blog post that touches on race in Costa Rica, check out my friend’s blog post from Wednesday. Beto is in the central valley of Costa Rica and writes some great stuff. Click here!

IST – In Service Training

Three times during Peace Corps service, volunteers are pulled out of site for a mandatory training, they say they hold them around the most likely times volunteers freak out and quit. The first of these trainings lasted 5 days and included a variety of sessions on TEFL, health, security and some non TEFL activities/camps we could do at site. They set us up at a pretty nice hotel where I may or may not have bullied my way into snatching the big bed from my suite mates (thank you Taylor and Whitney!!!) I pumped the glorious AC every night effectively creating an ice box and giving myself a cold, took 30 minute scalding hot showers and watched mindless TV in bed with my friends during every single break.  We cooked our own dinner a couple of nights, drank some wine, made burritos, grilled cheese sandwiches and some delicious spicy peanut sauce, basically just filling our food souls with some of the things we miss.

Essentially, we were living it up.

The two highlights for me were

1- on the first night when we split into groups and gave 10-30 minute presentations on our sites. It was great to hear about the different places other volunteers are, to hear the challenges and successes, many of which were similar.

2- Getting to be around my friends again and be goofy. I often feel like I have to be a serious more “grown up” version of myself in Katsi, I have to be some version of my NY 9-5 self 24/7 which can be tough sometimes, so it was fun to pass silly notes and give each other raspberries and other stupid fun things.

Towards the last few days of IST I started getting antsy because the day after we finished I was catching a plane to Spain….

España!!!

The main purpose of the trip was to see my very good friend and study abroad roommate, Raquel, get married, but I went a few days earlier and got to see some friends and family I don’t see very often.

I spent my first 5 days getting spoiled by my aunt and cousin, eating my foodie hearts fill of Manchego, chorizo, tortilla, rabbit, pimientos de padron, pulpo, delicious bread and lots of other favorites. My aunt would often ask me if whatever I was eating at the moment was something I had in Katsi, “Raiola, en Katsi comes queso/pan/chorizo etc??” to which I’d answer truthfully, NO! She’s feel terribly for me and say something along the lines of, “oh that’s why you’re eating so much of it,” then give me a second or third serving of it. Yes, that’s right, I shamelessly milked my jungle living situation.  

My wonderful cousin Ana also made me some favorites and didn’t judge my cheese over eating, with her, it’s always fun and easy, my master plan is to convince her to move to NY someday…

I also spent some nice QT with my little cousin/godson, (little punk insisted on eating large amounts of all my favorites also…) I only get to see him every couple of years and every time he’s taller and smarter. This year I decided would be scary story time so one night when the lights went out, I took him to the darkest part of the house and told him a zombie story. He seemed pretty scared, but since he didn’t wet the bed that night, I consider it a failure.

From there I headed to Salamanca, where is studied abroad 8 years ago and lived it up like I was 20 years old again…. Salamanca is a place that whenever I go, I don’t want to leave. I may or may not have at points hugged the columns in the Plaza Mayor…

From Salamanca to Madrid where I said goodbye to some friends, and picked up one of my best friends, Jonathan who came from NY to meet me for the wedding and spent a few days just catching up.

The Wedding:

Finally I arrived in San Vitero, a tiny town near Zamora for what was an incredible 5 day celebration. The groom is from London, and my friend is from San Vitero so the wedding was a totally fun mix of Spanish-British-SanVi traditions. There was lots of singing, dancing, eating, drinking, and the atmosphere was one of constant bilingual celebration.

The wedding itself was fabulous, and the celebration started at 5am when all the men in town get together and start setting off fireworks around and inside the grooms home looking for him, drag him out of bed, fill him up with liquor and light more fireworks. The groom then gets about 5 hours to recover… After the ceremony was a meal that can only be described as a succulent feast, filled with rowdy singing from the Spanish table, and a speeches given by the best man and groom.

One of the town’s terrifying traditions included “el Carro” where they hoist the newly weds and the padrinos of the wedding onto an old donkey cart, pushed/pulled by the drunkest of wedding guest. In this particular case, the Madrina couldn’t go, so they decided that the best man would go instead.

Up he went:

Until this SOB starting shouting that the tradition is for it be two men and two women.

So the bride called out a name… and then this fool went up:

All in all it was fun but scary as hell because they don’t just pull the cart, they stop every few feet and tilt it until you’re positive you’re going to fall out. Looking back, I still think it’s a miracle I didn’t fall out, dress over my head, skull cracked.

The wedding continued with dinner, dancing, more food and drinks until about 5 in the morning.

I’ll stop rambling, basically it was a blast, spending time with some of the people I love the most in the world, meeting some really amazing new people, and being on vacation meant that returning to Katsi was extremely difficult, not because I didn’t want to be in Katsi, but because I wanted to rewind two weeks and do it all again.

But then, before I knew it, I was back under my mosquito net, back in my classroom, back in meetings about what can be done to turn the school into a functioning institution, and back to rice and boiled bananas.

Back to Katsi

Big things had happened in my three week absence including:

• The school now has electricity for the first time in 6 years!
• The Aqueduct committee has turned the schools water back on, which means the bathrooms work again
• An organization donated chairs, tables, plates, cups and utensils, so now the lunch room is basically a functional lunchroom (before kids brought in their own plates, cups spoons etc)
• There have been biweekly meetings about the high school and the changes that need to be made in order for it to be up to standard… a new schedule is being made, the regional supervisor is getting more involved… basically the school has been a bit of a mess and the Department of Education is finally getting involved. You can read more about it here, in the national new paper!

Birthday!

I came back to Costa Rica just in time for my 28^th birthday, which I celebrated in Cahuita National Park with some of my fellow PCV’s who made the trek to spend a few days at the beach with me.

Día de Independencia

This weekend is Independence Weekend in Central America. This means that we had daily acto’s civicos, which in my school consist of the students singing the national anthem and 3 or 4 other patriotic songs. On Friday September 14^th, a torch is passed from town to town. Students run half way to the nearest school, which in our case was about 2k, light the torch, then run back and pass it to the next school. This has some pretty important historical significance from back in 1821 when a torch was passed from Guatemala down to Cartago here in Costa Rica. At 6pm, the national anthem was sung again, and children lit up faroles and went on a little parade around town. On September 15^th, we all got up and went to school so that at 8am we could once again sing the national anthem. I heard other schools had bands and other activities, but Katsi keeps is simple (re: doesn’t prepare anything) Seeing kids running with flaming paint cans and cardboard boxes with candles inside (which I saw catch on fire quite a few times) still shocks me and goes into the category of, en serio????

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Y ahora que?

What’s next? Well I’m still trying to figure out what my role is here… in the high school, in the community, in my host family. In two weeks we start our teacher training workshops, which is really exciting… and in three weeks my sister from another mister, Tali, comes to visit and I’m really looking forward to showing her Katsi and the my life down here.

Lot’s to do, lot’s to look forward to, and lot’s of amazing pictures from the last month to look back on and smile at.

P.S. – I wanna give a big big big thanks to Kimberley Pape for sending me a water camera! It was really too generous and if you’re reading this… THANK YOU!!!!

I was chatting with a fellow PCV who is also in Talamanca, and she told me she feels like she’s made sacrifices to be here, such as the health issues we expose ourselves too, the things we’ve given up, mold showing up on everything, on all the clothes we own etc. I totally know where she is coming from, but that’s not something that’s really bothered me. Of course life was easier when I could buy my groceries at Whole Foods, go to starbucks all day, every day, order anything I wanted offline and get it within 2 days or when I didn’t have to worry about the giant roach that is staring at me right now… (no worries, I’m in my net and that SOB can’t get in) But although life was easier, I didn’t really feel satisfied, and I don’t necessarily feel like I’ve made any sacrifices giving up the easier things in life… it was an easy exchange to make for this completely different experience.

But then, I also desperately miss things. I miss people. Miss my parents, my sister. I miss my friends, so, so much. And when things get hard here, and a day can go from good to shit in a matter of hours, I think, crap I wish I could zap myself home to deal with this, especially when talking about my personal life taking an insane turn, and holy crap, I only mentally prepared myself for professional challenges, how do I deal with these other types of issues without my friends, some ketel and a cheese…?
I miss structure, I miss responsibility, I miss people caring about the work they produce, I miss saying that a meeting is starting at a certain time and NOT having to wait 2 hours for it to actually start, I miss being in control of what my day/week is going to be like.
I missed my 10th year high school reunion, I missed my grandparents burial in Colombia, I missed one of my best friend’s wedding in England, I missed my niece’s 10th birthday, I missed my sister coming back from 8 months in Korea, AND missed her moving to Nigeria to work for two years, I missed my two very good friends house warming party for their first home, I’m missing my friends first baby… etc etc etc this list goes on and on…

So, wallowing my my self made black hole, I email Jono, one of my very best friends from home, and I complain, and I whine, and I say to him, UGH I FEEL STUCK. His response, which makes me want to hug and punch him at the same time is:

“Grow, young blood. Escalate the complexity of things you are able to deal with. This is evolution at work baby. The dodo bird was happy not to fly. The rest of us search for something we can never have.”

Though I make fun of him for his silly way of putting it, I appreciate that what he is saying is right, I look around, I take a deep breath, and though I still miss all the things I miss, and that I’m bound to always miss out on something, and I can’t be everywhere at once, I also look around and realize that it’s really going pretty great.
Yesterday I participated in a meeting that was discussing indigenous laws regarding education, then I spent the afternoon in a with all the regional supervisor, the area principals and teachers discussing the high school I work at, and how to make it functional. Later, I hopped a ride on a banana truck to the river and crossed it on my host uncle’s horse and came home to my 2 year old host brother asking me for a “kiss” in English. A year ago, I couldn’t have imagined this kind of day if I tried.

This week I submit the paperwork for an English teacher training workshop three other volunteers and I are going to start in Septmeber for English teachers in the region, I’ve also kicked my senior’s bachillerato class into high gear, we have 90 days to get them ready to own that test…
Next week I go to a Peace Corps training in San Jose and spend a glorious week in a nice hotel with my fellow Tico 23ers whom I’ve come to love demasiado, and then in two weeks I travel to Spain for 15 days to see my family, spend a weekend with some old friends from Italy, Germany, and England, and most importantly, and the reason for my trip I get to watch my amazing friend and roommate from my study abroad days get married to a wonderful man.

Today, next week, next month… it’s all pretty awesome, and when I stop to pause, I realize, this is exactly who I want to be, and where I want to be.

P.S. – thank you thank you thank you Papi y Silvia for the awesome care package… things that make a volunteer happy? Goodies from home… love you hermanita!

P.P.S – the goose still lives.

An attempt at pizza with my host mom…

Exploring the Caribbean coast… Punta Uva

Me and my host brother…. My entire student body

First, it was the ants… little black evil ants that live under the clothes lines… so every time I do laundry, and go to hang my clothes, these little black evil ants bite my feet. And it hurts. A lot. I get nasty little bumps and if more than a few bite me, my feet swell up. They’ve been on my hit list for a while, but try as I may, I can’t seem to find their evil lair colony….

Second are the bocones, which are tiny black mosquitoes that come out during the day. They can somehow get under clothing and my Off Deep Woods repellent does nothing to repel them, in fact, I’m convinced they like the taste of it. When they bite, it hurts, they draw blood and leave bruises where they’ve pricked me. Oh and the best part? They are the ones that usually pass along that fun dengue virus. There is no fighting them… my only defense is my mosquito net… they have yet to get into my happy place.

My third, and most sinister enemy, which many of you may have heard me talk,text/facebook about, is the Goose. We have a fear/hate relationship. I fear him, he hates me, I hate him. So I guess it’s fear/hate/hate. 

I first realized I hated the Goose my first morning when at 4:30am, he decided, no doubt to let me know who is boss, to wake me up by picking a fight with a rooster. When the Goose screams, it sounds, as my friend Jonathan who heard him via skype put it, like a dying dinosaur. Now imagine that, at 4:30am… and it continued until 6am, when I had to wake up. And this went on, every morning, every single morning.
Quickly after that I discovered how mean the goose was when heading to the bathroom I look behind me and find he’s following me trying to bite at me! Every time he sees me, if I’m within 10 feet, he comes after me. At night when I go use the bathroom, I take a flashlight and I do a Goose check, and I’ve even got to look behind trees… because the evil Goose likes to hide behind them to ambush me.

I’ve seen him attack almost every other animal here other than his little equally evil lady goose and sinister little baby goose. Proof? this pic of his biting the poor innocent future bacon. 

It became clear to me pretty early on that the Goose had to die. The problem is, how does one kill an evil goose?

1. Poison – Poison came to mind IMMEDIATELY, it seems the easiest, I wouldn’t have to get too close, and no blame could be placed on me. Unfortunately, when animals die around here, we eat them, and something tells me, eating poisoned goose wouldn’t be good for me, or for the 2 year old in the house. Poison was ruled out.

2. Hand to hand combat – you know, good old fashion goose killing. My insane and awesome cousin Beatriz even gave me some pointers, she said  “Very easy cuz, you grab the wings and the pico first and then while pulling the neck straight as a cord, smash it to your knee… at least that’s how they use to do it in la finca.” Beatriz – please come visit… you are obviously the right person for the job! So I thought about it, and hey, they’ve got machetes lying around, and hey, if kids can use them, how hard/dangerous can it be? Except I had to admit it wouldn’t be a fair fight… and most likely it would end with the goose wielding the machete in his beak and me running for the mountains….

3. Getting the goose run over – I assume a 25,000 pound bus could do the job of squishing him, the problem with this, is that we only have one bus, it only runs twice a day, and always during the day. So IF I could lure the goose onto the road, or IF i could get him in some sort of sack… the whole town would see me throwing him onto the road… and since my family seems to LOVE this evil goose, they’d probably be kinda pissed at me. No, no, that doesn’t work, must be more discreet.

4. Recently I’ve been trying a more indirect approach, convincing my family that goose is tasty! “Mmmmm, fried goose must be soooooo delicious, I bet slow roasted goose is even better…. you know what I heard? Eating goose meat is good luck and chases away brujos! I even tried tempting them with the proposition of making a Goosrodunkin, you know, a chicken in a duck, in a rooster, in a goose! Maybe even in a pig?” I’ve gotten them into Epic Meal Time on youtube and was hoping this video would help sway them but they seem to either think i’m joking, or just say no. For some reason my 14 year old host brother has some strange attachment to said evil goose. Goosrosdunkin shot down… for now…

5. Hire a hitman – In NY, you want something done, you pay someone to do it, because you know what, they can probably do it better than you can. So in an effort to fulfill Peace Corps goal 2, teaching American Culture abroad, I might try to find someone brave/strong/stupid/drunk/smart enough to kill Señor Ganso.

People don’t usually talk about the dangers of being a Peace Corps Volunteer living with a Goose…. I’m here to set the record straight. It’s not pretty.

If you have any ideas, suggestions, or just want to come take care of this little… issue for me… please let me know.

If you’ve read this, and you’re sitting there thinking I’ve gone Katsi Jungle crazy…  who are you to judge?

Because of the I knew I’d be headed to SJ for immigration, I didn’t plan much for the break, so aside from my community class I had lots of free time my second week which allowed me to hang around Katsi, swim in the river, spend time with my co teacher and explore the area. I hiked to a nearby community, Bris, which is about an hour and half away, up a very muddy path. It’s the last town before crossing into Panama, there is no road to get there, the town has no electricity, there is a small elementary school, and a very engaged community. A couple of years ago, an organization called Mi Promesa came into the area and built some new school for the indigenous communities. Transporting materials to Bris was very challenging because of the lack of roads, but the community came together and took every single piece of wood, all the tools, every last nail, up themselves, either on horse, or more often on foot, making two or three trips a day. It took a year and it’s incredible that they did this… I also couldn’t help thinking about the High School students in my classes who make this trek back and forth everyday because it’s the closest high school.

During break, my host family had mentioned wanting to go to Puerto Viejo to sell the baskets my host mom makes. They invited me, I of course said yes, and on Friday, we went, for a one of a kind beach day.

The day began, for my host mom and aunt at 1a.m. when they woke up to make enough arroz con pollo to feed a few families. I offered to help, and was extremely happy when they said it wasn’t necessary. I woke up at 3a.m., stumbled to the kitchen to find two small children sleeping on the floor, and was told that we were out of coffee. This really impacted my morning negatively.

At 4a.m., we loaded up 5 adults and 4 children into the town’s broken pickup truck, along with all my host mom’s baskets, two drink coolers which I think had chicha (nothing from said cooler was ever offered to me, wompwomp) and another cooler filled with the arroz con pollo.

At around 4:45am we miraculously made it to the river, though the truck did stop a couple of times along the way and needed it’s tires repumped. We crossed the river, in the dark, and two buses later/almost 2 hours later, we arrived at Puerto Viejo. We walked to the house of a friend of the family who works in Puerto, ate some arroz con pollo for breakfast then walked to the beach. The friend took us to a really nice cliff you can view the ocean from (advantages to travelling with the locals) and then we finally settled down at the beach.

I immediately noticed that no one was changing into a bathing suit. The men/boys were taking off their shirts, but the women were just going in as they were dressed, jean capri’s, tee shirts, etc. As I undressed, my entire host family openly stared. Somehow I felt naked, in a one piece, at the beach. I silently thanked the playa gods for the fact that I’d decided back in February to pack the bathing suit I usually wear when I go lap swimming, the one that covers everything and shows nada… and another thank you for whatever voice in my head told me to wear it that day, because as soon as I approached the water my host mom started whistling, my host dad turned his back to me, and all the children were gawking. I cannot explain how awkward this moment was for me… In my head I also said thank you to whatever my parents did to give me the – just go with it gene…

We spent most of the day swimming around in the water, (my family in regular clothing, me and all the other people at the beach in bathing suits) eventually they stopped staring at me, my host mom set out her baskets on the beach, but stayed in the water the whole time and didn’t really do much to promote them and so ended up not selling any. I got made fun of for using sunblock, and for trying to nap, turns out that’s not allowed when they go to the beach. Some guy came by selling turtle eggs, my host parents had a couple, I declined, something about endangered species fetus that just doesn’t whet my appetite. Also, every time he walked by I secretly wished he’d get arrested, because common! The damn things are about to be extinct! I buried my host brother in the sand, went for a walk and talked to a woman selling things in a booth about how to get started selling things at Puerto (my host moms baskets are really nice! how to get them somewhere where people will buy them…) and before I knew it, it was 2pm and that meant, it was time to wrap it up!

Back at the house, we had more arroz con pollo, (oh that’s why we had so much, because that’s all we eat all day!) got laughed at while I practiced some Bribri, then headed back to the bus. Bus–> hour and half wait → bus → boat we made it back to the river, crossed, again at night, and loaded back into the truck. All four wheels needed to be repumped, the gas was low, the Pulperia with gas was out, and we had to push the truck up this one steep hill… but then we made it! Honestly, I’d had my doubts because I’d seen that thing stopped by the side of the road many many times….

Personal highlight: I bought some chocolate croissants from a delicious bakery that we ate for breakfast the next day, which saved me from hot dogs and boiled bananas!

Low: My water camera broke =(

Laying in bed that night I couldn’t help thinking about how different a day it was from when I’d been there a few weeks ago with other volunteers. With my host family, every colon was accounted for, there was no extra spending, we didn’t get to try any of the super tasty restaurants, didn’t browse the little tourist stands and although they are from here, they stood out, instead of the hundreds of foreign tourist.

I also spent a lot of time wondering if my host family felt self conscious for not being in bathing suits when everyone else was? And was it worth it to them to wake up at 1am, travel for almost 3 hours each way, to spend 4 hours actually at the beach?

Also, wishing i had more chocolate croissants.

Reblogged from Going Nowhere Fast:

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Any irrational fear of bugs I once had has been magnified and transformed into a much stronger and more rational fear of bugs. I do not consider myself a bug-phobic, however, having recently been joined by 100+  seemingly fearless roommates, I have created a list of rules for those who are squeamish at the thought of intimately living with large numbers of the little creepers.

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