Depressing, no? I can’t help it! I am tired of health problems and sweat and having to obey irrational control constantly. And I am forced to be around my fellow students, I have no escape, and I have grown to care about them so much that it hurts me to need to escape from them. I do not want to feel resentment and disdain, but deep down I do. And I cannot muster a mask for it anymore. My eyes are narrowed and my back is hunched and I slug along slowly, miserably, waiting for it all to be over.
The things I once saw beauty in (the tropical climate; the creative, and colorful attire of the ticos; the hearty casados; the isolation of the Central River Valley; the surroundings of 26 other enthusiastic college students; the endless winding roads; the inexhaustible amount of flora and fauna and creatures that roam every inch of this country; the absence of large-scale American enterprises), now portray dismal, hurtful burdens to the very core of my self (incessant heat and humidity; tacky clothes; fattening, bloating, boring food; stranded and lonely and so far from any true comfort; 26 enemies; car sickness and a big waste of time; mosquito bites blanketing my entire body; the absence of my home).
And so I wish I can emerge from this slump, through some miracle or the improvement of my will. I know very well I need to appreciate the time I have left, and not regret wasting it, and at least for the benefit of my blog, not look back and feel like an unappreciative, ungrateful, whining idiot.
Now let me try and recap what has happened, aside from my “emotional difficulties” if you will. I also apologize, I have lost my enthusiasm for documentation through photography because nothing seems to be as precious and unfathomable as before. So the photos are few and of poor quality. Except the farm party, pictures courtesy of Nellie.
After finals, directed research started. This means not a lot of work and a lot of informative classes about statistics and research and GIS and lots and lots of workout videos. I am doing a project on illegal hunting practices and value of wildlife to tourists in Carara National Park. This was by far my last choice of projects (there are three total), as it was everyone else’s last choice, so I switched over. My reasoning was also assuaged by the fact that we get to stay in a nice hotel for a week with a pool near the beach and we don’t have to do any fieldwork we just have to interview people, which should improve my Spanish… Basically it’s going to be great. We’re leaving Thursday, with little to do until then! I am about to start a class relating to GIS technologies. Kinda cool.
Friday night, a bunch of us went to a party in the neighborhood. We pregamed a little at Don Yayo’s, the local bar, and then caught some taxis to take us down winding dirt roads off the main highway, and finally stopped at some abandoned farm. There was a bar and a dance floor and a pool, but it was completely empty, except for several 12-year-old-looking boys and their liters of guaro. It was a little weird when we got there at first, but we started pounding shots and making a night of it. We found some boys socializing over some mota, and made friends. This was great! Real tico friends! And we were all together and partying and dancing and listening to American hip-hop from the nineties. Several boys offered me besos galore. There was one boy who was actually kind of tall and he was really adorable so I decided that he was going to be my future husband and struck up a conversation. I don’t speak Spanish so we mostly just talked about… well, nothing. I asked him what the word was for different things in Spanish and whether he could speak English. He couldn’t. Regardless, I am not daunted. I am sure that this silent, drunken, one-time meeting will evolve into the constitution of the rest of my adult life. And lots of babies.
I don’t indulge in partying much here, but sometimes it can be surprisingly fun. And for once I got to enjoy my classmates’ company instead of feeling stifled by it.
The next day we had another weekend away! Meaning we got a Saturday night where we didn’t have curfew!!! Lucky us! About half the group decided to go to San Jose for the weekend. This happened to cause some drama because I really don’t like traveling with more than, oh, one other person. Maybe two. But there was something like 15 people going to San Jose. So here I tried to avoid coinciding travel plans with other people, but some people found that somewhat offensive and so there was a lot of DRAMA. Which was stressful and not fun. But we figured it out, and it was a successful weekend in a lot of ways.
When we arrived there, we had to wait for quite a while to get money out of an atm, and figure out where our hostel was at. We got in a cab and had them drop us off at the cross streets, and still could not find this place we were looking for. It turns out it was just behind this wrought iron gate with barbed wire and was delineated by a small sign posted on a red door. And when you enter, there is this massive labyrinth of dorm rooms and bathrooms and a pool and a restaurant and dance floor and bar and tv room. It was actually a little overwhelming. And definitely not one of my favorite hostels. It was dark and dismal and on a scary street. The staff was incredibly friendly and helpful and all spoke English, so at least there was that.
Our next plan of action was to meet up with Dayla (the student affairs manager, aka the most amazing woman in the world and the only tolerable woman on the SFS staff) so she could show us some hip places to shop in San Jose. Because she has impeccable taste. Unlike most Costa Ricans. We found her, in the pouring rain, downtown and hopped in taxis to take us a few blocks to two little shops. The first was owned by her ex boyfriend, a clothing designer, and everything was homemade and new. A little expensive, for my taste, but very indie and cool. The 10 of the girls were pretty successful. Nellie, Jackie and I headed off to the other store, while they continued to shop. The second store was a little thrift store ran by the most adorable girl. She altered and repaired used clothes, and then resells them with little extra detailing. It was absolutely precious. The three of us were very successful there (Nellie, the fashion expert, helped me compose a cute little outfit with a white dress and belt and bag).
I was in a hurry to leave because I had made plans to meet up with Patrick Moreno-Covington! Who is also studying abroad in Costa Rica in San Jose. So Nellie and I snagged a cab over to San Pedro, the neighborhood of the University of Costa Rica. We got a delicious Italian dinner and caught up about this and that, our perceptions of Costa Rica, what we’ve been doing. After dinner we met up with Jenny Natleson and another girl from the ACM program. The national soccer game of Costa Rica versus Uruguay was taking place in San Jose that night, so they headed to a bar to watch it over some pitchers. Nellie and I went back to the hostel to change out of our wet clothes and drop off our new purchases, and then went back to watch the game.
Of course, in this transition, I forget to bring my ID with me. Which it is illegal not to carry with you at all times in Costa Rica. And this caused a predicament in getting into bars. (Let me just say I have never ONCE been carded in Costa Rica for any reason whatsoever, except to book hostels so it wasn’t the STUPIDEST oversight on my part. But it was pretty stupid.) But we snuck in to a really crowded bar, and then another after where we could get a table. This is also because the people on the ACM program frequent these places several times a week and know the bouncers. Also I am blonde. Anyway, all ended up well, and we spent some hours reminiscing about “camp college” and I reveled in being in the presence of different, friendly people in a new environment. Nellie and I tired way too early, and returned to the hostel, where everyone from SFS was hanging out and drinking beers. Nellie, Allie and I watched Borat and passed out.
The next day, the plan was to do a little souvenier shopping, eat a delicious lunch, and trek home. Which is exactly what we did! We found a little artisan’s market and spent a decent amount of time and colones on Christmas presents and other essentials. From there, we visited one more of Dayla’s recommended shopping stops, which was too expensive for me but, yes, adorable. Then, Nellie, Allie and I were determined to find a Thai restaurant called Ting Jao advised to us by none other than the incredible Dayla.
As soon as we entered, we were greeted by a congenial dressed in an authentic Chinese gown. When we sat down and opened the 10 page menu and watched a busser fill matching vasos con agua, we felt instant happiness. Things that don’t happen at restaurants in Costa Rica: personable service, automatic glasses with water when you sit down at a table, and large arrays of options on a menu. We were clearly in a little over our heads.
Just reading the titles off the menu (pad thai, vegetarian curry, tofu salad, miso soup) made our mouths water. As our glasses of water were being refilled without any sort of request (!?!?!??), we ordered. Shortly, we received a steaming bowl of thai eggplant curry, a cone-shaped bowl of miso soup, fried tofu squares, a spicy tofu mixed salad, and a heaping plate of vegan pad thai.
Okay, now you might be thinking, Costa Rican restaurant options are never good. They don’t understand anything but casados. Every attempt at Asian food you have ever witnessed has been a disaster. And there is no tofu in Costa Rica! This sounds like a disaster.
BUT NO!!!!!!!!!!! What arrives in front of us is the most delicious meal I have seen in what seems like an eternity. A heaping pile of incredibly fresh and crunchy and green lettuces with onion and REAL mushrooms and tofu. Real, grilled, spicy tofu. Oh my god it was heaven. And my next course was vegan pad thai! Real rice noodles and peanuts and bean sprouts and it tasted like pad thai! It was heavenly. We stuffed our faces full. And I had never felt so satisfied since I had been here. And as they kept refilling our water, they brought us dessert menus which we couldn’t pass up. Blackberry cheesecake, ginger and mint figs, and tempura bananas. These were real, gourmet desserts. It was unbelievable.
I can’t express how good this lunch was. I didn’t feel like I was in Costa Rica. I was in a real, gourmet, American restaurant that charged Costa Rican prices. This did not help with my homesickness.
We meandered around the markets and city a little bit before we caught the three o’ clock bus back to the center. San Jose, overall, is a pretty shitty city. It is scary and unsafe and impossible not to get stared at and hassled and ripped off. It is also just polluted and crime-ridden. It's really too bad, because so much of the country is monitored so well. But it is the most city-like city. And it has a lot of potential. But being there made me so so so so so grateful I go to school in the country and don't have to live there.
And now, back to the grind.
Wow. The part about being bummed out was really good! Sorry. Plus it all seems worth it for you, to me, here in my robe and in front of my big IMAC. I love you dear, and uh,we are now counting the weeks, since I can't count over 5 and two of the fingers are always busy. We are Counting . . . THREE weeks. Love, Mom
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