8.30.09
Today I am snuggled in reading my Mothers of Feminism book. It is August and it is cold. I can no longer read in the hammock for more than ten minutes or it becomes uncomfortable. Now I am inside in a hooded sweatshirt and a down vest and am still waiting for my fingers to warm up again.
I am curled up in the arm chair munching on plain yogurt and granola from the cheese factory, reading "Chapter 8: Quaker Women and the Early Suffrage Movement". Anna Elizabeth Dickinson was eighteen years old in 1860 when she became well known for her anti-slavery lectures. I think : 18. Wow. I think when I was eighteen I was too confused to do anything with much conviction. I don't think I even believed much in myself let alone any cause. I wonder what everyone was saying in these anti-slavery lectures.
But this is not what I put my book down to ponder. Here is what I found so interesting, on page 123, at the top, still talking about Anna Elizabeth Dickinson: "Susan B. Anthony admired her and tried to persuade her to lecture for women, but Anna Dickinson replied that like an other Quaker woman she had to wait for a leading. Although she supported the rights of women, this leading never came."
I wonder if the emphasis is on Quaker or woman. Did men need to wait for leadings? But once again, I am off topic.
I read this and stopped short. A leading. Like a calling? I, of course, think of this wacky and unconventional thing I am doing with my life. I am not a Quaker, although much of what I'm learning about the faith sits right with me. During orientation before school started we met as a staff to talk about Quakerism and its role in the school. Minister-less, or un-programmed meetings were described as a time to listen for a message from God. The facilitator of this particular session acknowledged that listening for God can be a little weighty for some people to get down with and rephrased it as "listening for a message". I like this idea a lot.
I spend a lot of time by myself here - walking, in the hammock, home at night. I do a lot of thinking and reflecting, but rarely come up with evidence of these thoughts. I never conclude anything, or find next steps, or have closure, or find solutions. Usually my thoughts just bump around like clothes in a dryer.
Sitting in Meeting is different. It's almost as if I draw focus and encouragement from the other quiet, pensive bodies around me. I don't think being in Meeting is about conclusion, next steps or closure, but this is what happens for me. I feel productive, although I doubt this is the goal either.
All of this happens and none of it has to do with God for me. Some could argue that this time spent on active listening is prayer, and that the unspoken connection and understanding with the other members is God, and I can not argue with that. But getting back to my point: I believe in learning to listen, whether it is to God or myself and I believe in having a leading or calling whether it is from a religious source or just something that is super right. And I wonder: if I listen hard enough, will I hear my leading? How will I know? What if we are lead/called/drawn to do something that doesn't make us happy? Or not lead to do something that we really want to do?
This brings me back to Anna Elizabeth Dickinson. The woman had talent. She was such a great orator that she got a personal request from President Lincoln to endorse his re-election. And all this in the 1860's when being an outspoken, articulate, critically thinking woman was not popular (is it ever?). Would it have been so hard for her to also include women's rights on her agenda? Was she lacking passion? Interest? Ideas? Or just the go-ahead from upstairs?
This is where I hope the "comment" button will be used. I wold love to hear thoughts from ya'll (you know, the four or five of you who read this) on leadings. Do they even exist? How do we know when we are doing what we are meant to be doing? When we love what we do? When we are good at it? When it is convenient? Fulfilling? And is it OK to not do something you are lead to do? If so, when? Do leadings only apply to occupation? Can you be lead to live in a certain place or to commit to a certain someone?
OK, I will stop. But this idea of doing what you're meant to do (and being with who you're meant to be with) has me consumed, in case you could not tell. Thank you Margaret Hope Bacon for giving me some history around which to focus my questions.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Sharing the Blog Love
Check out nobreadcrumbs.blogspot.com
Mike and Sally live down the road and are new to Monteverde also. They are wonderful, and so are their two little boys. Their blog is a lot more detailed and informative then mine. And...I'm mentioned in their post on August 25!
Mike and Sally live down the road and are new to Monteverde also. They are wonderful, and so are their two little boys. Their blog is a lot more detailed and informative then mine. And...I'm mentioned in their post on August 25!
A Quick, Poorly Written Update
8/29/09
The best day so far. This is what I did today, in chronological order:
-woke at 5:30 a.m. Breakfast was sourdough bread that a couple here makes and sells with blackberry cream cheese jelly from the cheese factory. I was out of the house at 6:05. I walked 5 km down to Santa Elena, bought mangos, lettuce, spinach, Q-tips, tomatoes and this green fruit I forgot what it’s called. I walked 5km back up. Emphasis on UP.
-did laundry, sat in hammock, hung laundry, read travel novel, swept porch.
-played Frisbee at school for over an hour. The youngest player was a student of mine in 4th grade. There were also students and teachers from the other private school in Monteverde, high school students from my school, a parent, some guys I’d never seen before and a bunch of dogs. It was FUN.
-showered, munched on some fresh pineapple, went to internet café to play and eat a hamburger. I was sooooo excited for a burger and fries. Turns out it was too much for me and I had to leave half of it on the plate. Who would have thought that after a 6 mile walk and over an hour of running my butt off I couldn’t even finish a burger and fries?
-Came home, changed into pj’s, laughed at my sun burnt face (yes, even in the Cloud Forest!), watched Wall-E on my laptop.
Now please answer me this: Does it get any better than this? I am sore and tired and feel healthy and happy and strong. Healthy and happy and strong. Hm, I like that.
I was up early enough this morning to pass the cows on the road on their way to pasture and passed them again this evening on their way back.
And now for some random photos:
This is my favorite view from my walk to and from work every day. It's even better when there are cows. If you stand still, you can hear them munching from very far away.
My classroom! We have only turned the lights on once so far this year. Two full walls of windows and more than one skylight.
See how neat and organized it is? This picture was taken before the first day of school.
The raised area to the left used to be a storage closet, but the wall was knocked down this summer to make room for our 21 kids - the largest class in MFS history!
This is what happens when you have the lights on near the window at night. They used to kinda freak me out, but now I love them. I also don't leave the lights on by the window at night anymore.
Um...bugs dominate my life.
The best day so far. This is what I did today, in chronological order:
-woke at 5:30 a.m. Breakfast was sourdough bread that a couple here makes and sells with blackberry cream cheese jelly from the cheese factory. I was out of the house at 6:05. I walked 5 km down to Santa Elena, bought mangos, lettuce, spinach, Q-tips, tomatoes and this green fruit I forgot what it’s called. I walked 5km back up. Emphasis on UP.
-did laundry, sat in hammock, hung laundry, read travel novel, swept porch.
-played Frisbee at school for over an hour. The youngest player was a student of mine in 4th grade. There were also students and teachers from the other private school in Monteverde, high school students from my school, a parent, some guys I’d never seen before and a bunch of dogs. It was FUN.
-showered, munched on some fresh pineapple, went to internet café to play and eat a hamburger. I was sooooo excited for a burger and fries. Turns out it was too much for me and I had to leave half of it on the plate. Who would have thought that after a 6 mile walk and over an hour of running my butt off I couldn’t even finish a burger and fries?
-Came home, changed into pj’s, laughed at my sun burnt face (yes, even in the Cloud Forest!), watched Wall-E on my laptop.
Now please answer me this: Does it get any better than this? I am sore and tired and feel healthy and happy and strong. Healthy and happy and strong. Hm, I like that.
I was up early enough this morning to pass the cows on the road on their way to pasture and passed them again this evening on their way back.
And now for some random photos:
This is my favorite view from my walk to and from work every day. It's even better when there are cows. If you stand still, you can hear them munching from very far away.
My classroom! We have only turned the lights on once so far this year. Two full walls of windows and more than one skylight.
See how neat and organized it is? This picture was taken before the first day of school.
The raised area to the left used to be a storage closet, but the wall was knocked down this summer to make room for our 21 kids - the largest class in MFS history!
This is what happens when you have the lights on near the window at night. They used to kinda freak me out, but now I love them. I also don't leave the lights on by the window at night anymore.
Um...bugs dominate my life.
Co-Existing
8/28/09
Today marks one month that I have been in Costa Rica. Two weeks tomorrow since Noelle left.
Tonight I finish a phone conversation and replace the phone in the cradle. I pause. Did I really just see that? I lift the phone again. Yes. In the space where the earpiece goes is a brown grasshopper. Was I talking for that long? Did I kill it? I pick up the cradle and turn it upside down. Nothing comes out. I look. It’s still there. I give the cradle a good shake. It’s still there. What the hell? I rap the cradle on the bookcase. The little brown grasshopper is holding on tight. I contemplate just hanging up the phone again and leaving the bug nestled neatly under the earpiece, but decide that that will be more work later. I pick up the cradle and give it a good swing and the grasshopper goes tumbling out, making a slight click, click as it hits the tile floor and bounces once. I hang the phone up and go to brush my teeth thinking, “Is this really my life?”
This is not the guy that I bounced from my phone cradle, but its still pretty cool. It's just the exoskeleton. I found him waiting for me one morning as I was about to sit in my hammock and have breakfast before work.
Today marks one month that I have been in Costa Rica. Two weeks tomorrow since Noelle left.
Tonight I finish a phone conversation and replace the phone in the cradle. I pause. Did I really just see that? I lift the phone again. Yes. In the space where the earpiece goes is a brown grasshopper. Was I talking for that long? Did I kill it? I pick up the cradle and turn it upside down. Nothing comes out. I look. It’s still there. I give the cradle a good shake. It’s still there. What the hell? I rap the cradle on the bookcase. The little brown grasshopper is holding on tight. I contemplate just hanging up the phone again and leaving the bug nestled neatly under the earpiece, but decide that that will be more work later. I pick up the cradle and give it a good swing and the grasshopper goes tumbling out, making a slight click, click as it hits the tile floor and bounces once. I hang the phone up and go to brush my teeth thinking, “Is this really my life?”
This is not the guy that I bounced from my phone cradle, but its still pretty cool. It's just the exoskeleton. I found him waiting for me one morning as I was about to sit in my hammock and have breakfast before work.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
The Responsibillity of Choice
8/27/09
I am falling behind. I’ve been staying at work later this week and have not been sweeping every day. The dead moths are piling up in mounds in my cabina. I threw away two in my bathroom and am ignoring the two that are staring at me, face up, on the dining room floor right now. I did not know that carcass removal would be such a constant in my life here.
I went running today with the high school English/history teacher and a student who is a senior. I went further (farther?) than I’ve gone before – from the school to the Reserve and back. I feel awesome. The English/history teacher is a gentle encourager, which makes it very easy for me to feel safe around him, which is nice. I am finding it hard to be myself here. Maybe I should give myself a break, and some time, but I’m having trouble letting my guard down. I am conflicted, and filled with doubt, and don’t want that to show. I am not ready to share.
Yesterday a part of me leaked out. I got my first piece of mail here in Costa Rica – a package! What a wonderful surprise! I could not help but shine and giggle and dance around in my new down vest. I could not help but encourage people to touch me…er, the vest. Two of my students snuggled their faces into it. I felt like I was walking on a cloud.
But usually I just sit and listen. I let other people do the talking, the deciding. Tonight after my run I sat and listened to a discussion about theft, which is rampant here in Monteverde. I listened to three people talk about getting robbed, two of them over and over again. I listened to them talk about putting bars on windows and doors and buying safes and master keys that were also stolen. I think about my living situation: on top of an almost-always-home landlord with a dog that barks at people he doesn’t know. I decided to find good hiding places for my stuff anyway.
I’ve been thinking a lot about some words spoken by a woman in Wednesday Meeting this week. - education brings the privilege of choice, and how lucky we are to have both. But with privilege, comes responsibility. In Meeting she asks for the wisdom to know how to choose responsibly. As she spoke, she struggled to control her voice, and fought back tears. Her words stick with me because this is what I think about every time I sit in silence, though I am not brave enough to share it. It struck me how alike we are but never know it until we share our experiences. I wonder: how does one gain wisdom? Experience, they say. Experience. Is getting robbed experience? Is moving to Costa Rica?
The sunset tonight looked like a piece from Alex Katz’s Sunset series.
And then later tonight:
I go into the bathroom tonight to pee and brush my teeth. I glance down at my toothbrush nestled next to the toothpaste on the back of the sink, and there he is. Yes, I am assigning gender with no basis and it shows my bias and I don’t care. It’s the spider that lives in my sink. I’m trying really hard to be down with the fact that a big red-brown spider lives inside of my sink. This is especially difficult when he’s out for a stroll along the edges of the sink and I’m using the toilet and our faces are four inches apart. So far, I’m doing a good job. A sharp intake of breath is all – no cursing, yelling, crying or running out of the bathroom with my pants around my ankles. I am determined to peacefully co-exist. Well, just plain co-exist is ok too.
But tonight, tonight he went too far. He’s testing me, pushing the limits. When I enter the bathroom he is on the back of the sink, camped out next to my toothbrush, with one leg resting gently on the head of the toothbrush. Maybe even touching some bristles. That cocky, arrogant, smug s.o.b. He knows I’m not going to kill him and is antagonizing me. I swear he has one eyebrow up, asking me, “What are you gonna do, huh?” He is like Nemo in Finding Nemo when he puts his defiant fin on the bottom of the motorboat.
I wonder if he’s contaminated my toothbrush. Do I have to boil it now? Throw it out? I don’t have a spare. Are spiders dirty?, I ask myself. Are bathroom spiders dirty? An image flashes through my head of hundreds of small tan-yellow spiders scurrying all over a rotting human carcass. I decide that it’s ok to go to bed tonight without brushing my teeth. I turn around, turn off the light and go to bed.
I am falling behind. I’ve been staying at work later this week and have not been sweeping every day. The dead moths are piling up in mounds in my cabina. I threw away two in my bathroom and am ignoring the two that are staring at me, face up, on the dining room floor right now. I did not know that carcass removal would be such a constant in my life here.
I went running today with the high school English/history teacher and a student who is a senior. I went further (farther?) than I’ve gone before – from the school to the Reserve and back. I feel awesome. The English/history teacher is a gentle encourager, which makes it very easy for me to feel safe around him, which is nice. I am finding it hard to be myself here. Maybe I should give myself a break, and some time, but I’m having trouble letting my guard down. I am conflicted, and filled with doubt, and don’t want that to show. I am not ready to share.
Yesterday a part of me leaked out. I got my first piece of mail here in Costa Rica – a package! What a wonderful surprise! I could not help but shine and giggle and dance around in my new down vest. I could not help but encourage people to touch me…er, the vest. Two of my students snuggled their faces into it. I felt like I was walking on a cloud.
But usually I just sit and listen. I let other people do the talking, the deciding. Tonight after my run I sat and listened to a discussion about theft, which is rampant here in Monteverde. I listened to three people talk about getting robbed, two of them over and over again. I listened to them talk about putting bars on windows and doors and buying safes and master keys that were also stolen. I think about my living situation: on top of an almost-always-home landlord with a dog that barks at people he doesn’t know. I decided to find good hiding places for my stuff anyway.
I’ve been thinking a lot about some words spoken by a woman in Wednesday Meeting this week. - education brings the privilege of choice, and how lucky we are to have both. But with privilege, comes responsibility. In Meeting she asks for the wisdom to know how to choose responsibly. As she spoke, she struggled to control her voice, and fought back tears. Her words stick with me because this is what I think about every time I sit in silence, though I am not brave enough to share it. It struck me how alike we are but never know it until we share our experiences. I wonder: how does one gain wisdom? Experience, they say. Experience. Is getting robbed experience? Is moving to Costa Rica?
The sunset tonight looked like a piece from Alex Katz’s Sunset series.
And then later tonight:
I go into the bathroom tonight to pee and brush my teeth. I glance down at my toothbrush nestled next to the toothpaste on the back of the sink, and there he is. Yes, I am assigning gender with no basis and it shows my bias and I don’t care. It’s the spider that lives in my sink. I’m trying really hard to be down with the fact that a big red-brown spider lives inside of my sink. This is especially difficult when he’s out for a stroll along the edges of the sink and I’m using the toilet and our faces are four inches apart. So far, I’m doing a good job. A sharp intake of breath is all – no cursing, yelling, crying or running out of the bathroom with my pants around my ankles. I am determined to peacefully co-exist. Well, just plain co-exist is ok too.
But tonight, tonight he went too far. He’s testing me, pushing the limits. When I enter the bathroom he is on the back of the sink, camped out next to my toothbrush, with one leg resting gently on the head of the toothbrush. Maybe even touching some bristles. That cocky, arrogant, smug s.o.b. He knows I’m not going to kill him and is antagonizing me. I swear he has one eyebrow up, asking me, “What are you gonna do, huh?” He is like Nemo in Finding Nemo when he puts his defiant fin on the bottom of the motorboat.
I wonder if he’s contaminated my toothbrush. Do I have to boil it now? Throw it out? I don’t have a spare. Are spiders dirty?, I ask myself. Are bathroom spiders dirty? An image flashes through my head of hundreds of small tan-yellow spiders scurrying all over a rotting human carcass. I decide that it’s ok to go to bed tonight without brushing my teeth. I turn around, turn off the light and go to bed.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Settling My Mind
8/26/09
Today Tedi and I prepared our kids for Meeting. Wednesday meeting is almost an hour long and is attended by the entire school of 114 kids, 24ish staff and members of the community. The Meeting room gets packed. Preparing eight and nine year olds to sit still and silent for an hour and like it is quite a task. I think it’s my favorite thing about teaching at MFS. Today we did two different activities, both from a book called Tuning In: Mindfulness in Teaching and Learning.
Tedi brought a plastic jug and filled it a bit with dirt, and the rest with water. We shook it up and talked about all the things running through our minds when we come to school in the morning. We talked about why we have an entire hour for pre-Meeting to settle our minds. We placed the jug of muddy water on the side and moved onto another activity.
We all put a raisin in our mouths and tried to make it last three minutes. The purpose is to work on focusing ourselves on the tiny details of life. I was amazed that more than half the class still had their raisin after three minutes. Some of them had their raisin after twenty minutes and were able to articulate, in great detail, the experience of keeping a raisin in their mouth. Most of them reported that they couldn’t taste anything at all until they bit into their raisins, which is exactly what I experienced. Why are kids so cool?
We ended our session with some stretching, yoga (their idea, I don’t know any yoga) and by popping a raisin in our mouth to focus us during Meeting (don’t tell!). And this is what I’ve realized: teaching kids to settle helps me settle. I love that. I was also aware of this at CIVIC. Teaching kids about communication and empathy made me a better communicator and more empathetic.
On a less serious note, Tedi and I have the most active and accident-prone calss in the entire school. Our 21 students are the biggest in MFS history (hence the two teachers). Two days ago a third grade boy had to take a break during recess because he had blood flowing down his arm. Late in class I noticed that he must have leaned on his knee before getting cleaned up – his thigh was covered in dried blood. Today I had to get ice for two kids. A wasp stung one during Meeting and the other (the bloody one) had seriously jammed his thumb playing soccer.
I’m not sure if this is a country difference of a public vs. private school difference, but I like being able to get ice for kids. I like that kids get cut up and we have to bandage them. It feels less stiff. More real. It’s another excuse to show you care.
Today Tedi and I prepared our kids for Meeting. Wednesday meeting is almost an hour long and is attended by the entire school of 114 kids, 24ish staff and members of the community. The Meeting room gets packed. Preparing eight and nine year olds to sit still and silent for an hour and like it is quite a task. I think it’s my favorite thing about teaching at MFS. Today we did two different activities, both from a book called Tuning In: Mindfulness in Teaching and Learning.
Tedi brought a plastic jug and filled it a bit with dirt, and the rest with water. We shook it up and talked about all the things running through our minds when we come to school in the morning. We talked about why we have an entire hour for pre-Meeting to settle our minds. We placed the jug of muddy water on the side and moved onto another activity.
We all put a raisin in our mouths and tried to make it last three minutes. The purpose is to work on focusing ourselves on the tiny details of life. I was amazed that more than half the class still had their raisin after three minutes. Some of them had their raisin after twenty minutes and were able to articulate, in great detail, the experience of keeping a raisin in their mouth. Most of them reported that they couldn’t taste anything at all until they bit into their raisins, which is exactly what I experienced. Why are kids so cool?
We ended our session with some stretching, yoga (their idea, I don’t know any yoga) and by popping a raisin in our mouth to focus us during Meeting (don’t tell!). And this is what I’ve realized: teaching kids to settle helps me settle. I love that. I was also aware of this at CIVIC. Teaching kids about communication and empathy made me a better communicator and more empathetic.
On a less serious note, Tedi and I have the most active and accident-prone calss in the entire school. Our 21 students are the biggest in MFS history (hence the two teachers). Two days ago a third grade boy had to take a break during recess because he had blood flowing down his arm. Late in class I noticed that he must have leaned on his knee before getting cleaned up – his thigh was covered in dried blood. Today I had to get ice for two kids. A wasp stung one during Meeting and the other (the bloody one) had seriously jammed his thumb playing soccer.
I’m not sure if this is a country difference of a public vs. private school difference, but I like being able to get ice for kids. I like that kids get cut up and we have to bandage them. It feels less stiff. More real. It’s another excuse to show you care.
Classroom Pets
8/24/09
Tedi and I got to work an hour early this morning, just like most other days. I sat on the steps leading to our circle area and planned out word study for the day as Tedi looked through math resources. She walked to the sink to fill her water bottle and and smiled, looking at up me. “Don’t freak out…”, she started, “But there is a huge scorpion in our sink.”
I sigh. I’m getting used to this. Last night we had dinner at a co-worker’s house. She told me that the former occupant of my house caught quite a few rats last year. Cool…I have yet to see signs of rodents in the house but mention that maybe I’ll get a rattrap as a precaution. “Yeah…” my co-worker agreed quietly. “Get a big one.”
After a few minutes my curiosity got the better of me and I wandered over to the sink and peeked inside. Huge? Hardly. Maybe three inches total including tail and pinchers. Eso no es nada. I returned to my planning.
Of course, when the students arrived they discovered our visitor immediately (how do they do that?) and it took some repetition to focus them on schoolwork. Later in the morning the scorpion was gone – “Our friend escaped”, Tedi commented. Hmm, I liked it better when I knew where that little dude was.
At lunchtime I had lunch duty, which means that I am one of three teachers who has to eat outside, keep an eye on the kids and mark the time. As soon as I sat down next to Heather, a high school math and science teacher, one of my third grade boys approached me. His face was strained – he was holding back tears. “Someone killed the scorpion!”, he blurted out, all of his tears following. I asked if he was sure it had been killed, and not just dead.
“Was it crushed? “
“Yes!” Oh dear.
“Would you like to take it outside on a piece of paper and put it in the woods?”
“Yes!” He turned and headed quickly to the classroom with me right on his heels. Kids here are pretty comfortable with snakes, spiders and scorpions, but I wasn’t sure I should leave him alone with this stinging creature.
We approached the sink and looked inside. I didn’t see anything. “See?”, said the student through his tears. I leaned closer. Inside the drain I see a few scorpion legs clinging to the side. It did not look crushed. I suggested we touch it gently to make sure it was dead. “Yeah”, agrees my companion. Sniffle, sniffle. I took out a pencil and gently pushed a leg. The scorpion moved slightly.
“It’s still alive! It just climbed into the drain to hide,” I reported. “Did you see it move?”
“Yeah!” Tears – gone. Sniffles – done. Grin – huge. I gave my student an awkward hug and told him how lucky I felt to have such a kind, caring young man in my class. I want him to feel proud of his tears. Or at least not ashamed or weak.
The student and I came up with a plan of action that he repeated word for word to Tedi when we step outside. “We’re just gonna let the scorpion chill in the sink. And then as a class we can come up with a gender neutral name and keep it as a pet.”
Wow. He was really listening to what I was saying. Maybe I should be more aware of my grammar and vocabulary use. This is not a child that says “chill”. Oops.
Tedi agrees to the plan and the student runs off to play. Later on during recess the same third grade boy rushed over to me with a huge smile on his face. “Look!”, he exclaimed, out of breath. He was standing next to his friend in the class below him and gently turned him around so he was facing away from me. Perched on the back of his friend’s head was a four inch stick bug. My third grader was cracking up. “It was climbing all over his head and neck and face!” This child is in heaven here in Monteverde. I’m just glad the scorpion is still alive. (Did I really just type that?)
Tedi and I got to work an hour early this morning, just like most other days. I sat on the steps leading to our circle area and planned out word study for the day as Tedi looked through math resources. She walked to the sink to fill her water bottle and and smiled, looking at up me. “Don’t freak out…”, she started, “But there is a huge scorpion in our sink.”
I sigh. I’m getting used to this. Last night we had dinner at a co-worker’s house. She told me that the former occupant of my house caught quite a few rats last year. Cool…I have yet to see signs of rodents in the house but mention that maybe I’ll get a rattrap as a precaution. “Yeah…” my co-worker agreed quietly. “Get a big one.”
After a few minutes my curiosity got the better of me and I wandered over to the sink and peeked inside. Huge? Hardly. Maybe three inches total including tail and pinchers. Eso no es nada. I returned to my planning.
Of course, when the students arrived they discovered our visitor immediately (how do they do that?) and it took some repetition to focus them on schoolwork. Later in the morning the scorpion was gone – “Our friend escaped”, Tedi commented. Hmm, I liked it better when I knew where that little dude was.
At lunchtime I had lunch duty, which means that I am one of three teachers who has to eat outside, keep an eye on the kids and mark the time. As soon as I sat down next to Heather, a high school math and science teacher, one of my third grade boys approached me. His face was strained – he was holding back tears. “Someone killed the scorpion!”, he blurted out, all of his tears following. I asked if he was sure it had been killed, and not just dead.
“Was it crushed? “
“Yes!” Oh dear.
“Would you like to take it outside on a piece of paper and put it in the woods?”
“Yes!” He turned and headed quickly to the classroom with me right on his heels. Kids here are pretty comfortable with snakes, spiders and scorpions, but I wasn’t sure I should leave him alone with this stinging creature.
We approached the sink and looked inside. I didn’t see anything. “See?”, said the student through his tears. I leaned closer. Inside the drain I see a few scorpion legs clinging to the side. It did not look crushed. I suggested we touch it gently to make sure it was dead. “Yeah”, agrees my companion. Sniffle, sniffle. I took out a pencil and gently pushed a leg. The scorpion moved slightly.
“It’s still alive! It just climbed into the drain to hide,” I reported. “Did you see it move?”
“Yeah!” Tears – gone. Sniffles – done. Grin – huge. I gave my student an awkward hug and told him how lucky I felt to have such a kind, caring young man in my class. I want him to feel proud of his tears. Or at least not ashamed or weak.
The student and I came up with a plan of action that he repeated word for word to Tedi when we step outside. “We’re just gonna let the scorpion chill in the sink. And then as a class we can come up with a gender neutral name and keep it as a pet.”
Wow. He was really listening to what I was saying. Maybe I should be more aware of my grammar and vocabulary use. This is not a child that says “chill”. Oops.
Tedi agrees to the plan and the student runs off to play. Later on during recess the same third grade boy rushed over to me with a huge smile on his face. “Look!”, he exclaimed, out of breath. He was standing next to his friend in the class below him and gently turned him around so he was facing away from me. Perched on the back of his friend’s head was a four inch stick bug. My third grader was cracking up. “It was climbing all over his head and neck and face!” This child is in heaven here in Monteverde. I’m just glad the scorpion is still alive. (Did I really just type that?)
Sunday, August 23, 2009
From Where the Monkey Dropped It
Today I went to Meeting again. I didn’t get sad this time. I just felt calm. At peace. There were a lot of people there - over fifty. I was thinking about relationships and how with each person we interact with we are a different person. What do you do when you find someone who you just don’t have to pretend with at all?
A man spoke today. Am I allowed to share what people say in Meeting? If not, please let me know and I’ll take this down. It’s just that he said something really wonderful. He shared that he is new to the community and that at first he felt like he was walking into a forest with all of the members of the community standing tall and straight and healthy like trees. As he gets to know more and more people in the community it is like getting to know a forest better and realizing that all the trees have insects and epiphytes in them and on them. He has noticed that the members of this community have lived through a lot and have had to pick themselves up and start again. And then he told the story of British soldiers in India playing golf. Golf was a little bit different in India because sometimes you’d hit the ball and monkeys would come down from the trees, grab the ball, run into the forest with it and drop it someplace else. This went on for a long time as the players debated what to do in such a situation. They finally decided that you have to play the ball from where the monkey drops it. “That seems appropriate to all of our lives”, the man said and sat down.
After he sat and we were in silence again I kept hearing his last words over and over again in my head. “You have to play the ball from where the monkey drops it. That seems appropriate to all of our lives. You have to play the ball from where the monkey drops it. That seems appropriate to all of our lives. You have to play the ball from where the monkey drops it…”
I have been in Monteverde for almost three weeks now. I know of two families struggling through cancer and one who just lost a child. Even in this beautiful place you have to play the ball from where the monkey drops it.
Then there were announcements. This Wednesday is Zenith Day. At 11:41 a.m. the sun will be directly overhead. This only happens in the tropics. Then the peace loving Quakers broke out into a fight. Someone announced that in a few days at 12:34 a.m. Mars with be closest to the Earth than it has been in over 2,000 years and someone called out “That’s not true!” and launched into information about Jupiter and this website that I’ve forgotten. It was a pretty mild fight, I guess.
I’ve started a new book. Mothers of Feminism: The Story of Quaker Women in America by Margaret Hope Bacon. It’s fascinating. I’m putting this up here in the hopes that someone will read it and want to discuss it with me. I’m only on page 38. You still have time.
I’m gonna spend this week thinking about where my ball landed and what I’m doing about it.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
The First Day of School
My co-teacher Tedi said I looked like a fish that had been thrown back into water. The funny thing is, that is how I felt. I had forgotten...I LOVE teaching.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Old Stuff
I came across an old diary today and was flipping through. It's interesting to see my mindset leading up to my move to Monteverde.
12/5/08
Tonight I ask Raquel: "So, if I'm not a teacher, what should I be?" And she responds,
"I dont know. What did you imagine yourself as before you became a teacher?" A beat passes and I want to lie and say "I don't know" but instead I choose the silly, childish truth:
"A farmer."
"Then be a farmer." Her response with no hesitation. "Like these people", she adds, turning around the magazine she's reading to show me a two page shot of two young white people, a man and a woman, in an agricultural field. How did she just happen to be opened to that page? The field is small and imperfect and not monoculture. I think of my 19th birthday in my freshman year of college. We volunteered at the Food Bank Farm and got burnt and sweaty and dirty and happy.
I get embarrassed and say, "Eh. They are so hippie", and make a disgusted face. Raquel gives a little laugh, a "Who are you kidding?" laugh.
"You are a hippie!"
"I know", I say, smiling and looking back down at my tea. I remember a conversation from last week when I had jokingly suggested that we do mindful breathing for community meeting. Kunal blew all of his air out in one big woosh and said,
"You are such a hippie!" and I smiled and laughed because he was right and I knew it and because it's not always so bad to be a big hippie.
Then this from 1/17/09:
Today on the subway a man fell. I looked and then went back to my book. He had been seated, leaning against the conductor's cubby and his large, rolling luggage. When he slid off his seat and crashed onto the floor it made a huge sound and I'm sure he must have wacked his head. His luggage also fell, along with a wooden crutch.
He didn't get up right away. He just moved around a bit. Maybe he was waking up or coming to. Maybe he was asleep or sick or drunk or deranged. I don't know.
When he fell, it made such a noise that everyone in the subway car looked, though there were not many of us. I looked away quickly and went back to my book. I focused hard on the pages, feeling like the Uber Queen Ice Bitch, thinking, "What is wrong with me? Look at what this city has done to me." But now thinking back on it I wonder, "What have I let this city do to me?"
The couple sitting across from me looked and looked at the man who couldn't get up. He finally got himself back up into his seat but struggled with his luggage. This, actually, I just inferred from what came next. I had my nose glued to White Oleander, remember? The man sitting across from me got up, walked to the end of the subway car, and righted the man's luggage for him. I was filled with self-disgust, burning at my insides like acid.
It's ok to help people.
12/5/08
Tonight I ask Raquel: "So, if I'm not a teacher, what should I be?" And she responds,
"I dont know. What did you imagine yourself as before you became a teacher?" A beat passes and I want to lie and say "I don't know" but instead I choose the silly, childish truth:
"A farmer."
"Then be a farmer." Her response with no hesitation. "Like these people", she adds, turning around the magazine she's reading to show me a two page shot of two young white people, a man and a woman, in an agricultural field. How did she just happen to be opened to that page? The field is small and imperfect and not monoculture. I think of my 19th birthday in my freshman year of college. We volunteered at the Food Bank Farm and got burnt and sweaty and dirty and happy.
I get embarrassed and say, "Eh. They are so hippie", and make a disgusted face. Raquel gives a little laugh, a "Who are you kidding?" laugh.
"You are a hippie!"
"I know", I say, smiling and looking back down at my tea. I remember a conversation from last week when I had jokingly suggested that we do mindful breathing for community meeting. Kunal blew all of his air out in one big woosh and said,
"You are such a hippie!" and I smiled and laughed because he was right and I knew it and because it's not always so bad to be a big hippie.
Then this from 1/17/09:
Today on the subway a man fell. I looked and then went back to my book. He had been seated, leaning against the conductor's cubby and his large, rolling luggage. When he slid off his seat and crashed onto the floor it made a huge sound and I'm sure he must have wacked his head. His luggage also fell, along with a wooden crutch.
He didn't get up right away. He just moved around a bit. Maybe he was waking up or coming to. Maybe he was asleep or sick or drunk or deranged. I don't know.
When he fell, it made such a noise that everyone in the subway car looked, though there were not many of us. I looked away quickly and went back to my book. I focused hard on the pages, feeling like the Uber Queen Ice Bitch, thinking, "What is wrong with me? Look at what this city has done to me." But now thinking back on it I wonder, "What have I let this city do to me?"
The couple sitting across from me looked and looked at the man who couldn't get up. He finally got himself back up into his seat but struggled with his luggage. This, actually, I just inferred from what came next. I had my nose glued to White Oleander, remember? The man sitting across from me got up, walked to the end of the subway car, and righted the man's luggage for him. I was filled with self-disgust, burning at my insides like acid.
It's ok to help people.
Meeting
This morning I attended my first non-required Quaker Meeting. Why? Because going to Meeting is like a drug. I'm not sure if that's the reason I'm supposed to go to Meeting, but it is why I go. I don't think they'll kick me out.
They say that meeting is a time to listen for a message from God. I'm not entirely comfortable with that, so I just try to hear a message from me. Which is hard. Today I heard the wind blowing through the trees, birds calling and my own sadness. This is what has happened to me at every Meeting I've gone to: I sit, I settle, I listen and breath deep and then I get real sad. It's a tangible sadness - I feel it inside my chest. It's heavy and tugs on my shoulders from the inside.
This is interesting, because when I go to Meeting I don't think I'm sad. So, pretty much, I just sit there and listen to my sadness and try to figure out what it's trying to tell me. This is what I figured out today: life is much more memorable when shared with loved ones. Because of the sharing. I thought about walking in Spain with my Dad and how much I loved it, mostly because he also loved it. We just limped around all day and loved it, together.
Conclusion: come visit me in Costa Rica so I can share how much I love with place with you!
They say that meeting is a time to listen for a message from God. I'm not entirely comfortable with that, so I just try to hear a message from me. Which is hard. Today I heard the wind blowing through the trees, birds calling and my own sadness. This is what has happened to me at every Meeting I've gone to: I sit, I settle, I listen and breath deep and then I get real sad. It's a tangible sadness - I feel it inside my chest. It's heavy and tugs on my shoulders from the inside.
This is interesting, because when I go to Meeting I don't think I'm sad. So, pretty much, I just sit there and listen to my sadness and try to figure out what it's trying to tell me. This is what I figured out today: life is much more memorable when shared with loved ones. Because of the sharing. I thought about walking in Spain with my Dad and how much I loved it, mostly because he also loved it. We just limped around all day and loved it, together.
Conclusion: come visit me in Costa Rica so I can share how much I love with place with you!
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Um...I'm Busy
So this is what happened today:
I woke at 4:45 a.m. And by "I woke" I mean Noelle knocked on my bedroom door and got me up. We left at 5 a.m. and walked down to Santa Elena. We arrived at 6:20 with stops for: picking up Tedi, petting a dog, eating cinnamon buns, taking money out of the ATM, taking pictures of the view. Noelle hopped on the bus, Tedi and I bought produce and a bean and cheese empanada and then hopped on the bus back up the mountain.
I went home. I put away veggies. I washed mangoes and tomatoes. I washed laundry. I met my landlady's son.
It was about 9:30 in the morning and I was loading the wash into the machine on the front porch. He came upstairs in a red t-shirt, white fuzzy slippers and short flower shorts. He introduced himself to me. He speaks English. He asked where I was from and when I said New York he shared that he studied at Cornell in Ithaca. He points out the Guatemala flower that only blossoms one day a year. Its beautiful. I say "Mucho gusto" and go inside.
I come out again to change loads. He shows up again. He cuts off a chunk of some sweet food and offers it to me. I take it, eat it, says its yummy even though it is not, thank him and go back inside.
I come outside again to take my clothes out of the machine. I cart them to the porch to hang them on the line. I hear, "Gina!" I respond. He wants to show me the bleeding tree. It sounds interesting enough. What do I say? Ok.
I go out of my house, past the scary dog guarding his mom's house and into his house. Um...yes. He shows me the bleeding tree, which is actually pretty cool. He hacks it with a huge knife and it leaks red. He tells me some random facts about plants. I start to go home. He tells me that if I even want to go to Arenal with him on his moto I can . I say ok and leave.
A few hours later the phone rings. I pick up.
"Hello?"
"Gina?"
"Yes. Who is this?."
"What are you doing tomorrow?"
"I don't know, who is this?"
"Aw, you're already scared. It's Miguel!"
He wants me to go somewhere with him. I make an excuse. Crap. I hate this. When do I start talking about my boyfriend?
I woke at 4:45 a.m. And by "I woke" I mean Noelle knocked on my bedroom door and got me up. We left at 5 a.m. and walked down to Santa Elena. We arrived at 6:20 with stops for: picking up Tedi, petting a dog, eating cinnamon buns, taking money out of the ATM, taking pictures of the view. Noelle hopped on the bus, Tedi and I bought produce and a bean and cheese empanada and then hopped on the bus back up the mountain.
I went home. I put away veggies. I washed mangoes and tomatoes. I washed laundry. I met my landlady's son.
It was about 9:30 in the morning and I was loading the wash into the machine on the front porch. He came upstairs in a red t-shirt, white fuzzy slippers and short flower shorts. He introduced himself to me. He speaks English. He asked where I was from and when I said New York he shared that he studied at Cornell in Ithaca. He points out the Guatemala flower that only blossoms one day a year. Its beautiful. I say "Mucho gusto" and go inside.
I come out again to change loads. He shows up again. He cuts off a chunk of some sweet food and offers it to me. I take it, eat it, says its yummy even though it is not, thank him and go back inside.
I come outside again to take my clothes out of the machine. I cart them to the porch to hang them on the line. I hear, "Gina!" I respond. He wants to show me the bleeding tree. It sounds interesting enough. What do I say? Ok.
I go out of my house, past the scary dog guarding his mom's house and into his house. Um...yes. He shows me the bleeding tree, which is actually pretty cool. He hacks it with a huge knife and it leaks red. He tells me some random facts about plants. I start to go home. He tells me that if I even want to go to Arenal with him on his moto I can . I say ok and leave.
A few hours later the phone rings. I pick up.
"Hello?"
"Gina?"
"Yes. Who is this?."
"What are you doing tomorrow?"
"I don't know, who is this?"
"Aw, you're already scared. It's Miguel!"
He wants me to go somewhere with him. I make an excuse. Crap. I hate this. When do I start talking about my boyfriend?
Things You Should Know About My Life in Costa Rica That Will Make You Want to Come Visit
1. Awesome porch. Awesome hammock. Awesome view.
2. This is a five minute walk from my house.
3. Welcome to the Monteverde Reserve. I get in for free because I live here. You will not, but I'll be happy to go with you every single day you're here.
4. The hanging bridge.
5. The FREE hummingbird gallery a 20 minute walk from my house. I ran there today - not too many hummingbirds, only about a gazillion or a gazillion and a half. (photo credit: Noelle's forest guide)
6. Good food. Ok, Noelle actually cooked this food, but I can cook also, and will cook for you when you come. (photo credit: Noelle)
7. Fresh fruit! (photo credit: Noelle)
8. You can visit my classroom and/or volunteer at my school. My classroom looks a lot nicer now. (photo credit: Noelle)
9. Farmer's market every Saturday morning with a lot of local organic produce.
10. Falling asleep/waking up/ updating your blog to the sound gently or not-so-gently falling rain.
11. So many cool plants!
12. Orchid Garden in Santa Elena. (photo credit: Noelle)
2. This is a five minute walk from my house.
3. Welcome to the Monteverde Reserve. I get in for free because I live here. You will not, but I'll be happy to go with you every single day you're here.
4. The hanging bridge.
5. The FREE hummingbird gallery a 20 minute walk from my house. I ran there today - not too many hummingbirds, only about a gazillion or a gazillion and a half. (photo credit: Noelle's forest guide)
6. Good food. Ok, Noelle actually cooked this food, but I can cook also, and will cook for you when you come. (photo credit: Noelle)
7. Fresh fruit! (photo credit: Noelle)
8. You can visit my classroom and/or volunteer at my school. My classroom looks a lot nicer now. (photo credit: Noelle)
9. Farmer's market every Saturday morning with a lot of local organic produce.
10. Falling asleep/waking up/ updating your blog to the sound gently or not-so-gently falling rain.
11. So many cool plants!
12. Orchid Garden in Santa Elena. (photo credit: Noelle)
Things You Should Know About My Life in Costa Rica Before You Visit
1. There are bugs everywhere. Inside, outside, at the school. Moths, cockroaches, spiders, beetles, silverfish, ants, scorpians.
2. Toilet paper goes in the trash, not the toilet.
3. No hot water, except for in the shower, where it is heated by an electric coil right before it falls on your head.
4. Rain. Everyday.
5. I live on a dirt road.
6. Everything smells like mildew. My books have started to curl and all my paper is damp.
7. I live right above my landlady. You can hear everything.
8. I make $600/month. No special anything. You're gonna have to treat yourself, sorry.
9. The nearest supermarket is an hour walk from my house and its pretty sparse. People barter services for expensive chocolate.
10. In my orientation folder at my new job they included an alert about the Chagas bug (Triatoma dimidiata) that can make you very sick. It bites you as you sleep at night and sucks your blood. As it sucks your blood it defecates in you, which can cause lesions in the heart, respiratory problems or imflammation of the lymphatic system or liver and spleen.
11. It gets cold here. Two sweatshirts and a hat cold.
12. There is cloud cover 90% of the time.
13. My cabin has a corrugated tin roof. When it rains you can't hold a conversation without yelling.
A little friend on my front porch.
Drying laundry in the middle of a cloud.
This is the intersection by my house. The main road is on the left, my street forks off to the left.
2. Toilet paper goes in the trash, not the toilet.
3. No hot water, except for in the shower, where it is heated by an electric coil right before it falls on your head.
4. Rain. Everyday.
5. I live on a dirt road.
6. Everything smells like mildew. My books have started to curl and all my paper is damp.
7. I live right above my landlady. You can hear everything.
8. I make $600/month. No special anything. You're gonna have to treat yourself, sorry.
9. The nearest supermarket is an hour walk from my house and its pretty sparse. People barter services for expensive chocolate.
10. In my orientation folder at my new job they included an alert about the Chagas bug (Triatoma dimidiata) that can make you very sick. It bites you as you sleep at night and sucks your blood. As it sucks your blood it defecates in you, which can cause lesions in the heart, respiratory problems or imflammation of the lymphatic system or liver and spleen.
11. It gets cold here. Two sweatshirts and a hat cold.
12. There is cloud cover 90% of the time.
13. My cabin has a corrugated tin roof. When it rains you can't hold a conversation without yelling.
A little friend on my front porch.
Drying laundry in the middle of a cloud.
This is the intersection by my house. The main road is on the left, my street forks off to the left.
Welcome to the Cloud Forest
I wrote this last Sunday:
Yesterday as I rinsed paintbrushes in the outdoor sink at school I moved dead leaves away from the drain and found the three-inch long water logged body of a huge bug. I thought it was a cockroach and moved slowly away from it. Kyle, one of my third graders, was very excited and picked it up to show us. I stood behind Noelle. Turns out its not a cockroach, but a long horned beetle. We know this because Kyle’s dad is a guide/naturalist. He also told us that the long horned beetle’s antennae come out of its eyes and if you were to pick it up while it was alive it would squeak. If this long horned beetle were alive we’d have to be careful to hold it right behind the head or it would bite us. It is not poisonous, but does have pinchers that can cut through your skin. Oh yeah, and it has spikes on its back and two antennae that are longer than its body.
Knowing that it is not alive and not a cockroach Tedi, my co-teacher, and I grew bolder. Tedi ran to get her camera so she can take pictures of the beetle in Kyle’s hand to show how large it is. Noelle wished out loud that the beetle’s body were not waterlogged so she could take it back to her pre-K classroom in D.C. I wanted macro pictures of the long horned beetles spikes, pinchers, antennae and fur. I picked up the soggy carcass and carried it home. By the time we got to my cabin it was too dark to take good pictures so I set the beetle body on the porch railing for tomorrow.
This morning I wake up with the sun. The rain was pounding my window and the wind was ripping through the trees and I could not sleep any more. At 5:45 I climb out of bed to climb into the hammock. I see the long horned beetle perched on the rail and remember the close up pictures I wanted. I go back inside, grab my camera and return to the beetle.
The dead long horned beetle, which I carried in my bare hand for ten minutes and welcomed into my home, is moving. Its long, delicate abdomen is pulsing, undulating. Up, down, up, down. Up. Down. Its antennae are wiggling. Well, that’s a surprise. I slowly move closer to investigate the possibility of taking pictures of a live-but-dazed long horned beetle but stop short. Underneath the rail where the beetle is slowly waking up is a two-inch scorpion. I pause, and then take a picture from two feet away with the zoom.
Welcome to the Cloud Forest.
p.s. – note to self: don’t spend all morning looking at and writing about creatures with an exoskeleton and then eat crunchy granola for breakfast. You may know that you are not munching on long horned beetles and scorpions, but its really hard to relax.
(This post was made possible by HAPPY MACHINE. Thanks for the help.)
Yesterday as I rinsed paintbrushes in the outdoor sink at school I moved dead leaves away from the drain and found the three-inch long water logged body of a huge bug. I thought it was a cockroach and moved slowly away from it. Kyle, one of my third graders, was very excited and picked it up to show us. I stood behind Noelle. Turns out its not a cockroach, but a long horned beetle. We know this because Kyle’s dad is a guide/naturalist. He also told us that the long horned beetle’s antennae come out of its eyes and if you were to pick it up while it was alive it would squeak. If this long horned beetle were alive we’d have to be careful to hold it right behind the head or it would bite us. It is not poisonous, but does have pinchers that can cut through your skin. Oh yeah, and it has spikes on its back and two antennae that are longer than its body.
Knowing that it is not alive and not a cockroach Tedi, my co-teacher, and I grew bolder. Tedi ran to get her camera so she can take pictures of the beetle in Kyle’s hand to show how large it is. Noelle wished out loud that the beetle’s body were not waterlogged so she could take it back to her pre-K classroom in D.C. I wanted macro pictures of the long horned beetles spikes, pinchers, antennae and fur. I picked up the soggy carcass and carried it home. By the time we got to my cabin it was too dark to take good pictures so I set the beetle body on the porch railing for tomorrow.
This morning I wake up with the sun. The rain was pounding my window and the wind was ripping through the trees and I could not sleep any more. At 5:45 I climb out of bed to climb into the hammock. I see the long horned beetle perched on the rail and remember the close up pictures I wanted. I go back inside, grab my camera and return to the beetle.
The dead long horned beetle, which I carried in my bare hand for ten minutes and welcomed into my home, is moving. Its long, delicate abdomen is pulsing, undulating. Up, down, up, down. Up. Down. Its antennae are wiggling. Well, that’s a surprise. I slowly move closer to investigate the possibility of taking pictures of a live-but-dazed long horned beetle but stop short. Underneath the rail where the beetle is slowly waking up is a two-inch scorpion. I pause, and then take a picture from two feet away with the zoom.
Welcome to the Cloud Forest.
p.s. – note to self: don’t spend all morning looking at and writing about creatures with an exoskeleton and then eat crunchy granola for breakfast. You may know that you are not munching on long horned beetles and scorpions, but its really hard to relax.
(This post was made possible by HAPPY MACHINE. Thanks for the help.)
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
I Touched the Wildlife
This is what happened this morning: I woke up at 6:15 and made breakfast. Toast and eggs. I sat in my hammock on my porch, looking out at the cloud forest as I ate. I still had clothes hanging up to dry and because they were brightly colored, they attracted the attention of a hummingbird. So there I sat quietly as the hummingbird hummed up to me and around me checking out my "flowers". And then it was gone. I didn't see it hum off into the trees, but figured it must have been too quick for my morning eyes. Until I heard a drumming sound from inside. It was the same sound the moths make when they throw themselves into my window at night when I have the lights on, but much louder. Uh-oh.
I passed through my wide open door and into the kitchen where I saw the beautiful green and blue iridescent bird flying into my kitchen window again and again. As I walked towards the hummingbird it startled and flew across the kitchen and slammed into another window. Yay for having birds as a kid - I grabbed a dish towel and slowly crept close to the frantic bird. It paused in its effort to fly through the glass and I gently wrapped the towel around its small body. I could feel its heartbeat through the thin towel, but it did not struggle. I walked out to the porch and opened up the towel. The hummingbird paused for a second, perched on my hands, and then zipped off into the forest.
I walked back into my living room and stood there with the same thought in my head that has been there for the past week: This is my life in Costa Rica. And then I laughed out loud.
I passed through my wide open door and into the kitchen where I saw the beautiful green and blue iridescent bird flying into my kitchen window again and again. As I walked towards the hummingbird it startled and flew across the kitchen and slammed into another window. Yay for having birds as a kid - I grabbed a dish towel and slowly crept close to the frantic bird. It paused in its effort to fly through the glass and I gently wrapped the towel around its small body. I could feel its heartbeat through the thin towel, but it did not struggle. I walked out to the porch and opened up the towel. The hummingbird paused for a second, perched on my hands, and then zipped off into the forest.
I walked back into my living room and stood there with the same thought in my head that has been there for the past week: This is my life in Costa Rica. And then I laughed out loud.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Jocotes
Today I washed the fruit before I ate it. Today we did not wade through fecal water. Three times. Twice after reading the sign that said, "Contaminated Water: Contains Fecal Matter. Not Safe for Swimming." Swimming, wading across, very different things. Today I did not get anything stolen. Things are looking up.
Some people say that you should not blog about poop. I say, this blog is about my experiences and sometimes pooping can monopolize your experiences. For the three weeks before I left for Costa Rica my body was always in a rush to get all the food out of it. Via the downward route. As soon as I set foot in Costa Rica, unwashed fruit and fecal water included, I have had nothing but smooth sailing. I wonder what this says about my emotional state.
I'd like to revert to my favorite form of written expression: the list. Today was successful for a number of reasons:
1. Two great poops. They were great not only because I was in charge and they were not, but also because the feeble piping system here in Costa Rica had no problem dealing with them. If you are looking for a GREAT bathroom in San Jose, go to el Museo de Numismatico in la Plaza de Cultura.
2. We changed rooms in our hostel. We are no longer in a dormitory on the first floor with six other people, right inside from the weed smoking porch and a stone's throw down the hall from the lobby where travelers chain smoke and drink Pilsen. We have our own room on the second floor with only a little bit of graffitti on the walls.
3. I went to the Numismatic Museum and learned about the history of Costa Rican currency. I also used the bathroom, and it was great.
4. I sat in the park tonight with Noelle. She ate ice cream and I ate my jocotes. I had washed them, and they tasted a little better. Less dusty.
Some people say that you should not blog about poop. I say, this blog is about my experiences and sometimes pooping can monopolize your experiences. For the three weeks before I left for Costa Rica my body was always in a rush to get all the food out of it. Via the downward route. As soon as I set foot in Costa Rica, unwashed fruit and fecal water included, I have had nothing but smooth sailing. I wonder what this says about my emotional state.
I'd like to revert to my favorite form of written expression: the list. Today was successful for a number of reasons:
1. Two great poops. They were great not only because I was in charge and they were not, but also because the feeble piping system here in Costa Rica had no problem dealing with them. If you are looking for a GREAT bathroom in San Jose, go to el Museo de Numismatico in la Plaza de Cultura.
2. We changed rooms in our hostel. We are no longer in a dormitory on the first floor with six other people, right inside from the weed smoking porch and a stone's throw down the hall from the lobby where travelers chain smoke and drink Pilsen. We have our own room on the second floor with only a little bit of graffitti on the walls.
3. I went to the Numismatic Museum and learned about the history of Costa Rican currency. I also used the bathroom, and it was great.
4. I sat in the park tonight with Noelle. She ate ice cream and I ate my jocotes. I had washed them, and they tasted a little better. Less dusty.
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