2/13/10
Walter and His Moto
This morning I woke at 6:20 and hauled myself out of bed at 6:30 to go grocery (groshery) shopping at the feria in Santa Elena. I stood at the road at 6:45 waiting for the 450 colones bus ride down to town. After I had been waiting for about a minute, a man rode by on his moto and stopped. I recognized him. He was in his late 50’s or early 60’s with a round face, light eyes and white hair. A few months ago when I saw him working at the feria he had asked me if I Lived by Hotel Villa Verde and I had replied that I did. He told me that he saw me every morning as he took his wife up to the reserve for work.
“At about 6:45?”, I asked.
“Si.”
“That’s me. That’s when I leave for work.”
And that was it. I hadn’t seen him again and figured that it was because I no longer leave my house so early.
So, this morning when I saw him heading down the mountain I knew he had just left his wife at work.
“Are you going to the feria?”, he asked me.
“Yes.”
“Would you like to go with me?”
I hesitated for a second, remembering them motor I’d seen skid out in front of me a few weeks ago, sliding on the gravel and spilling its driver onto the dirt road. The man offering me a ride had a helmet; I did not.
“Ok.”, I responded. I threw my pack over my shoulders, climbed on behind him and wrapped my arms around his barrel belly. This was not the wisest decision I’ve ever made, and I knew it. My rationale for accepting was not courtesy, or to save time 450 colones or because I was in a hurry (which I was not). I decided it was ok because everyone else does it, which is quite possibly the worst reason to ever do anything.
As we bumped down the mountain road (waving with a smile as we passed my friends waiting for the bus) I kept thinking about what to do if we were to skid out. Tuck and roll? Brace? Pray? Finally I just put my faith in my driver and had fun. I was eventually able to release my grip from his middle and hang onto the metal rack behind me, above the rear wheel.
The driver is a good friend of my land lady and was born in Monteverde. He name is Walter and his father used to own a farm in the area many years ago. As we talked tears streamed out of my eyes and down my face from the wind and dust. It was fun and I made a new friend.
A Poor Choice of Words
A few weeks ago at the school the high school students were consumed with tickle fever. Oh, the sweet flirtations of adolescence. There were fingers darting, elbows flying and squealing all over campus. I took a moment to appreciate my pre-pubescent students and kept my distance.
It took me by surprise then, when at the end of the day a boy in the junior class asked me, “Ginna, are you ticklish?”
Monteverde is a small, realized community. I see my kids on the weekend, get invited to their homes for dinner, see their parents at parties. Roles and boundaries here are different then they are in NYC and I’m still figuring it all out. Students call me by first name and I can wear jeans and a t-shirt to work. All of this is very nice, but I did NOT want to be tickled by a 17-year-old boy. And so, in the moment, I freaked a little and acted on only one thought – set a clear boundary.
“No, I’m not ticklish”, I replied. And then added: “And if you touch me, I’ll punch you in the face.”
Oops.
I could feel the Quaker walls trembling around me. Learning to set clear boundaries is one thing, learning not to be a scary woman is another. I’m still working on it.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Saturday, January 30, 2010
More Life Experiences
January 25, 2010
Today at the end of the school day it had gotten chilly. I grabbed my jacket and left the room to supervise my third and fourth graders as they cleaned the meeting room and the library. Back and forth between the library , meeting room and classroom I went for ten minutes, guiding student. I joined multiplication practice with the students who were finished with their clean-up jobs. The student in charge of the flash cards quit her job and I reached up to take the cards from the top of the book shelf in order to take over.
I felt a wiggle under my jacket on the back of my left shoulder. Gross. I clamped down on the fabric of my jacket and pulled it away from my body in a loose fistful. I flipped the collar inside out, slowly releasing my grip to see what critter was in there, if any. I saw a small, black-segmented worm moving slowly. What was that? It had no head. I stared at it for a few seconds until I realized, along with all of the third and fourth graders at Monteverde Friends School, what I was looking at – the tail of a black scorpion, which was tucked nicely in my jacket.
This is when I lost my cool. I yelled. I squealed. I didn’t let go of the wad of fabric that was between the scorpion and me. 21 students and one very calm co-teacher instantly swarmed me. I had no idea how to get myself out of this situation. I looked at Tedi with panicked eyes and pleaded, “Help!” He helped me slowly wiggle out of my jacket and took it outside.
My heart raced for ten minutes. A parent told me later in the day that this year will be scorpion heavy because it is so dry. When I shared my concern about allergic reactions (my elbow is swollen, hot and tender today with two bug bites, despiste the antihistamine) she assures me that very few people have reactions to scorpion stings. “Sometimes your tongue can go numb,” she adds as an after thought.
I have resigned myself to the fact that while I am here in Monteverde I will get stung by a scorpion. It will hurt a lot, totally freak me out, and then be over.
I can’t believe I have to add “the time I found a live scorpion inside of the jacket I was wearing” to my list of life experiences. I have not missed NYC or the states since my first night back. If anything, the thought of life there saddens me. Until today. Oh, how I crave not having to tap out shoes, shake out clothes and peer under sheets. I miss not having to wash slug slime off the greens left by a tough little visitor who has survived three cold days in the fridge.
This too stings for a bit, but will pass.
Today at the end of the school day it had gotten chilly. I grabbed my jacket and left the room to supervise my third and fourth graders as they cleaned the meeting room and the library. Back and forth between the library , meeting room and classroom I went for ten minutes, guiding student. I joined multiplication practice with the students who were finished with their clean-up jobs. The student in charge of the flash cards quit her job and I reached up to take the cards from the top of the book shelf in order to take over.
I felt a wiggle under my jacket on the back of my left shoulder. Gross. I clamped down on the fabric of my jacket and pulled it away from my body in a loose fistful. I flipped the collar inside out, slowly releasing my grip to see what critter was in there, if any. I saw a small, black-segmented worm moving slowly. What was that? It had no head. I stared at it for a few seconds until I realized, along with all of the third and fourth graders at Monteverde Friends School, what I was looking at – the tail of a black scorpion, which was tucked nicely in my jacket.
This is when I lost my cool. I yelled. I squealed. I didn’t let go of the wad of fabric that was between the scorpion and me. 21 students and one very calm co-teacher instantly swarmed me. I had no idea how to get myself out of this situation. I looked at Tedi with panicked eyes and pleaded, “Help!” He helped me slowly wiggle out of my jacket and took it outside.
My heart raced for ten minutes. A parent told me later in the day that this year will be scorpion heavy because it is so dry. When I shared my concern about allergic reactions (my elbow is swollen, hot and tender today with two bug bites, despiste the antihistamine) she assures me that very few people have reactions to scorpion stings. “Sometimes your tongue can go numb,” she adds as an after thought.
I have resigned myself to the fact that while I am here in Monteverde I will get stung by a scorpion. It will hurt a lot, totally freak me out, and then be over.
I can’t believe I have to add “the time I found a live scorpion inside of the jacket I was wearing” to my list of life experiences. I have not missed NYC or the states since my first night back. If anything, the thought of life there saddens me. Until today. Oh, how I crave not having to tap out shoes, shake out clothes and peer under sheets. I miss not having to wash slug slime off the greens left by a tough little visitor who has survived three cold days in the fridge.
This too stings for a bit, but will pass.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Community
Today is a beautiful day in Monteverde. Today I went to a birthday gathering for three wonderful people here in Monteverde. Today I sat in the sun and watched dogs and babies and listened to people play guitar and flute and drums and saxaphone and I laughed and I was happy. Today in Monteverde I felt, finally, like I was part of a community.
Today in the sun of Monteverde I thought about my days at MHC and ached so badly to be sitting in the sun with those women again. Maybe this is life - finding people you love all over the world. I know it sounds wonderful, but sometimes this is hard. Sometimes I wish I did not have so much love to give out, but then realize immediately that that is not what I want.
Right now I am listening to "Too Many Birds" by Bill Callahan, sent to me by a wonderful man I know in Brooklyn. It if funny and beautiful and interesting, just like he is.
Today in the sun of Monteverde I thought about my days at MHC and ached so badly to be sitting in the sun with those women again. Maybe this is life - finding people you love all over the world. I know it sounds wonderful, but sometimes this is hard. Sometimes I wish I did not have so much love to give out, but then realize immediately that that is not what I want.
Right now I am listening to "Too Many Birds" by Bill Callahan, sent to me by a wonderful man I know in Brooklyn. It if funny and beautiful and interesting, just like he is.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Back in Monteverde
Monday January 11, 2010
Here I am in Monteverde again. I was looking forward to being back in my own space again, my own bed. It has been 3 ½ weeks of couch hopping and trying not to inconvenience my hosts and I was looking forward to a break. This is what happened instead:
I trudged the last leg of my almost 24 hour journey through the falling darkness, cold rain and relentless wind, struggling with my bags, dropping my vest in the mud and getting barked at by the landlady’s dog. I stepped inside my house and felt no relief, only loneliness. A big, strong, cold wave of it.
And already, life here in Monteverde is more difficult. My clothes grew a nice fuzzy layer of mildew while I was away. There are dead beetles and spiders and grasshoppers all over my floor. I have to ask myself – Why did I choose this? At the moment I can’t seem to remember. I can only remember the last 3 ½ weeks in a culture that makes sense to me, a language I don’t have to plod through, surrounded by people who know me well and love me for it. I’ve spent the last 3 ½ weeks reclined lazily in a web of loved ones and I forgot that that web is not here in Monteverde. I forgot that that web takes years to build and for right now I’m just on a lonely adventure by myself.
Hmm…adventure…adventure. That’s why I signed up for this gig in the first place, right? Why did I sign up for this again? Adventure? Experience? I’m not sure I’d say that getting back to Monteverde was an adventure, but it sure was an experience.
My flight left La Guardia airport at 9:40 p.m. on Sunday. That in itself was its one experience – one that hurt. It’s supposed to make me stronger, right? I wonder. I arrived in Charlotte, North Carolina at 11:30 p.m. and walked slowly through the empty corridors of the airport watching the graveyard shift cleaning crews quietly deploy to all corners. I was sad and regretting my decision to save money by taking a long late night layover in Charlotte. I tried to be adventurous and have an open mind and soak in this experience that I may never have again and paid attention to the quiet empty gates as I passed. I found a place to snuggle down for the 7 hours of layover and watched late night security do rounds and sip large coffees. I watched a movie on my laptop. I dozed.
At about 2 a.m. I woke to a middle aged man with a vacuum cleaner talking adamantly to two young black men about the plight of the afro-American male these days. “We are turning on ourselves, killing our own people”, he said with a sadness in his voice. The two young men were quiet and attentive. The middle-aged man suddenly ended the conversation saying, with a laugh “Well, I gotta work or they’ll bust my ass.” The two young men wandered away as the vacuum started up and I tried to stay out of the way of the cleaning.
I’m skipping a lot now because I’m tired and it was nothing super exciting. I did neglect to mention my tummy adventure, but that’s for another day. On the ride up the mountain we blew a tire and spun out a bit, fishtailing feet away from the lush, plunging cliff side. All I could do was laugh. We drove up and up and up with the sun setting over the Nicoya Gulf on one side and a double rainbow disappearing into a deep valley on the other side. There were a number of trees down in the road due to the gusty winds. It is beautiful here, that is for sure.
So, I have a lot of thinking to do. I have to get used to my Monteverde life again. I have to start remembering to tap out my shoes for spiders and scorpions, store items so they won’t mildew, throw toilet paper in the trash can and get all the groceries I need for the week at once because there is no Key Foods across the street.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
And now I remember why I love it here. I feel good here. I get to say to students: “Please speak up so we can hear you over the wind.” I get paid to sit in Meeting every Wednesday and just think. Today I stared at my shoes and the wooden floor and tried to focus on why I feel so good being here. There is a lot to think about.
I do still miss the comforts of the states. I miss insulation and heating. I am cold here and it doesn’t go away. There are bugs here and they don’t go away. But there is something here that also won’t go away. And I’m working on it, ok? I’m working on articulating it. And then folding it up gently in my pocket so when my life takes me back to the states I can unfold it in front of me and look at it and wrap it around me and not feel so out of place.
Which brings me to this: I have finally made my decision about next year. I am going to stay in Monteverde. I feel at peace with this. I am happy. Thank you to everyone who helped me figure myself out and who support and love and believe in me even if I am far away.
Here I am in Monteverde again. I was looking forward to being back in my own space again, my own bed. It has been 3 ½ weeks of couch hopping and trying not to inconvenience my hosts and I was looking forward to a break. This is what happened instead:
I trudged the last leg of my almost 24 hour journey through the falling darkness, cold rain and relentless wind, struggling with my bags, dropping my vest in the mud and getting barked at by the landlady’s dog. I stepped inside my house and felt no relief, only loneliness. A big, strong, cold wave of it.
And already, life here in Monteverde is more difficult. My clothes grew a nice fuzzy layer of mildew while I was away. There are dead beetles and spiders and grasshoppers all over my floor. I have to ask myself – Why did I choose this? At the moment I can’t seem to remember. I can only remember the last 3 ½ weeks in a culture that makes sense to me, a language I don’t have to plod through, surrounded by people who know me well and love me for it. I’ve spent the last 3 ½ weeks reclined lazily in a web of loved ones and I forgot that that web is not here in Monteverde. I forgot that that web takes years to build and for right now I’m just on a lonely adventure by myself.
Hmm…adventure…adventure. That’s why I signed up for this gig in the first place, right? Why did I sign up for this again? Adventure? Experience? I’m not sure I’d say that getting back to Monteverde was an adventure, but it sure was an experience.
My flight left La Guardia airport at 9:40 p.m. on Sunday. That in itself was its one experience – one that hurt. It’s supposed to make me stronger, right? I wonder. I arrived in Charlotte, North Carolina at 11:30 p.m. and walked slowly through the empty corridors of the airport watching the graveyard shift cleaning crews quietly deploy to all corners. I was sad and regretting my decision to save money by taking a long late night layover in Charlotte. I tried to be adventurous and have an open mind and soak in this experience that I may never have again and paid attention to the quiet empty gates as I passed. I found a place to snuggle down for the 7 hours of layover and watched late night security do rounds and sip large coffees. I watched a movie on my laptop. I dozed.
At about 2 a.m. I woke to a middle aged man with a vacuum cleaner talking adamantly to two young black men about the plight of the afro-American male these days. “We are turning on ourselves, killing our own people”, he said with a sadness in his voice. The two young men were quiet and attentive. The middle-aged man suddenly ended the conversation saying, with a laugh “Well, I gotta work or they’ll bust my ass.” The two young men wandered away as the vacuum started up and I tried to stay out of the way of the cleaning.
I’m skipping a lot now because I’m tired and it was nothing super exciting. I did neglect to mention my tummy adventure, but that’s for another day. On the ride up the mountain we blew a tire and spun out a bit, fishtailing feet away from the lush, plunging cliff side. All I could do was laugh. We drove up and up and up with the sun setting over the Nicoya Gulf on one side and a double rainbow disappearing into a deep valley on the other side. There were a number of trees down in the road due to the gusty winds. It is beautiful here, that is for sure.
So, I have a lot of thinking to do. I have to get used to my Monteverde life again. I have to start remembering to tap out my shoes for spiders and scorpions, store items so they won’t mildew, throw toilet paper in the trash can and get all the groceries I need for the week at once because there is no Key Foods across the street.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
And now I remember why I love it here. I feel good here. I get to say to students: “Please speak up so we can hear you over the wind.” I get paid to sit in Meeting every Wednesday and just think. Today I stared at my shoes and the wooden floor and tried to focus on why I feel so good being here. There is a lot to think about.
I do still miss the comforts of the states. I miss insulation and heating. I am cold here and it doesn’t go away. There are bugs here and they don’t go away. But there is something here that also won’t go away. And I’m working on it, ok? I’m working on articulating it. And then folding it up gently in my pocket so when my life takes me back to the states I can unfold it in front of me and look at it and wrap it around me and not feel so out of place.
Which brings me to this: I have finally made my decision about next year. I am going to stay in Monteverde. I feel at peace with this. I am happy. Thank you to everyone who helped me figure myself out and who support and love and believe in me even if I am far away.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Lay. Over.
It is midnight and I am in the Charlotte airport. My flight to San Jose leaves in over seven hours. Why did I think this was a good idea?
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Fun in New Bern
At midnight last night Mom decided it was a good time to open her new box of 72 colored pencils. Then we decided together it was a good time to take pictures and play with the setting on my camera. Mom and I share a fascination with nice pens and colored pencils.
There was a massive amount of fruit here at my aunt's in New Bern when I arrived this past Thursday morning. They had already given some away to people in the neighborhood and Mom and I brought a bunch to a shelter, but there was still too much. We found a banana bread recipe in a vegan cookbook and I volunteered to make it. Aunt S thoughtfully set out on a tray all of the ingredients and tools I would need the next morning....
...on a folding table in the shower! There is not a lot of space in an RV and we are a creative family. For the record, I had to sit on the toilet to take this picture.
Mom and I headed into town for some more sight seeing. We saw this beautiful church and some graves on the property. I promise, we did not go looking for grave sites, but once we had found them, I couldn't help but take some pictures...
Mom is a good subject. When I asked her to sit on this bench and look casual, she did not even hesitate. She also did not say anything about the fact that her youngest child was crouched in the middle of the street taking pictures.
We passed a barrel of flowers on the sidewalk and Mom said they were petunias. I got excited and told her that I know someone who calls every flower a petunia. I thought it would be a great idea to take pictures of actual petunias so this person could learn. After I'd taken one picture Mom says, "Oh wait, those aren't petunias, they are pansies." Whatever. They are pretty and I kept taking pictures. And now we know - this is not a petunia.
House in New Bern.
This is a seed pod from my new best friend, the crape myrtle.
This is the thingie that holds the seed pod onto the tree, my new best friend, the crape myrtle.
The walk back to the car.
There was a massive amount of fruit here at my aunt's in New Bern when I arrived this past Thursday morning. They had already given some away to people in the neighborhood and Mom and I brought a bunch to a shelter, but there was still too much. We found a banana bread recipe in a vegan cookbook and I volunteered to make it. Aunt S thoughtfully set out on a tray all of the ingredients and tools I would need the next morning....
...on a folding table in the shower! There is not a lot of space in an RV and we are a creative family. For the record, I had to sit on the toilet to take this picture.
Mom and I headed into town for some more sight seeing. We saw this beautiful church and some graves on the property. I promise, we did not go looking for grave sites, but once we had found them, I couldn't help but take some pictures...
Mom is a good subject. When I asked her to sit on this bench and look casual, she did not even hesitate. She also did not say anything about the fact that her youngest child was crouched in the middle of the street taking pictures.
We passed a barrel of flowers on the sidewalk and Mom said they were petunias. I got excited and told her that I know someone who calls every flower a petunia. I thought it would be a great idea to take pictures of actual petunias so this person could learn. After I'd taken one picture Mom says, "Oh wait, those aren't petunias, they are pansies." Whatever. They are pretty and I kept taking pictures. And now we know - this is not a petunia.
House in New Bern.
This is a seed pod from my new best friend, the crape myrtle.
This is the thingie that holds the seed pod onto the tree, my new best friend, the crape myrtle.
The walk back to the car.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
I Love Vacation
Today was great. We started off by doing that thing that families do -spending quality time together. Making memories. Being happy. Telling stories. And, in my family, taking pictures of everything funny or beautiful that we see.
Then Mom and I ran some errands which included a lot of stopping the car and walking around and taking pictures of beautiful and interesting things we saw around New Bern. The story follows:
This was my Day After Christmas present from Aunt S. Mom the vegetarian can't eat it, so she misses out. I got it! Ji-Soo homie, you and me are all over this when I get back to Brooklyn, ok? I have recently been really fascinated with packaging and am in love with this blue and red and yellow.
This is what it looks like when you unwrap a block of Nestle Abuelita's chocolate for making hot coco. I took a quarter of this and melted it with half a cup of soy milk and half a cup of 2% milk and a half a cup of sugar. Mom and Aunt S and I all thought this picture made the chocolate look like a chocolate cake. I love that I think like my mom and aunt. This block is about the size of a hockey puck.
As we were sitting around this morning we heard a thump and saw something fall in the front of the RV. Turns out we had a suicidal banana. It "unzipped" itself, to use Mom's word, and threw itself on the seat below.
Here is the scene of the crime. We had a good laugh over this. We took pictures. I picked up the unzipped banana and put it on the table and went back to doing the dishes. Two minutes later we heard it again.
I guess misery loves company. This banana had unzipped itself also and thrown itself off the hook and towards its friend. This one missed the chair and landed on the floor next to the heat vent.
I went back to melting Abuelita's chocolate with milk but had to stop immediately because it looked so cool I had to take a picture. Why does it look so cool?
Abuelita's chocolate turned into buelit chocolate.
Then Mom and I went driving to do some errands and found ourselves on a road we didn't need to be on. We pulled over to turn around but really just stopped and I got out and took pictures of this building, because I fell in love with it.
And I also fell in love with this one.
And this one. Mom says, "Imagine the conversations that have happened on that porch."
After we had dropped off the pounds of extra fruit at the shelter, we stopped at the cemetery. I was in love with these crape myrtle trees (don't get too impressed, I only know what they are called and how to spell it because Aunt S told me). The wood is smooth and polished and looks like muscle.
New Bern Cemetery.
Spanish moss on crape myrtle.
And now begins the onslaught of gravestone pictures. They were beautiful. Mesmerizing. Mysterious. We only left the graveyard because Mom and I got cold. I also had to poop but I didn't tell Mom that.
There are a lot more cemetery pictures that I would be happy to share if you are interested, but for now enough is enough. Next, we stopped next to some modern sculptures or herons made our of car parts, took some pictures of historical landmarks, including the childhood home of photographer Bayard Wootten and then we found this guy in front of the Sudan Shriner monument:
Then Mom and I ran some errands which included a lot of stopping the car and walking around and taking pictures of beautiful and interesting things we saw around New Bern. The story follows:
This was my Day After Christmas present from Aunt S. Mom the vegetarian can't eat it, so she misses out. I got it! Ji-Soo homie, you and me are all over this when I get back to Brooklyn, ok? I have recently been really fascinated with packaging and am in love with this blue and red and yellow.
This is what it looks like when you unwrap a block of Nestle Abuelita's chocolate for making hot coco. I took a quarter of this and melted it with half a cup of soy milk and half a cup of 2% milk and a half a cup of sugar. Mom and Aunt S and I all thought this picture made the chocolate look like a chocolate cake. I love that I think like my mom and aunt. This block is about the size of a hockey puck.
As we were sitting around this morning we heard a thump and saw something fall in the front of the RV. Turns out we had a suicidal banana. It "unzipped" itself, to use Mom's word, and threw itself on the seat below.
Here is the scene of the crime. We had a good laugh over this. We took pictures. I picked up the unzipped banana and put it on the table and went back to doing the dishes. Two minutes later we heard it again.
I guess misery loves company. This banana had unzipped itself also and thrown itself off the hook and towards its friend. This one missed the chair and landed on the floor next to the heat vent.
I went back to melting Abuelita's chocolate with milk but had to stop immediately because it looked so cool I had to take a picture. Why does it look so cool?
Abuelita's chocolate turned into buelit chocolate.
Then Mom and I went driving to do some errands and found ourselves on a road we didn't need to be on. We pulled over to turn around but really just stopped and I got out and took pictures of this building, because I fell in love with it.
And I also fell in love with this one.
And this one. Mom says, "Imagine the conversations that have happened on that porch."
After we had dropped off the pounds of extra fruit at the shelter, we stopped at the cemetery. I was in love with these crape myrtle trees (don't get too impressed, I only know what they are called and how to spell it because Aunt S told me). The wood is smooth and polished and looks like muscle.
New Bern Cemetery.
Spanish moss on crape myrtle.
And now begins the onslaught of gravestone pictures. They were beautiful. Mesmerizing. Mysterious. We only left the graveyard because Mom and I got cold. I also had to poop but I didn't tell Mom that.
There are a lot more cemetery pictures that I would be happy to share if you are interested, but for now enough is enough. Next, we stopped next to some modern sculptures or herons made our of car parts, took some pictures of historical landmarks, including the childhood home of photographer Bayard Wootten and then we found this guy in front of the Sudan Shriner monument:
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