A Pondering Paradox's Palace

I woke up Tuesday morning exhausted. I couldn’t keep track of time, since there weren’t any clocks anywhere, but I felt like I hadn’t slept enough for a week. One of my host’s sisters boyfriends had stayed the night on a mattress in the front room and I wasn’t sure, culturally, what to do. So I laid in bed, looking at the ceiling, before madre called me for breakfast. Rice and beans. Thrilling,

Walk to the bus stop, ride the bus, blaring loud music in spanish, arrive at school. Wander around with Carolina’s friends, occasionally they try to speak but for the most part I just take in and observe what I see. Classes begin at 8:35 but I feel like it must be much later by then. Carolina and I walked around the park and tried to exchange my American money but the bank wasn’t open. A few classes later and we went back to the bank. Getting in required me showing my passport, stepping into a small glass room, back door closes, then the front door opens and I’m in the bank. For a town where windows don’t even have glass, this extra security seems unnecessary.

I fall asleep in the next school classes and the boys waking me up by throwing papers and erasers at me.

We leave the school again. It feels weird to leave school after every class for a while and then walk back.

One of Gabriella’s, another host girl’s host sister’s friends (confusing? yes) came over and “borrowed” me. She speaks perfect English and it feels weird to transfer from speaking broken spanish to rapid fire english. I learn about the school system, how all the kids in this town want to leave, how expensive college is for them, how much people don’t want to leave Costa Rica for America. (Something that surprises me…) We walk over to a cafe for lunch and I have Coca Cola from a bottle. That, and McDonalds, are the universal symbols of America.

I go to PE class with Carolina, where the boys play soccer and the girls don’t even try. Carolina gets out of class to talk to a friend but I decide to stay and watch. The boys are insanely good, not surprisingly, and even though they’re playing on concrete, they slip and slide all over the place without seeming to get hurt.

Back on the bus and home. Madre asks me if I need my clothes washed and I, finally, understand her.

Afternoon snacks ensue, special sugared bread with coffee. Also, a small green fruit, only slightly larger than a grape, that is orange inside and tastes close to a sweet potato. The family tells me to try a white paste with it and I do, thinking it’s sour cream. Once I put it in my mouth I discover it’s mayonnaise with a hint of lime. I eat the green fruit anyway.

Madre tells me they’ll serve dinner later but I fall asleep before then. Even days that are ordinary, I just feel so tired.

The next installment of a mixture of memories/my journal entries in Costa Rica…For some reason, my blog is not letting me post pictures right now. I’ll keep trying though. The first installment only covered my first day in Costa Rica – here’s the pick up (only covering the second day…wow, I’m bad at condensing) :

“You…school…con yo…?” asks Carolina slowly, waking me up gently. Her light is on and outside is bright but I feel too exhausted for this to be a decent hour. I try to process what my host sister has asked. She wants me to go to school with her.
“Si,”I reply. I may have been in this house for less than 24 hours but I am already sick of saying that word. Carolina motions for me to get up and points to a towel hanging on the back of our door. “Banarse,” she states. I learned that means bath but I don’t question it. The towel, and my sweaty body, is answer enough. I climb down from the top bunk and quickly grab my clothes and shampoo before rushing into the welcome relief of the bathroom.
After I get out of the shower, a breakfast of rice and beans is waiting for me at the back table. I eat slowly as I try to wake up. I really want to make conversation with my family but at this hour in the morning I don’t even know if I could talk in English, let alone Spanish.
Suddenly the mom starts yelling a word in Spanish at me. It means nothing so I watch her facial expressions and hand motions, trying to work out what she means.
“Bus,” says Carolina quietly, scooping up her purse and motioning me to follow her. I rush after, awkwardly half-running to keep up with her.
A red pickup is waiting outside her house for us.
“My cousin,” says Carolina.
Her cousin drives the bus? they use a pickup as a bus? My mind races as I try to process.
I climb in the back and we take off. Carolina carefully rescrunching her curly hair and checking to make sure she has her toothbrush with her. (I am soon to find out that Costa Ricans always have their toothbrushes with them.) The truck takes us only about a mile before unceremoniously stopping. Carolina speaks in Spanish. I stare blankly.
“Down,” she over-pronounces and I rush to obey. Feeling more like a clueless puppy than a person.
She leads me across the street to their bus stop which is tree stops outside a convenience store.
A few kids join us in the next half an hour but Carolina only greets them quietly and they don’t pay attention to me. The bus comes and Carolina motions for me to move ahead of her in line. As we get on I see that all the kids are paying the driver with coins. I have none of those. I look back at Carolina and motion with my eyes. She smiles reassuringly and shows me several coins her hand. I continue going. This is the first school bus I have ever ridden, I think, sad that I come all the way to Costa Rica to ride a bus.

It doesn’t take much to realize there is a drastic difference between what American buses must be like compared to this. Loud, pop music blares out of the speakers at us, eliminating any chance of holding a conversation at a normal speaking level. That stops none of the kids who merely yell to keep speaking. Every time we stop to collect more kids it becomes obvious this bus is much too small, four kids squash into two seats. Other stand in the aisle or on each other’s laps. No one, besides me, seems to care.
The kids give me some distance, as if understanding that this is entirely new and scary. Carolina yells at some boys who come over to talk and they return to their seats. We stop at a school and I start to stand up but Carolina stops me, “No.” she simply says. At least one word that’s the same in Spanish and English.
I sit down and watch as only kids with yellow shirts get up and leave (I hadn’t even noticed how many kids wore yellow shirts before.) The bus starts again and we drive another half an hour before we get to school.

I am already tired, I think with some self-disgust. Carolina leads me around, speaking in Spanish. I nod occasionally although I only understand a few things. She shows me some classrooms. None, I note with disappointment, have air conditioning. The lockers are out in the open with only a roof over them, same thing with the bathrooms. (The stalls are in plain view of the entire school) Carolina goes and brushes her teeth and I notice that a lot of kids do this, even though it can’t possibly be midmorning yet.
Carolina takes me outsides of the school and I easily spot one of the other girls, Chelsie, from America. Carolina takes me over and we quickly catch up. I learn, with a fair amount of jealousy, that her family speaks perfect English and one of her host brother’s has been to America. How fun, I think sulkily.
Chelsie, her host sister, Carolina and I all head off to some sort of classroom. We walk across the street and pass a few buildings. Then we walk pass a giant, fenced in enclosure full of white-tailed deer. At least forty deer walk over to the fence as we walk by, fully domesticated, wanting to be petted. I have never seen anything like it before. Carolina ignores them and keeps walking until we get into a classroom.

In the classroom, which is actually just a porch with a giant roof on top, we play games. Most fairly similar to games I played as a kid. It’s fun but I notice right away how extremely touchy everyone is here. Not in a bad one, just that they put a hand on your knee as they talk to you. Move your hair out of your way without asking you, and obviously without worrying that you’ll mind.

I begin to wonder if this is school to them. Do they just sit around playing games? Most of the kids, including Chelsie’s host sister Gabriella, text. No wonder Costa Rica hasn’t developed.

Gabriella suddenly looks up, “Would you like to go to farm with Chelsie and me?” she asks. I’m so shocked to be spoken to in English it takes me a moment to reply, “Yes.” I say.
Gabriella turns to Carolina, obviously asking her the same question.
Soon we leave. We have to wait by the street for a bit before Gabriella’s brother comes to take us. The car ride is enjoyable. Her brother speaks English so well I don’t feel any pressure. I ask him how to say I am full. “Easiest way is ‘No mas, por favor.’” and with some embarrasment I remember that I learned that in Spanish class. It means, “no more, please.”

We drive pass the town’s active volcano. Garbriella’s brother, Johnny, explains that it goes off often and the hotels at the base of the volcano have to be evacuated. He works a nearby hotel, where an episode of the Bachelor was shot, and he doesn’t like these hotels.

We make it to the farm, which is actually the family farm, it is small. The house similar to the one I stayed in with fields of some type of vegetable and loads of dogs. We don’t stay long and soon are back on the road.
“Do you want to go into the rain forest?” Johnny asks and Chelsie and I exchange looks and quickly say, “Yes!”

The rain forest does not disappoint. Thick, thick vegetation with humid sticky air and surplus animal noises in the background are what await us as we first go in. There is a path to follow complete, I soon discover, with wire, swinging bridges. I hate bridges. I especially hate wire and swinging ones.

We walk and walk and walk some more. It is hot and tiring. I can’t believe, on the car ride to here, that it is not even 11 in the morning. We cross several bridges and Johnny quickly picks up on my discomfort of bridges. I wonder what gave it away. My horrified facial expressions or the way I desperately cling to the wires on the sides of the bridges.
“You know the bridges get higher and higher?” he teases, “One of them is almost 400 feet high in the air.”

We spot tiny frogs, including those exotic red ones with blue legs that are so brightly colored they look fake. Monkeys jump from trees high above us and I realize, with horror, that I left my camera back at my host house. The jungle trip is over too soon and we load back into the car around one.
“Have fun?” asks Johnny, “Yes,” I reply. He takes us back to town and buys us lunch at a local restaurant. I have salad with rice and beans.
Gabriella tells me that she is going home with Chelsie but she will take me back to school because Carolina has texted her asking where I was.
By the time we are back at school, Carolina is finishing up her last class. When it is done, we load back into the school bus and repeat the loudblaringmusicpeopleseatingoneachother experience until we get off at our bus stop. We walk the mile home with some of Carolina’s friends.
As we go inside the house, Carolina slowly and carefully asks, “How…was…your day?”
“Bien,” I reply with a smile, “y tu?”
“Bien,” she says.
Madre greets us and asks Carolina questions. She turns to me, “Tenga hambre?”
I blink.
“Comida?” clarifies Carolina. Food, my brain processes. and I suddenly feel hungry.
“Si,” I say.
Madre takes me back to the table, “Cafe?” she asks. I actually remember that this means coffee. “Por favor,” I say. Madre gives me a big glass of cafe along with a container of sugar and powdered milk. She brings out crackers and some type of sweet bread and I feast. I know it can’t be later than five but I am absolutely exhausted.

There are no clocks, I realize with some horror. I thank madre for the food and retreat to my room to journal and try to rest. I am drained, emotionally and physically.
“Ducharse?” Carolina comes in and asks. I can only imagine how horrible I smell to them.
“Gracias,” I say. Grabbing a towel and some new clothes, I freeze to death once more in the shower.
After I shower, Carolina asks me, “Caminar?” The last thing I want to do now is go for a walk but I smile and say, “si.” I really don’t want to be rude.
We walk in the opposite direction of the bus stop until we come to another convenience store.
“Abuelos,” says Carolina. Grandparents.
They run the store, obviously and I see that Carol, one of my host sisters, is working the register. We sit outside for a while until Carolina asks,
“You miss home?”
I pause. I honestly haven’t had time to think about it. Of course, home sounds wonderful right now but I don’t want to be rude.
“Un poco,” I answer. (A little)
“Te…gusta me?” she asks. (You like me?)
“Si,” I answer quickly.
“Bien,” she says and we sit in silence some more.
Eventually, the sky darkens and we return home.
“Dormir,” I say. Not caring that I didn’t conjugate the verb for sleep.
“No comida?” asks Carolina.
“No,” I reply with a smile. I have no idea what time it is but I’m exhausted and ready for bed.
I crawl up into my bunk. Good day? I think so. Exhausted and wishing I didn’t feel every spring in this bunk bed? I also think so.