The Romeria

Or, "Bailey and Maggie's adventure day" or "The longest walk/run I've ever seen" or "How much Aleve do I need to take to not feel like I'm dying of sunburn?"

Ah, the Romeria. A grand Costa Rican tradition. From here, about this year's Romeria:

The annual Costa Rican pilgrimage, known as the Romería, honors a small statue of the Virgin Mary, called La Negrita, which some believe possesses miraculous powers.

Authorities told the daily La Nacíon that they expect two million romeros, or pilgrims, this year. A Red Cross post has already opened at the basilica, which will provide assistance and treatment to pilgrims exhausted from the 22 kilometer journey.

People have marched to the basilica each year for the past 228 years, except for 2009, when it was cancelled due to the H1N1 flu virus. The majority of participants will leave start the pilgrimage Monday for a morning mass on Aug. 2, but some are already on their way. In the past, they’ve arrived from as far as Panama or Guanacaste, via horseback, bikes, or even while crawling.

As for Maggie and I, after a sudden change of plans, we decided to walk on Sunday. You probably know already that I'm not Catholic, but such a show of loyalty is impressive on its own. The Romeria and the walkers, known as romeros, provide such an authentic show of Costa Rican culture, and finally one that is free of overtly tourist appeals. It was wonderful to watch the grand variety of people — babies in strollers, men running the whole way in just athletic shorts, a team of people pushing relatives in wheelchairs, teenagers, familes, adults, indigenas. Here is our day.

This is exactly 22 km from San Pedro to the church, mind you.

8:20 a.m. : Meet Maggie at the Sabanilla bus stop. Take bus to Mall San Pedro.

8:45 a.m. : Begin walking east, through Curridabat, to meet Matthew.

9:05 a.m. : Stop at McDonald's for some cafe and the bano.

9:30 a.m. : Try to meet Matt at bus stop. Try to locate bus stop. Can't find bus stop. Panic, call Danielle because Matt doesn't have a phone. Walk back half a kilometer to the Taco Bell, like she told us. Solicit more directions that don't help.

10:15 a.m. : Give up on finding Matt. Continue walking.

10:30 a.m. : Begin passing hundreds of vendors. Trying to resist buying fresh fruit, $10 polo hats, Diet Pepsi, fresh-squeezed juices, Costa Rica scarves, images of La Negrita, rosaries, etc. Successfully resist (nearly) everything.

11:45 a.m. : Decide we might walk back, too, because it is such a nice day and this walk feels so good!

12:15 p.m. : Begins pouring rain. Panic because of nice camera in cloth bag.

12:45 p.m. : Arrive in the province of Cartago. Wade through the streets. Completely soaked. Watch a dead rat float by in the river that we are walking through.

1:15 p.m. : Spot Virgen de los Angeles church!!! Glorious moment!!

1:20 p.m. : Enter church, look around.

1:23 p.m. : Get shooed out of church so more people can look.

1:25 p.m. : Continue wading until we find a soda where we can order coffee. Eat refried bean and onion sandwich my mama tica packed for me (debatably best thing I have ever eaten). Talk to locals who insist Maggie is my mother. Use free bathroom while we can (most along the way cost 300 colones).

2:00 p.m. : Inquire about San Jose bus stop. Expecting immediate success because we have seen practically hundreds of busses. Police officer laughs, points to longest line I have seen in my life.

2:10 p.m. : Thought we knew what the line was. Still walking to the end.

2:20 p.m. : Find end of line. Decide not to walk back because we would be arriving after dark.

3:30 p.m. : Buy mani garipinado from street vender in the line for 100 colones. Happiest moment of afternoon.

3:45 p.m. : Finally board bus.

5:30 p.m. : Ask guy on bus if we are in Curridabat yet. He tells us we are in San Jose central. We panic again and get off the bus. Start walking really fast.

5:45 p.m. : Realize we are in sketchy part of town, ask for directions. Still pouring rain if you were wondering.

6:15 p.m. : Finally, after three directions stops, find Sabanilla bus stop.

6:30 p.m. : Arrive at Mas por Menos stop. Start walking.

6:45 p.m. : I am home!!! Take the best shower of my life. Simultaneously, observe worst sunburn on my life. Good always outweighs the bad.


Bonus topic: Top 3 Piropos of the Day

3. "Hola, guapas!"
2. "Heyyyy" (in very strong Costa Rican accent; trying to impress us with English knowledge)
1. "Eyy, Costa Rica! Aye. Chicas! Costa Rica! Ey, USA! USA! (laughs) USA!" (for about five minutes)

The ULTIMATE mood booster

Jami Metsinger 17:28

Hello!! This is your mother here and I will be arriving at Juan Santamaria International Airport on Saturday, September 10, 2011, the 20 anniversary of my daughter's birth at 11:50 a.m.   I will be staying until the morning of September 18th when I will depart at 6:55 am (ewww) and all I can say is I CAN'T WAIT!!!!

Pick-me-ups

These past few days, for some reason, have been the hardest so far. Monteverde completely wore me out; as soon as we got back, then, we had a two-day orientation with the university and all of the other international students. At the same time, I just felt really run down with a tummy ache and sleepiness (read: tired from traveling; stressed from classes). I kind of dropped the ball on making a bunch of international friends and spent about two days in bed. During the process I also found out I have to totally redo my schedule of classes here, and I'll have to take six to be a full-time student: two more they recommend. Yuck.

Then, today, I stepped off the curb walking to the Grupo office and crash-landed in the road. As my Catalina Island friends know, I have about as much control over my feet as a baby. I really thought I broke my ankle. Finally Maggie and Liz picked me up out of the street and I recovered enough to toddle to the office. I scraped a knee and my right ankle is all kinds of puffy. Then they walked us to lunch at a place that didn't have great vegetarian options, and I cried. Kind of a culmination of all things.

Fortunately I'm feeling a lot better tonight! I'm taking some comfort in the fact that transitions are very rarely as easy for me as this one had been thus far, and it's a type of reassurance that I am realizing that I really will be here for a long time and need to make sure that I am having the experience I want (even if that's hard). Also, Jorgito the two-year-old that my mama tica is watching is bawling his baby eyes out, and I'm realizing that things are really pretty good for me.

 For a pick-me-up, I'm going to Casa del Pie with Maggie and Liz and get some homework done. And I'm going to do the "free choice" piece as a piece of creative nonfic about growing up with Harry Potter. I know how to make my heart happy.

For your reading enjoyment:

El mejor día de mi vida fue el 21 de Julio, 2007. Acaba de terminar mi segundo año del colegio, y con todos mis mejores amigos, fui para reunirme por la última vez con el amor de mi niñez, Harry Potter. Llegué al Waldenbooks cerca de mi casa a las nueve para comprar el libro final, Harry Potter y Las Reliquias de la Muerte por J.K. Rowling. Diferente a los niñitos que fueron la mayoría de los asistentes, no me vistió en las ropas de mago sino jeans y una camiseta. Llegué demasiado tarde para recibir el sticker que preferí, <<Snape is loyal>>, y tenia que estar contenta con el opuesto: <<Snape will betray>>. Sin embargo, aunque me sentía un poco vieja, cuando tuve el libro en mis manos, estaba abrumada. Era el fin de un capítulo de mi juventud.

Harry Potter creció a la vez de yo. Cuando leí que él había salido para escuela por primera vez, yo empezaba escuela media. Cuando Harry hizo frente a los problemas de la adolescencia en el quinto libro, yo estaba tratando de descubrir mí mismo también. Cuando Harry en el séptimo libro tenía que decidir lo que iba a hacer con su destino, yo estaba buscando una universidad y mi futuro también. De Harry, aprendí como debo vivir: para el bienestar de otros, y siempre considerando que lo importante es el amor. No es decir que todos mis valores son de Harry Potter, sino que los que me enseñó la iglesia, la escuela, y mi familia son los mismos que me mostró Harry.

Por eso, me pongo triste cuando aprendo de la prohibición de Harry Potter. En algunas escuelas los libros son prohibidos en total; existen también grupos que protestan en contra de los libros, diciendo que son satánicos e intentan a enseñar mágica a los jóvenes. Eso sencillamente no es la verdad. Hay una generación — la mía — que aprecia la literatura a causa de los libros del mago joven. Hasta empecé a leer Harry Potter, no me encantaba leer. 

La historia de Harry trata de un sacrificio de una mamá por su hijo. Eso es lo que empieza su gran aventura. Repetidamente, se enseña el poder de la amistad — siempre tiene éxito cuando trabaja con sus amigos —, del amor — es protegido por el sacrificio de su mamá—, y de la sabiduría — siempre está aprendiendo cosas nuevas, desde la escuela y la vida. Nunca realmente triunfa lo mal. Cuando las fuerzas de Voldemort tienen un poquito de éxito, siempre pierden algo más grande, si es su humanidad o algo diferente. Harry Potter también muestra como la muerte afecta la vida en una manera realística y la esperanza que puede coexistir con la muerte. Estas se parecen más como las enseñazas de mi iglesia que algo que debe ser prohibido. Si los niños van a prestar atención a algo en la cultura popular, Harry Potter es mejor que las estrellas de Hollywood.

Los libros siempre han tocado algo adentro de mí. En el fin del libro último, Harry tiene que caminar hacia el bosque para morirse y por consiguiente matar al Voldemort. Harry puede reunirse con su familia muerta antes de su propia muerte, quien ofrece aconsejas al Harry. Sollocé y sollocé. ¡Qué amor! No puedo imaginar si los jóvenes no tienen una imagen del amor tan poderoso en la cultura popular. Podemos ser una generación insegura, y necesitamos más imágenes de amor incondicional. Por eso no debemos prevenir que otros lean estos libros. Son demasiados importantes, para mí y para los jóvenes y el futuro.

UPDATE: I am at Casa del Pie and life is SO good.
1. I am drinking cafe con leche (they know my order when I walk in)
2. I am about to get a piece of grape pie
3. Bohemian Rhapsody is playing as an instrumental in the background.
4. I love Liz and Maggie and Jeff and Dylan
5. It is raining but I have a new umbrella — my third — that actually works

Monteverde: Top 10

In honor of the annexation of part of Guanacaste into Costa Rica some years ago, we had no classes on Monday! And, to really celebrate, six of us in the Grupo de Kansas (Dylan, Liz, Bailey, Jeff, Matthew, Ellen) got the heck out of big-city San Jose and went to play in the jungle of Monteverde. Monteverde is in the province Puntarenas and is the seventh most-visited location for tourists in the world. Here are my top 10 moments from the three-day weekend:

10. The discovery of batidos de mango en leche
I cannot rave enough about these. Picture this: Costa Rican mangos (so juicy, sweet, etc.), add milk, add ice, add blender. Put in glass at the end of the day. Drink. I had so many. I was so, so happy.

9. The buses to and from Monteverde
Always a fan of mass transit, I especially appreciate the efficiency of the Costa Rica system. Oh wait, did I say efficiency? I mean, I love how cheap it is. Five dollars for a five hour bus ride that is only 100 miles! The seats are mega-cozy and you can open the windows and just watch the country go by. The way there was direct and I got a good nap and we took two breaks — perfect for me with a small bladder. On the way home, we had a four hour stretch and I had to get out and pee behind a tree on the side of the road. But more about that trip later.

8. Santa Elena Cloud Forest
Our first full day in Monteverde, we took an 8:30 bus to the Santa Elena Cloud Forest (bosque nuboso), so called because the high altitude and humidity makes the forest look like you are literally in the clouds. We opted to not take a tour and just hiked around and looked at things all morning. I want to say I was mega impressed, but mostly, it was green and foggy and lots of centipedes. Still outrageously beautiful, though, and a great morning.

El bosque nuboso in the early morning

Dylan finds some pretty flowers.

7. Monteverde as a town

Finally, a place where people will speak in Spanish to us. Monteverde, although overrun by tourists (the town itself is only 5000 people), is super cozy and very accommodating and affordable.

And there are so many friendly dogs!

6. The night tour of Monteverde
The day we explored the Santa Elena Cloud Forest, we also signed up for a night tour of the Monteverde Cloud Forest (essentially the same thing; different part of town). It was magnificent. We took flashlights into the woods and saw sleeping birds, bats, bugs, a million spiders, gorgeous flowers. What was really impressive, though, was how the forest sounds when it is sleeping. Every few stops we turned off all our lights and, in absolute darkness, just listened.

Hello, I am a bat.

5. Monteverde Backpacker's Hostel
Our hostel was so good to us! We only paid $10 a night, but they booked us tours with transportation, fed us breakfast, gave us coffee and let us leave our stuff after we checked out. Dylan, Jeff, Liz and I shared a room totally furnished in wood with three beds (Liz and I snuggled in the double) and a huge bathroom and shower. It was an awesome deal.

Jeff, Liz, Dylan and I get coffee, papaya and tomato sandwiches for breakfast!

4. The canopy tour
On Monday, before busing back, we signed up for a "canopy tour" through the hostel. Not really sure what it was, we got in a van at 7:30 Monday morning at went to something with the word "extreme" in its name. Turns out it was a series of zip lines — like thirteen in total — spanning almost a mile through the cloud forest, with some light hiking in between. The shortest were just connectors between trees and the longest ones spanned valleys where the cows below were the size of pennies. In the middle there were "surprises" — a swing a la the Ripcord at Worlds of Fun. The guides pushed people off the ledge of the swing, screamed "NO!" pretending you went too early, told you it was going to be terrible and you should leave, and so on. The grand finale was a line you rode like a bird, arms outstretched, in between two mountains.

The top harnesses were super flattering.

3. The Pacific Ocean
Right, so: Monteverde is in the middle of the country. Unfortunately, when you don't buy a bus ticket for the last bus that leaves for San Jose before you have to leave, they sell out. More fortunately, you can still take a bus to Puntarenas and hopefully catch a ride home from there! That bus to Puntarenas takes three hours (we left at 3 p.m.) and the last bus from there for San Jose leaves at 7 p.m. Well, there had been flooding in the area, and maybe a wreck or something, and we stopped in standstill traffic until 8 p.m. I like adventures too much to not have been pretty excited about this. In Puntarenas, dropped off in the sketchy part of town after dark with no idea what we could do, we went to get dinner and then walked on the beach. The water was so warm and there was a lightning storm at sea that periodically illuminated the whole sky. I have never felt warm ocean before. I was thinking I could add Puntarenas to my list of places I ended up sleeping when I messed up my travel plans (Boston, Moline, Oklahoma City, etc.) but I always end up luckier than I am expecting: there was a bus at 9 after all, and it was nearly empty so we all got our own seats to stretch out.

2. Climbing the hollow tree
Liz and Dylan and I were done with Santa Elena after our hike, so we bused back early. On the way back to town we met a guy from Texas who gaves us directions to go find this tree: "Go past the church and go on the path." Totally unfamiliar with the town, I stopped for more directions in a tour place:

"Queremos ir a un lugar donde se puede subir un arbol. Sabe Ud. donde esta?" We're looking for a place to climb this one tree. Do you know where it is?

Looking at me stupidly, in perfect English, he says, "What have you been smoking?"

After finally explaining what we're thinking, he draws us a crude map and sends us on our way. After walking straight uphill half a mile in the sun (you should see how red my shoulders are), we got to the woods where we hiked until we reached a huge grove of trees. In the area, there are some trees that have been strangled by plants that cover them on the outside. The original tree rots away in the middle, leaving only the intertwined outer branches of the strangler. There were several of these, but one in particular, about 70 feet tall, had a perfectly sized center. Liz and I climbed up the middle until the tube came to an opening at the top. Dylan went most of the way. The next day when we went back, I was brave enough to crawl out on top of the tree and look out over the valley. Matthew, with us this time, actually jumped on braches to go up another fifteen feet and apparently could see forever. I was terrified, but I have this theory that anything that scares me is even more important to do. It was the best part of the trip and the cheapest. And the dirtiest — I climbed barefoot in shorts and my legs are a battle zone. Two showers and I still haven't gotten all the dirt off.

The view up our tree! 

Me, inside.

1. When Mauricio picked me (and three others) up from sketchy downtown San Jose at midnight
This just has to win. My host father came to the bus stop for me at midnight (so not in his contract as a host parent) and also took the others who live in Sabanilla. We avoided the $30 taxi and got home quickly and safely. The first thing my host family told me was that they have hearts of serving, but I have never seen people who live this out so much. I am, as always, surprisingly, incredibly, blessedly, so lucky.

Lost in translation

It is an unfortunate fact that the word for "am familiar with" is about the same as "actually know in real life." Talking about how I had Miley Cyrus on my iPod ended up with one really disappointed sister.

Costa Rica: a study, part 2

We've been learning a lot, as I said, in my history class — but where I really "get" Costa Rica is in culture. To add to my previous learning:

• El endeudamiento — the debt — in Costa Rica is about 4-10 million colones, or $8-20 thousand dollars, per person. More than 50 percent of the people is in this kind of debt.
• La infidelidad — infidelity — of men in general is about 90%. The numbers are at about 70% for women.
• While 98% of the country is literate, the only requisite for this is the ability to write your name.
• While Costa Rica has comparable statistics to many other developed countries, the levels of violence are continuing to worsen, especially crimes against women.
• Ticos are notoriously "bad friends," not helping others unless they can expect something in return.

Of course, this is to counter our claims that all Ticos are "peaceful, friendly and caring." And they said that most Americans are seen as smelly, rich and materialistic — so you can tell me how true stereotypes are. We were told these numbers when I asked if they thought that Ticos were happy. The answer was no. It's so interesting to talk about cultural meanings of happiness. It seems like after everything, though, what makes someone happy is pretty universal.

Para los hispanohablantes

Yo nunca había pensado que el español es una lengua bella, sino es así cuando hablan los costarricenses. Me encanta la música de la conversación entre ticos. Por eso estoy muy celosa, porque mi español le falta mucho. No tengo ritmo. No puedo pronunciar los <r>s o los <l>s como debo.

Más importante que la estética es que me siento que no puedo comunicar. Me frustra cuando quiero expresar tan agradecida estoy, o burlarse con mi hermanita, o pedir direcciones en la calle. Hay una frase en Costa Rica: <poco a poco>. <Tranquilo>, me dicen. Pero en la mayor parte, no quiero atentar conversación. Es más fácil callarme. Y por eso no sentirme que estoy mejorando verdaderamente.

Me doy cuenta de que mi comprensión está aumentando con rapidez. Hay una barrera en la aprendizaje del español cuando no se puede aprender más sin sumergirse en la lengua. Kirsten me dice que voy a tener un <clic>. Cuando la barrera se rompa. Para hacer esto, tengo que dejar hablar en inglés y hablar y pensar y soñar y respirar (y escribir en mi blog) en el español. Pero hasta yo pueda hablar, no voy a estar satisfecha. Es decir, tengo inseguridad lingüística.

The House of Feet

I know I raved a little bit about Kaldi, but after they charged me $6 for a latte, I'm through. I have a new love:

La Casa del Pie.

This is very chistoso in Spanish, because "pie" is "pie" and also "feet". This leads to things like Dylan asking for a "pie de coco", pronounced in a way that he asked for coconut feet. It tasted much better than that, though. Desserts here are super-similar to English: queque is cake (pronounced kay-kay) and pie is pie and latte is latte and so on.

That being said, they have the TASTIEST desserts and DELICIOUS coffee and lots of art and chill music and the friendliest people. Case in point: Dylan accidentally threw away his movie ticket there, and they went through two bags of trash to get it. Or another: I have to interview people for my culture class, and the owner talked to us about piropos even after the place had closed.

Here is the best part, though. Tonight, I bought coffee with milk and a HUGE slice of carrot cake and a water, and it cost me 1400 colones... a little more than two dollars. And it's only a ten minute walk from the house. One of my best friends here, Liz, was actually the first to go and recommend it, so I see a lot of pie dates in the future.

I'm in love!

Vegetarianism

Since one of the things I love so much about CR is the delicious food, I would love to give you a little background on my eating habits. If you didn't know, I am a vegetarian (here and elsewhere). And I have no regrets.

I've flirted with being a veggie since I was 8 when I gave up meat for the first time (purely based on taste considerations; I made special exceptions for hot dogs.) Again in middle school, I abstained for a while, and once I got to college I fruit-and-veggie packed my diet so much that most people assumed I was a vegetarian. I've never had a steak, but I haven't flat-out restricted myself from one in a few years. I had no reason to. Humans are natural omnivores and I'm already pretty selective about the foods I feel good about eating.

Finally this June, I became an accidental pseudo-vegan. On my Catalina Island alternative break, I borrowed "Eating Animals" by Jonathan Safran Foer. From here:

My wife and I have chosen to bring up our children as vegetarians. In another time or place, we might have made a different decision. But the realities of our present moment compelled us to make that choice. According to an analysis of U.S.D.A. data by the advocacy group Farm Forward, factory farms now produce more than 99 percent of the animals eaten in this country. And despite labels that suggest otherwise, genuine alternatives — which do exist, and make many of the ethical questions about meat moot — are very difficult for even an educated eater to find. I don’t have the ability to do so with regularity and confidence. (“Free range,” “cage free,” “natural” and “organic” are nearly meaningless when it comes to animal welfare.)

According to reports by the Food and Agriculture Organization of the U.N. and others, factory farming has made animal agriculture the No. 1 contributor to global warming (it is significantly more destructive than transportation alone), and one of the Top 2 or 3 causes of all of the most serious environmental problems, both global and local: air and water pollution, deforestation, loss of biodiversity. . . . Eating factory-farmed animals — which is to say virtually every piece of meat sold in supermarkets and prepared in restaurants — is almost certainly the single worst thing that humans do to the environment.

Every factory-farmed animal is, as a practice, treated in ways that would be illegal if it were a dog or a cat. Turkeys have been so genetically modified they are incapable of natural reproduction. To acknowledge that these things matter is not sentimental. It is a confrontation with the facts about animals and ourselves. We know these things matter.

Meat and seafood are in no way necessary for my family — unlike some in the world, we have easy access to a wide variety of other foods. And we are healthier without it. So our choices aren’t constrained.

While the cultural uses of meat can be replaced — my mother and I now eat Italian, my father grills veggie burgers, my grandmother invented her own “vegetarian chopped liver” — there is still the question of pleasure. A vegetarian diet can be rich and fully enjoyable, but I couldn’t honestly argue, as many vegetarians try to, that it is as rich as a diet that includes meat. (Those who eat chimpanzee look at the Western diet as sadly deficient of a great pleasure.) I love calamari, I love roasted chicken, I love a good steak. But I don’t love them without limit.

This isn’t animal experimentation, where you can imagine some proportionate good at the other end of the suffering. This is what we feel like eating. Yet taste, the crudest of our senses, has been exempted from the ethical rules that govern our other senses. Why? Why doesn’t a horny person have as strong a claim to raping an animal as a hungry one does to confining, killing and eating it? It’s easy to dismiss that question but hard to respond to it. Try to imagine any end other than taste for which it would be justifiable to do what we do to farmed animals.

I know that was long, I apologize. I just found Foer's argument convincing. If I wasn't making these choices based on taste, then how could I continue ignoring the realities of eating animals? I've felt strongly for a long time that it is a luxury we take for granted that we are not involved in the processing of our food at the point that it was alive. I think that if Americans were required to confront that reality daily, that our food was at one point alive, then we would have a different respect for the life of an animal. As it is, we spend thousands of dollars a year on our dogs but demand our chicken cost 99 cents at McDonalds.

Off of the soapbox, I have loved my vegetarian lifestyle. I know it's not for everyone and I'm not trying to convince you to do the same. I just think it's a lot easier to respect a decision when you know where it's coming from. It's super easy to be vegetarian here: my host mom is wonderful about making me all kinds of fruits, veggies and eggs and beans for protein. A typical day for me might be mango, banana, toast and jam for breakfast. Coffee. Beans, mashed yuca, plantains and some veggies for lunch. Mid-afternoon coffee treat, served with tortilla or bread. A soup with rice for dinner, with more coffee. I don't even think I'd have tummy room for meat if I wanted it.

Bailey Teaches the Way to School: A Photo Essay

Featuring the lovely Maggie, Liz and Dylan.


First, you leave the house and walk up the huge hill. Walk on the road if the sidewalk is wet. This is always.


Next, you will exit Residencias Malaga. You will walk down the "Casa del Pie" street until you get to the Tortuga Verde.

Making a left, you will find yourself walking down the hill you just climbed. Do this until you pass the CPU store. You will take your next right, onto the street with the patch of grass that has the three rocks sitting in a row. You can call this the calle de tres piedras if you'd like.

Good job so far! You made it to the park. It's a beautiful day (i.e. cloudy and humid but not raining yet) so stroll on through.

You'll need to take a left to go through the part of the park with the hurdler making the funny face.

OK, now, take a right at the busy road (not pictured). Cross the busy road. Go left until that road stops. Go right. Follow the curve. Not that far, take another right. Got it? Look, you're on campus!

After you walk through the northern part and through some tunnels, you'll come to the fun graffiti.

After walking through the bamboo forest, you'll find the statues of the emotional moment between ... professors? Students? Parents?

You're getting closer! Cross by that one soda, the health center, down that road, and over the railroad tracks, back off campus on the other side.

Take a left and walk to the gate. Turn left again. Look! You made it to the Grupo de Kansas office! You are so excited!

Congratulations, you just learned the fastest and most direct route from my house in Sabanilla to the office.

More tears

Can you read it?

That's right: Harry Potter 7LasR General. Obviously.

Beautiful, beautiful Spanish there.

Here's how you would pronounce what it's trying to tell you: "Air-Ree Poht-Air ee loss ray-lee-kee-ahz day law mwhere-tay." Say it. Let it sink in.

Tonight, after meeting at Casa Del Pie and eating the most delicious strawberry tart that my was so delicious I didn't even care that I was so full, we took the bus from Sabanilla to the mall to see... finally... the new Harry Potter movie. Shanina and I split a caramel corn (I gained about 10 pounds today, clearly) and we sat in a theater with 8 rows as the movie played obviously from a laptop. At one point, you could see the play/pause/timeline buttons at the bottom. Also, preview for smurfs movie dubbed in Spanish.

We had the good fortune of having tickets (only 1800 colones!) for a subtitled and not-dubbed version, so I got to hear Ron's beautiful voice while I was told things like "Quien-tu-sabes va a regresar." See if you can figure that one out! Also, it subtitled parts that were obviously not supposed to be heard, like background whispers in the Chamber of Secrets. Us five gringos (plus Ariel, Shanina's tico cousin) laughed at all the wrong parts, and I loved it.

If you know me and books, though, I really can go to pieces at some parts. The second-to-last time I reread the seventh Harry Potter, I was in the backseat of Kirsten's Honda as we drove to Chicago. When I got to the part where Harry turns over the resurrection stone while walking into the forest — you know that part — I lost it. I just sobbed. It was awkward to explain. Luckily the lights were low in the theater, so Dylan (to my left) and Shanina (to my right) didn't notice or chose not to comment when I broke down during the movie-theater version. Harry's mom! The power of love! Your family being with you always! Etc. You understand. It just gets to something in me.

Anyway, I totally loved it. And I know everyone in Kansas is posting on Facebook that their "childhood is over," but mine's not. Michelle still has to go see it, so I'm going to go again!

Cartas

Bailey Reimer
Grupo de Kansas - Universidad de Costa Rica
Codigo Postal 11501-2060
Costa Rica, Centroamerica

And if you want me to write you - and I do want to! - send me your address to baileyreimer@ku.edu. I am looking for postcards to mail soon!

One week

Today is my one week anniversary of being in Costa Rica! We had a really fascinating linguistics lesson today in which it was made very clear all of the things that I am bad at in Spanish. This is how I feel most of the time:

Luckily I am getting much better. I walked to the supermercado this afternoon to buy another sombrilla after I broke my first one and had a good exchange with the cashier. It was like this:

"Esta no necesita un bolso." (This functions pretty well I think. Something like, I don't need a bag.)

He laughs. "Que?"

Now I'm doubting myself a little. "No...necesito...bolso."

"Bols-A."

"Bowl-suh."

"No. BOLsa."

"Bolsa."

"Bien."

At least I know how to count to eleven, right?

An open letter to my mom, on not being too much of a gringa

Mom,

I am so excited that it looks like you are going to be able to visit me! I know you will absolutely love it. However, since our skin color and hair color are (apparently, according to a professor) enough to make us look like we could be ticas, I am going to instruct you on how to dress and act the part so that, God willing, we don't get ripped off and catcalled in English every time we go to downtown San Jose. Here are some issues we should address:

Short shorts. I am lucky that you don't really wear these, as the number one thing that points out to me that someone is from the U.S. is the fact that they are wearing tiny little shorts. No women here really wear shorts; it's "winter," and Sara was in fact so cold yesterday she wore five pairs of socks around the house. Accordingly, long pants are the norm. Capris don't really stand out either, but shorts do.

Talking in English. Now I know this will be unavoidable, since no has tomado ningun clases de espanol. But that doesn't mean that we need to talk loudly. Whenever I see English speakers that stand out, it's because we are so loud! I am watching myself on this too, so you can help me.

Flip flops. Turns out sandals are pretty gringa, especially my Chacos: all the tourists I have seen are wearing Chacos. Everyone pretty much sticks with a cute, waterproof pair of flats; if not then heels or non-athletic sneakers.

Crocs. As much as I hate to say it, both my sister and the cute guy on the bus wear them, so you can probably bring yours into public and I won't be embarrassed here.

Sombrillas. You will definitely need an umbrella, because it is raining 24+ hours a day. However, the rain is a friendly, pleasant drizzle a lot of the time, so you can go for fashion over function. The ladies usually opt for a relatively bright sombrilla, or at least, the ones at the store are all super girly. Just be sure not to bring a paraguas, because apparently those are only for men. I know no difference to help you bring the correct type.

Correct Spanish formalities. Unfortunately, some things are not totally obvious. Instead of the more formal por favor for please, I hear porfa or con permiso if you're asking for a favor of a sort. Instead of de nada as the typical you're welcome, con mucho gusto has a better ring here. And adios is way old-fashioned. Go for a ciao when you're saying goodbye. To accompany these phrases, be sure to stand fairly close when talking to others and give a air-kiss on the left cheek when saying hello and goodbye.

I think this is a good tutorial for how to not stand out here! I will send you review questions (multiple choice, short answer and fill-in-the-blank) before you depart, and by the time you get here, you will be at least 85% tica.

Te quiero!
Bailey

P.S. The questions are for extra credit and therefore optional.

Consistency

Costa Rica: a study

We began our history class today. A brief lesson for you:

• In 1948, Costa Rica did away with their ejército, their army, and devoted the resulting surplus budget to social programs.
  
• As a result, education and peace are intimately connected. The government has funded education extensively to the result of a 97% literacy rate — only 2 percent lower than the U.S., and higher than many countries with comparable demographics.
• A universal health care program was also implemented, and as a result, people live on average two years longer in Costa Rica than in the U.S.: women on average to be 81.
• I didn't learn this in class, but according to the Happy Planet Index — a series of factors compiled to measure average overall quality of life as it relates to sustainability of heath and happiness, instead of just money — ranks Costa Rica #1 in the world.
• If that sounds bogus, Forbes rates CR #6 in happiness — the highest in the Americas.

I know most of you who are reading this probably don't have accounts, but I would love to hear your opinions on why this is, whether on this blog or later in real life!

Galletas

I had a list of things I wanted to tell you about (watching Rio in Spanish; taking my first Costa Rican taxi, but not messing it up; drawing maps of where I'm going and still getting lost; re-falling in love with running as a means of exploring; reading in the hammock this morning; the fact that it still hasn't rained; walking to El Centro; finding an enormous, gorgeous cathedral; eating casados campesinos with plantains, one of my all-time fave fruits, my Spanish improving), but instead I will leave you with a picture:

I was using the internet in Lynda's room (She's wonderful! In the same program as me but last semester, currently in Nicaragua until she returns to the states Saturday) after the family had gone to bed. Suddenly the door opens.

Bailey? Sara says.

I swear I jumped out of the bed. She got me good. Ten-year-olds are sneaky.

Que haces, Sarita? I ask, after calming down a little. What are you doing?

Quiero comer galletas! Venga!


So as she requested, we sneak into the kitchen. Turn on the lights. We tiptoe onto the patio, climbing over chairs and dodging bugs until we find the cookie jar. Sara finds her cookies and content, we sit down in front of the SpongeBob placemats. She pours me some aloe vera juice and we chat in Spanish until Lily calls her back to bed.

My best friend is a 10-year-old. And life is so good.

Calles? Que calles?

I had my first (of many, I'm sure) moment of being totally overwhelmed today. I completely blame it on the fact that the streets have no names.

Before you get all descarado (read: sassy) with me, the streets that are named on here are absolutely not marked and no one besides Google Maps knows what they are called. What Ticos say: "Uh, well, go down the street with the Casa Del Pie, until you get to the hill or the place where that store used to be. Then go toward the Mas por Menos." (Note: these are real landmarks in my neighboorhood, but these directions are not real, as proof as how much I don't know what I'm doing.)

To aid in your sympathy, I live in the upper right corner of this map where it says "Parque Residencial." The neighborhood is called Residencias Malaga for no discernible reason, and the streets are numbered but do not correspond to the addresses, and the addresses do not go in order. I got to the area all right (after taking the Sabanilla bus from San Pedro to Montes de Oca, instead of the Vargas Araya one I took yesterday, until the Mas por Menos stop. If this sounds like a lot of words it's because it is.)

Ellen, a Grupo de Kansas member from the East Coast lives in the same area as me and she took me on the bus because I have learned a lot less in the past few days, apparently, than she has. She got us right to where we needed to be. Confident and self-assured, I sped-walked down a hill and to my house. I kept the expressionless face of people who live in cities (no smiles for the boys, which I can do in Lawrence but not here), clutching my bag in front of me and away from the road. I got to my house and it wasn't my house. I looped the neighborhood and found a closed mercado, two parks, a guard house, about a million cute puppies in garages, a school, more hills, and some kind of wall. Then I realized I really had no idea where I was. I mean, I was still in Malaga, but Ellen was long gone and all I knew was my address (which corresponds with virtually nothing in my location). Having no phone, friends, and the sun was going down, I just walked in circles until finally — finally — I found it. Glorious 18B.

My mama tica (Costa Rican mom), Lily, greeted me at the door. And I cried. I couldn't even explain what had happened because can you imagine translating mentally "I'm a visual learner and not having maps and street names is not my jam"? 

But let me level with you. I have the best families on the planet: one, in Kansas, whom I miss dearly, but another in Costa Rica who love me without limits and requirements. Lily hugged me and promised to help me find my way on Monday. Not only this, but after dinner we talked for a long time about how her and Mauricio (mi papa tica) pray for God to send them a student, and how they have hearts of serving and just want to make this experience the best for everyone. And that things will be hard, but this is my opportunity to experience and grow and learn (from much more than classes). And they both let me know of this and show it, how much they care about me already. What comfort to have family here, too. 

In summary: I like cardinal directions, grid systems and sufficient cartography. But way more important than those is the adventures and love and learning I have and will experience.

Learning Spanish

My life in Costa Rica, as a vocab lesson.


1. Sopa: soup.
I like to wash the dishes with my host family because I know all of the words to do it. Then, I asked to wash the dishes with the sopa.


2. Plano: plain, flat.
Everyone asks where I am from, and then they ask what Kansas is like. I tell them there is no ocean and it is very plano.


3. Sombrilla: umbrella.
I had to buy a sombrilla because it rains every single day. Turns out they are not called paraguas, because those are for the maes. My ten-year-old sister Sara informed me of this. Oh, by the way...


4. Mae: dude.
Girls are not allowed to say this! I am going to anyway.


5. Lentejuelas: sequins.
My sister/best friend Sara takes dance classes and her outfits have sequins. We google-translated this one together.


6. Bob Esponja: Sponge Bob.
We have Bob Esponja placemats, door hangers, etc...


7. Delito: crime.
During our lecture on safety from the Costa Rican police, he told us of various delitos that can happen here. I especially need to be aware of organ trafficking, the Coca-Cola area of town, dangerous riptides and men who kill you during the full moon and arrange your body in the shape of a cross. Not sure if I could translate that back into Spanish.


8. Sabanilla: altar cloth.
Wait, what? Actually, I live in a neighborhood of San Jose called Sabanilla. It's to the northeast of the university.


9. Orar: to pray.
Three: number of times my family has orado with me, for me since I have arrived. They are truly some of the most wonderful people I have met. The ticos at their church are so wonderfully sincere: they pray for each other constantly and truly integrate Jesus into their lives. Wonderful.

10. Ya: already, now, yet, any word ever, etc.

I HATE THIS WORD

11. Closet: closet. Sticker: sticker. Leggings: leggings.
Sara is so good to me. I ask her what words mean and she obliges by telling me they are the same in English. I hope that is the truth. She is my favorite right now because she is so patient with me.


I pick classes tomorrow, so excited! For now, my life is trying to find my way around and learn enough Spanish that I can find my way around. Every day (read: both days thus far) is an adventure. Hasta luego!

Oops.

I had an opportunity to Google translate some new important Spanish phrases today (indicated by asterisks).

Aunque mi vuelo salía a las siete y media, no me desperté hasta las seis y quince.
Although my flight was leaving at seven thirty, I didn't wake up until 6:15.

Mi madre y yo condujimos al aeropuerto con rapidez, pero estaba lloviendo y no queríamos deslizamiento sobre agua*.
My mom and I quickly drove to the airport, but it was raining and we didn't want to hydroplane.

Se soponía abordar* el vuelo a las siete menos quince, de paso.
I was supposed to board at 6:45, by the way.

Pensaba que perdía mi vuelo*!
I thought I would miss my flight!

Cuando llegue, los auxiliares de vuelo* se burlaban. "Un vuelo internacional?! Ahora?!"
When I arrived, the flight attendants made fun of me. An international flight? Now?

Gracias a Dios, me permitieron abordar mi vuelo.
Thank God they let me board.

I laughed the whole time. Really? The day I'm leaving? My mom and I each oversleep maybe 3 days a year, and of course one of those days for both of us falls on the day of my big international flight. Of course. All I could think was... well.. so it goes. But I, who has the greatest luck on flights, made it just fine. And I'm so ready to go. We are boarding in Houston now. Next update will be from Costa Rica!