Site visits

I should have mentioned earlier that I was going to spend this past
week visiting sites.
As recently as a week ago, I was hating life here, asking myself if
this was really what I wanted to be doing, if I could salvage some of
that experience I'd been seeking from what is actually provided by
Peace Corps here in Costa Rica. In short, the structure was grating.
Until now, I felt like I was wearing a starched pair of boxer shorts.
This week I slipped into something more comfortable.

Saturday morning, I travelled with seven other friends to Terraba, an
indigenous territory in the southern zone. We got off the nice bus in
Buenos Aires and crammed into a hot old 1970's school bus painted in
the Colombian flag and covered in dust. It seemed a more appropriate
peace corps form of transportation. For about a half hour we sweat so
hard we left puddles on the vinyl seats we'd glued our legs to until
we arrived to a tree filled paradise of indigenous blood red soil, a
church whose bell had been stolen, and dark-skinned humble artisans
who struggle still to defend their rights to work and live peacefully
in their community.

Activity one was a soccer game on the town field. Gringos vs anyone,
and I'm pretty sure we lost, but by the end of the game most of us had
subbed out to find refuge in the shade where we taught some kids to
throw a frisbee. There was something inherently peace corps-ish about
the whole experience.

My family was outstanding. I'm super lucky here. Mom and dad lived in
the house with their youngest 2 of 7. There was no running water and
my fancy solar powered flashlight came in handy. Dyssentery has
appeared in the area, but even after drinking the water, we all came
out fine.
My family was a blast. 7 kids, spouses, 9 grandkids, mom and dad and
the gringo all ate together every night. Food was cooked on the wood
stove outside and fresh fruit was picked from the trees the family
planted 20 years ago when they built their house.

Mom showed me all her work. She knits scarves (when would you wear a
scarf?!), makes necklaces out of seeds and hand carved wooden beads.
She makes little huts out of dried gourds, and designs masks out the
rinds of this massive dried fruit found nearby. It's definitely
impressive. Dad runs a little farm where he grows enough rice to feed
the family, and he sells a little to make some cash. Both belong to
food and art coops that gather goods and bring them to markets around
the region each week.

In Terraba, we had a field day/scavenger hunt with the elementary
school kids and the next day we taught them about picking up trash and
recycling. The kids were great too. They asked a million questions and
ran barefoot in their school uniforms all over that soccer field
whenever they could. Why would you grow up anywhere else?

We got plenty of time to relax there too. One afternoon, the volunteer
who hosted us brought us to a swimming hole in the river. We found a
bunch of rocks to jump off, and the steep rock walls were formed
perfectly for climbing barefoot. If the community wasn't so
interesting, I would have wanted to spend the whole week there in that
swimming hole. Terraba really had everything I'm looking for in a
community. We'll see. We find out on Friday.

After a few days, we all packed up and moved to Santa Cruz, Buenos
Aires to visit another volunteer. It is a much more urban town, so as
nice as the real shower, electricity, and wash machine were, it wasn't
where I would want to spend two years.

I stayed with a gma and her 40 year old son. He actually turned 40
today, and I forgot to say anything in the mad rush to get to the
bus. He'll be alright. Gma's 5 other kids all live in houses on the
same street. My friend Andy stayed next door with a daughter and her
super cool family,. and Lindsay stayed across the street with a
married granddaughter. We had fun taking tours of the family's orchard
and learning the names of new fruits and flowers and trees with the
hoards of grandchildren. Then Andy and I ensured our shirts would be
soaked with sweat by playing constant soccer games with the boys.

At the school, we painted recycling bins with the winners of a student
art contest, taught kids to play frisbee again, oficially this time,
in a classroom with visual aides and made up technical terms that we
made the kids memorize. It was a farce of a lesson. Just when it came
time to go outside and practice throws, lightning and thunder swooped
in, forcing us to cram in under a tin roof, which amplified the sound
of the downpour and allowed enough rain to leak in, turning that blood
red dirt into a permanent muddy ink that i will never be able to wash
off my shoes. The kids loved it, and they are pros now. They could
probably put on a clinic for hippie college kids in study abroad
programs.

We got to go on a pretty cool hike in buenos aires. From the top of
the hill we could see all the pineapple fields and government housing.
Thanks to the mountains, there's tons of undeveloped land, and the
views include hundreds of different types of trees all spread out over
different elevations and landscapes. One of my favorite games this
week was "how long would it take to walk to that mountain?"

It was a good week. It felt so good to get out of San Jose and
remember that we won't be in training for the whole two years.

Today we're heading back. I'm about to take a bus from Santa Cruz to
San Jose. We're taking the back road over the hill, just like when we
were kids.

I'm still missing home (which is wherever you live) so I'd love to
hear a hello from you every once in awhile.

Lemonade stands and traing wheels! It's almost summer! I'll talk to
you soon.

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