The Place it All Began...

I sit on the roof of the backpackers hostel where this whole crazy adventure began almost three years ago.  I look out at the same city lights, the same McDonald’s arch… but the feeling that accompanies these sights is as different as it is to take a shower with hot water ;] 

I remember the night I arrived to Costa Rica for the first time in the summer of 2012.  I was terrified. I was trembling.  I took a taxi from the airport (that the hostel had organized), went up to the roof, and felt like I was a fish looking out of my bowl at the big scary world.  Let me help you understand that image by explaining that the roof has a glass wall surrounding it.  When I called my parents I cried.  I felt so alone and so far away.  I could not believe what I had done and was pretty sure it was not a good idea.  Oh, how wrong I was and oh, how much I have grown.  

Now, I navigate the bustling streets with the ease of a local – popping in and out of shops, purchasing the last minute clothes and shoes I need for my voyage to the US.  That in itself is pretty amazing to me because shopping had never been something I enjoyed… in fact it was something that gave me much anxiety.  Therefore, last minute pressure shopping in an unknown city should be super stressful for me, right?  Another example of how we’re presented with the tests we’re ready for in order to grow.  In only 3 hours, running on only 5 hours of sleep, following a 4 hour bus ride, I came out with: cute grey boots, leggings, underwear, a pair of dress pants, and a nice dress.  Yes!!! Maybe I do better when there’s no time to debate or think or consider.  Gut instinct, risk, next thing.  That’s what shopping was today.  It also helped that the Ticas in each store are so attentive that you have a personal shopping assistant that also acts like your girlfriend and tells you exactly how she thinks you look in the whole outfit :] 

So now…I embark on the next adventure that also feels a bit scary.  Maybe the best adventures are.  And because of my bravery today, maybe I’ll match a little bit more. Now, I can walk in more confidently dressed… ready to present my shining inner self safely and warmly wrapped in those clothes.  

Feria Food Stamps

I noticed that at the end of the feria (farmers market) the people that look like they really need it, line up with bags to collect the left over food from one of the biggest vegetable booths. 

Maybe this is like a version of grassroots food stamps or soup kitchen. 

From the people for the people. 

Boys, Ball, and a Bike

Walking home one afternoon, I watch as some young boys around 5 or 6 years old kick around a ball in their front area.  One kicks the ball a with a little too much force and it rolls out into the street.  They all stand there in a line, staring as if there is a force field between their area and the street. 

I consider walking down the stairs from the waterfront to retrieve their ball, but just as I'm about to start walking down the stairs, a man on a bike approaches.  "Muchachoooo!!!!" One of the tiny boys calls out.  "Puede recojer la bola?" 

The man on the bike patiently stops and with "mucho gusto" (much pleasure) parks his bike and walks over to the ditch to get the ball. 

I stood there the whole time in awe.  I would have expected a person walking to stop, but a person on a bike to just keep going - stopping and getting off the bike would be too much work.  That's where I was wrong. 

Helping in this culture really is done with much pleasure.  It is not a chore, it is a privilege to be of service.  Whether it's helping someone carry a heavy load or waiting in line for them at the hospital so they don't have to stand...  people look out for each other and kindness is highly valued. 

Improv - a name and a shirt

Just as I felt like giving up on the group after having only 2 participants consistently come, something happened. 

We became united. 

This week was an overwhelmingly busy one... the last thing I thought I wanted to do was have improv on Saturday.  Especially because now that Alexis (the head of the theatre) moved, I had no way to open the door.  My friend pushed me, though, to write an email to the board of directors asking for a key or some other option to continue the group.  I did it and at the last minute and after a series of email communications they told me that someone would be there to open the door for us. 

And... they were. 

And... two of the old members returned.

And... because we have a real gig and a workshop to lead at a festival in another part of the country in a few weeks - we have a purpose.

With that purpose, came the need for a name and shirts!

With the name and shirts, came our group identity.  How fitting for our one year anniversary. 

Leaving the theatre together to watch the "pasa calles" parade for Carnaval, we were a united group.  Everyone walking together.  We are "Perro de la Calle."

While the name "Perro de la Calle" surfaced out of a random dog walking into the theatre while we were trying to come up with a name - we realized it actually fits us.  When a visitor asked us to justify our weird name, one of the girls said - "It's like street theatre.  Improv is out in the street, out in the world.  It's random just like our name."

Nobody really knows what to expect from a perro de la calle, that way it's so much more special when they surprise you.

I love them. 

Weirdness of the Week Episode -8

1. The other day, I started my English class at the fishery (the class with only men in it) and one of the students said: "Teacher, you look guapa.  Why?  This is the 3rd class you look guapa."

Thanks, but what does this mean about the many other classes..? And why are you keeping track of the times it has happened?

2. Along the same lines of comments on my style:  I am walking home from the HS and I take down my hair to fix the bun that was getting loose.  The homeless man that I walk by freely comments, "Sueltalo! Se ve mejor."  (Take it down, you look better!)

Thanks, homeless man.  I will ask you for any beauty advice I need from now on.

3.  I was crossing the street and a horse ran out in front of me.  Even the bus had to stop to let it cross.  It was by itself and apparently it had escaped and was creating traffic issues.  Oh, rural CR.  One day I will miss having chickens as neighbors and escaped horses as traffic jams.  

The plethora of phone stores with no phones

My phone died yesterday in a tragic dry bag accident.  The "colmo" as I just learned about in Spanish is that it did not get went and die from kayaking.... It got wet and died afterwards, when I was on dry land.  I don't even know how.  I think as I was walking home, water dripped down the sides of the now opened dry bag and that little salt water was enough to short circuit the phone into its white screen of despair.

The phone, I bought last February after the previous one was stolen during my night beach episode.  Looks like February is not a good month for my little Costa Rican phones.

It is worth noting how not having a phone makes me feel.  One would think that with internet and having several friends in town I would feel just the same with or without a phone, but I don't.  I feel surprisingly disconnected, lonely, and helpless.  Rationally, I know this is all ridiculous.  I am only helpless in that I can not call a taxi... or tell a friend I am on my way.... but those things do not make me helpless.

The fact that I can not call a friend does not stop me from running into people I know on the street.
And I can still message people on line!

So what is it about the absence of a phone that creates these feelings in me? 

Is my brain so tied to technology to communicate that the absence of it makes me feel a little empty and vulnerable?  Possibly.  Something to consider.

It probably also doesn't help that I've felt nauseous for the past few days and so I already am not 100% my best.  

Back to the story - Two of my friends offered to help me out by giving me old phones, but these phones turned out to be "country locked" and didn't work.

So.... I ventured out in to the center of town to search for a new phone. It has always baffled me why Quepos has more appliance and technology stores than a US city has Starbucks.  There is literally one on every corner.  There is one across from another and one next door to that one.

In a town with only like 8 main streets, that is a bit much.

Now I know why there are so many, though.  None of them have what you need.
Each one told me they were out of the little cheap phone I wanted.  "Tal vez lunes" they would tell me.  We all know what "tal vez lunes" means.  That means maybe sometime in the next month.... which is difficult when much of my business is made over phone.

Here's to another venture in being patient and trusting that the resources I need will come to be when it is time....

Pointing with the Lips

I had never considered pointing with any other part of my body other than my finger.... until I lived in Costa Rica, that is. 

Why would one use a finger to point when the hands are so often busy doing more important tasks than gesturing.  That is what the lips are for. 

When you are cooking and ask a Costa Rican where a certain ingredient is, it is through a pucker of the lips, an eyebrow lift, and a slight head tilt that you will most likely get that information.  Make sure to follow the eyes because the lips aren't very specific in giving directions.... which I just realized reflects the way verbal directions are given as well. 

Another funny aspect of lip pointing is the phrase "Mr. Fly."  When talking about someone to a friend, you might point with your lips at that person and say, "alla está Mr. Fly."  (Over there, is Mr. Fly).  I don't know why Mr. Fly is said in English or why Mr. Fly can be a man or a woman.... but there you go. 

There are so many different gestures in this culture - from "one hand clapping" to "Mr. fly" .... from gestures that signify the urgency of going to the bathroom to how full a party was... the learning never ends.  Like I've been saying a lot lately, language and verbal expression goes so much deeper than words.