Every morning I wake up and forget where I am. But something always feels familiar about it. In my firm twin bed, I untwist my body and listen to the songs of birds and cries of roosters outside my window. Beneath the drone of the fan that lulls me to sleep every evening, I count my breaths and feel them expand in my lungs as I inhale the fresh wooden scent of my room and exhale the stress and worry remnants in my brain. I am here in Costa Rica. And I continually try to wake up.
It has been three weeks since I arrived with Carol into this lush, tropical country. I've had many an encounter with warm, welcoming people, not just at the school where I work, but the community that is around it. Centro Espiral Mana is at the heart of this little pueblo called El Invu de Penas Blancas. Established many moons ago, El Invu is a small farming community with many families that have lived here for at least three generations. This is the place where everybody knows your name. If people here aren't friends, they are either cousins, nephews, nieces, or just really close neighbors. If you need a mosquito net, just say the word and you'll be directed to a make-shift pulperia where you can purchase them for a good price. If you need to walk to the nearest store, the walk (no matter how long) will take you 15 minutes. (I still have to clock this by the way).
Cars here are difficult to come by, so a Gringo faux pas is slamming doors. You NEVER slam car doors. I learned this very early on our first trip to the hot springs in Arenal. Mary Scholl (our advisor, guru, mentor, what have you) apprised us of this cultural idiosyncracy. Now that I think about it, why do we slam doors anyway? Why do we slam anything?
Americans can be so arrogant with their things that we forget the actual value of our possessions. The obsolesence of our products, from cars to ipods to laptops to bikes, makes us immune to appreciating them. What would we do if we didn't have such items? We get more. But for Costa Ricans, these items are not in your local pulperia or almacen. They aren't normally under your tree in December.
I've been getting better, but I have yet to master the gentle push of the door.
