That picture up there ^^^^, the one of the beach at the top of the blog? That’s not stock footage, it’s a picture I took last weekend in Sámara.  It makes me happy, so I thought I’d share 🙂

Rice, beans, beans and rice, rice and beans. Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.

Blog Post: completed! Oh wait…

I’d be lying if I listed anything besides rice and beans as the staple diet of Costa Rica. It gets manifested in every possible form. Sometimes the beans are ground up instead of whole. For breakfast, the rice and beans get stir-fried together (gallo pinto). Sometimes, you find them in soups, other times as “side” dishes to an entree. But the main point is: rice and beans.

After that comes an abundance of fresh fruit. I LOVE the fruit. A pineapple costs as much as three eggs (pineapples are cheap and eggs are expensive). It’s awesome- my host mom always has fresh juice for us that she makes each day. Every restaurant and roadside stand has a full menu of fresh fruit and juices. My host mom makes fruit juices from mango, papaya, manga (a bigger version of the mango), pineapple, passion fruit, banana, orange, lemon, guanabana (no, there’s not English for that), cas (still no English), carrot (which goes with more fruits than I’d have guessed), apple, and other random fruits I can’t name or translate. And then mixed and matched juice combos of all of the above. So delicious. There’s also plenty of fresh veggies including avocado on eeeeeverything. But, luckily, not in my juice.

A popular breakfast is gallo pinto, is a stir-fried combination of rice and beans served with a strange cheese or with sour cream (natilla). This can also be accompanied by an egg or a corn tortilla.  After a bad tortilla experience in Argentina, I wasn’t too hopeful for Costa Rican tortillas but they’re actually way better than what I’m used to in New Mexico: a little thicker, more flavorful, and a little softer. An easy dinner or lunch is a casado which includes- you guessed it- rice and beans along with some meat and a salad. A popular dish served at basically any get together is arroz con pollo (rice with chicken) which is affectionately called arroz con siempre (rice with always) because of it’s frequent appearance.

While meats and dairy are around, beans are the main source of protein with most meals. Milk, like in Argentina, comes in a box and has an absurd shelf life which still kind of weirds me out. There’s also plenty of sandwiches available. An interesting one I tried included bacon, lettuce, tomato, ham, cheese, onion, zucchini, and some sort of pink dressing. Strange but tasty. The white cheese served with dishes like gallo pinto is soft and extra salty and definitely doesn’t mesh with my mental concept of “cheese.” There’s also decent availability of fish dishes like ceviche and a variety of soups.

Besides all the fresh fruit, my new favorite food is definitely fried plantains. While the greener ones can be fried up and salted for a drier salty side dish, the mature plantains are a delicious sweet treat to accompany any lunch or dinner. My host mom also makes another delicious dessert of mangos with honey. Think of marinating sweet tiny mangos in something like apple butter and then eating the sweet saturated fruit plus mango infused sauce.

Costa Rican coffee comes with a high recommendation and I’ve found that I’ve really enjoyed all the coffee I’ve tried while here. We don’t drink coffee here in my family, so I’ve ended up having it at a variety of different venues, but all tasty. I’ve found it to be milder and smoother than the coffee I’m accustomed to and really like it.  A popular drink I haven’t gotten to try yet is agua dulce (sweet water) which is made with sugar cane juice. I’m sure I’ll get around to it eventually, but I’ll keep enjoying my fruit juices until then.

The foods I most miss are breads and spicy foods. While breads are readily available at bakeries, rice is the staple starch, sometimes supplemented with tortillas and potatoes.  Spicy foods, on the other hand, are pretty much a no-go. Apparently, some exist on the Caribbean coast, but I haven’t made it that far yet. In the meantime, I’ll content myself with lots more sweet pineapple and passionfruit.

I’ve now been working at Escuela General Tomás Guardia Gutiérrez in Bagaces, Guanacaste, Costa Rica (whew!) for just over a week. I’ve learned so much just by watching, but there are still so many things I’m constantly learning. I’ve finally cycled through all of the classes I’ll be working with bringing my total up to 302 students in 10 classes: 3 first grade classes, 4 fifth grade, and 3 sixth grade. I’ve decided that learning all their names is a completely unachievable task. The most important are those of the trouble-makers and class clowns. After that, the kids who really like me and will find any excuse to come talk to me. After that long list, I’ll probably end up with a rotation of José’s and María’s for everyone else which, statistically, gives me pretty good odds of getting a lot of kids’ attention simultaneously.

Friday, instead of having classes, the majority of the morning was spent on a school-wide speech competition. The students and all the teachers assembled in the main courtyard area to watch 11 students give speeches in hopes of representing the school in the provincial speech competition. Each of them spoke on something related to why Guanacaste (the province) is great, what makes it special, etc. It was actually a very informative morning for me. I got to sit up with the judges and two other teachers and tally scores and look official. What I realized with the entire student body and staff in one place was rather profound, if I do say so myself: I’m really white. Yep- I’m admitting it- I’m just incredibly Caucasian. I hadn’t noticed how weird I looked to everyone until I was in front of everybody and getting a lot of strange looks. Surrounded by a bunch of dark-skinned, dark-haired, mostly-tiny Ticos, I stood out like an albino gorilla in a schoolyard.

Standing out and generally being weird seems like it’ll be a common theme of my teaching experience. The kids have a fascination with this stranger in their classroom and take great delight in making jokes about me. Unfortunately, my “I’ll just play along” attitude only works so well. It’s one thing to pretend to understand an explanation about something and mimick someone’s facial expressions. It’s another to accidentally laugh along because you don’t understand when they’re making fun of you.

The kids have decided that I don’t actually speak Spanish OR English. They like trying to give me words or phrases in English, usually that they’ve heard in songs and then asking me to translate. But when you take something you hear in a song in a language you don’t understand and then take it out of context and repeat it in a heavy accent, it becomes completely incomprehensible. And since I don’t understand them when they speak “English,” they’ve decided that I obviously must not actually speak English at all. Not that they think much of my Spanish either. I can communicate myself very easily, but can’t understand 20 of them quickly shouting words I’ve never heard at me simultaneously in the midst of a school yard full of screaming, yelling children. And so, apparently I don’t speak Spanish either. But they haven’t given up on me yet. I wonder how long their patience will last.

One of our discussions about music evolved into a conversation about dance. I absolutely LOVE dancing and told them about some of the styles I know. While Salsa and Meringue had some redeeming value in their eyes, what they really wanted to know is if I could dance Reggaeton. (Reggaeton is a super sexy non-partner Latin dance that I have absolutely no inclination to ever learn.) Here are these sixth grade girls, shaking things they don’t have and “dropping” in the middle of a classroom, showing off their moves to music from a cell phone speaker. The teacher I work with was laughing so hard she was crying and they were trying to drag me into it to try. I was trying desperately to convince them that I was completely incapable of dancing like that and that, even if I could, I had no desire to…ever. But here are these little girls with big Latin attitudes having a dance party in a classroom in the middle of the day with a cell phone DJ. While it was really funny in a lot of ways, it was also sad that these young girls have already become so engrossed with such a sexualized cultural element.

In my last class today, the class smart-alec asked me if I liked Coke and I responded using the word coca which is a perfectly acceptable name for the drink. Unfortunately, it’s also the word for the plant that’s used to produce cocaine and within seconds, he’d managed to announce to the entire class that their new teacher likes cocaine. More laughing at Megan ensued. I guess that’s something I’m just going to live with. They’ll continue having their jokes about me, I’ll keep trying to keep up and maybe even teach them some English along the way. Or so I hope.

After being in Liberia for less than five whole days (and only working three), this weekend I set off on my first trip in Costa Rica. I spent the weekend in Playa Sámara (<– map), a beach on the west coast of Costa Rica.

After work on Friday, I caught a couple buses from Liberia to Nicoya and then Nicoya to Sámara. Unlike the air-conditioned, bathroom-equipped buses I was used to in Argentina, Central America’s buses aren’t nearly so luxurious. Only the special, over-priced tourist buses have air-conditioning and bathrooms on buses are unheard of. The times scheduled for leaving are more of a suggestion than a reflection of reality and it would go against a drivers’ instinct not to stop every couple hundred meters to let someone off or pick up a Tico on the side of the road. The bus I took to Sámara was no more than a retrofitted school bus, with a rope buzzer strung along the top and space for a hydraulic bus door chopped out of the back end. Driving up and down the mountains, I was definitely questioning whether or not the bus would make it. Picking up tremendous speed going down hill and taking blind corners at what-had-to-be unsafe speeds made me question whether the brakes even worked at all. With a little help from some kind Ticos, I got off the bus in Sámara only 3 ½ hours after leaving home (a surprisingly short trip).

Maybe it makes me crazy, but busing is one of my favorite parts about traveling. It’s a constant puzzle. “Where do I get on? When do I get off? Will the driver stop or do I have to ask? Am I going to end up at a terminal or just on the side of the road? What if I got on the wrong bus? Where does the next bus leave from? Do I buy a ticket or just pay the driver? Is the stop anywhere close to civilization or do I have a hike in store? What do I do once I get there? Where is “there”? What if I screw it up?” It could be the combination of anxiety and adrenaline that keeps me coming back. That or the incredibly low travel costs. I also find the reflection time enjoyable. I love not being responsible for anything for an hour or two and just enjoying the view. Buses are great for people-watching too. It’s usually mostly locals and it’s fun to get a glimpse into people’s lives simply by watching: Grandmothers, moms and children, boyfriends and girlfriends, even perfect strangers.

Sámara is nothing if not small and touristy and the main street where I ended up walked directly into the beach. I spotted a travel agency and got a recommendation for a cheap hostel only two blocks from the beach. (To be fair, nothing was further than four.) “Checking in” consisted of telling the old man in the rocking chair that I’d like a bed for two nights, him handing me a key and me giving him $20. I ended up with a three-bed private room with a bathroom and a working fan. A pretty good deal for the location-price combination. No hot water, of course, but I’m coming to expect that here. You know how sometimes you can’t figure out new shower faucets right away? “Do I turn and pull? Or just turn? Does this pulley-thing plug the drain or start the shower?” This wasn’t one of those. Turn the knob. Cold water comes out of the pipe at the top. Yay simplicity.

I arrived after the sun had already set, so I spent a short night wandering the little town and the beach before heading to bed early. The sun woke me up at 5:30 (just like normal) and I had time to hit a local bakery for breakfast before my morning started. I had arranged for a tour of the area on horseback and my guide met me across the street from my hostel at 8. I was lucky enough to have the tour to myself and I got to enjoy a three-hour ride on beaches and over small mountains with my guide. We saw birds, monkeys, iguanas, wild horses, and plenty of beach overlooks. Pictures show more than I can describe so check them out here!

After a wonderful, dehydrating ride, I was ready to hit the beach. I earned myself a nice sunburn enjoying the waves and the warmth for the afternoon.  The sunsets in Sámara are supposed to be pretty noteworthy so I set out early to try to find a good spot to watch. While I did enjoy a nice sunset, I also ended up a couple miles away in my quest for a good watching spot. I walked so far that I ended up in a neighboring area outside of Sámara. The sand flies were so bad that I had to find a local hostel where I could call a cab to go back to central Sámara. I ate dinner at this restaurant where no one else was eating. I noticed they were playing Spanish Christian music on the speakers, but mostly songs I didn’t know. Then Hillsong came on, in Spanish! Songs I knew in English, sung in Spanish, by a band I listen to. Not only was the food good, but I just sat there laughing while I was eating. Of all the places/songs to find something familiar. After that, I started again from the hostel and spent a while just enjoying the sand and the sound of the waves before calling it a night.

They say that good things come to those who wait. And if “good things” include rickety school buses, they’re right. Forty minutes after it’s scheduled departure time, the bus that was going to take me back to Liberia showed up at Sámara‘s only bus stop.  A couple hours later and I was back home safe and sound with Yelba in Liberia. In a little more pain than when I left (sunburn + horseback riding), but having enjoyed an incredibly pleasant weekend.

Day 1: I speak Spanish!

Day 2: [Panic] I actually don’t speak any Spanish at all!

Day 3: Hey…I can do this. I do speak Spanish.

Day 4: Upon further consideration, I realized I don’t actually speak Spanish.

Day 5: Okay, let’s be real here. I speak some Spanish.

Let the linguists among you argue about definitions, but I’m deciding that there definitely is more than one “Spanish.” Classroom Spanish vs. Argentine Spanish vs. Costa Rican Spanish = very distinct, and in much more than just accents. The ability to be understood and the ability to understand are also very different. While I’m comfortable speaking Spanish, whether or not I can understand the response varies greatly based on the situation in which I find myself.

(This paragraph is mostly for Spanish speakers) In Costa Rica, they don’t use the familiar form of the second person “you” (tu) but almost exclusively the formal one (Usted). Unfortunately for me, this draws on conjugations I’m not used to and ends up confusing me a lot because I can’t tell if someone is talking about me or about another person, especially when they drop the subject. It’s also strange because even elders refer to children in the more formal tense. Just something to get used to, I guess. They also use diminutives whenever possible. Lots if –ita’s and –ito’s. Everything’s a little smaller, gentler.

It seems like every time I meet someone new, I have to relearn how to listen to Spanish. Whether with my host family, with teachers, with kids, or with anyone else. My host mom is patient enough with me to talk slowly, but I can’t understand her husband at all. She even notices sometimes and repeats what he said, but more clearly. When the teachers at school get going, I don’t get anything either. I got used to being constantly confused while I was in Argentina, but it’s still not my favorite feeling in the world.

Even though Spanish experience isn’t required by Projects Abroad, I don’t know how a volunteer without Spanish background could function in this kind of environment. When there’s a billion children screaming and then twenty others talking in Spanish at the same time, each vying for attention, the language part of my brain tends to get overloaded almost instantly. It’s easier with the older kids. Even though they don’t quite understand why you don’t understand them, they will repeat themselves, speak slower, explain things you don’t understand and generally be stronger communicators. Not so much with the younger ones.

I still have a ton to learn, but I think there are a lot of people who are willing to be patient with me. I don’t get as much time to practice as I’d like especially because a lot of the people I interact with are European volunteers who are far more comfortable with Spanish than English. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get more involved and will be able to spend more time with locals, not just fellow English speakers.

The purpose of my time in Costa Rica is really about service. The project I’ve chosen is teaching English and Projects Abroad, my program provider, works out my placement. The school where I’m working is in Bagaces, about 40 minutes, by public bus, outside of Liberia. It’s one of two schools in the city, but is the oldest in the region. It’s a primary school, so they teach grades 1-6.

I’m working alongside a teaching named Clara (or “Clarita” as the other teachers call her. She’s very helpful and patient with me. Which is good considering that I keep getting completely confused. She teaches English at the school to children of all grades. Her 10-year-old daughter and 7-year-old son go to school in Liberia, where she lives. We travel in the mornings, at 6:25 to the school in the other community and begin classes. We have classes with the older children in the mornings (grades 5-6) and classes with the younger children in the afternoons (grades 1-2).

I’ve only been there for two partial days so far and so I haven’t figured out the schedules quite yet. Each class lasts 40 minutes, much of which is devoted to chaos (at least in my initial impression). I haven’t figured out the definition of “acceptable” behavior yet. The school yard, to me, appears absolutely insane, but the teachers just watch with smiles. Many of the children are, by my American standards, very violent and undisciplined, but by Costa Rican standards are just “playing.” It’s very strange for me not to be able to step in when something appears wrong because I haven’t yet learned what’s okay and what’s not, at least in the cultural sense.

The school, as a whole, is incredibly loud. In the classroom and out, all the children are constantly yelling and screaming as they play or disrupt class. I’m still not sure how any actual teaching goes on with all of the chaos. I anticipate that I’ll see some order in the classes in the next week, but for now, I’m still confused.

Yesterday, we worked only with the younger children. They’re really loving and were really excited to have me in class. Some were eager to show off their English skills while others just crowded around asking me questions. Clara taught the same lesson to three classes in a row and let me participate more and more in each one. I picked up on a bit of classroom routine and got to lead some of the vocabulary portion by the end of the classes. Mostly with the youngest kids, it was more like babysitting than teaching. Lots of classroom management that had nothing to do with English at all. Fortunately, a disapproving look at a child speaks volumes, especially compared to my Spanish.

The older children, who I just met today, had an exam, so I didn’t get to interact with them too much. The all noticed the strange white visitor at the back of the class almost immediately and so Clara had me introduce myself so they’d stop being so distracted. After the first class, she let me help out with questions during the test when the students needed help. It was neat to get to talk more with them, but I still didn’t know exactly how much I could help them or what I was allowed to say.

I had a late breakfast in the teachers’ “lounge” (more like a large closet) this morning. The teachers were all incredibly nice to me, but I honestly couldn’t understand anything they were talking about. While a lot of it is just a language issue, they’re also discussing topics I’m totally unfamiliar with and don’t have any place to start. I basically just sat there awkwardly as they gave me food I didn’t recognize. I tried to subtly watch each of them and not act quite as clueless as I felt. I’m also 10-30 years younger than any of them (jovencita) and feel rather out of place.

While I’m still immensely confused, I’ve tried to adopt the attitude of “jump in now, apologize later.” To wait until I’m perfectly comfortable with all of the classroom etiquette will take until after I leave and there’s no point in just watching for the next two months. I’m sure I’ll make a mess of some things along the way, but hopefully I’ll do some good too. I’m less worried about my relationships with the rest of the teachers (except for Clara) and more concerned with how I do with the kids. They all are really excited about me being there, but I hope that I can be useful to them over the next two months as well.

The first word that comes to mind to describe Liberia: Hot.

After “hot” come words like “small,” “familiar,” and “unlabeled.”

The thing I’m feeling the most is definitely the heat. This week is over 90 degrees each day and it’s something I’m definitely not used to. The humidity, combined with the inability to escape into anywhere air conditioned make for a sweaty, exhausting introduction to the country. I’m sure I’ll get more accustomed to it eventually, but for now, I’m simply hot. I managed to take a shower today with zero intentional heat (a “cold” shower) and still come out a little overheated. They don’t have a second faucet on anything here. It’s just the one that spits out water of whatever temperature it has access to. Usually, it’s lukewarm, but this morning I almost burned myself.

Liberia is a small town in the northwest part of Costa Rica with a population of only about 45,000 ticos (what Costa Ricans call themselves). It’s laid out in a neat grid with a single main street. None of the streets have real names and none of the buildings have numbers. This means that every location is described relative to somewhere else. For instance, I live 50 meters east of the Hotel Riviera. The Projects Abroad office is 100 meters north and 50 meters west of the central plaza. And on and on. For us extranjeros (foreigners) who are new to the area, it makes finding things a bit…interesting.

My first business day here started with a walking tour of the city. It’s only about a five-minute walk from my house to the center of the city and I think anything in the area is only about 20 minutes away, tops. We saw things like the bank, bus stations, supermarkets, important cafés and lots of other landmarks. It shouldn’t take too long to get down the basics.

Like any good Catholic Latin American city, the city center is the church. I learned that all Catholic churches in Costa Rica face west (which helps with my sense of direction), but I have no clue why. If anyone knows, feel free to enlighten me. The central plaza seems to be a common place to hang out for teens and young adults. Based on my conversations with other volunteers, there’s not a whole lot else to do here. One of the hotels has a swimming pool where volunteers go during the day and there’s a movie theater too, but there’s only so many good movies.

The opposite of my experience in Buenos Aires, Liberia goes to sleep early. Whereas Bs.As. is just getting started at 11 pm, the streets of Liberia are almost empty by about 8pm. Part of this might have to do with the sun. Costa Rica doesn’t observe daylight savings and is, in my opinion, in the “wrong” time zone. The sun is up by 5:30am and sets before 6 pm.  Costa Rica appears much more the “early to bed, early to rise” type of culture. But don’t expect to get errands done during the lunch hour. The city shuts down as everyone disappears to cook at home or eat lunch at a local soda (a small food vendor that sells cheaper local food).

What’s nice about a town this small is the familiarity of people with one another. If you’re trying to find someone’s shop, you can refer to them by name and lots of people in the area know who they are. Everybody seems to know everybody and it’s nice to have everything so close by. My only fear is going crazy if the town gets too small. I s’pose that’s why all the volunteers travel each weekend.

I’m finally in Liberia!! All of my travels went totally without issues. Planes to San José without any problems. Picked up by the Projects Abroad staff and taken to a surprisingly nice hotel (compared to what I was expecting anyway). Five-hour bus ride to Liberia with another new volunteer. Met at the bus station by another Projects Abroad staff member and dropped off at my homestay. All-in-all, a successful trip.

Even though I’ve only been living here for about 36 hours, I’m already realizing how completely blessed I am by my homestay placement.  One of the biggest requirements I had when choosing a service provider was the availability of a homestay, living with a local family, learning the customs, language, culture, and foods of a region. This was the biggest way for me to learn while I was in Argentina and so I wanted to make sure I could do the same thing while abroad this time.

My host mom’s name is Yelba Pomares. She’s a really wonderful woman, although we haven’t started talking too much yet.  After teaching at a primary school (the same one where I’m supposed to be working) for fifteen years, she quit her job there to open a Christian bookstore. It’s a lovely little place [Wow- I can hear the influence of my English housemate in that phrase] with Bibles, books, and all sorts of other accessories and fun things. We’ve gotten to talk about our faith a bit and she’s invited me to church and her small group on Thursday. I’m really looking forward to learning more about her and the things that she’s involved in.

Although my primary interaction is with Yelba, she’s not the only one in the house. She’s married to, David [dah-veed], a teacher at a local school. Our time in the house hasn’t overlapped too much yet, so we haven’t seen much of each other or gotten to talk much at all. They also have three sons (I think one of them might only be David’s, but I don’t know yet): Luis David (29), Esteban (26), and Issac (22).  All three are studying in San José now, but Esteban was home this weekend when I arrived. Within thirty minutes of walking in the door, Esteban asked if I wanted to go out already. He and a cousin (one of about a million, apparently) were going to a friend’s house to swim.  I frantically dug through my yet-to-be-unpacked suitcase looking for my suimsuit and hurriedly got ready to go. Turned out “go swimming” was code for “swim, eat, watch futbol, talk about the news, watch a movie, and six hours later, go home.” After a day and a half of traveling and an afternoon in the sun, I was completely exhausted and was quite happy to get a good sleep in before this morning.

I’m really happy here so far, though my impressions are limited. Besides the sweltering heat (it’s over 90 degrees without any air conditioning) which I haven’t gotten used to yet, it appears to be a beautiful place. My home has 4 bedrooms (some of which have other volunteers living in them) and more than enough space for all of us. Yelba enjoys cooking and makes lots of good food for us three times a day. I think I’m going to get along quite well with all of them. A humongous added bonus is that we have internet in the house! Definitely wasn’t expecting that, but I’m really happy that turned out the way it did. It’s kind of ironic though: only one faucet on any water source, adobe and plaster walls, no air conditioning, no dryer, but- hey!- we have Wi-Fi. I have my own room with a bed, night table, and shelves. Nothing extravagant, but totally sufficient.

I’m looking forward to the next two months that I will be living here, though I’m certain it will fly by. Hopefully, Yelba and I will have a good number of intriguing conversations over the coming weeks and will get to know each other better. Maybe silent David and I can even have a conversation or two. We’ll see!

After preparing for this trip for more than six months, it felt weird to realize that it was finally Today. The insanity of the last weeks of school, finals week, mad packing and rushing, and too many goodbyes, culminated this morning with my 6:30 airport dropoff. (Huge thanks to Audrey and her family for having me over and waking up obscenely early to drive me here.)

My lengthy journey to Liberia, Costa Rica begins in Houston.  A 3-hour flight to Phoenix, a 3-hour layover, and another 5-hour flight to Costa Rica will land me in San José, the capital. There, I will meet rep from Projects Abroad (the company who is providing my placement, homestay, etc.) who will take me to a hotel for the night. Then tomorrow, I’ll begin the 5-hour bus ride north from San José to Liberia where I’ll meet local Projects Abroad staff, be given some sort of tour or orientation, and then introduced to my host family.

I’m definitely feeling ready for this trip right now. I’m excited about getting to teach and apply all that I’ve been preparing over the past year but I’m also looking forward to getting to learn about new cultures and customs. I can’t wait to start meeting people and finding out more about the people I’ll be interacting with over the next several months. The thing I’m most looking forward to is getting to speak Spanish all the time. That was what I missed most when I left South America last year and so, naturally, is something I’m anxiously anticipating. I’m intrigued by all of the unknowns that currently make up the time in front of me. I want to make sure I’m focusing on appreciating the experiences of each day so that I don’t get to August and wonder where the time went. I’m a little nervous, mostly about how I’ll be able to perform as a teacher, get along with people, how I’ll fit with my host family, whether my Spanish will sustain what I want to do; all of those thoughts are running through my head. The other feeling is just an overwhelming sense of tiredness. The last several weeks of school were absolute insanity for me and I’m behind on rest and mental preparation for leaving the country on my own. I could use about 48 hours of sleep right now, but since that’s not an option, I’m just going to dive in headfirst and give it my best. Here goes…

“Pura Vida” is a Costa Rican saying which translates to “Pure Life.” This ultra-common phrase in Costa Rice describes much about the lifestyle and culture of the people there. More on that later. For now, welcome to my blog! I hope you’ll continue reading with me as the summer progresses and I share my adventures in teaching and backpacking in Costa Rica and Central America.

This trip was made possible by the generous funding provided by the Loewenstern Fellowship. This program is offered through Rice University and offers students the opportunity to perform service projects of their choice in Latin America or Asia. Other Loewenstern fellows will be traveling to places like the Dominican Republic, Nicaragua, and India. Our service areas are diverse and we’ve each chosen social issues that we’re particularly passionate about. Our fellowships continue into the 2011-2012 school year and we’ll be responsible for educating others about what we’ve learned as well as trying to serve our home community through our experience abroad.

For my service project, I’ve chosen to pursue English education in Costa Rica. I know almost nothing about the students I’ll actually be teaching and won’t find out until I’m on the ground and in the school. The extent of the information I’ve been given includes 1) The students will be somewhere between ages 4-14 and 2) I’ll [probably] be assisting a local teaching in the classroom. Beyond that, it’s all a mystery. While this hasn’t given me much opportunity to prepare for teaching, I’m excited by the challenge this will pose and I hope to find that this will force me to stretch my abilities as both a person and as a teacher.

To prepare for teaching, I’ve been working towards receiving my TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) certification that I will [hopefully] receive in December. I’ve taken classes at Rice such as “Structure of English” and “Theory and Methods of Teaching English as a Foreign Language” and have also been working as an English tutor and language partner since the beginning of the year.

While teaching, I’ll be living with a Costa Rican family. My host mom’s name is Yelba Pomares I don’t know too much about them yet, but according the bio I received, they don’t speak English, which I’m quite happy about. One of the things I’ve noticed already is that in the city where I’ll be working, they don’t use addresses. Streets have no names and all locations are given as points relative to some major landmark. For instance, my homestay is “25 meters east of Hotel Riviera” and the school where I’ll be teaching is “300 meters east of the main entrance to the soccer stadium.” Liberia itself is a small city of about 45,000 people, located in the northwestern quadrant of the country. It serves as a gateway to many of the tourists who pass through headed for the west coast or for jungle adventures further inland.

After spending May and June teaching in Liberia, I’ll move on to something different for July. The first week will be spent on a rainforest conservation project in the Barra Honda National Park. After that, I’ll have about 16 days to backpack in Central America. I’m receiving funding through the Schumann Award for Travel Journalism to investigate hostelling and backpacking culture abroad. I’m really excited to share more about this as the time draws closer.

Again, I’m thrilled that you’re willing to read along on this adventure with me. I’m looking forward to sharing more with you as I learn and grow through this experience. Pura Vida!