End of the Semester Psychosis

Hermano Pedro, Antigua, Guatemala 2013

As I am grading the last of the research projects, I am finding things to distract me. Like organizing photos in Picassa. This one is from GSL's first trip- Guatemala. Jon Z is on the far left, Diego, Keileigh, Nick, Claudia, and me. The kids had thrown us a secret party in one of the two classrooms. I have fond memories of that trip, the group, the kids, the country. I wish I could find enough willing souls to return. Maybe one day we will.






My trip to CR is shaping. My last informational meeting of the semester was Thursday. About six or seven dedicated souls, three already filled out applications and seem eager to go. But as Claudia and I know, it all comes down to who is willing to commit with money. Last year at this time we had eighteen applications. Only two panned out. So I am gun shy.

I have yet put a deposit on the flights. I am holding off until January. I am tracking the price through Kayak. I think we should be fine.

Final Dinner, Sevilla Spanish School, Antigua, 2013

Here's a shot of our final dinner in Antigua. Instead of a restaurant, we had a BBQ at the school with guacamole, steak, vegetables, beer and wine. It felt like a wedding with dancing, and an MC. I hope to recreate this in Samara this summer.

Looking Back, Forging Ahead

This is a photo from my first visit to Samara in January 2009. I was searching for a place to take my next ECC study abroad program. I went on the suggestion of a volunteer organization which used Intercultura for its participants. I had spent the first few days in Heredia, outside San Jose. I was so unimpressed with San Jose, I escaped early, took a bus to Samara, felt the energy of this small beach village, and never looked back. This summer will mark my 7th visit, most of them for three weeks.

My Costa Rica trip is moving along. I have 12 applications as of today. I don't expect all of them to submit deposits. Last year we had 18 applications and only two panned out.

I have to yet reserve the flights. I am waiting until Janurary. I've been tracking the prices and they seem to be holding. My first quote from Delta was $800, but I think that is too high. I like the direct flight, but if I can get a flight for $200 less, I will suffer with a layover.

Behind the Scenes, Between Programs

When I tell people about my second job, they seem to think I am some type of scam artist. They hear "three weeks in Costa Rica" "beach" and even "zip lining". All words associated with vacation. Fun. Relaxation. Yet, those words are misleading; hell calling it a job is misleading as so far, not only have I not been paid, I am in the hole $500 so far. Yet, the programs themselves are just the tip of a very large iceberg of hard work, worry, and time mostly submerged and therefore unseen. Time to stick the camera underwater to see what it's like.

These past two weekends I've been working on GSL stuff. First, I am starting to organize the next program. since it is back to Costa Rica, my fourth program there, this has become easier, but there are still things that need to be done. First is contacting Intercultura and planning the program. This means tweaking some details and making decisions. All by email. But don't get me wrong. I enjoy that, but it is still work.

Next, is the web site. I need to update, file, and create new pages for every program. All this takes a considerable amount of man hours. I spent probably four hours on this last week alone.

Of course, students don't visit the web page on their own. I have to visit classrooms for five minute pitches to get them to attend informational meetings. I've got a list of over 30 classes I could potentially visit (and probably will). I hope to get at least forty to attend the informational meetings in hopes of getting at least ten to fill out an application and pay a deposit. 30 classes with an average of 30 students each is 900 students. To get 10. Not a great return. Not to mention, I'll have to do it again in the spring. Another tidbit. I had 33 application for last year's program. Only 12 went. Each of the informational meetings lasts an hour, so that's 7 hours right there. Not to mention the meetings in my office for students who can't attend the meetings.

Next comes the paperwork. Two years ago, I incorporated GSL with California. I bought a book called How to Form a Non Profit Corporation in California  in order to obtain 501(c)(3) status with the IRS. This affords me certain protections. However, the paperwork is immense and constant. The application itself is like 20 pages in length. Not to mention the financials/accounting that has to take place. I spent probably eight hours yesterday, four hours last week, and eight hours this weekend on the financials alone. I bought a copy of Quickbooks for NonProfits to help me organize this, but there is definitely a learning curve when using any new program.

One bright light was that GSL is almost breaking even; the dark is that I haven't been paid yet (my expenses during the programs are covered during the last two programs). Here are the numbers. Guatemala 2013 -$2688.44 (this was my own money paying for my part of the program. Costa Rica 2013= $1038.25. Costa Rica 2014= $966.80.

My goal is to not only have GSL be self sufficient, but that I can draw a salary out of running these program equal to what I would make teaching a class during the summer.

Now don't get me wrong. I don't have to do any of this; I enjoy it. And like any small business, it takes a few years to get settled. I think I am improving every year in running these programs. I'd love to even branch out and find other faculty interested in leading programs. I'd also like to obtain grants to pay for some of the students to participate in these programs.

So when you hear me talk about GSL, don't let the locales make you think of umbrella drinks on a beach. There's a lot of hard word that happens before my toes are in the sand. And even when they are, I'm also responsible for twenty some odd 20 year olds. And believe me, that alone can bring stress.

The Final Week

The last week is a blur (as I write this from home, ten days after returning). Some of the students were already speaking of home, and their first meals. The kids attending the volunteer sessions drops off to 15 or so. But my participants step up and really come up with some great lesson plans. Emily does weather and ironically, it storms the hardest since we’ve been there. The rain came down so hard, the kids couldn’t hear her. Sad to, because she planned a lot of music inspired lessons. Instead they drew scenes with weather and it all worked out.

On  Tuesday, Claudia and I go horseback riding in the hills north of Samara. We go with Augustine, the handyman for the school. It’s a two and half hour jaunt through the jungle. We climb high above Left Beach, and while we get off the horses to take pictures, one saunters away. We ride down to Playa Buene Vista. On the road back, a troop of howler monkeys are in the trees above us. Some are babies. We stop to take pictures and one almost pisses on Claudia. On our way back to the school, we stop at Pablitos a locals bar on the beach. With every drink one gets a boca, a small bowl of stew. Claudia and I order soda as we still have volunteer work.

Stephanie had “family” as a theme, and she planned an elaborate lesson with family trees and hand drawn pictures.  Of course, when we arrived to the community center, there was a big meeting taking place. So we moved it outside. And she knocks it out of the park.

That night we have a bon fire on the beach. Some of the other students come, but it is drizzly and many don’t stay long.

Wed morning I take Jon, Viv and Z to Playa Buena Vista. It is overcast, and I am not into it. I spend a lot of Wednesday tracking down ice cream for Thursday’s farewell party. We know the community center isn’t available, there is a big meeting to talk about making the island a national refuge. So Alex plans sport activities for the kids.

On Thursday, I go fishing with Chevy, Spaniard from Barcelona who now lives in Samara and owns the Organic Center, a plaza with a bunch of New-Agey stores: organic markets, yoga, etc. We are joined by Klaus, a German staying with Wolfgang. We spend four hours on the water and do not catch a thing. Chevy picks up the tab. I spend the rest of the day getting supplies for the party.




We host an ice cream social for the 20 or so kids who show. They are excited. I say a few words. It’s hard to image that the three weeks have gone by so quickly.

Friday I am awakened to Jon and Claudia on my porch. They wanted to see the sunrise, but it was cloudy. They had checked out of their home stay under shady circumstances. I let them sleep in and run some errands. The rest of the day is spent packing. At this point, I am looking forward to home. The humidity and the bugs are starting to get to me. Jon, Claudia, and I go to lunch at La Vela Latina.  The participants have graduation at one and we are late arriving. After I go to the beach for one last swim. I sit at Gusto and drink beer. It is Friday the 13^th(my grandfather’s birthday). We just have the last dinner and then the bus ride at midnight.

The last dinner is nice. El Lagarto is one of the nicest places in Samara, known for its steak and seafood grilled over wood. Lindsay, Johanna, and Andrea join us. After, we go to Arriba for one last drink. I sneak out early in hopes to get some sleep before midnight, but that never happens.

Everyone is at the school when I arrive around 11:30. The ride to the airport is quiet. The ride goes quickly. In the airport there is some last minute juggling by some because of overweight luggage.

The flight is not as quick as the bus ride. I bobble head while watching a movie, The Grand Budapest Hotel. I sleep through enough of it that I switch to a Jack Ryan movie. It holds my attention better.

Once we land, everyone scatters. Claudia and I are the last ones. Her family drops me off. I finally breathe. We made it back. 

Un Bueno Fin De Semana

Of the two weekend excursions, the second to Rincon de la Viaja is my favorite. First, it’s only a three hour bus ride. Also, the resort where we stay, Buena Vista Lodge, is pretty nice with clean, comfortable rooms. We took off around 1:30 on Friday afternoon. Our first stop was two hours into our drive in Liberia, where the second airport is. We stop at a large plaza with a grocery store where everyone stocks up on supplies. 

The resort is in the middle of nowhere, and everything is more expensive there. After we arrive, even though I was assured the rooms were straightened out, there was still confusion. But it gets straightened out. Thankfully they put me and the driver in rooms separate from the group. In fact, the group is isolated from everyone.  We meet at the Sunset bar which overlooks a valley with 180 degree views all the way to the Pacific and even to Nicaragua. There are some families there with their kids, about ten of them, around the pool table. We catch a bit of the sunset before it hides behind the clouds. 

After we walk to dinner, which is included, which the students appreciate. It is a buffet with salad, spaghetti and meatballs, fish, soup, and homemade bread. Breakfast the next day is also buffet style; they even have an omelet station. After breakfast, the day’s activities begin. First is an hour horseback ride into the rainforest. Z is the only one who is genuinely frightened. My horse is Nina; she’s the lead horse and the others seem to know to keep behind her. The train is a fire road of sorts, rocky, with a lot of hills. We see some iguanas and hear some monkeys but do not see them.

We stop in a valley at the bottom of which is a stream. Along the stream are man-made pools of various temperature water. There are huts to change, and another with lockers, another with restrooms. There is a stone building at the end of one of the pools, a steam/sauna, heated from the thermals of the volcano. There is a slight sulfur smell. At the end of the sauna, there are two cauldrons bubbling with mud. We walk behind the sauna where there are two pestle looking things, about four feet tall filled with the volcanic mud. We slather it on: literally head to toe. We let it dry, then rinse off in the cold mountain water. My skin is baby-ass soft. We are mainly the only ones there, so we have the run of the place.  The hottest pool is probably 106 degrees. It cascades into another pool, and then that cascades into yet another, each drop cools the water. We congregate in the middle pool. There are howler monkeys in the trees above. A guava tree drops its fruit in the pools. Vines hang from the 50+ feet tall trees above us. Palms and moss. It is as jungle as it gets. 

Maryalice gets a tick, probably from the horse, so we borrow a lighter from one of the guides and Ariana gets tweezers and after some moments, we remove it, head and all. We lounge for a couple of hours here. Another family, a mom and two kids, overhear us about the tick and the mom worries. They are from North Carolina. The boy is a student at the Citadel and talks about studying abroad next year.

To get back to the ranch for lunch, a big John Deere pulling a carriage with ten rows of benches stadium style through the forest. Lunch is in a different place, buffet again. After we zipline. Stephanie is scared, but perseveres. The runs are short, about ten of them. On some they turn the kids upside down or have them fly, superman style. The last one, the guides encourage us to all go upside down.

The next stop is the water slide. I take a pass. It’s fun, but I don’t like the lack of control. A few go more than once. After some go on the hanging bridge tour. I opt to go back to the resort and hit the pool. It is untreated and has a ton of tadpoles. The side are rock looking gunnite. The deep end is painted black; the water is cool and refreshing.

Soon it is happy hour at the sunset bar. We play pool, have a beer. The sun is behind clouds, so there is not much of a view. After dinner, we gather in another room, which has a small bar and a tv. A deck of card appears and I teach them Acey-Deucy or high-low. We play for push-ups or jumping jacks or sips of beer. Even the bus driver joins in.

The next day I am up early and go to the sunset bar/overlook. A toucan is in a dead tree, but it is too far for a photo. I can tell by the curve of the beak. After breakfast, we take an ecological tour. The resorts aims to be self-sufficient. It opened 25 years ago; prior to that it was a cattle and dairy farm. It grows some of its own food, and has a pig sty. It captures some of its methane gas, and has a worm farm. It also makes its own soap. It was a nice tour.

The ride back to Samara is uneventful. Once in town, Alex organizes a volleyball game. When I get back to my apartment, my landlords are having a small party. They invite me up for a cuba libre, as they just returned from Cuba with some rum. Wolfgang has friend in town, Klaus, who speaks German and a little English. Paula, who used to work at the school and her husband from Spain speak Spanish and English. I am tired from the weekend’s activities, and the conversation is hard to follow. The previous week I had mentioned to Paula that I wanted to fish, and her husband arranges for us to go out on Tuesday with Klaus. After one drink, I excuse myself.

I meet the group and play some volleyball. The games are fun. The sun is setting, the water is warm. It’s a nice way to finish the weekend. 

Photos

For those not friends with GS Learners on Facebook, here are some photos:
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.407978512675969&type=1&l=32973109fe

The Dark Side of Philanthropy

Today we returned to Chinampas to distribute the rest of the shoes. This time we had a plan. But what is the saying about "best laid plans"? (I had to look this one up. It's a Burns poem)

"But Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!”
 http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/To_a_Mouse

How true!
When we arrive there is another large group waiting for us. We hand out tickets. One per adult who gets to choose one pair of shoes, so that we have enough for everyone. 

We use the classroom and place all the shoes (200 pair plus) on the floor. I'm the bouncer, collecting tickets, and we allow a half dozen people in the room at a time. The others in our group are personal shoppers assisting the locals and ensuring things go fairly. However the children come and go at first until I realize they are sneaking out pairs of shoes for their mothers who are waiting in line. It is like something out of a Dickens novel. One particular girl I kept catching was truly an artful dodger.

We just wanted to be fair and make sure everyone got a pair. After all of the tickets were collected there was a press of bodies at the door. Men, women, and children pleaded with me but my ignorance of the language provided a benefit. I didn't cave. We didn't have enough for everyone to get a second (or third) pair who still lingered so we decided to pack up a box and distribute them at another village. The crowd didn't like this and things got somewhat tense.

It left a bitter taste. To add to this taste, I didn't hear words of appreciation. None or little “gracias”.

The others felt similarly.

There are many lessons here.

It  had me thinking about the nature of service. Should we only do it if it makes us (the givers) feel good? Isn't it just an imperialistic mindset to demand they say thank you for something we throw away? 

It's also a lesson in economics as we discussed on the ride back. Since these shoes had no cost, they had no value to the receivers. If given the opportunity, they would take as many pair as they could carry (or so it seemed). However, if we had put a price on each pair, let’s say $.50, would they be more judicious in their choosing? We thought they would.

It reflects current US policy in Afghanistan. Or history- think Vietnam. Or religion, visa vie the conquistadors.  I guess it also relates to the saying about “good intentions.”  

A lot to chew on here. One thing I am certain; there are no simple answers.

Week 2

During the second week, the comfort level increases and the attention to details decreases. Students start showing up to class late. The partying intensifies. I do my best to keep them on track, but I am powerless; they know this. I don’t have grades to hang over their head.

I also feel my age. These twenty year olds don’t stop. This week, I organized two kayaking trips out the island that guards the mouth of the bay. We go just before low tide, and we go from the south end of the bay so it is a closer paddle. On Monday, the seas are rough, even at low tide. But we get to the island without incident. We beach the kayaks, take some water and walk the small, spit of sandy beach, and the waves crashing on both sides of the long sand bar that juts toward shore. The island is small, just a few acres, uninhabited by people; home to a few pelican, iguanas, and other birds.

The reef where we snorkel is small, and the tide is a bit rough. We still see many fish, and coral. After snorkeling, we head back to the beach where the guides have fresh pineapple and melon cut up. They throw the rinds along the edge of the hill and iguanas scramble down for the scraps. We eventually kayak back and the students make it to class. I wake up the next day and do the same thing the second half of the group who had class yesterday morning. The second day the water is calmer and clearer.

The volunteer project is going well. The students are really stepping up when it is their turn to lead the charge. I am impressed by their creativity and the work. Everyone is pulling his or her weight. We’ve been consistently pulling 25 ish kids every day, which according to the CREAR girls is amazing. I think handing out lollipops at the end of every class is also a good marketing tool.

We took on a side project this Wednesday. An American, Cassie, came to the school looking for volunteers and Laura introduced me. So Alex, Claudia, Jon, and I spent a couple hours, digging post holes, putting up posts, and securing some floor joists for a playhouse for a preschool’s play yard that is open to the public. They will finish the construction this Saturday and maybe a few of us will return next week to paint.

Last night Jon and Claudia cooked lasagna for their Tico family and invited me over. It was really delicious. The two have a great relationship with the family- they are very comfortable and often joke around. I’m really impressed by those two. They’re good friends and argue like an old married couple. It’s funny to watch.

In the down time, I spend swimming, surfing, and reading in a hammock. The weather has been better than I expected. It’s usually sunny in the morning, and then the clouds move in in the afternoon. Rumbles of thunder in the distance in the late afternoon, and then showers and the occasional lightning storm at night. Of course it is hot and humid. And the girls legs are pocked with bug bites, but they seem to endure. 

Cast of Characters

First there is Claudia who made this trip possible. She went with me to Guatemala in 2012.She recruited more than half the kids. She’s been running the volunteer program. Because of this, she paid nothing for the trip. She’s an education major heading to CSU-Long Beach in the fall.

Next is Jon, another GS Learners veteran from the 2012 Guat trip. He’s a big guy who has got a heart of gold. He too is on a partial scholarship, helping Claudia with the volunteer program. He’s a future fireman heading to Cal State LA in the fall.

Ariana is one of the first ones to sign up and pay. Both her parents are teachers. She’s a real sweet kid, who likes music. She’s got a great attitude. I am not sure what her major is.

Emily is an English major who is also studying childhood development. She’s great with the kids and has a soft spot for animals. I have to check her bags before we go to make sure she doesn’t try to smuggle anything back.

Alex is a science major. His dad is a pediatrician. He runs for the cross country team. He’s a smart kid, well read. He’ll be heading to a UC for sure.

Brandy is another GS Learners veteran from last summer’s trip to Costa Rica. She wanted to go to Guatemala with me this summer, but since it was cancelled I convinced her to return to CR. I also found her $1000 in scholarships. She’s film major heading to Long Beach in the fall. She’s got a great sense of humor.

Katie is the last of the GS veterans, from last year’s trip. She’s the talker of the trip. She’s got a big heart and really enjoys working with the kids.

Stephanie is a future drug and alcohol counselor. She went on a study abroad trip to Ireland in 2010. She’s a big girl, but she doesn’t let that slow her down. I’m impressed by her willingness to face her fears.

Zaira is one of four of the native Spanish speakers. She’s quiet in the group, but one on one she will talk. She’s young (19), and I think she’s unsure what she wants to do. She’s in the honors program.

Vivian is the last one to sign up. She and Zaira formed a quick friendship. She wants to teach. She’s a wanderer and explorer and is often off on her own with her head to the ground looking for things to pick up.

Maryalice is the mom. She’s in her early thirties with three kids, a set of twins and another. All girls. This was a present to herself for finishing El Co this spring. The kids are staying with her mom and dad. She’s a future teacher heading to Long Beach in the fall. 

They're all a good people and I would gladly take any of them on another program. They seem to all get along, but I know that could change. 

Sunday is funday

We went off-script for our plans on Sunday. The program originally included a trip to an eco-park, but past comments were lukewarm to its entertainment value. So Luis took us to some truly natural hot springs, a river really that is free and open to the public. The water rushed off the volcano at a pretty good clip and was about 90 degrees. Of course, there was some trash strewn about and we had to go under the road in a concrete channel, but after we felt like we were in the jungle. It was nice and relaxing.

Next, we drove around the volcano to the Arenal Observatory and took a hike through a rain forest to a lava flow from 1992. Arenal is no longer active (since 2010). In 1982 there was a big eruption where some people were killed. It caught the locals off-guard. The hike was easy, but soon after we crossed a wire suspended bridge, it started raining. We did get to see some spider monkeys and some howler monkeys. Luis has only seen spider monkeys two other times, so I guess it was a big deal. 
By the time we got to the lava flow the rain was really coming down. There were some nice views of the volcano and we could see the path of the lava etched into the jungle. The forest is all second growth after the eruption in 1982 decimated everything. The hike back was slow as the trail was really muddy. A few of the girls slipped and fell in the mud, but they were good sports about it.

The ride back to Samara was uneventful until we got pulled over at a check point. Apparently the bus didn't have a proper sticker. Joel, our driver, got a ticket and we were on our way. We stopped for lunch at another tourist trap that is expensive (relative). We arrived in Samara around 6 pm.

Weekend Adventure

Everyone has class on Fridays. They are not as intense as the rest of the week. Usually they focus on Costa Rican culture. They also take surveys and then end with a test to see if they are ready for the next level.

At noon, we board the bus for a four-five hour trek into the north central part of the country to an area called Monteverde, a cloud forest.

First we stop in Nicoya to drop off Lindsay who is taking a bus to the other campus in Heredia, near San Jose the capital. We also pick up our tour guide, Luis, an elementary school English teacher, in his 50s with two college age kids. He lives in Nicoya. We stop at the center square and the old church. It is closed for repairs as a recent earthquake has wreaked havoc with its roof. It is too bad because one can see artifacts from the conquistador era.

We stop for lunch along the way. I suspect these tour guides and drivers have deals with local restaurants along the way. Luckily for the students the place they choose has a new Subway restaurant next door, so half the group heads there. It’s a long slow drive to our destination. From the Panamerican Highway (also called Pacific Coast Highway in the states), it is only 35 kilometers which is roughly 21 miles. It takes us two hours. In one of the guidebooks it is labeled one of the top ten worst roads in Costa Rica. That is saying something. It’s serpentine and narrow with hundred foot drop offs and no guardrails. And it’s dirt. There are more potholes than smooth surface. Not to mention the mud. However, Luis tells us there are plans to pave it and we see some construction trucks.

At the hotel, we check in. Of course there are problems as they don’t give us 9 beds for the girls at first. They expect two to share. I calmly let them know I am not happy and explain to the girls they might have to share a bed. They say they don’t mind but I can read their faces they feel otherwise. As I settle into my room, a knock and another key for another room is given.

We go into the small town of Santa Elena for dinner, a few blocks walk downhill. We eat at a bar called Amigos, huge for Costa Rica standards with a giant dance floor, pool tables in the floor below and the restaurant on the third floor. TVs showing soccer and the NBA playoffs are everywhere throughout. Angelica, a girl at the school who arranges the trips, suggested we try the Chifrones, a pork, rice, beans and spice dish. It is delicious. After dinner a few of us play pool while others go to the local tourist shops to help improve the local economy.

The next morning breakfast is served. Tipico- eggs with rice and beans or American- eggs with ham. Both come with fruit, toast, coffee or juice and is included in the price of the hotel ($35 a room I overhear).

At 7:30 the rest of the group boards a van to go zip lining. Since I have already tried that, I go on another van to go to a local coffee/chocolate/sugar cane farm tour. I am put in a group with a retired couple from India, and a mother with two young children from Sweden. The boy, almost three is a handful. Our guide Junior speaks English well and is knowledgeable about the coffee from around the world. From the coffee part of the tour, we move on to the chocolate and see the cacao beans, crush them, mix them with sugar, black pepper, salt, and vanilla and make a paste that is tasty. We also had red chili and it adds another complexity of flavor. After we move on to the sugar cane portion. We crush stalks in a press, extracting a liquid we capture in a container and mix it with lime. It is sweet times ten. The kids love it but we pay for it later as the boy has a complete meltdown as we are leaving. The woman is embarrassed. The ride back to the hotel is painful for everyone.

I arrive back at the hotel before the others. Brandy, who went with me last year, stayed behind as she wasn’t feeling well and had already done it, sat with me on the deck overlooking the valley. I read. I also spoke with a retired woman from Canada who lives in Costa Rica off and on.

When they arrive, I see a giant bruise on one of the girls, Stephanie, who I was nervous about. She is a big girl and was nervous about going. Apparently she forgot to use her brake (her gloved hand) and crashed into one of the guides. They “taxied” her for the remaining runs.

After we check out, but leave our bags in the lobby to get some lunch before another bus takes us to a boat.
After lunch two of the girls sneak off to get a cake for Stephanie who is celebrating her one year of sobriety. I meet them in the grocery store and it begins to rain. Actually it is a torrential downpour. In the lobby we dry off and give Stephanie her cake and the other girls buy her a necklace. She is moved by the gestures.

Back in the bus, we have another windy drive to Lake Arenal, a man-made lake at the base of the volcano. It was dammed in the seventies for hydro power. The boat ride is in an oversized panga, but at least it has clear plastic sides and we stay relatively dry. The lake smells of sulfur.

After the boat we climb onto another van which takes us to Baldi, a resort of natural hot springs. There are dozens of pools of varying temperatures. Some have swim up bars, but the prices are out of our students range. Not mine! After a couple of hours of this, we have a dinner reservation inside the resort, a buffet. The students and I take advantage of it. The food is really good. Much better than I remember from 2010.

We check into our hotel after stopping at a store to get supplies. The students want to party. I hate the hotel where we stay because it is loud and it is remote. I teach them the card game kill, where each player gets one card. One of the cards is an Ace of Spades. The person who gets that card is the killer, and must wink to kill everyone else. The others must try to guess who the killer is before being killed. Thankfully my room is on the other side where the students are partying. I leave them at ten, but I hear them until midnight. 

Thursday night with Max Goldenberg

Since staying in Samara, Costa Rica can be a little too much like a vacation (the beach, the activities), I like to add a little culture. So I arrange with the language school to do something cultural. One year we had a famous Costa Rican author, Tatiana Lobo come speak to the group. The kids loved it. Last year we went to Max Goldenberg’s house/farm & restaurant. We decided to do the same for this group. So Thursday after volunteer and classes, we drove to Nicoya, a town of about 8,000 people, but considered the city to many of the villages nearby. It has a small, four block downtown and an old church originally built in the 1500’s.

Max lives outside of town. His house has a giant wrap around porch with various sitting areas and tables. It doubles the size of his house. Everything is done with wood. As we arrive his grandkids and children are leaving. His wife and he greet us warmly.

We sit around some tables and he speaks to us about his creative process, Costa Rica politics (the teachers are currently on strike nationwide), and other topics related to Costa Rica. Lindsay has given everyone a copy of one of his songs, a mythical dreamlike scenario about the destruction of the planet and the students ask questions. The Spanish speakers translate for the rest of us gringos.

After, we walk a small trail to the restaurant his daughters and son-in-laws run, a brick oven pizzeria. As we drink and eat, Max, his brother Paco, and others in his band play for us. It is enchanting.

After we settle the bill, and are about to leave, Lindsay and Paco play a song. Everyone loved it!

Midweek Week 1

The rest of the week went quickly. Tuesday our numbers at the English lessons increased dramatically to 21. Wed morning a group of us rode bikes to Playa Carillo a picturesque beach 7 kilometers south of Samara. We checked out the bridge at the southern end of the beach where the crocodile lives. But we didn’t see him. He has a name which escapes me at the moment. We swam, bought coconuts from the local woman who sells them for a dollar, and laid out in the sun. 

On Thursday ten of us drove to deliver some shoes to "chinampas" a small remote village about ten kilometers from Samara but a world apart. This is where Costa Rica shows its third world card. I was told that many of its people had never been to Samara. The dirt road was treacherous with 500 foot hills with a pitch worthy of a black diamond ski run. The houses are more like shacks with tin roofs, and barbed fences. Someone remarked that most had satellite dishes. Cheap entertainment I told them. But since few had cars, I wondered how they earned money.

Laura , the owner of the school drove the girls from Crear and Claudia. We hired a taxi, a four door pickup and piled everyone else on.

The views at the top of the hills were impressive of the valleys of teak farms and the Pacific in the distance.

When we arrived a crowd was waiting for us at the community center. 

We had no plan in place and we were misinformed as to the number of people expected so we didn't have enough shoes for everyone. We placed shoes out by size and let the younger ones choose first trying to fit them individually. 

However the moms of the toddlers soon started grabbing shoes which opened the floodgates. We felt helpless.

We aren't sure how we're going to distribute the rest but we know we need to have a better plan in place.

First Day

The students have to be at the school by 7:15 the first morning, so the teachers can interview them to place them in the appropriate class. I like to be there when they arrive to see how everyone is doing. This group seemed alright. They looked a bit tired, but seemed happy, if not a bit nervous of where they were to be placed. I asked the school to break the group into two where some would have class on MW morning and TTH afternoon. The other group would have the opposite schedule. This was it would be easy for our volunteer work. However, we have three native Spanish speakers and that threw a wrench in the mix, so we ended up with six and three. That meant, the three had class that morning so they would be volunteering with us that afternoon. The next day, the six who didn’t have class would join us on Tusedays and Thursdays. It’s a bit complicated but the school wants everyone to have a couple of morning free when the weather is usually nicer. They also don’t have enough space-there’s about forty students total at the school- to handle all of the crowds in the morning since classes are no larger than six students.

At ten, Claudia, Jon, and I met with Johanna one of the two girls who run CREAR the non-profit which runs the after school program we were volunteering with. She was excited about the shoes, but she also spoke out loud how she might want to save some pairs for their semi-regular yard sale to raise money for CREAR and its programs. This didn’t sit well with Claudia, so later I had to try to smooth things out.

The rest of the morning and the afternoon before the volunteer work was spent running around. The first thing I needed to do was rent a bike. $25 a week. Bright blue. It really makes getting around easier. I also need some groceries. I do envy the students who stay with local families because they get two of their meals a day. It makes things easy, and I am told the food is good. Instead, I go to the local grocery store which, sadly, is owned by Walmart. (Hypocrite alert-I’m sanctimonious when it comes to Walmart but not Costco or Target.) I buy some of the essentials like water, milk, bread, cereal, bananas, ham, lettuce, and tomato. Everything I buy I have to carry back home, so I am limited.

In between trips I stop by the beach and swim. It really helps one cool down.

Around four Claudia, Jon and I meet to go over once more what we are going to do that morning. Our expectations are low as Johanna thinks if we get ten students this afternoon, it will be a good day.

Our English classes, which CREAR has been advertising for a couple weeks now via email, Twitter, posters and word of mouth, take place in the community center, next to the soccer field. When we arrive there are a couple kids waiting for us. We end up with six total and a few younger one straggle in at the end.

The kids do a great job of going over introduction phrases. We pass out notebooks, and have them write out their names on index cards which we punch holes in and run string through for name cards. Johanna and I venture outside to try to catch and young passer-bys. It starts to rain, even though the sun is out. The rain further dampens my spirits as I know few will venture out. However, a rainbow appears and the kids come outside to see it. Maybe it’s a sign. Inside, they play an obstacle course where the kids have to run through and under and over chairs, desks, and benches to get to a table where they have to translate something into English then run back and then next person comes.

At the end we hand out candy, and remind them to come again tomorrow and to bring friends.

After, Claudia, Jon and I go back to my house to talk about the program and to brainstorm ideas for what to do in the next few weeks. They end up staying for a couple of hours telling stories and laughing. 

Sunday Night

We met at the school at 4. Lindsay gave a brief orientation and then we took a briefer tour of the village. We ended at La Vela Latina. It’s owned by father and son who are two El Camino grads. It’s right on the beach; half the tables are on the sand, under trees. The other half are in the typical tico open air, all teak structure. At night there are rope lights around the trees and posts. Some citronella torches give it a nice tropical ambiance.

The food was good; many people ordered the typical Cansado, a few the fish tacos or burritos. I asked each of them to come up with a goal he or she would like to accomplish during their time here.

After, we walked to the main street and went to Arriba, which means up. A play on its rare location on the second floor (few buildings are multistoried around here), and what one does with a beer.

The group was just getting acquainted still. I ducked out early, the lack of sleep getting to me. 

San Jose to Samara

It was a pretty quiet bus ride to Samara. We wanted to stop to use rest rooms and to get something to eat, but because it was a Sunday morning at 6ish, we couldn’t find anything open until we got to Puntarenas. We stopped at a soda which is usually an open air kind of diner which serves Casado a typical Tico dish of rice and beans called Gallo Pinto, a salad, a protein, and some plantains. Some got the rice and beans and a few got the empanadas. An interesting factoid about Puntarenas. About two weeks ago a possibly drunk man jumped from a bridge, some reports called it a suicide. However the height wasn’t enough to kill him. It was the crocodiles. The river he jumped in is notorious for its croc population. Many people witnessed the crocs getting him, and a woman a few days later happened upon his head, washed ashore.

After about five hours total, we arrived in Samara where the hard part begins. First we had to drop off the shoes. We dig through the mound of luggage on the back seat to find the luggage while the drivers goes to the top of the bus where we had stored the boxes. It’s 90 degrees with probably 90 degrees of humidity, so those of moving the luggage/boxes are already drenched in sweat. It actually goes rather smoothly.

There are no street names or addresses in Samara. When I had to wire money to the school, my bank demanded an address; I had to write in “50 meters west of the church”. Last year a girl with the school who was doing an internship, created a map of all the tica moms homes. I asked Lindsay, our group coordinator to send it to me. However, it still wasn’t an exact type of document. So we are in a large bus driving these narrow, pot holed dirt/mud roads trying to get these kids to their homes. The students have an outright look of fear from the confusion, the newness, the awkwardness of being dropped off on their own into the waiting homes of these strangers who do not speak the same language. After some confusion we get everyone to where they are supposed to be and I get dropped off where Peter, an Austrian friend of Wolfgang and Maria Fernanda, my landlords who are vacationing in Cuba this week, is waiting for me with the keys. I shower, unpack, put on a swim suit (that’s all I brought), and head to the beach. I swim. 80 degree water, bright blue sky with white mountainous clouds at the horizon. After I walk down the beach, see Choco, the local surf guy and talk for a bit, I head to Vela Latina for a cold (almost frozen) Imperial. It is a ritual I do when I arrive. It makes the journey all worth it. 

LAX to SJO

I got to the airport early to check in my stuff so I could help those with the boxes unload. I checked in no problem with a box. Mine was at 48lbs so I just made it by 2lbs. Katie, one of the two who had missed their flight last summer was there as well! I was glad to see it. I found a couple of those luggage carts and waited outside for the students. While I was waiting, a women pulls up and calls me over. I assumed it was a mother of one of the students as she spoke to me in Spanish. However, I soon realized she thought I worked for the airline/airport as a porter! I laughed pretty good and she was embarrassed. Everyone got there before 9 except Claudia. 

It’s always fun to see ten strangers interact at a terminal knowing full well in another week they will probably be life long friends. It happens every trip and I love seeing these once strangers now interact on Facebook sharing photos of vacations spent together, pics of people holding each other’s babies, etc. 

The flight was uneventful, and I even got about an hour or two of sleep. 

After we got our luggage, we had to clear customs at San Jose Airport. Basically it’s an x-ray machine. A bureaucrat with a walkie-talkie noticed all of the boxes and grew suspicious. He asked what we were carrying. When we told him shoes, he asked new or used (in Spanish of course). When we said used, he should his head and his finger at us in a school marm gesture. I could tell he was agitated. He told the guy at the x-ray machine who looked half asleep (it was not even 6am) to send us to a waiting area. I put my box on a table and he cut open the tape. When he saw all the shoes he sighed like a leaky tire and ran his fingers through his thinning hair. Claudia was there and he whispered to her in Spanish that we were not supposed to bring in used clothes, but he was going to allow us to proceed as long as we promised not ever do it again. Sure thing. The thought that we weren’t supposed to do this didn’t even cross my mind. I was so sleep deprived I didn't even stress about it. Our bus driver was waiting for us outside of customs.