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. 

Pre Trip

The week before the trip went well. It was easy because I didn't have to teach; we ended the week prior.  I met with some of the group on Monday to go over what our teaching themes were going to be. Maryalice, Ariana, Jon, and Viviana showed up.

My only worry was the shoe dilemma. Claudia collected three hundred pair of shoes from friends and family. Kids, women's, sneakers, high heels and flats. The problem was getting them down here. One of her customers at Eatlian, an Italian restaurant she used to work at, offered to pay the extra baggage fee for everyone to take an extra suitcase/box. So On Thursday before we left, Claudia and her friends came over and we resorted and boxed up all three hundred pair. Niall and Michelle and Renee and Rich and Tom and Sue donated suitcases which was great. So we ended up with three suitcases, a carry-on, a duffel bag, and six boxes. On Friday and Saturday the participants came by and picked up a suitcase or box or I dropped them off at their homes. I was still worried if the airlines would give us grief. But I should have been worrying about customs.

Travel Goals

 As with most things, rewarding travel needs realistic goals. What do I want to get out of this trip? What do I want to experience? How do I want to change? 

As leader of this group, my primary goal is to make sure everyone is safe and has the ability to reach his or her personal travel goals. 

As for my personal goals, I really want to embrace the "pura vida" lifestyle. I need to slow it down. I need to live in the moment. Of course, I need to surf more; last summer I didn't even go once, but this time, the schedule is more conducive. 

My ongoing life goal is to travel out of the country once every year. I think I'm doing ok.

2013-Costa Rica (study abroad)

2012-Guatemala (study abroad)

2011- Guatemala & Belize

2010-Costa Rica (study abroad)

2009-Costa Rica

2008-Vietnam and Cambodia

2007-Mexico

2006-Spain (study abroad)

2003- Spain (3 months study abroad), France, Italy, Greece, Germany, Austria, Hungary, Czech Republic, Ireland

2000-France

1999-Greece

1991- Australia (study abroad as a student)
1983-France

This list frustrates me as I see so many Spanish speaking countries, yet I still have the Spanish linguistic capabilities of a five year old. So another ongoing goal is to improve my Spanish.

Anyway, I am going to be updating this as much as I can. I am trying to improve my editing, so I'll try to write only on a laptop. But I am not promising anything.
So here it goes. Pura Vida.