I suppose there is no better place to begin this blog place than where I find myself now, in my own bedroom in Costa Rica. Painted in a palette of different greens, the walls are made of wooden slat, and the pillow cases, table cloth, window shades, and dust covers over the shelves for my clothes have been sewn by hand by a member of the host-family I am living with.
The Fallas family live in a large home (which I have been told is very traditional) that opens into a parlor entryway, but is quickly followed by several small twists and turns, leading to the large kitchen where one finds a tree on which one hangs plantains and other fruits, and an inset tile counter in the wall where vegetables where being sliced for the insalata when I first arrived.
From there another doorway opens into a much larger area that has been built into what looks to be a warehouse, where on the ground level one may access private bedrooms, but in the open space outside there is laundry being washed and hung, and food being cooked on extra heaters, and where the skeleton of the second (and third?) floor, as well as their seamstress shop are visible. The house is full of plants, people, and the occasional lost baby kitten.
When I arrived at the airport in San José at 9 am this morning, I was still fairly overwhelmed by the huge undertaking of living with a family and learning Spanish that I had set in front of myself, but was also beginning to get excited at well, the endless possibilities that lie ahead of me. During my flight, when I was not in a deep sleep, I was going over combinations of Spanish vocabulary in my head, picturing every possibly situation and how I could patchwork my way through to communication.
What distressed me most was not how limited my vocabulary was (IS)- but rather how I'd suddenly find myself speaking in French. This will probably be a wonderful crutch for my to use as I stumble through learning Spanish, however it is embarrassing to find myself saying "Ah, bon!" instead of "bueno" or "muy bien", and every other French phrase that jumps off my tongue.
I'm getting ahead of myself though. After getting lost and resorting to stalking my flight attendants on their way to immigration and baggage claims, and getting taught some basic Spanish by my immigration officer, I finally got out of the airport. My driver, Don Fernando, took a while to arrive, during which time I was approached by many English-speaking taxi drivers and tour guides who literally needed to be convinced I did not need a ride anywhere.
But waiting for Don Fernando was worth it - even though all I was brave enough to say was "Si!" and "Oh! Es muy bonita!", or repeat a word I didn't recognize in a timid questioning voice, he steadfastly kept on describing the scenery. Here in San José, we are surrounded by (huge) mountains, volcanoes, and the ocean, and the highways are filled with flags for the upcoming independence day. Along the highway, I was surprised to see many people were walking on a foot path that had been carved side of the route, the majority of whom were well dressed in pressed white shirts and slacks.
Don Fernando asked me whether I had siblings, and told me about his own family. He told me that families in Costa Rica are very important, but that they are also very poor. Somewhere along the path of being proud I had managed to pack so little in my bags, I did forget to what extent Costa Rica is still in "development" (into what remains unknown), or in other words how poverty is much more evident here than in the United States. Rather than being hidden from view or overwhelming daily life however, it is lived along side of, with people actively working to better their lives. Which sounds pretentious coming from me, but it is just a first observation, and over the next couple weeks and months I'll think more about it and let you know if I was just being a patronizing traveler or whether it's accurate.
After dropping me at the home of the Fallas family, I was given a brief tour of the home by Rosie Fallas, who then went back to cooking. I shyly went and sat in the living room with the little girl who was watching TV. Triné (which I don't know how to spell), is three and a half, and was also fairly shy at first. Instead of talking to me she started giving me a performance of her gymnastics skills, rolling around on the tile, and throwing her large life-size-Patty Play Pal-reminiscent doll around. Her mother came over and made fun of her, saying how much she loves to chat, and then encouraged Triné to show me around.
I spent the next few hours getting a very in-depth-tour of all of Triné's hand-me-down toys. We spelled things out on the floor with little foam letter puzzles, made faces on the floor with crumpled pieces of paper, went "shopping" with her dusty pink shopping-cart, and cooked up some toy cars in pink bowls her little tin oven to eat for lunch with imaginary pepper and salsa. As silly as it was, I was able to test my Spanish on her and see whether she could (gasp!) understand when I said anything. And she did!! So I spoke more and more, and gradually was able to ask a few questions, and even tease slightly. Yay!
But I was pretty exhausted and when Rosie Fallas came to tell Triné that I needed a break, I was happy to go sit back in the living room for a while. While Triné threw a fit in the other room (screaming for over half an hour because her playmate was gone), Rosie and I tried to piece together an understanding of each other. She has nine siblings, and I am still not sure how many people live in this house, but I believe it's six or seven including her sister, husband, and three children, as well as a host-student. She told me about the studies her children are pursuing, and they themselves arrived home soon after. My host sister is an English teacher for children, and over lunch I asked her to tell her mother that I was sorry for my accidental French.
Lunch was delicious. Of course I am going to have a paragraph just about food. But as some might already know, my diet this summer has devolved from grains to basically only wanting beans and rice. Could not have chosen a better time! We had fresh salad with lime juice, black beans and yellow rice with chicken. To drink was a "leche con crema", which was yellow, thick and sweet milk. Rosie was worried about my lactose intolerance, but I'm probably going to just deal with that and try absolutely everything they'll let me.
After lunch I asked whether "puedo ayudar" ("can I help"), washed dishes, and then took my clothes out of my luggage and arranged them nicely. I lay down on my bed with the only book I've brought, which is three short stories by Faulkner because I feel like maybe I'll be a moe complete person if I read them, and was just beginning to figure out where in the cow-boy story I'd left off when I felt myself drifting off.
My bedroom is right next to a big road on a hill, and the trucks rev their engines to be able to climb to the top, which woke me up periodically through the afternoon, as did the cold (it's surprisingly cool here, and rains once a day!). Despite the stimuli however, I somehow managed to sleep with my sweatshirt as my blanket until 10 pm at night, when I awake with a bang as Rosie tried to put a blanket on me, and scared her breathless. Though I feel guilty for sleeping the afternoon and night away, and also for missing dinner, I have a feeling that she expected as much, and didn't know exactly what to do with me anyways - so having me nap out of the way was just fine. For me, it was the first big sleep I feel like I've gotten in a while, despite it being interrupted by 6 cylinder engines every couple hours.
Tomorrow at 7 am I'll wake up (setting an alarm on my computer was actually the only reason I opened my laptop) and at 8 have to be at ICADS for orientation and Spanish exams. Very excited to meet my classmates, start learning Spanish more thouroughly, and for some classroom structure. And also to explore the city tomorrow! It sounds silly, but everything I write always does.
Buenas noches!
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