Birthday + Brother = Big Bash!

This year's July 2nd celebration was made all the better because my favorite big brother, Tobin, had made the trek from Guatemala, where he is living and working, to Costa Rica to see his little sis turn 24 years old! We had a rather full day of the very grown-up feeling activity of moving me into an apartment (look for future blog entry) and were then invited over to my host familia's home, along with my friends Meghan and Juan Carlos, for a yummy birthday dinner. And, of course, for yummy birthday cake as well! Meghan, host family Roy, Gabi and Ariana, birthday girl and Juan Carlos

Although Tobin and I had just a short time here together in Costa Rica before making an unexpected journey home to California to honor and celebrate the life of our Uncle Rod, who we lost suddenly on June 29, we shared some special time together as well as several special reunions.

Nine years after Tobin's month-long stay here in Costa Rica, living with our exchange student, Bernal, and the rest of the Mora family, the two boys were happily reunited, looking even more handsome than they did in their high school days. It was a wonderful reunion and we all loved having a weekend together to catch up, share old memories and make new ones.

Me with my big brothers, Tobin and Bernal

After an especially tasty breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes, one of Bernal's favorite foods during his month of mama Barbara's delicious home cooking!, we met up with another one of the Costa Rican exchange students, Iriving, who spent a month living with a family in Decorah during the same time as Bernal lived with us. What better way to get reacquainted than to head to the nearby Paintball field?! We strapped on our helmets, loaded the paintballs and did our best to get dirty, rolling around in the woods. Here we are, proudly showing off our battle wounds!Our final reunion was also a Decorah one--We met up with our fellow Decorah High School and Valparaiso University graduate, Erica Spilde, and her Costa Rican exchange student brother, Diego, who was part of the same group as Bernal and Irving. The next time we will see Erica will most likely be back in Iowa, as she has moved home to the U.S. after living and working in Costa Rica for the past two and a half years. I miss her already!

Walk walk walkin' la Romeria

Each year on August 1 and 2, an estimated one million men, women, and children arrive to the Cartago's remarkably beautiful Basilica de Nuestra Senora de Los Angeles--the holiest shrine in Costa Rica. Arriving by foot, in wheelchair, on horseback, by running, or even by being pushed in a stroller as is the case for the littlest ones, this pilgrimage can take hours, days, or even weeks, depending on your starting point. For most, it is an approx. 22 km walk from the capital of San Jose; for others it is days of walking from the northern or southern most parts of the country; and still, for others, it can take up to a week to arrive to Cartago from neighboring countries Nicaragua and Panama.

I decided I better slip on my tennis shoes and set out from San Jose for an estimated 3.5 hr walk alongside of two lovely sisters, Maria and Aurita, who have taken part in the pilgrimage the last handful of years. Aurita and Maria as we began our pilgrimage walk

I appreciated these helpful reminder kilometer markers, so I always kept a look out for them. Maria, however, didn't appreciate them nor my pointing them out.

Why all this walking?? Just as the Virgin of Guadalupe is the patron saint for the country of Mexico, "La Negrita" (the Black Virgin) is Costa Rica's representation of the Virgin Mary. On August 2, 1635, the small statue of the virgin was found at the site of the basillica by a native woman. As the story goes, when this woman tried to take the statuette with her, it miraculously reappeared back where she'd found it. Twice. Finally, she and the other townspeople gave up and built a shrine there where La Negrita had originally been found. In 1824, the statuette was declared Costa Rica's Patron Saint and thus began the annual pilgrimage where people from all corners of the country and beyond come to say their most serious prayers on bent knees.

When one arrives at the church, you have two options: de pie or de rodillas. You can enter in standing or on your knees. The pews have been cleared from the entire church and the center aisle is reserved for those entering in on their knees. All shuffle, or scoot, slowly past the gold-leafed rendition of the original black stone statuette.
Thousands choose to enter into the church on their knees, a humbling action of reverance toward the Virgin. Many pray quietly outloud as they are making their way toward the statuette, and then make the sign of the cross when in front of her.

Below is a picture of the thousands and thousands of others who were arriving to the basilica at the same time as we were.
Although I was raised in a predominantly Protestant Christian nation where such annual pilgrimages are not part of the religion nor the culture, I am continuously humbled by the devoutedness of Catholics in Latin America. There is such a fascinating meshing of religion and culture, which becomes a way of being or way of life, a set of every-day traditions and customs.

Perhaps merely practical, or perhaps unfortunate, most all of the walk has become rather commercialized, in that there is always available food and drink of all kinds, many items for sale--jewelry, purses, sunglasses, flip flops, toys, as well as free handouts from candy companies. Massages can be received along the way. It was rather amusing to me just how fascinated these walking folks seem to be with their equivalent brand of IcyHot! Every so often you'd see pairs or families stopped along the side of the road, applying IcyHot to each other's legs and feet. Hey, at least it smelled nice!

So, as much as it seemed like a big party in some ways--or rather a festive event--there was an undeniable sense of reverance and devotion, of faithful belief and hope for the miraculous.

Playin´ at Westland

These cute little guys and gals (plus about 20 more) have been a joy for me...albeit an exhaustive joy! I´ve had the pleasure of teaching english each week to first and second graders at a small school called Westland. To be more exact, I am teaching geography in english...which is really a quite basic level of geography given the ages and english levels of the little ones. Volunteering on a regular basis has been a wonderful connection to another aspect of Costa Rican culture--each week I learn more, first hand, about the education system...as well as what it takes to maintain some minute level of classroom management! The staff and children have been so welcoming of me, and so I always look forward to Thursdays´ high dosage of hugs!

Holes Full of Rain

So, I fell in a hole—both figuratively and literally.

Figuratively, I fell into the deep abyss called ‘failure to blog.’ And for this and to you, my valued reader, I apologize. In an attempt to justify my absence from posting on Pura Vida Meg, I refer you to my prior entry (“She’s a Graduate Student”). I do, however, have good intentions to get back into a more regular blogging rhythm again!

Now for the literal portion—yes, I truly did fall into a hole. You see, here in Costa Rica, much to my dismay, there are an obscene amount of rather large holes in the pavement. Of course there are the common less-than-ideal paved roads, pocketed with minor to gigantic potholes. There are also, however, just very large holes intentionally cut out in the pavement. Now, both the potholes and these very large holes are due to the extremely high level of rainfall in Costa Rica. Potholes come about from the combination of lots and lots of hard rain and lots of immediate pressure from the transit on these roads. Large holes intentionally cut in the pavement are also related to the rainfall in that they are attempts to create drainage systems (for the purpose of avoiding the “river effect” on the roads, which, in turn eventually leads us back to the creation of potholes). To the credit of those who construct and maintain the roadways, many of the large drainage holes do have grates covering them to protect that which is not rain and/or small debris from falling into the holes. Many, however, do NOT have any sort of protection for those items (or beings) that fall under the category of non-rain and/or non-debris.

Pictured below is one such example of a large non-grate covered hole, which is conveniently located on my route to and from the bus stop.

Thus, we arrive at the point of this explanation: I FELL INTO A HOLE. Okay, so I know what you’re thinking: duh, it was inevitable, Megan. And indeed I, too, had been thinking the same from my initial weeks here in Costa Rica. How could I possibly get through this year without falling into a hole? Well, I’m proud to report that I made it approximately 5.5 months without falling into a hole. Just recently, however, my winning streak came to an abrupt halt.

So, there I was walking along, merrily chatting away with my dear friend Meghan. We were laughing and joking and having a grand ole time. Meghan was telling me a story, and was so into it, in fact, that when we stepped off the curb to cross the street, she didn’t even notice when I failed to step onto the (dare I say- expected) pavement and instead went slipping, falling, floundering into a 10-foot deep hole…gracefully, mind you. Covered in mud and gunk and splashed with day-old rainwater, I wailed for Meghan to come rescue me, and it was at that very moment when Hole In One Man came swooshing in to save me, lowering down to me his ultra-long golf club….

And this is what really happened when I fell into a hole… Meghan and I had just arrived at the Police Department, where we had the task of getting our fingerprints taken so that we can eventually be issued student visas. Meghan was asking a question about the process and I, standing nearby, slightly shifted my stance and whoooops, there went one foot, down into the rainwater drainage channel, which just so happened to be about 6 inches short of full grate coverage. Lucky for me, I only floundered a mere 9 inches or so before my foot reached solid ground again. Also lucky for me, there was a line of people waiting to get their fingerprints taken and so when I reached out for support as I fell a very nice gentleman’s arm happened to be just inches away, ready for my reach. Yes, I even managed to get a battle wound from my first fall into a hole—a minor scrape above my ankle.

Now, we return to the topic of rainfall in Costa Rica (which boasts an annual rainfall of 60-80 inches in the Central Valley where I live, but upwards of 240 inches in some parts of the country!!). The rainy season—which is also commonly known as ‘winter’ or, as dubbed by the tourism industry, the “green season”—begins in May and lasts 3 times as long as the country’s ‘dry season.’ Thus, I am now daily faced with buckets full of one of my least favorite climatical happenings. As I tell myself, though, I really must learn to appreciate all this falling water because it truly does fall EVERYday. In the beginning, it was a very easy-to-deal-with pelito de gato (translation: little cat hairs), or a very light misty (or sprinkling) rainfall. Gradually increasing in volume and duration, we now daily experience tremendous downfalls of rain. It pours, people...and they tell me with a smirk, “oh, just you wait until October!” So, apparently, I ain’t seen nothing yet…which honestly makes me slightly depressed, as I, again, don’t really enjoy rain. Of course, one learns to adapt, quickly learning to never leave home without your paraguas (translation: ´for water´=umbrella) as well as to give your pantlegs a quick rollup!

Classmate, Marco, caught in a downpour with a less-than-adequate umbrella.

She´s a Graduate Student!!

Ta-dah! Yup, it´s true folks, I really am a Graduate Student!! Enrolled at the Universidad Nacional (or la UNA), in Heredia, I am studying in a master´s program on Human Rights and Education for Peace. It´s still a bit hard for me to believe that I am a grad student....with all my classes in Spanish---what was I thinking?!! :)

Even though I am only a mere two-plus months into my studies, I can confidently say that this has been one of the most challenging and also rewarding experiences of my life. Part of Rotary International´s scholarship program for Rotary Ambassadorial Scholars is, naturally, to be a scholar for the year. The idea is that one enters into a year of graduate-level studies where education is furthered in a subject area that will ultimately better our world in some way.
With my undergrad studies in International Service, as well as my volunteer work experience last year in Chicago with two organizations that work--in both the advocacy and direct service sectors--to better our U.S. relations with Latin American countries, my interest in this specific master´s program seemed like it would be a perfect fit.
My program is one of two master´s programs under the auspices of the Institute of Latin American Studies, which is a department within the School of Arts and Humanities.

The program is comprised of five trimesters, the first of which I will finish in (a fast-approaching!) two weeks time. Our first trimester´s course load has been: Epistemology (definition: theory of knowledge) of Human Sciences, Theory of Human Rights I, Irenología (the study of peace), and Political History of Latin America. The coursework has been especially challenging, of course, because of the language difficulties. You see, being able to converse fairly naturally in Spanish and ´hold my own´ is one thing; studying at the graduate level in Spanish, I learned early on (like, on day one to be exact!) is an entirely different endeavour. Added to my language difficulties has been the nature of some of the classes--philosophical, theoretical, and, at times, quite abstract. I tell ya, it´s a lethal combo! I spend my nights up yonder on the top floor of one of the newer buildings on campus--which has a nice open-air, inner courtyard. The National University is one of the top two national universities (the other one being the University of Costa Rica) and has about 14,000 undergrad and graduate students.

Thinking back to pre-departure to Costa Rica, I remember attempting to logically envision what my ¨friends situation¨ might be like in the master´s program. Basing my logic off the fact that classes meet Monday through Thursday evenings, from 5-8:30 pm, I figured I was safe in betting that most of my classmates would be coming straight from their work day and busy lives and, consequently, not have much energy or desire to makes friends with the gringa (that´s me!) who wouldn´t really know the half of what was being discussed in the classroom. As it turns out, most of my 25 classmates are juggling both full-time work and our master´s program, and thus they do lead busy lives. However, from the very start I have been blown away and so blessed by my compañeros y compañeras (meaning in Spanish: classmate, partner, or companion) who have befriended me and welcomed me in ways I never expected.

It seems much more logical to me now that I have experienced it, that, of course, in a program such as ours, the people are going to be naturally more inclusive, thoughtful, ready to extend genuine help, solidarity and their friendship. In Latin culture, it is very important to spend time with each other (which brings us back to the term compañero, meaning ´companion´) and so getting to know one another, working together on projects, studying together, and--can´t forget!--the daily routine of an afternoon café (coffee) before class is a must! I´m still acclimating myself to this daily ritual, as often, in my North American mindset, my first instinct is to think, ¨but we don´t have time for coffee, people, we have so much to do!¨ It´s no shocker that the joys of friendship, accompaniment, conversation over coffee and a pastry far outweigh the relative importance of an hour more of reading before class begins.

Compañeros y compañeras Juan Carlos, Vanessa, fellow gringa Jennifer, me, Maria Helena, y Ronald.

Compañeros y compañeras from both of the master´s programs in the Institute of Latin American Studies: me, Abraham, Carlos, Yanory, Sharlyn, Fátima, and Vanessa. Represented countries pitctured are: the U.S., México, Perú, Costa Rica, El Salvador, and Puerto Rico.

We are a diverse group--which I absolutely love--with about 2/3 being Costa Ricans and the remaining 1/3 from other Latin American countries and from the U.S. (I am joined by 2 more gringos--Jennifer and Michael--both of whom have lived here for min. 1.5 years). The other non-Costa Rican latinos are from: Puerto Rico, Nicaragua, Guatemala, Perú, and Colombia. Friendships with my fellow extranjeros (foreigners) in the program formed very quickly, as all of us are new to the country. It´s interesting to learn how, even though the common language and culture between those from other Latin American countries are Spanish and Latin respectively, there is still so much variance in language use and country customs and norms. Thus, I´m usually not alone in learning what certain slang means or figuring out just how things get done around here!

Personally, I have chosen the route to further my Spanish language abilities not only by living in a Spanish speaking country, but also by studying at the graduate level--although it´s a painful process at times, what better way to truly learn a language than to immerse yourself fully in it?? At least, that´s one of my self-motivating pep talks that I resort to using on a regular basis!!

La familia Bermudez Venegas

Meet my familia tica--my Costa Rican family! I have been living with the Bermudez Venegas family since the end of January and have loved and appreciated being welcomed into their home. Homestays, I am coming to personally understand, are one of the most authentic ways to truly learn about a culture. Not only do you reside in a room of a family´s home, but you also partake in so much more: eating meals together, watching television, talking about the day´s news--both local and international, and, perhaps the most valuable component, all are able to share about their respective countries, cultures, family and friends, and laugh a lot together about language bloopers.
Something that makes me laugh each time without fail: a favorite form of flattery I receive from my tica family is when they are trying to explain something to me or are trying to remember what this or that is called and they say to me, ¨Oh, Megan, you would know how to say x; you speak better Spanish than we do!¨ Far from the truth, but kind nonetheless! My papá tico, Roy, is an electrical-mechanical engineer, my mamá tica, Gabriela, is an elementary school teacher in a public school, and my hermanita tica, Ariana, is a sweetheart of a 10 year-old, who spends her days attending a private school and then playing or attending swimming lessons in the afternoons, always eager to accompany me to the nearest internet café in town or play games together.

And the family introductions wouldn´t be complete without also introducing you to the family perro. His name is Ricky Martin. Enough said.
My host family´s home is located in San Pablo de Heredia--one of the many barrios, or neighborhoods, of the city of Heredia. It´s a pretty tranquilo little town, of course equipped with the essentials of a couple Catholic churches, a quaint central parque, a Musmanni panadería (favorite Costa Rican bakery), and the blessed soccer field. From my house, I walk 200 meters (approx. 2 blocks) to hop on a bus for the short 5 minute ride to and from my university each day. And just in case anyone will be looking to show up on my doorstep, the official directions to my homestay, according to the Costa Rican landmark system of directions, are the following: 400 meters south and 100 meters east of the Municipality in San Pablo de Heredia. It´s the house on the left-hand side of the dead-end streetwith the brownish-red gate and the pinos (pine trees). And, it goes without saying, ¡Mi casa es su casa!

Mi Hermano Tico

The story begins 9 years ago in small town Decorah, Iowa. Three-fourths of the Nelson family (i.e. the native Californians: mom Barbara, brother Tobin and myself) were experiencing our very first Midwest winter. Tobin had been studying the Spanish language for several years by this point; Megan was content in her first months of learning Norwegian. An exchange program between Decorah High School and a high school in San José, Costa Rica had taken place for years, rotating between Decorah kids spending a month in San José and Costa Rican (ticos) students spending one month in Decorah. Unfortunate seasonal differences meant the ticos spent their ¨summer¨ vacation in Decorah during the month of January, which certainly does NOT produce comparable summer temps to those of Central America!

We had the pleasure of hosting one of the seven tico students, then 17-year old Bernal Mora, in our home for the month of January. Tobin, being the Spanish speaker of the fam, was responsible for much translation and relaying of communication between us all. There were, of course, ample gestures, miming and rough (but valiant!) attempts on both ends to speak in one´s non-native language. A fun month, indeed: ping pong and fooseball in the basement, sledding, snowball fights, skiing in Wisconsin, eating chocolate chip cookies and oatmeal pancakes in Babs´ kitchen, many gatherings in homes of the host families, a trip to the Mall of America.

The following summer Tobin returned the exchange by traveling to Costa Rica, apart from an official group exchange trip, and spent a month living with Bernal and his family. He, of course, was given a whirlwind tour of this small but diverse country and was adopted into and adored by the Mora familia.

9 years later, mi hermano tico--my Costa Rican brother--and I have reunited here in Costa Rica! Who would´ve thought that I would switch from studying Norwegian to Spanish in high school and years later end up spending a year in the same Spanish-speaking country as that of my host brother! It´s been a joy to reconnect, to be able to communicate with more fluidity!, and to get to know Bernal´s family. Our first time together was a true walk down memory lane....sharing lots of laughs over stories and photos from Bernal´s time living with us in Decorah.

Siblings reunited!Bernal and his wife, Raquel, live with their three dogs in Cartago--a beautiful province of Costa Rica--on a finca (farm) where his parents as well as some other family members also have their homes. It is very common in Latin culture for families to live much closer to one another than we tend to do in the U.S. And by close, just as is the case with Bernal and his family, this typically means sharing the same house, finca, or living nearby in the same town. Thus, family life is very much integrated--everyday life is much more of an extended family experience.
La familia Mora: Bernal is the oldest of three boys--his younger brothers are Esteban (center) and Daniel (right).Another wonderful reunion: our hermano ticos (tico brothers) with their hermanitas (little sisters)--Megan and Bernal, and Erica and Diego Rivera. Diego was also one of the group of seven that lived with a host family in Decorah nine years ago. He lived with Erica Spilde and her family, and so since Erica has been living here in Costa Rica for the past year and a half, these ¨siblings¨ have also been able to reconnect! The four of us had a fun time meeting up for lunch recently--it was Bernal and Diego´s first time to see each other since they graduated from high school 9 years ago!