Just in Case You Forgot...

...what I look like. :) This is for you Mom! Look how long my hair is!!

Ticos

I realized today as I was again exploring the downtown area that I am comfortable here. I mean, I no longer only depend on survival questions; I often understand and know what's going on around me. It's something we all take for granted in our home cultures, but here I have had to start from square one and learn everything about this culture. 

As I was thinking about how I've become comfortable, I also realized that I have reached a point where I am not constantly thinking about where I am (am I closer to the park or to the school?), where I need to go (do I turn left or right at this street?), what I need to say ("Donde esta la Plaza?" or "Como se llama usted?")... instead now my mind is freed from these to think more about what I'm enjoying. 

Like the art. The music. The bookstores. The galletas de coco. 

And the people. 

Ticos are so different. I mean, often when I look at a photo of jam-packed China or India, all the people in the photos seem to look similar to me. I can hardly tell them apart. I felt like that for several months here -- all the ticos passing me in the street look the same, and for all I knew, I couldn't understand anything any of them were saying. 

But now I'm beginning to really see them as individuals. As people. There are ticos with emo style, like the fad in the States. There are homeless ticos that haven't bathed in months. There are many short ticos and few tall ticos. There are old ticos and young ticos. 

I've been thinking lately that I need to get up the courage to ask if I can take more photos of people. I mean, I know so many faces and stories now, all Costa Rican, and I want to have photos to remember... but for now words will have to do. 

Minnie. 95 years old. Her husband died young and she raised her children with hard work and  jokes and sleepovers. I met her a week ago and she was still telling jokes to her children and now her great-grand children and great-great-grandchildren. Blanca remembers her Aunt Minnie having all the nieces and nephews over for sleepovers and pillow fights and tortillas. A woman who has worked hard and is still loved by her family. 

Lauren. 30 years old. Interior designer. Drives an SUV and has a 2 year old. I met her last night at a crazy party I tagged along to. She loves thumping rap music and shallow conversation. I could tell within the first 5 minutes of talking with her that we won't be likely to become good friends.

Abraham. 40 years old. Night guard for the Institute. Has 3 sons and is always showing me photos of them. Just bought a camera from the States and is always super excited to discuss his new photography ideas with me. 

Manuel Enrique. 55 years old. Engineer for ICE. Husband to Blanca, Dad to Rebecca and Judit. Tells stories slowly so I can understand everything. Listens well. Patient. Loves to wash his car, even at 5am on Sunday morning. Helps me recite the books of the Bible in Spanish every Sunday on our way to church. 

And that's only 4 of the faces I know now.

An Art Idea

Someone sent me an email with this idea, and I have been putting it into action the last couple months. The idea is to look for someone in need of encouragement and ultimately, the truth of Scripture. Then create a mini-notebook of verses and drawings or art or whatever. Here's one I just finished... You're more than welcome to borrow the idea as well if you're feeling inspired :)

From My Window

the mandarin tree
the mango tree
and the mountains and the rain.

it's a good napping day.

Favorite Foods

Alright, so I realized the other day as Mom and I were talking that my favorite foods have changed quite a bit. I was describing to Mom that I love toast with ham and avocado for breakfast now.... I guess a bit weird now that I think about it, ha. 

Other favorites include gallo pinto (a rice and beans dish), ginger ale, pineapple, "recreo" cookies (translation = recess cookies. It's a brand name here), spinach lasagna, brasilian pizza, and shrimp. Oh, and the drink "horchata." It's like rice milk... yum. 

Monday night, we ate potatoes... nothing unusual, right? We had butter and sour cream to put on them... and then I got out the parmesan cheese that the Blucker's gave me for my birthday (yup, still going strong! :)) and ... WOW... I forgot how good baked potatoes are! I also found some bacon bits in the cupboard left by the last gringa that lived with the family... wow, words can't describe. 

Ha, so while my favorites have changed, I think the old favorites are classics... the old favorites just aren't as readily available here. 

My Neighborhood

Today as I was walking home from school, I was thinking about how incredibly different the neighborhood environment is here in San Francisco de Dos Rios... I mean, different than what I have experienced before. I mean, if you're currently living in the States, you might have giant oak trees lining the street or freshly paved roads and sidewalks or nice fences around your yard. You might have a dog that barks at everyone who walks by and you might have your car parked in the street. Maybe you even feel secure enough in your neighborhood to leave the keys in the car (I'm not sure many of us anywhere feel that secure anymore... but I hear it used to be like that). 

Hmm... The only thing on the previous list that is the same is probably the dogs barking relentlessly as you walk by. There's plenty of dogs -- both house dogs and street dogs -- that love barking here in CR. 

So what's so different? Well, all houses are behind a combination of steel bars and barbed wire. As I walk home, I have to consistently watch my step as there are holes and cracks everywhere in the sidewalk. A Nicaraguan guard welcomes me to the Sauces neighborhood (that's pronounced "Saw-oo-seis", not like your spaghetti sauce) with his toothless smile while the other guard sits in the guard shack reading his paper and chain smoking. The street I live on is relatively quiet... except for the hourly bus that roars down the road. Any of you who have talked on Skype with me know how loud that bus is! The bus shakes the whole house whenever it drives by... usually it just feels like another minor earthquake. 

As I walk home, I notice a tiny dog sticking his head under the garage door, waiting to nab the passer-by ankles. All cars in the neighborhood are parked inside the steel and barbed wire garage. It is rare to see the cars outside. Garages have mega-volt sound system alarms that can be heard for miles... these alarms are rigged to set off is anything in the garage is fishy, and I mean anything. Like I stand in the garage for too long, for example, and RRRRR-rRRRRR-rRRRRR. Oh geez. I enter my house through 3 locked doors. THREE. And the family house dogs welcome me home with their shrill barking. Welp, glad they're excited to see me. 

On the bright side of things, instead of oak trees like in the States, palm trees and hibiscus flowers line the sidewalks. Parrots and doves are seen daily ... although parrots are quite beautiful, they sure do squawk. Doves on the other hand have much prettier songs. There's also a park right down the block that I've spent time at in the afternoon studying my Spanish verbs. There's also a neighborhood council that has various fundraisers for members and organizations in need. I answered the door this past weekend to be greeted by some women handing out the Sauces newsletter... I'm not sure I've ever received a neighborhood newsletter before! It informed us of, well... gossip perhaps? Ha, I was reading it and thinking, woah! didn't know that about all these people! Ha, whoops. I think the gossip section was just a small one. The rest of the newsletter was about how the council is using the donations and raised funds (paying the guards and donating to funerals...). 

Someone once asked me, "Why are gringos so... well, mean-looking?" and I asked, "Well, when do you usually see gringos look mean?" She told me she sees them walking in the street looking mean. I responded, "Well no wonder! I mean, all this barbed wire makes us wonder how safe we really are!" 

Welcome to my neighborhood. It's, well, different than neighborhoods I've been part of before. 

Stromboli

I recently made Sunday lunch for the family... Here's my "gourmet" stromboli (a traditional Siscoe dinner), sauce, and salad. Judit helped out with the brownie dessert. We claimed we were celebrating "International Mother's Day" even though it was only Mother's Day in the States as ticos celebrate it August 15th. The whole family gobbled up the stromboli!!! :)