Imagine my surpise to find a small population of Koreans here in Costa Rica. Two of them are in my intensive language course, a couple around my parents´age, who talk to me in Korean when they´re having trouble understanding the instructions in Spanish (or in English, for that matter).
My brain is a bit taxed right now, and my head is whirling. I´m having a challenging time switching from one language to another, much less having to use a 3rd language I hadn´t expected to use.
I´m loving the people I´m meeting here, though! May God show me who He wants me to hang out with, since there are SOOOO many of them...
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Halo...
...found an Internet cafe and wanted to say hello from San Jose! Just to update you:
-I am staying with a family of four (a couple my age plus 2 little ones-- a 9 year old boy and a 1 year old girl) in the neighborhood of the Instituto de Lengua Española.
-I can´t get enough of the coffee here, which is simply coffee with a bit of milk, enhanced with some sugar
-I watched the Michael Jackson ¨Thriller¨video with my host family for the first time yesterday afternoon. Go figure.
My time is almost up, but I wanted to send a quick update. Will be posting regularly soon. Classes start tomorrow, so perhaps I can find a place where I can hook up my laptop.
-I am staying with a family of four (a couple my age plus 2 little ones-- a 9 year old boy and a 1 year old girl) in the neighborhood of the Instituto de Lengua Española.
-I can´t get enough of the coffee here, which is simply coffee with a bit of milk, enhanced with some sugar
-I watched the Michael Jackson ¨Thriller¨video with my host family for the first time yesterday afternoon. Go figure.
My time is almost up, but I wanted to send a quick update. Will be posting regularly soon. Classes start tomorrow, so perhaps I can find a place where I can hook up my laptop.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Adios...
Adiós. I'm pretty sure that one doesn't have to be a native Spanish speaker or reside in the great state of Texas to know what that means. It's one of two Spanish words I knew before I moved to Houston nearly nine years ago, and it's perhaps the word I've used most flippantly since then.
A Dios. "Adiós" is an expression of farewell, but its literal Spanish meaning is, as a friend told me once, "to God". I'm bidding Houston "adios" for a month, as I step onto a plane this Friday that takes me to Costa Rica to participate in a Spanish language program. I have been very excited about this journey, but in the past week or so, I've been bogged down by a bit of uncertainty and fear about the future, especially as I review a flashcard or two at a stoplight ("What? I don't remember seeing this!") or pack in time to hang out with folks before I leave because I know I'm going to miss hanging out with them for a month.
Yeah. Call me crazy. I don't always embrace change and opportunity with the freedom I've imagined I should have, and I've been feeling lately that God wants to work on that aspect of me some more. So, I'm hoping this month I'll learn to become even less attached or afraid. As I leave Houston, here's to giving more of my life completely to God...
A Dios. "Adiós" is an expression of farewell, but its literal Spanish meaning is, as a friend told me once, "to God". I'm bidding Houston "adios" for a month, as I step onto a plane this Friday that takes me to Costa Rica to participate in a Spanish language program. I have been very excited about this journey, but in the past week or so, I've been bogged down by a bit of uncertainty and fear about the future, especially as I review a flashcard or two at a stoplight ("What? I don't remember seeing this!") or pack in time to hang out with folks before I leave because I know I'm going to miss hanging out with them for a month.
Yeah. Call me crazy. I don't always embrace change and opportunity with the freedom I've imagined I should have, and I've been feeling lately that God wants to work on that aspect of me some more. So, I'm hoping this month I'll learn to become even less attached or afraid. As I leave Houston, here's to giving more of my life completely to God...
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Spontaneity is...
-taking a walk around the neighborhood without a directed path
-running into friends who use your dining area to cut and stuff wedding invitations
-going to Chic-Fil-A after deciding upon Japanese ramen...no, wait, La Guadalupana...oh, I mean, La Tapatia...oh, yeah, let's get a chicken sandwich and waffle fries
-meeting up with friends for frozen yogurt after you stop by the local ice cream parlor
-sucking in helium from balloons to make your voice squeaky
-seeing a certain youth pastor walking in the neighborhood late at night, reversing a red Isuzu Rodeo, and rolling down the window to inquire what a lady such as her was doing outside in these parts
-fun, open-minded friends
-running into friends who use your dining area to cut and stuff wedding invitations
-going to Chic-Fil-A after deciding upon Japanese ramen...no, wait, La Guadalupana...oh, I mean, La Tapatia...oh, yeah, let's get a chicken sandwich and waffle fries
-meeting up with friends for frozen yogurt after you stop by the local ice cream parlor
-sucking in helium from balloons to make your voice squeaky
-seeing a certain youth pastor walking in the neighborhood late at night, reversing a red Isuzu Rodeo, and rolling down the window to inquire what a lady such as her was doing outside in these parts
-fun, open-minded friends
On Middle Schoolers and Microwaves
Lunch duty is not my favorite time of the week. I enjoy the conversations I've had with students during lunch, but it's hard to banter about soccer with the boys or to talk one-on-one with a struggling student when there are only a few pairs of adult eyes watching a roomful of 300 gangly adolescents. There's always something up the sleeve of these mischievous middle schoolers, whether they intend to wreak havoc or not.
I was on duty with middle schoolers one day this past spring and had been chit-chatting with some students standing in line when a curly-haired sixth grader cut in front of me, breathless.
She could hardly spit out the words. "Miss! The microwave's on fire!"
I was about to ask her to wait her turn to speak when her words actually penetrated my thoughts. I looked at the far corner counter where the two microwaves sat and spotted some smoke. Quickly, I walked over to the microwaves, where already students had gathered to rubberneck.
Gently I shooed them away and opened the door to the microwave. Puffs of smoke blew out, but no fire.
On the rotating glass, I saw the culprit: a taco wrapped in aluminum foil.
The curly-haired girl, at my shoulder, breathed a sigh of relief. Turning to her, I asked, "Hey, do you know what aluminum foil does in microwaves?"
Her eyes opened wide as she exclaimed, "It wasn't me, miss! She did it." She pointed to a tiny girl next to us who squealed shrilly (as if on cue) and ran away in fright as suddenly as she had appeared.
It's in moments like these I have to resist the urge to start laughing aloud. Slowly, I strided toward the girl (whom I'll call Samantha), whose head I saw finally poke out amongst a field of ringlets and ponytails.
"Samantha." I was being gentle. I swear.
Her head popped back into the sea.
I walked up to her.
"Samantha."
A head timidly popped back up and slowly turned to face me. Then a torrential confession spilled out.
"Miss I didn't know that's what happens if you put foil in the microwave I swear I didn't do it on purpose so I got scared and that's why I ran away I'm sorry miss I'll never do it again."
There. It was out.
I put a hand on her shoulder. She held her breath, waiting for my next move.
Finally, I spoke. "Hey, it's all right! Next time, just let a teacher know when something's on fire, okay?"
I was on duty with middle schoolers one day this past spring and had been chit-chatting with some students standing in line when a curly-haired sixth grader cut in front of me, breathless.
She could hardly spit out the words. "Miss! The microwave's on fire!"
I was about to ask her to wait her turn to speak when her words actually penetrated my thoughts. I looked at the far corner counter where the two microwaves sat and spotted some smoke. Quickly, I walked over to the microwaves, where already students had gathered to rubberneck.
Gently I shooed them away and opened the door to the microwave. Puffs of smoke blew out, but no fire.
On the rotating glass, I saw the culprit: a taco wrapped in aluminum foil.
The curly-haired girl, at my shoulder, breathed a sigh of relief. Turning to her, I asked, "Hey, do you know what aluminum foil does in microwaves?"
Her eyes opened wide as she exclaimed, "It wasn't me, miss! She did it." She pointed to a tiny girl next to us who squealed shrilly (as if on cue) and ran away in fright as suddenly as she had appeared.
It's in moments like these I have to resist the urge to start laughing aloud. Slowly, I strided toward the girl (whom I'll call Samantha), whose head I saw finally poke out amongst a field of ringlets and ponytails.
"Samantha." I was being gentle. I swear.
Her head popped back into the sea.
I walked up to her.
"Samantha."
A head timidly popped back up and slowly turned to face me. Then a torrential confession spilled out.
"Miss I didn't know that's what happens if you put foil in the microwave I swear I didn't do it on purpose so I got scared and that's why I ran away I'm sorry miss I'll never do it again."
There. It was out.
I put a hand on her shoulder. She held her breath, waiting for my next move.
Finally, I spoke. "Hey, it's all right! Next time, just let a teacher know when something's on fire, okay?"
Monday, June 8, 2009
In the corridor...
I'm currently sitting in the lounge of the Shepherd School of Music at Rice, which used to be one of my favorite places to read/study. (I decided to stop by a little earlier to finish up some homework for class this afternoon.) It has been decidedly quiet for the past hour or so, with only the sounds of a piano tinkling-- and the occasional wail of a French horn-- breaking the silence.
However, the half hour has passed, and the little ones in the music class in the corridor have been let out for the afternoon.
Well, that's that. No more work for me...
However, the half hour has passed, and the little ones in the music class in the corridor have been let out for the afternoon.
Well, that's that. No more work for me...
Sunday, June 7, 2009
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