Twinges...

Don't get me wrong. My heart skips around at the thought of setting foot into a classroom again in a little over a month. I can smell the texts, feel the stiff newness of notebooks, see the neon streaks across the pages.

Childish, first day of school excitement? Maybe.

At the same time, I've had equal parts terror and anxiety gnawing at my insides. For good reason. I mean, the last time I was in school without a steady source of income was almost eight years ago. It's a little nerve-wracking.

But today, I felt the first twinges of another emotion...something I was not expecting quite yet. My co-worker friend came over earlier this afternoon, and we brewed a fresh pot of coffee, chatted and laughed, and typed away.

I felt the first pang when she packed up for the day and hugged me goodbye.

I felt the second pang when I was chatting with one of my Bigs (mentors) on my caseload tonight. It's funny how well I've gotten to know a few of my Bigs through monthly safety conversations about their mentoring relationships. I've only seen this Big at gatherings a time or two, yet every time I call her, we gab and laugh away like two grannies on the front porch. As the conversation was wrapping up, I broke the news to her about my upcoming transition to graduate school.

"WHAT? No! You can't leave!"

Sadness? Yep. It's two months away, and I'm already sad to be leaving.

Strenuous Briefness

Felt like reading a little e.e. cummings poetry tonight. I'll share.

into the strenuous briefness
Life:
handorgans and April
darkness,friends

i charge laughing
Into the hair-thin tints
of yellow dawn,
into the women-coloured twilight.

i smilingly
glide.    I
into the big vermilion departure
swim,sayingly;

(Do you think?)the
i do,world
is probably made
of roses & hello:

(of solongs and,ashes)

tonight...

...I was sitting at a picnic table with a few friends at a local hangout, just east of downtown. In a tired moment, I tuned out the laughter, looked up, and found that gleaming crescent peeking from the treetops.

The moon.

A cloudless sky.

A warm breeze.

Forget the crazy client who hung up on me today. Forget that I shut off my alarm this morning and overslept for work. Life isn't bad at all, not when I'm privileged enough to have the time to appreciate my surroundings.

Pictures, Pictures, Pictures!

Here we go: I finally have albums of my stay in Costa Rica. Enjoy!

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2077257&id=3000897&l=a5b5df5852

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2077261&id=3000897&l=f2b3f1c3cd

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2077265&id=3000897&l=f2df13f61e

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2077278&id=3000897&l=9944fe5b08

Some Things Never Change

I'm currently at home in Mississippi for a short respite from Houston busy-ness. Each time I come home I marvel at the next new thing I see during my drive into town. Even home is not the familiar hidey-hole it used to be. My room is hardly recognizable now; it's more of a storage area where my my mom keeps extra notebooks and clothes. The dishes at the dining room table are square and oddly modern-- what happened to the white Corningware with the green floral edges?

Some habits never die, though. Yesterday evening, I sat down to peer at the local paper, just as I did many a evening while I was in high school. I quickly scanned the headlines ("School District at Risk for Failing") and read through the articles that piqued my interested before flipping quickly to the one page my brother and I most coveted.

Yes. The daily comics.

This time, however, my mom didn't yell at me for spending too much time reading "Blondie" or "Garfield" instead of getting to my calculus homework.

After soaking in the last of the funnies, I flipped to the next to last page of the newspaper, after the articles about Ole Miss football and the Dear Abby section, as well as the entertainment column, complete with a picture of Taylor Swift from the AMA.

There, as always, in the top left corner, was Dennis the Menace. How comforting it is to find that some things will never change.

Blessed

The sixth grade and I have gone full steam 'til now. It is Thanksgiving break, for which I am extremely thankful, and I'm looking forward to writing some before I have to start writing lesson plans again.

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, It's Off to Work I Go...

I'm back at work. I'm hoping to update with some pictures soon!

Back at Home

Back in Houston. I can't really describe how I'm feeling right now. :)

Le Doy Las Gracias a Dios Por…

My time in Costa Rica, in San Francisco el Bosque, is rapidly drawing to a close. In just a few short hours, I will board a plane back to everything that is familiar to me. While I am excited to see dearly-missed friends and family once again, leaving is a bit bittersweet, as I have grown to love many things here. My grammar teacher always begins class by asking us what we’re thankful for, so before I leave for Houston, I want to take a minute to write down the things I have been thankful for during my time here.

1) My Tico family. I have grown to love my host family, and I can’t believe they choose to sacrifice so much of their personal space and time to host students regularly. They have made me feel comfortable here, and while communication might have been a bit of a challenge, they have really challenged me to think about creative ways to say things.

2) Classmates. Study buddies, traveling companions, explorers, neighbors, friends. I’ve shared many a adventure and conversation with my classmates from school, and I’ve loved hearing about how they happened to end up here in San Jose. Kind, friendly folks are they.

3) The Vineyard. I’m thankful for having met Jose Pablo and Carlos in Houston back in May, for they were very kind in helping me connect with their friends and finding rides to church (Jose Pablo and his wife Laura even took me home after a very busy first night at the H13 conference). If not for them, I might not have met friends Marco and Sara and Ester, and the folks from Vineyards back in the United States, England, and in other parts of Central America.

4) Lack of communication devices. Not having a cell phone and solid Internet connection for a month may have been one of the best things to have happened to me, as I have learned to get by without both phone and Internet and to be super-efficient when I have access to one or the other. This is definitely the longest time I've been without a cell phone (in Korea I used my grandma's cell), and I think I could live without one.

Time to enjoy one last beautiful morning here before I head out to the airport. I want to drink everything in...

Viene Goal...

23 July 2009

If you’ve been watching the Gold Cup soccer matches in the United States (or elsewhere), then you might have known that Mexico, Costa Rica, the US, and Honduras played semifinal matches tonight. After dinner with friends, I opened the door to my house to find Christian, Adriana, Jimena, and Fabian (and a neighbor kid, Samuel) watching the Mexico-Costa Rica semifinal game. I couldn’t have asked for a more memorable experience. Each time a Costa Rican jugador neared an opportunity to score, we all sang, “Viene goal, viene goal…a Costa Rica viene goal!”

After Costa Rica tied the game 1-1 at the close of the second half, my entire family (and I) went outside to celebrate with the neighbors, banging on the gates, shouting “Ticos, Ticos, Ticos, Ticos!” and, of course, “Ole…”

Even Adriana crossed herself and prayed a little prayer as Costa Rica and Mexico rounded out the end of overtime, still tied, and went into penalty kicks. Each team matched the other until the third kick in the series, at which point Costa Rica missed, and unfortunately, the song we had to sing was, “No fue goal...” (It was no goal...)

Que triste.

Traveling Mercies

I’ve taken a couple of out of town trips during my time here. Here are some noteworthy experiences, in no particular order:

-Pay restrooms at the Gran Terminal del Caribe on my way out to Puerto Viejo. I wasn’t surprised at having to pay 200 colones to go to the restroom, but I had more of a shock to see a woman employed to hand me my ration of toilet paper.

-Visas (REALLY don’t leave home without them). I forgot and took only a photocopy of my passport to Puerto Viejo, sans visa. On the way back to San Jose, of course the police stopped the bus to check our passports (Puerto Viejo is close to Panama). We got an earful from the policeman about not traveling with our visas, but fortunately, he let the bus go without much hassle since many of the other passengers didn’t have their passports, period.

-Buses. I think the time it takes for me to drive the distance from Pasadena to Humble takes a bus here 4.5 hours. Why? Because the road into the mountains can be curvy and treacherous. Because you can encounter the aftermath of a mudslide along the way. Because you can be friends of the bus driver and have him stop randomly when you need to use the restroom (I kid you not).

-Carsickness. See above. At one point I opened the window because I thought I might…

An Addendum

Yesterday, at the artisans’ mercado by the Museo Nacional, I finally felt the need to stand up for myself. One vendor called out to me, “Konichiwa!” Promptly I whirled around and eyed him squarely in the eye and said (in Spanish):

“Excuse me, I don’t understand Japanese. I’m from the US, and my parents are Korean.”

Immediately the boy looked surprised that I had confronted him, turned red and apologized profusely, almost to the point where I felt bad about responding. We started conversing amiably for a while, and towards the end of the conversation, he said:

“Again, I’m really sorry. I guess it’s like you calling me something without asking about my roots first.”

Perhaps I don’t feel so bad about speaking up anymore…

Things I Might Never Get Used To

Physical discomforts I don’t mind much, be it cool showers, a flat cushion for a pillow, or the daily presence of insects (and more-legged creatures) in my room. I’ve observed my family so that I could, too, do as the Ticos do—watch the electricity and water usage, bed early and rise early, not flush toilet paper down to prevent drain cloggage, or wash clothes by hand.

However, living the life of another culture is not just about adapting physically to one’s environment. It’s also about adjusting to how people tend to perceive each other and react to those perceptions. It’s about how one communicates with another (and it’s not just about learning the language, although that is a huge step). While I have been forewarned about some things I would observe in the culture here, I don’t think a day goes by when something happens to take me by surprise.

If you have slanted eyes, you might be called “chino”. Actually, anything Asian might be referenced as “chino”. And if you’re a little overweight or a little slender or darker in skin tone, you’ll be called “gordo” or “delgado” or “negro”. And of course, many of us “gringos” live in San Francisco. Many Ticos openly describe others by their physical appearance. While the concept is a bit refreshing, I’m a little disconcerted each time someone across the street shouts, “chinita linda!” For example, the beautiful Japanese park a little east of the school is officially known as Parque Okayama. However, almost everyone calls it “Parque de Chino”. One man actually stopped his car while backing out to ask me:

--Senorita, es usted japonesa?
--No, mis padres son coreanos, y yo vivo en los estados unidos.


“Te amo, guapa.” One doesn’t have to be dressed immodestly to receive the preceding comment. Sometimes one only has to be a female and walking on the street to receive air kisses, cat calls, hisses, or other forms of attention from certain men. I think it’s the one thing I truly dislike about the culture—that such machismo behavior is widely accepted. I was positively livid to see one aggressive man approach a beautiful young Josefino and get in her face as she was walking and trying to ignore him. My favorite comment? “You are beautiful queens, guapas,” from a Rastafarian riding his bike down the main road in Puerto Viejo.

Here You Are in Splendour...

There’s something about beauty that always makes my heart jump a little, and when I see something beautiful, I still squeal, clap my hands, and laugh like a little girl who finds that the last birthday present she unwraps is exactly what she wants.

Then, like the writer of this Vineyard song,

I bow down and surrender
Overwhelmed by beauty and grace

I’ve savored each encounter with nature I’ve had here in Costa Rica. I cannot describe any of them adequately with even the finest sketch, but a few deserve at least a meager mention:

-One of my favorite things about La Vina del Este is that it sits nestled in the mountains in the neighborhood of Salitrillos. On any given day one can see (through huge glass windows) the lush greenery soaring into the sky as the worship team plays. I walked into the sanctuary towards the end of worship one Sunday. A little bummed that I had missed out on the singing, I snuck down to the front, sat myself down as quickly as possible, and flipped open my journal. As I propped my head up to listen to the message, I saw a swooping motion just above the drum set. I ducked my head to focus, and there they were—two eagles sweeping the sky silently and encircling the tips of the trees.

-After a wonderful day with my friends Marco and Sara in La Fortuna and Volcan Arenal, we stopped in a tiny town to eat dinner at a soda. Tired from a long day of walking and van rides, we took a minute to shake out any tight kinks in our muscles. Mid-stretch, Sara gasped, “Look!”

We looked up to see vast, black night, scattered with a cloudy blanket of stars.

God has met me here, in splendor and in majesty, in each time I have encountered beauty. Each part of creation is a reflection of God’s great care and detail and love. If he has taken care to construct the most beautiful, delicate flower, how would he not know me and love me and care for me fully?

Ten Things I Enjoy in Costa Rica

1. Coffee. It’s something else here. I still like coffee best with a bit of milk and sugar, but Costa Rica’s the only place where I’ve been able to a) drink a cup of coffee every day, and b) drink coffee without my favorite additions. Tonight, my friend Laura and I had café chorreadore, made from a traditional wooden coffee strainer (like a French press, but better!).
2. Buses. I pay less than fifty cents for a one-way trip to the center of the city.
3. Nature. Flowers of all sorts exist here, as do lovely animals. On a jaunt to Volcan Arenal last weekend, we saw a family of monkeys climbing the trees and a herd of wild pigs crossing the road.
4. Fruit. I’m going to miss all the fresh pineapple, mangoes, papaya, guanabaya, cas, and more.
5. Time. I’ve had time in the mornings and evenings to read, to go salsa dancing, to write some, to play video games and Gran Banco, to sit and think…
6. Friendliness. At a market downtown this afternoon, a vendor named Vanessa sat me down and had me tell her my life story (in Spanish, por supuesto) before I could buy anything from her. And I love this one lady at aerobics who nearly dragged me into the class the first time I visited.
7. Casado. No, I’m not married. Casado is what we call dinner/lunch plates here, filled with rice, beans, picadillo (chopped veggies), fried plantains, and some sort of meat (beef, chicken, or fish). I think this dish is called such because it’s the typical dinner a married man gets from his wife.
8. Walking. I enjoy my ten-minute walk to the Institute, with or without a companion, and I’ve enjoyed walking around my neighborhood of San Francisco de Dos Rios.
9. Mountains. San Jose is nestled in the mountains, dotted with lights at night.
10. Rest. No additional words needed here.

A Sunset

Because we're in the wet season here and it's been raining almost every evening, I haven't been able to see a sunset here until very recently. Here, the sun is setting across from Lake Arenal.

Quiere Jugar Futbol, Gen?

I enjoy spending time with my Tico brother and sister, Fabian and Jimena. One of my favorite routines in the morning takes place when I’ve just opened my bedroom door and I’m about to start studying. Almost without fail, Jimena promptly sees that the door to my room is open and toddles in. She makes a beeline straight for my bed, where I’m studying on my stomach. Cocking her head, she smiles and exclaims questioningly, “Popó?” She promptly turns around and makes a dash for the doorway. She hides.

Sl-o-o-o-o-o-wly her curls peek out from behind the doorway, until her entire head slips out. My face makes a round “O” in surprise, and she giggles and hides again. We repeat peek-a-boo a few more times before she comes running back to my bedside, her face just a breath away from mine.

“Besito?” I ask her. She puckers up her lips, closes her eyes, and kisses me on the cheek before I scoop her up and take her to the living room.

With mischievous nine-year-old Fabian, I play “soccer” (I say “soccer” in quotes because my less-than-stellar footwork couldn’t in a million years be considered soccer). After setting up the goals, we take the usual routine of picking teams.

“Yo- Costa Rica, y usted- Estados Unidos,” Fabian says assertively. Usually he represents Costa Rica and I, the US. We play pretty fairly, although at times I forget and foul, at which Fabi promptly flashes an imaginary card in my face and yells, “Tarjeta amarilla!” Thanks to Fabi and our daily soccer matches, I have now picked up a fair amount of soccer lingo in Spanish.

Just last week, we played a Copa Oro (Gold Cup, which is currently taking place in the US) match with Fabi’s cousin Francini, fondly nicknamed “Mini”. Because she was a girl, she and I were on the same team, while Fabi roamed the concrete field solo. Mini was amazing; while she was a bit shy to confront her cousin head on, she had no problems making straight shots goal-to-goal. In the end, though, we fell short, as Fabi made the 20th goal to win the match. Afterwards, I comforted Mini by letting her know that she had pies de oro—feet of gold—which I mentioned to sports reporter Fabi in a post-game interview.

With these “breaks” from doing my homework, it always takes me just a little bit longer to finish for the evening.

Halfway Through...

On Friday my conversation teacher asked us how we were feeling halfway through the course. While my vocabulary has picked up in leaps and bounds, I couldn't really describe in Spanish what I have really learned in the past two weeks. Por ejemplo:

I left the United States just a little over two weeks ago feeling like I was running on fumes—dry, empty, thirsty. I felt far away from God, not knowing if I was hearing from him, and many times in the past few months I wondered if what I was doing was what he wanted me to do. As I sat in the airport waiting for my flight, watching the CNN coverage on Michael Jackson, I half-heartedly asked God to fill me up while I was in Costa Rica. I say half-heartedly because, honestly, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to hear his response.

Well, you know how you’ll answer your cell in the middle of happy hour and have to walk outside to try to make out what your friend is screaming at you on the other end? And once you’re finally removed from the clinking glasses and blaring ESPN SportCenter, your friend’s voice comes ringing clear.

Going to Costa Rica has been like going outside the bar to answer the phone, and aside from learning Spanish, I think I’ve been spending the past two weeks becoming reacquainted with God’s voice and the way he talks to me. It’s been like hanging out with old high school friends after some years of not keeping in touch, and hearing how clearly he speaks to me and seeing how much he still knows and understands me brings me to tears.

At the H13 worship conference last weekend, the pastor of youth at La Viña del Este talked about one of the Greek words translated as “worship” in the Bible—proskuneo, which means to “turn around and kiss”. He gave the example of a man in love with his wife, who turns around to kiss her, gives her all of his attention and energy, sets aside time to be with her alone. His actions tell her, "You're all I have." The message was a bit of a wake-up call for me.

Proskuneo. God’s been showing me how clearly I can hear him and understand him when I set aside time for him, just me and him, and he shows me what he can do when I turn to him and say, “Help, God—you’re all I have” and let go of my distractions. How much he just wants me to hang out with him like Mary, and how much I have been a Martha in the past few months!

Muy Dificil...

So I'm not dreaming IN Spanish yet, but I have been studying to the point that I'm dreaming about what I'm currently practicing.

For example, a couple of nights ago, I knew I was dreaming about reflexive constructions (me siento, me lavo...) because I woke up thinking about them.

Now, if I could only use direct object/indirect object pronouns in my conversation. I'm having a time just putting it in writing!

...

I'll never again underestimate how challenging aerobics class can be. This morning I had a heaping serving of humble pie, as I sweated buckets and bumbled along in an attempt to follow the nimble footwork of our very fit instructor. Most of the regulars around me are older than I am (from mothers in their thirties with young children all the way up to seventy-ish), and they all stepped along without skipping a beat!