Nostalgia

Praise God for the beauty of mountains; for biting October air that cleanses and freshens like mental Listerine; for Oak trees, adorned with orchids, befriending giant celery plants; for hot coffee sipped next to the camaraderie of a wood stove; for clouds that breathe moisture on the face and wrap slimy arms one’s unsuspecting bones; for playing cards, battered and frayed, that spur the irrepressible laughter of friends who love life too much.

It has been a beautiful weekend. Something about chilly mountain air and the obscurity of mist ushers in memories of autumns past and memories that will never again be. Joy seasoned with the sweetest of sorrows.

In a twist of irony, this much-needed escape to the mountains concluded on a piercing note. A routine post-journey email check revealed the loss of something that I have loved deeply for a long time: my dog. It might sound ridiculous, but nothing has shaken my emotions like this in, well, a really long time. Chester. Anyone who knows my family is familiar with the name. It calls to mind dirty white fur with puddles of rusty brown; oversized head resting on strong barrel-chest and stubby legs; crooked tail dancing with joy at the sight of friendly faces. Chester. I don’t know how to explain it, but he was more than just a pet. We found him, weighed down with the hardships of life on the streets, shivering in the corner of a concrete pound. I was five. He was two. From that day on he became a part of the family. He was a patient counselor when little girl hardships were too much to handle. He was the most understanding of comforters who wiped away countless childish tears with a consoling pink tongue. He was the link that united my family in times when seemingly insurmountable personal differences threatened to pull us apart. A shared adoration for this stocky little mutt has been a significant theme in the history of Luoma.

And now he is gone. Heavy with eighteen years of life, his exhausted bones fell asleep for the last time. I knew it was going to happen. It had to. But somehow the inevitability of loss doesn’t make it any easier to bear.

I realize now how much I miss home. It sucks.

¡Vamos a las Montañas!

Buenas!!!

Another week has flown by already and I find myself, dizzy with the speed of life, tossed in the middle of a brand new weekend. Far from relaxing, this weekend promises to be fast paced and filled with new experiences. Yet again I travel. Last weekend, it was an excursion to the beautiful Caribbean: land of pristine beaches, Bob Marley worshippers, ex-pats and scurvy pirate scum. (See facebook for an explosion of fotografías.... http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#/album.php?aid=117593&id=584994219). This weekend, I forsake the allure of masterfully sculpted waves and sparkling sands. Instead, I flee to the Costa Rican mountains. Well, one of them anyways- Cerro de la Muerte (literally, ¨Hill of the Dead"). Hopefully the trip will conclude on a happier note than the Mountain´s name seems to imply. If not, the good news is I am traveling with my Tropical Ecology class, and chances are at least a few of us will survive to tell the tale.

Well, time is closing in on me yet again, and the numbers on my heinously abused $6 Target watch are telling me that I need to go finish packing my bag. ¡Adios a todos! If I go to join the muerte of the mountain, feel free to donate my meager possessions to the charity of your choice.

Tengan Paz.

Because it's raining too hard to do anything else...

Ten Reasons to Fall in Love with Costa Rica:

1. Drinking coffee four times a day is completely normal. In fact, it is encouraged.
(Also, if you run out of coffee beans you can just run outside to the nearest coffee plantation and pick some more.)

2. You can wear rain boots and an umbrella without looking like a total dork. Multicolored is always best.

3. Never again will you get a stabbing craving for rice and beans. In fact, after a few months in Costa Rica you will probably never want to eat them again. Ever.

4. You can indulge your secret longing to drown your hair in gel every day. And don't worry about running out...it's sold in 4 pound containers!

(photo taken in my brother Helberth's room)

5. Running over skunks and squirrels is not a problem. You are much more likely to encounter a sloth in the middle of the road. And of course that is no problem.... you can just pick it up and move them to the other side of the road!


6. The Costa Rican accent is hilarious. You will discover the joy of saying "que calorrrshhhh" and "mi amorrssshhh" whenever the opportunity arises. Try it. It is a blast.

7. For the shorter folk of the world, Costa Rica will make you feel taller than you ever thought possibly. At 5' 3 1/2'', I feel like a giant. Maybe that is why the Ticas wear heels every day...

8. Hello high fives are replaced with kisses on the cheek...even when you meet someone for the first time. It is impossible to feel unloved here.

9. Dancing is life. Salsa. Merengue. Bachata. Cumbia. Esta en la sangre (blood) de los Latinoamericanos. If there is music then you better be moving...and please shake you hips as much as possible!

10. Santa comes early! Costa Rica definitely starts celebrating Christmas in September. And apparantly decorating is a big freaking deal.

Idioma para Tontos

Language. It is a fundamental characteristic of the human species. No other animal has developed this capability like we, Giant Naked Mole Rats of the earth, have somehow been able to do. We use it to make requests, exchange ideas, build relationships, start wars, crack jokes, create self identities and simply pass the time. Without this secret code there would be no Coliseum, no Eiffel Tower, no skyscrapers. No wars? There’s a thought. But what is it, anyway? A simple combination of two or three guttural vocalizations, when uttered in the correct combination, has the potential to change a mood, a life or the course of a nation. How can this be?

And yet, without language, man is an island. Without communication, we lose our power as a superior species. The intelligence of one man is of little importance if he alone can benefit from it.

Imagine losing this ability to make sounds that have meaning. Imagine waking up in a world where you cannot comment on the weather, make jokes, or learn from the people around you. Your own thoughts echo back and forth, over and over again, in the hollow cave of your isolated mind. You can exist in this world. You still eat, walk, sleep and share a home with your family. But you are alone. Every person exists in a different sort of globe, a world of his or her own imagining, that will never be shared.

Living in a Spanish-speaking country can feel this way sometimes. When I first arrived in Costa Rica, I felt raw and helpless. I was newly born into a foreign species. I had reverted to toddlerdom. I could not fully participate in conversations. Jokes passed over my head completely unnoticed. Building relationships was a seemingly insurmountable feat. Conversations with my family revolved around the simplest of things: food, clothes, the weather. To share jokes or talk about political issues was an unimaginable trial. “Mas despacio”, “repite, por favor”, “no comprendo”, and “lo siento, no se” were the most essential phrases of my vocabulary. If you have ever spent time in a different culture, you know what I mean.

For some time, I thought about trashing the idea of learning Spanish altogether: apathetically accepting a monolingual existence started to sound pretty good. In fact, there were nights when I would lock myself in my room to do homework rather than face yet another frustrating conversation with my Costa Rican family. Enduring blank, uncomprehending stares and a patronizing tone normally reserved for ADD four year olds was starting to get old. It wasn’t easy. There came a point, however, when I realized that I had a choice between two routes: passively accept my identity as an extraneous member of society, or suck it up, embrace the awkwardness and chip away at the tedious conversations until something started to change.

Well, I’m sure you can guess what I decided to do. I have been in Costa Rica for about six weeks now, and every day speaking in Spanish becomes more and more natural. Conversations flow more smoothly. When talk to my family, we can share humor (of sorts) and converse about more than just the current temperature. Newspaper articles are more easily interpreted; TV shows start to make sense. I even catch myself thinking in Spanish and slipping Spanish words into English conversations (i.e. “donde the heck are my shoes?” or “I was comiendo lunch with my familia…”). I am by no means fluent. My Spanish is still riddled with grammatical errors, and my store of vocabulary is a little emaciated. But the progress is there, and I am excited to keep learning. I still make mistakes every day; rather than sources of frustration, however, they have become indispensable teachers. At this point, I have progressed from preschool to kindergarten, and I am ready to continue learning, growing and embarrassing myself until I can speak the language with ease.