“Usted conoce Arenal?” I ask her.

“No,” she says, eyes not leaving the plantain in her hands.

“Quiere conocerlo?”

There is a long pause, during which she mashes some chicken and plantain together in her fingers.  As she watches those fingers, a grin slowly spreads across her face.

“Cuando van?” she smiles at me.

The micro-lending project Chris is working on will start selling shares on Wednesday.  Also, we will be having an art camp and hosting four other volunteers who will graciously be helping us with the camp.  The camp will run for four days, from 8am til noon.  In the evenings, either Chris or I have a meeting every day but Thursday.  I also have dance rehearsal 3 days next week.  I just planned (in great detail) a schedule for when my parents are here in March (!!!), and have been working on countless Excel spreadsheets to keep myself organized.  Tomorrow, we go into town to buy all our camp supplies, as well as all the new things we’ll need for the house we’re moving into at the end of next week.  Then also there’s the time I spend on the internets between Excel sessions.    Oh, and I am helping another volunteer by making a video to promote one of her projects and help get it funded (a computer lab in her town… I’ll post the video when it’s done so you can help her out!).

So, all of that next week.  The following week promises to be just as busy, as we are heading to the province of Limón to help out with another camp.

Woof.

Today, Chris and I met with the two active members of our Comite Tutelar (in charge of planning and implementing programs or activities for the benefit of the youth in the community), and the president of our Asociación (kind of like a city council).  Previously, I had incredibly negative feelings about these two community groups, and more specifically about the president of the Asociación and the coordinator of the Tutelar.   These feelings had stemmed from my perception that these two women were not working for the better interests of the community, but were instead just enjoying the power their positions gave them.  I knew, it should be said, that they were in fact “working” on projects for the community; the fact that they did not seem to be even trying to include any other community members, though, really colored my view.  And that was combined with the fact that, as in politics everywhere, it seemed they were all talk and no action.

Today’s meeting, though, helped me to form what I feel is a more accurate view of these two women.  I got to speak openly with them about their frustrations and their sueños.  I listened to them complain about their community, and then did my best to put a positive spin on it (in futility, but oh well).  As I sat there, I thought about how frustrated I have been so many times in my 8ish months in 27, and then I tried to multiply that by years.  I can’t imagine how infuriating it must be to be working (volunteering) to better your community, while the majority of the members in that community do nothing, or worse, accuse you of stealing or vagrancy.

While their methods might not be the best, and their attitudes are almost always negative, I can now understand a little more of why they are so.

I arrive via bus in Santa Cruz, a city Stephanie and I visit often. As we approach the door there are taxistas calling out “taxi!” at each person as they walk out the door. I sense his gaze falling on me “Taxi, amigo!” he starts to walk the same direction I do “Amigo, I give you a good price! What beach you go to?” I point out impatiently that I am not going to the beach, and if I were I would much rather pay the dollar bus ride than the 30 dollar cab fare. I see his shoulders drop a little… I feel bad.

This morning I go jogging, there is a friendly neighborhood borracho or drunkard sitting on the corner, wearing the same clothes as the last few times I saw him. I have had a few conversations with him in the past, through his various stages of lucidity. Even though its 6:30 in the morning he greets me excitedly in a mash-up of english and spanish greetings, I sense the greeting as overgenerous, and so respond with a simple thumbs up and a head nod. He says something quickly of which I only catch “…deme” Give me. I have already passed by his corner at this point, but as what was said sinks in, I a shoot a quick look back and I hear him saying loudly “tienes algo… tienes algo.” I want to shout at him that I am not here to pay for him to buy more guaro nor finance his trip to the fiestas in Santa Cruz. Not like my Peace Corps stipend has much room for that kind of thing, anyway. I swallow my anger and start my jog.

I am in the house of a stranger with some of my favorite Tico family members. We are watching a rodeo, and someone says “Chris, hay un gringo… adentro” some foreigner has decided to run with the bulls. I don’t really have a response, as this seems relatively normal to me. A few moments later, he is pointed out to me “vea, en la camiseta roja… un gringo, igualito a usted.” This prompts me to exclaim “vea, una tica, igualita a usted!” This garners a generous round of laughter from everyone, and a discussion about how your can always tell when there are foreigners in the ring because they don’t fit the pattern of the other people running around (to put it gently).

As we stood under the giant mango tree eating a few of the literal fruits of our labor, dusk came over the hills and a few bats began to swoop around us.  The two youngest of our group played in the dirt of the road as the rest of us scanned the branches above us to be sure we hadn’t missed any low hanging mangoes.  As we walked back to the car, I wondered if there was anything in the world that could make a person feel more content then a good day’s work and freshly picked fruit.  I did not come to any conclusion.

And so I hope for you all that 2012 brings you many days like this one.  Feliz año.

2) …common Spanish nicknames.  As in English we have “Dick” for “Richard,” Spanish has its own apodos.  Jose = Chepe (this can also be combined with a second name.  For example, Jose Ramon is Chamon) and Enrique = Quique… there are more, but I don’t remember them right now.

3) …how to spot a tourist.  Hiking boots and socks?  Backpackers backpack?  Bottle of water?  And the clincher: a travel guide (obvio)? Yep, they’re not from around here.

4) …how to barter with a taxista.

5) …how to tell whether a translation is good or not.

6) …to like telenovelas.

7) …how to ride my bike with no hands.  (Ok, I still haven’t done that.  But the jóvenes make it look so easy I feel like I might master it before we leave.)

8) …that motivating people is really stinkin’ hard.  Seriously.  I have a new appreciation for all those Keynote Speakers I’ve seen…

9) …that sometimes my best really isn’t good enough.  I mean… intellectually I knew this was a possibility, but learning it as a reality in my life is a different thing all together.

10) …that Costa Rica’s former president (who stole a bunch of money and then fled to Russia) is back in the country and expected to run for the presidency again.  ….how could I have expected that?  Haha!  But really, I was shocked to see that on this afternoon’s news.

1-One to one development is where its at; by showing one person that they can do the same work Stephanie and I do, our efforts stick. It’s empowerment on a personal level. I feel the biggest hangup we run into here is people not believing in themselves as an individual and certainly not as a community (this one is related to #4).

2-This will only work if I am willing to personally put myself out into the community and the public eye every day. I go house to house cotidiano visiting people I know and meeting new people… to inform them of projects, remind them of things we are working on together, or most often to shoot the shit. My good friend down here describes this work as “hustlin’,” and I am 100% de acuerdo.

3-It is worth it to be here. I am adding huge amounts into my own worldview/moral center. This is an amazing process. Ademas, I am able to show and tell Costa Ricans about my country and my worldview. I am adding huge changes to the normal idea many have of a gringo. I am not rich. I am not here to buy land nor leaving in a week. I speak Spanish, a lot. I feel strongly that the more we can open minds about the broad world we live in, the more we can convince people to make room in their opinions and thoughts for others, the better said world will be. These reasons make my time here worth it, notwithstanding the “work-work” I am doing with our micro-empreza or any of the other thing typically thought of as “development”.

4-The idea that people get used to “welfare” type handouts, is real. Our wonderful ciudadanos got a bit uppity when they were told we were charging the equivalent of $2 to attend our summer camps (this is a still unresolved issue for us, aunque I have seen many of their children paying 50 cents to a dollar a day to play video games at our house and some of them (not the children) wandering around town with a six pack of beers… this is a long tangent… I’m bitter/venting). I have been told over and over that the people are used to gifts, grants and handouts. My favorite example of this is still from a friend who, early on, told me (this is a paraphrase) “when I was doing a project and design management course, I broke my group of 13 people up into smaller groups. They all made action plans to achieve things they wanted to see in the community. Every single group had at least one step that included the words pedir or solicitar (words to describe asking or applying for money) in relation to the German Embassy, or the federal government, or a large corporation…” This is the mindset all of are fighting to break.

Yes there are frustrations, yes I am happy to be here. Muy buenas noches!

On the last two (of three) buses, I secured myself a seat next to a window and left it open the whole way.  The air was cold and goosebumps spread over my arms as the bus sped down the road.  Through the headphones played This Will Destroy You, and though traveling by bus is often demeaned it was such a peaceful experience, just enjoying the cold.

I think it’s because there are no expectations, no obligations.  When you’re on the bus, you don’t have to feel guilty for just sitting if you get a seat, or for just standing around if you don’t.  You do not control the schedule and so any responsibility to time you may have sort of slips away.  It’s difficult to converse with anyone, and so it almost becomes a sort of forced meditation period.  Just you, alone among the rest, your thoughts free to be had.

It is such a rare occurrence for me here, to have time to think.  It really makes public transportation so much more desirable.