Today, I...
saw a movie dubbed in Spanish and understood a good 89% of it! Great feeling.
missed my bud Patrick Lyons. We had a good talk on skype about school, city culture, and finding yourself. I'm looking forward to having these conversations in real life.
realized I am going to miss lazy days like today where all I do is look up chords for Disney songs on my ukulele.
learned that I really have paid zero attention to US politics in these last five months.
smiled when I looked at the collection of bracelets, hair clips, and drawings I have accumulated from my students.
--Hannah
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Day 163.
Today, I...
saw a man smoking as he ran at the track. Counterproductive much?
missed blasting music on a car ride.
realized I am going to miss all the fresh fruit. Today I had papaya, straight cas (something I had never tried before -- VERY acidic), banana, mango, and manzana de agua (a water apple that tastes like roses). Yay for farmer's markets!
learned just how smart two of my students are. Major changes are being made at the Refuge...tension about the whole being lax and forgiving vs. teaching and enforcing discipline has been mounting and transformation is taking place. My entire class got less than 30 out of 54 points on their last test, except for Karen and Kassandra who both got over 50. While I'm going back to review the chapter with everyone else, I let these two girls work ahead in our books. They completed a weeks' work of lesson plans in 40 minutes.
smiled when my students made what I call "Built-Up Build-Me-Up" poems in typing class. Each girl wrote their name at the top of a word document and then rotated to the seat on her immediate right. I gave them 45 seconds to type a nice trait about the girl who's name was on the screen and had them then rotate to the next seat. When all was said and done, each girl had a monitor full of positive comments. I always have each girl tell me one thing she learned before she is allowed to leave for the day; Ana (a tattooed and troubled girl who has threatened to beat several girls/leaders/leader's daughters) sent me a giant grin and beamed, "I learned that I have friends who really love me."
--Hannah
saw a man smoking as he ran at the track. Counterproductive much?
missed blasting music on a car ride.
realized I am going to miss all the fresh fruit. Today I had papaya, straight cas (something I had never tried before -- VERY acidic), banana, mango, and manzana de agua (a water apple that tastes like roses). Yay for farmer's markets!
learned just how smart two of my students are. Major changes are being made at the Refuge...tension about the whole being lax and forgiving vs. teaching and enforcing discipline has been mounting and transformation is taking place. My entire class got less than 30 out of 54 points on their last test, except for Karen and Kassandra who both got over 50. While I'm going back to review the chapter with everyone else, I let these two girls work ahead in our books. They completed a weeks' work of lesson plans in 40 minutes.
smiled when my students made what I call "Built-Up Build-Me-Up" poems in typing class. Each girl wrote their name at the top of a word document and then rotated to the seat on her immediate right. I gave them 45 seconds to type a nice trait about the girl who's name was on the screen and had them then rotate to the next seat. When all was said and done, each girl had a monitor full of positive comments. I always have each girl tell me one thing she learned before she is allowed to leave for the day; Ana (a tattooed and troubled girl who has threatened to beat several girls/leaders/leader's daughters) sent me a giant grin and beamed, "I learned that I have friends who really love me."
--Hannah
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Day 159.
What went down this weekend:
- Finally saw Avatar today! Very impressed by the special effects -- finally CG faces had some emotion to them. I will say some parts of the love story were a little weird, but I really wished I lived on a planet that lit up.
- Yesterday morning, I played Ultimate Frisbee with some students from the language institute. It was a good time and it made me want to play with Luke when I return.
- I also went to the pool yesterday with some girls who are going to work in Carpio after going to language school for six weeks. Let's just say my face looks like I just pulled it out of an oven.
- Overall, I walked around San Francisco (my suburb) in the hot hot heat for more than two hours yesterday. Good work out!
- Tomorrow I'm going to have a sleepover with Alanna at Carmen's house. We're going to watch the Star Wars movies with her kids.
- This last week has been somewhat of a rough one at El Refugio (that's the name of the alternative school where I teach -- it means "The Refuge"). Every single one of those girls has been through so much pain, and every single one of them is looking for something; that's why they come. Having said that, it is very easy to split the students into two groups: those who show up to study, and those who don't. There are a handful of girls who love playing soccer, coming late to class, and disrupting others. They are also the girls who have been known to threaten other students (they have a gang-related past/present) to the point where bullied girls refuse to return.
Carmen and Lorena, the cooks who live in La Carpio, have absolutely zero tolerance for this group and have hinted that these girls shouldn't be allowed to attend if they're not going to put their studies first.
Then there's Jesus, who as my host mom put it, "was known for eating dinner with sinners." What are we supposed to do? It's not right that these girls show up with absolutely no interest to improve our success rates, gain from our efforts, or learn from what we have to teach them.
But since when was it right to have those expectations? When did we get in control? Our job is to plant seeds. God is the one who is going to make them grow.
Yes, to be a teacher you have to know how to push your pupils, but to be a Christian you have to know how to display God's love. At times that love presents itself in forms of discipline, other times it appears in rivers of unending mercies. How do we know which to use in difficult situations?
I re-read an amazing essay on poverty by Cranford Joseph Coulter and found this Dietrich Bonfoeffer quote: "We need to relate to people less according to what they do or omit to do, and more according to what they have suffered." It's easy for Carmen and Lorena to be frustrated with the girls -- they have had to live the same life and I'm sure they would give anything to have had the opportunities as young women that these students are presented with every day. But for some one like me though, some one who has food on the table, a roof over my head, and much more important than either of those things: loving parents (and host parents) who respect me and have my up-most respect, it's impossible to even imagine the dark, empty places my students have been to and go to every day.
This verse has really presented itself to me during this time:
And it's that same love that will keep me going.
--Hannah
- Finally saw Avatar today! Very impressed by the special effects -- finally CG faces had some emotion to them. I will say some parts of the love story were a little weird, but I really wished I lived on a planet that lit up.
- Yesterday morning, I played Ultimate Frisbee with some students from the language institute. It was a good time and it made me want to play with Luke when I return.
- I also went to the pool yesterday with some girls who are going to work in Carpio after going to language school for six weeks. Let's just say my face looks like I just pulled it out of an oven.
- Overall, I walked around San Francisco (my suburb) in the hot hot heat for more than two hours yesterday. Good work out!
- Tomorrow I'm going to have a sleepover with Alanna at Carmen's house. We're going to watch the Star Wars movies with her kids.
- This last week has been somewhat of a rough one at El Refugio (that's the name of the alternative school where I teach -- it means "The Refuge"). Every single one of those girls has been through so much pain, and every single one of them is looking for something; that's why they come. Having said that, it is very easy to split the students into two groups: those who show up to study, and those who don't. There are a handful of girls who love playing soccer, coming late to class, and disrupting others. They are also the girls who have been known to threaten other students (they have a gang-related past/present) to the point where bullied girls refuse to return.
Carmen and Lorena, the cooks who live in La Carpio, have absolutely zero tolerance for this group and have hinted that these girls shouldn't be allowed to attend if they're not going to put their studies first.
Then there's Jesus, who as my host mom put it, "was known for eating dinner with sinners." What are we supposed to do? It's not right that these girls show up with absolutely no interest to improve our success rates, gain from our efforts, or learn from what we have to teach them.
But since when was it right to have those expectations? When did we get in control? Our job is to plant seeds. God is the one who is going to make them grow.
Yes, to be a teacher you have to know how to push your pupils, but to be a Christian you have to know how to display God's love. At times that love presents itself in forms of discipline, other times it appears in rivers of unending mercies. How do we know which to use in difficult situations?
I re-read an amazing essay on poverty by Cranford Joseph Coulter and found this Dietrich Bonfoeffer quote: "We need to relate to people less according to what they do or omit to do, and more according to what they have suffered." It's easy for Carmen and Lorena to be frustrated with the girls -- they have had to live the same life and I'm sure they would give anything to have had the opportunities as young women that these students are presented with every day. But for some one like me though, some one who has food on the table, a roof over my head, and much more important than either of those things: loving parents (and host parents) who respect me and have my up-most respect, it's impossible to even imagine the dark, empty places my students have been to and go to every day.
This verse has really presented itself to me during this time:
I Corinthians 13:3Is this not the truth? We can do all the good we want in all the ways we want, but if it's not for love, it's not worth it. And above all, we must remember that these hurdles, these hardships -- they're not ours. They're God's. If camp taught me one thing, it's that I am an incredibly weak being. My Spanish is still so lacking. My patience falters more often than I want to admit. My body needs sleep. It was God's love, sent to me through the smiles and sunsets, that kept me going.
"If I give everything I possess to the poor and give over my body to the flames,
but have not love,
I have nothing."
And it's that same love that will keep me going.
--Hannah
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Day 156.
Today, I...
saw my students get excited about learning. Holy man that's a great feeling.
missed pop tarts.
realized I am going to miss meeting new people all the time. Oh wait, I'm going to college!
learned that my math class has pretty much doubled in size, half of the girls now six weeks behind the rest of the class. They're really holding their own.
smiled when I asked my students "What's one thing you learned today?" (something I try and do at the end of every day). Lorena, one of the cooks, was sitting in as an extra presence -- the bigger the class, the less control I have -- and her answer was this: "Hannah, I learned how much work it takes to be a teacher. I congratulate you." That kind of comment seems so much more valuable than any number of zeros at the end of a salary.
--Hannah
saw my students get excited about learning. Holy man that's a great feeling.
missed pop tarts.
realized I am going to miss meeting new people all the time. Oh wait, I'm going to college!
learned that my math class has pretty much doubled in size, half of the girls now six weeks behind the rest of the class. They're really holding their own.
smiled when I asked my students "What's one thing you learned today?" (something I try and do at the end of every day). Lorena, one of the cooks, was sitting in as an extra presence -- the bigger the class, the less control I have -- and her answer was this: "Hannah, I learned how much work it takes to be a teacher. I congratulate you." That kind of comment seems so much more valuable than any number of zeros at the end of a salary.
--Hannah
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Day 155
Today, I...
saw yet another political ad (presidential elections are on February 7). A man by the name of Fishman uses this slogan, "Fishman: El Menos Malo." Literally translated, it means "Fishman: The Least Bad." It's just as cringe-inducing in Spanish as it is in English.
missed Starbucks hardcore. I fell asleep last night envisioning the vanilla soy steamer I'm going to buy at the airport in Texas.
realized I am going to miss the way my day is so routine here.
learned that frozen gelatin pops are a million times grosser than I remember them.
smiled at the thought of going to the beach on Saturday!
--Hannah
saw yet another political ad (presidential elections are on February 7). A man by the name of Fishman uses this slogan, "Fishman: El Menos Malo." Literally translated, it means "Fishman: The Least Bad." It's just as cringe-inducing in Spanish as it is in English.
missed Starbucks hardcore. I fell asleep last night envisioning the vanilla soy steamer I'm going to buy at the airport in Texas.
realized I am going to miss the way my day is so routine here.
learned that frozen gelatin pops are a million times grosser than I remember them.
smiled at the thought of going to the beach on Saturday!
--Hannah
Monday, January 18, 2010
Day 153..
Today, I...
...saw pride in a new student's face as she finally found a threesome in a game of SET.
...missed hiking.
...realized I am going to miss the fruit stand I swing by almost every other day. I buy three bananas from a fifteen-year-old boy for grand total of 100 colones (about 18 cents). Today he handed me three semi-sorry excuses for bananas; they were much smaller than usual. I didn't complain though and held out my hand with a smile. He returned the grin and slipped a fourth banana into my palm.
...learned how difficult it is for some of my students to type. Two of them have problems with their left hands -- one was severely burned and the other doesn't have a top-most knuckle in her middle finger. For this reason, neither of them can successfully hit the letter "e". We're working on it.
...smiled when a different new girl drew a portrait of me using lots of gel pens and hearts.
--Hannah
...saw pride in a new student's face as she finally found a threesome in a game of SET.
...missed hiking.
...realized I am going to miss the fruit stand I swing by almost every other day. I buy three bananas from a fifteen-year-old boy for grand total of 100 colones (about 18 cents). Today he handed me three semi-sorry excuses for bananas; they were much smaller than usual. I didn't complain though and held out my hand with a smile. He returned the grin and slipped a fourth banana into my palm.
...learned how difficult it is for some of my students to type. Two of them have problems with their left hands -- one was severely burned and the other doesn't have a top-most knuckle in her middle finger. For this reason, neither of them can successfully hit the letter "e". We're working on it.
...smiled when a different new girl drew a portrait of me using lots of gel pens and hearts.
--Hannah
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Day 152.
Yesterday I had camp evaluations with the other leaders; a meeting I thought would last three, four hours tops. It was in Alajuela (one of Costa Rica's other provinces -- I realized today that I have been to all of Costa Rica's 7 provinces. The fact that the whole country is the size of West Virginia makes this a pretty easy feat), so I got up rather early for a Saturday. Long story short, I got home at 7:30 pm after leaving the house at 5:45 am, riding eight different buses throughout the day and actually enjoying our SEVEN hour long meeting. I fell asleep at 7:45 last night.
The best part of that day? The same bus driver who drove me into San Jose at 6:00 am drove me home at 7:00 at night. The two guards at my gate -- that's right, I live in a gated community if I haven't stated that before -- each work 12 hour shifts. They alternate holidays, meaning one has the day off while the other works for 36 hours straight. Totally normal here.
Today I basked in the glory of cable television (something almost every Costa Rican family has). Let's just say I have a lot of MTV in my system, particularly True Life, MADE, and 16 & Pregnant.
As new volunteers come into Carpio for 2010, it's strange thinking about the other volunteers that have already returned to their homes in the States, living the lives that I've only pieced together through shared stories and facebook photos. As of right now, I have a little more than three and a half months left -- before I know it, I will begin to consider Costa Rica "my other life."
And that's going to hurt.
Luckily though, my "Pura Vida!" friends list on facebook is growing at an incredibly rapid rate. Internet cafes are popping up in Carpio, Jeffry got a wireless card for his laptop, and every night I'm practicing my Spanish with some one online. That's something that I know isn't going to stop when I return.
Friday nights are turning into me and Alanna's "Date Night" where we talk about things that only the two of us can understand: problem students, college fears, Dick's Drive-In, summer camp crushes, and life lessons. We laugh, we vent, we act our age -- sometimes older, sometimes younger. This time, while downing a "Fruit Fountain" consisting of fresh canteloupe, bananas, strawberries, pineapple, papaya, and watermelon, we shared the 5 biggest things we've learned so far and the 3 ways we're going to be different people next time we step into our own country. I think I can sum up pretty much everything I had to say with this simple statement:
I've decided to stop worrying about what other people think of me, and instead focus on what I think of other people.
--Hannah
The best part of that day? The same bus driver who drove me into San Jose at 6:00 am drove me home at 7:00 at night. The two guards at my gate -- that's right, I live in a gated community if I haven't stated that before -- each work 12 hour shifts. They alternate holidays, meaning one has the day off while the other works for 36 hours straight. Totally normal here.
Today I basked in the glory of cable television (something almost every Costa Rican family has). Let's just say I have a lot of MTV in my system, particularly True Life, MADE, and 16 & Pregnant.
As new volunteers come into Carpio for 2010, it's strange thinking about the other volunteers that have already returned to their homes in the States, living the lives that I've only pieced together through shared stories and facebook photos. As of right now, I have a little more than three and a half months left -- before I know it, I will begin to consider Costa Rica "my other life."
And that's going to hurt.
Luckily though, my "Pura Vida!" friends list on facebook is growing at an incredibly rapid rate. Internet cafes are popping up in Carpio, Jeffry got a wireless card for his laptop, and every night I'm practicing my Spanish with some one online. That's something that I know isn't going to stop when I return.
Friday nights are turning into me and Alanna's "Date Night" where we talk about things that only the two of us can understand: problem students, college fears, Dick's Drive-In, summer camp crushes, and life lessons. We laugh, we vent, we act our age -- sometimes older, sometimes younger. This time, while downing a "Fruit Fountain" consisting of fresh canteloupe, bananas, strawberries, pineapple, papaya, and watermelon, we shared the 5 biggest things we've learned so far and the 3 ways we're going to be different people next time we step into our own country. I think I can sum up pretty much everything I had to say with this simple statement:
I've decided to stop worrying about what other people think of me, and instead focus on what I think of other people.
--Hannah
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Day 149.
So I've been sick the last two days (my parents totally called that last time I talked to them on skype). We think it's a mixture of bad meat / dirty water, but now that I've taken a six hour nap, consumed nothing but chicken noodle soup, and my host mom magically produced some mystery medicine, I feel much better.
In the mean time I've revamped my blog (I did all the CSS myself -- tell me what you think!) and whipped out some VERY short video updates that needed to get done for the Lopez family. Feel free to head over to my youtube channel and check them out.
Five minutes ago I finished "My Sister's Keeper" (thank you Aunt Kristi!) with my new reading light (thank you Grandma!) and thoroughly enjoying it. Obviously it's kind of a popular book, but I'm very impressed with Jodi Picoult's writing style.
The story is about cancer; it uses medical terms that don't fit into my mouth. It highlights a loss that I've experienced twice over but haven't come to comprehend.
In the few months leading up to my departure, both of my mother's parents passed away because of that ugly six-lettered word. My grandfather died at nearly the same instant my "I Have a Dream Today" short film was being shown in the Seattle Cinerama, nearly a thousand watching faces lit by the works of future filmmakers. My grandmother died two months later, less than two weeks after my 18th birthday and the standing ovation I received for my high school graduation speech.
Although I am now a legal adult, I still have a fully functioning imagination. It's amazing how easily I can conjure a whole story line in my head, how in my daydreams I can laugh with kids at Harry Potter Camp, how I can taste the inside jokes my future friends and I will share at college.
That's what I've done since Gram and Granddad died. I've always seen myself bursting through the door at the top of their hill, stooping to wrap my long arms around my stout mother's mother, dodging Granddad's knobby nose and the protruding tufts of white hair tucked inside. They'd ask me about my flight from Costa Rica and I would have to repeat myself three, maybe four times. We'd munch on Christmas Candy Corn that Gram purchased from the Rainbow Store at the end of April, the "Phantom of the Opera" soundtrack filling in the generation gap. They'd both trounce me in Upwords, but I would come away smarter because of it.
We wouldn't need to touch that smoldering R.O.U.S. that is politics because I've learned here that arguments are a terrible excuse for a selfish waste of energy. Maybe we'd go get Ivar's. Maybe we'd go to Breakfast Club the next day. I'd tell Gram about the matching tattoos Ali and I drawing up in our mother's honor, and that if it wasn't for their mother, none of us would exist. Granddad would scold at that, but deep down he'd be jealous.
Gram would finally open up to me about the brother she lost in WWII and I would struggle to swallow the thought of losing Luke or Henry. She'd tell me stories about Great-Grandmother and her art and her style.
We'd talk about how my sports teams did without me this year and how much my cousin Jensen knows. They'd remind me about being a good Presbyterian and I'd smile. I'd recite "i carry your heart with me (i carry it in" by e.e. cummings and memories would swell in my grandfather's eyes.
But that's in my mind. I can write it in my diary come May 4, but it would be a false memory. If I ever have the pleasure of opening their door, stepping into that sanctuary home, it will be empty of the TV dinner trays, the floral chair that beckoned fort-building, the wicker penguin basket we all wore on our heads, and the stack of "Where's Waldo?" books that every grandchild has memorized.
They won't get to hold my college diploma or cross-examine my first boyfriend. They didn't get to see Luke play tuba at homecoming or laugh at Henry's latest crazy computer creation. My youngest cousin Harry will most-likely only hold faded memories of them, torn around the edges with time.
With the exception of a very powerful prayer in Lorena's arms and saying good-bye to my family for a second time, I haven't cried in the nearly five months I've been here. There hasn't been a day where I've missed some thing or some one so much it brings me to tears.
I'm crying now. I miss them.
There is a ruckus downstairs, caused by that word again: cancer. Except this time it's accompanied by familial laughter, shared dishes, and sore stomachs from too much of both. My host mom's brother has been battling pancreas cancer since I arrived and twice a week, she and her siblings (she is the youngest of five, just like my Valerie) gather and spend their remaining moments around a common table. They pray, they cry, and they live. After every meeting she reminds me that God gives us blessings in the strangest of packages. He had to give her brother cancer in order for her family to start talking to each other again.
--Hannah
PS Literally seconds before I was about to hit "Publish Post" I recieved a Skype Call from my cousin Ali. She recently told me that she talks about Gram to many people. I think I'm going to start doing that too.
In the mean time I've revamped my blog (I did all the CSS myself -- tell me what you think!) and whipped out some VERY short video updates that needed to get done for the Lopez family. Feel free to head over to my youtube channel and check them out.
Five minutes ago I finished "My Sister's Keeper" (thank you Aunt Kristi!) with my new reading light (thank you Grandma!) and thoroughly enjoying it. Obviously it's kind of a popular book, but I'm very impressed with Jodi Picoult's writing style.
The story is about cancer; it uses medical terms that don't fit into my mouth. It highlights a loss that I've experienced twice over but haven't come to comprehend.
In the few months leading up to my departure, both of my mother's parents passed away because of that ugly six-lettered word. My grandfather died at nearly the same instant my "I Have a Dream Today" short film was being shown in the Seattle Cinerama, nearly a thousand watching faces lit by the works of future filmmakers. My grandmother died two months later, less than two weeks after my 18th birthday and the standing ovation I received for my high school graduation speech.
Although I am now a legal adult, I still have a fully functioning imagination. It's amazing how easily I can conjure a whole story line in my head, how in my daydreams I can laugh with kids at Harry Potter Camp, how I can taste the inside jokes my future friends and I will share at college.
That's what I've done since Gram and Granddad died. I've always seen myself bursting through the door at the top of their hill, stooping to wrap my long arms around my stout mother's mother, dodging Granddad's knobby nose and the protruding tufts of white hair tucked inside. They'd ask me about my flight from Costa Rica and I would have to repeat myself three, maybe four times. We'd munch on Christmas Candy Corn that Gram purchased from the Rainbow Store at the end of April, the "Phantom of the Opera" soundtrack filling in the generation gap. They'd both trounce me in Upwords, but I would come away smarter because of it.
We wouldn't need to touch that smoldering R.O.U.S. that is politics because I've learned here that arguments are a terrible excuse for a selfish waste of energy. Maybe we'd go get Ivar's. Maybe we'd go to Breakfast Club the next day. I'd tell Gram about the matching tattoos Ali and I drawing up in our mother's honor, and that if it wasn't for their mother, none of us would exist. Granddad would scold at that, but deep down he'd be jealous.
Gram would finally open up to me about the brother she lost in WWII and I would struggle to swallow the thought of losing Luke or Henry. She'd tell me stories about Great-Grandmother and her art and her style.
We'd talk about how my sports teams did without me this year and how much my cousin Jensen knows. They'd remind me about being a good Presbyterian and I'd smile. I'd recite "i carry your heart with me (i carry it in" by e.e. cummings and memories would swell in my grandfather's eyes.
But that's in my mind. I can write it in my diary come May 4, but it would be a false memory. If I ever have the pleasure of opening their door, stepping into that sanctuary home, it will be empty of the TV dinner trays, the floral chair that beckoned fort-building, the wicker penguin basket we all wore on our heads, and the stack of "Where's Waldo?" books that every grandchild has memorized.
They won't get to hold my college diploma or cross-examine my first boyfriend. They didn't get to see Luke play tuba at homecoming or laugh at Henry's latest crazy computer creation. My youngest cousin Harry will most-likely only hold faded memories of them, torn around the edges with time.
With the exception of a very powerful prayer in Lorena's arms and saying good-bye to my family for a second time, I haven't cried in the nearly five months I've been here. There hasn't been a day where I've missed some thing or some one so much it brings me to tears.
I'm crying now. I miss them.
There is a ruckus downstairs, caused by that word again: cancer. Except this time it's accompanied by familial laughter, shared dishes, and sore stomachs from too much of both. My host mom's brother has been battling pancreas cancer since I arrived and twice a week, she and her siblings (she is the youngest of five, just like my Valerie) gather and spend their remaining moments around a common table. They pray, they cry, and they live. After every meeting she reminds me that God gives us blessings in the strangest of packages. He had to give her brother cancer in order for her family to start talking to each other again.
--Hannah
PS Literally seconds before I was about to hit "Publish Post" I recieved a Skype Call from my cousin Ali. She recently told me that she talks about Gram to many people. I think I'm going to start doing that too.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Day 147.
Snippits about camp/life/loves:
-I'm going to miss the way people say "Que gringa mas linda! What a beautiful American girl!" when I'm having a bad hair day.
- One week. Five twelve-year-old girls. Two of them can't read. No hot water. No sheets. No pillow. No English. An average of 4.5 hours of sleep each night. Yay camp.
- Kids named Miller and Elmo.
- Pregnant girl at camp.
- Girl finds out she's pregnant at camp.
- My nose ring fell out and closed up.
- For the first time I really realized I only have on grandparent left on this planet.
- Mystery under pressure activity: Sudoku. Have I ever tried Sudoku before: No. Did I pwn: Yes. Do I need my dad to be smart: apparently not.
- 10 Cups of Hot Cocoa in 5 days.
- Agua Dulce. Sweet water. Boiled water with two heaping spoonfuls of pseudo brown sugar.
- Forgot how much preteens love the sound of flatulence.
- Today Alanna gave Jeffry (one of Carmen's sons) a laptop that my parents sent down for him after he had said he had saved a pretty penny to buy one. He was positively beaming. I wanna see his face when he's a dad for the first time, cause I don't think he could've been any more excited than he was today.
- The boy who was living with Carmen's family ran away. He's the one in my video who has the pom pom hat on his face. I don't understand how you can be so happy one second and so irrational the next.
- My girls made me let them brush their teeth after every meal at camp, but I had to repeatedly remind them to wash their hands after using the toilet.
- I want to remember how to connect with people in real life, not just onscreen or online. The people here rejuvenate me.
- Skype = Love.
- Holding people as they cried, not being able to say anything and not needing to.
- My campers have cooked more meals in their twelve years than I will by the time I'm married.
- Girls who have been in gangs know how to pack a punch.
- Watched a man carry a fridge through downtown on one shoulder with one arm.
- Hair Gel is sold in buckets.
- At the end of my rope, grasping for broken phrases that won't come to my exhausted mind. She turns to me. "Hannah, would you please pray for me in English?" Just because some one doesn't express their belief doesn't mean they can't be an answer to our prayers.
- It got down to 55 degrees today. I almost died.
- For whatever reason I found myself singing the entire "Part of Your World" song from the Little Mermaid.
- My host mom gives me Halls cough drops during sermons on Sundays. She asked me who was going to give me Halls when I went back. I laughed, "I can get Halls anywhere in the States." She paused. "I didn't ask you if you can get Halls. I asked you who is going to give you Halls."
- These are moments I'm always going to want to return to.
--Hannah
-I'm going to miss the way people say "Que gringa mas linda! What a beautiful American girl!" when I'm having a bad hair day.
- One week. Five twelve-year-old girls. Two of them can't read. No hot water. No sheets. No pillow. No English. An average of 4.5 hours of sleep each night. Yay camp.
- Kids named Miller and Elmo.
- Pregnant girl at camp.
- Girl finds out she's pregnant at camp.
- My nose ring fell out and closed up.
- For the first time I really realized I only have on grandparent left on this planet.
- Mystery under pressure activity: Sudoku. Have I ever tried Sudoku before: No. Did I pwn: Yes. Do I need my dad to be smart: apparently not.
- 10 Cups of Hot Cocoa in 5 days.
- Agua Dulce. Sweet water. Boiled water with two heaping spoonfuls of pseudo brown sugar.
- Forgot how much preteens love the sound of flatulence.
- Today Alanna gave Jeffry (one of Carmen's sons) a laptop that my parents sent down for him after he had said he had saved a pretty penny to buy one. He was positively beaming. I wanna see his face when he's a dad for the first time, cause I don't think he could've been any more excited than he was today.
- The boy who was living with Carmen's family ran away. He's the one in my video who has the pom pom hat on his face. I don't understand how you can be so happy one second and so irrational the next.
- My girls made me let them brush their teeth after every meal at camp, but I had to repeatedly remind them to wash their hands after using the toilet.
- I want to remember how to connect with people in real life, not just onscreen or online. The people here rejuvenate me.
- Skype = Love.
- Holding people as they cried, not being able to say anything and not needing to.
- My campers have cooked more meals in their twelve years than I will by the time I'm married.
- Girls who have been in gangs know how to pack a punch.
- Watched a man carry a fridge through downtown on one shoulder with one arm.
- Hair Gel is sold in buckets.
- At the end of my rope, grasping for broken phrases that won't come to my exhausted mind. She turns to me. "Hannah, would you please pray for me in English?" Just because some one doesn't express their belief doesn't mean they can't be an answer to our prayers.
- It got down to 55 degrees today. I almost died.
- For whatever reason I found myself singing the entire "Part of Your World" song from the Little Mermaid.
- My host mom gives me Halls cough drops during sermons on Sundays. She asked me who was going to give me Halls when I went back. I laughed, "I can get Halls anywhere in the States." She paused. "I didn't ask you if you can get Halls. I asked you who is going to give you Halls."
- These are moments I'm always going to want to return to.
--Hannah
Monday, January 11, 2010
Day 146.
Check it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hT4KANrDhd0
-Hannah
PS I'm starting to work on my "Why I love my life" blog finally. Sorry about the break...won't happen again.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hT4KANrDhd0
-Hannah
PS I'm starting to work on my "Why I love my life" blog finally. Sorry about the break...won't happen again.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Day 137.
My Life as of Late:
On Monday morning, I headed to el campo (the countryside) with Susie, Sarita, and Ana Virginia. Susie is a missionary with CFCI who has been here for over 40 years, Sarita is her Costa Rican best friend who speaks fluent English and Spanish, and Ana Virginia is a young woman from Pavas who teaches at the Refuge with me. We visited the hidden villages where Susie used to live for nine years, dispensing medication as a nurse to a people who had never experienced things like electricity.
The first house we stayed in was a very humble one that belonged to one of Susie's friends. The woman came from a hard past, having been abandoned by her mother, left at her grandmother's doorstep, and treated like a dog in a place that was supposed to be her "home". This led to a string of men later in life that tied to a longer string of children. Her brother finally took her in, promising a place to stay as long as she didn't get pregnant again. An older single man in the village approached her, asking if she would be willing to have a son for him. When it was obvious that she was pregnant again, she was kicked out of her brother's home and stayed with her unborn baby's father until her child's birth. As it turned out they never got a baby. They got two. And here's the real kicker -- they were both girls. One came out dark and the other a little chubby; ever since they have been known as "la gorda" and "la negra" (the fat one and the black one).
Over the years Susie watched the old father and the young mother fall in love with each other, fall in love with Christ, and then fall ill. Susie cared for her friend's husband until he died and maintained an incredible relationship with the widow.
So then, thirty years later, we showed up at her front step and she beckoned us into her home (which she shares with la negra, her son-in-law, and their six-year-old daughter). We ate hearty meals, played lots of UNO, and read and read and read piles of picture books that Susie brought with her.
Rio Naranjo (the name of the village), is squeezed between two mountains, constantly pelted by wind and rain. Because of this, absolutely no produce can be harvested (aside from grapefruits, which no one in Costa Rica eats). For this reason, la negra's husband must wake up at 2:30 every morning and bike through cold, wet darkness to his work that begins at 4 am. There, he and one other man are responsible for milking 352 cows. He returns home at eleven, takes a nap, and does the same process at one in the afternoon. He does this six days a week with no holidays.
Please think about that on Monday as you head off to your school or work place.
The next day we drove another two hours to the house of some of Susie's other friends. We called ahead of time, asking if we were intruding on "family time" (the few days after Christmas). We were assured that no, the house was more than open. When we arrived though, it turned out over ten family members had come to visit. By the end, I felt like one of them.
We attended a large birthday party full of music, laughter, and ceviche (raw fish soaked in lemon juice until the acid cooks it through). At one point, a young boy approached me. This was our conversation:
Boy: You're tall.
Me: Yes, I am tall.
Boy: Is that why you talk so funny?
Me: Haha no...that's because I'm a gringa.
Boy: You're from the United States?!
Me: Yes I am. Do you know many people from the United States?
Boy: No.
Me: How many do you know?
Boy: You're the first.
The next day we returned to San Jose, driving five hours through pineapple patches, volcano silhouettes, and sunsets and moonrises.
My host family had flown to Panama the day I left on my little adventure, so I came home to an empty house. I rocked out on my ukulele, had lots of late night Skype convos, and made a serious dent in our stock of sweetened condensed milk. Bleh.
New Years Eve I went over to Carmen's family's house, eating and tickling and living the Carpio life until two in the morning. We watched 300 and 2012, ate fistfulls of colored marshmallows, and set off bottle rockets in actual coke bottles in their living room. I have video proof.
The following morning we learned that one of their neighbors, a young man who had gone to camp with me six years ago and had recently joined a gang, was murdered during the night one bus stop away.
Think about that the next time you breathe.
New Years Day I went with Jeffry (one of Carmen's sons) to meet up with Phil, a boy who went to Sojourn with me when I was here in seventh grade. He's visiting his mom who still lives here and agreed to help me with some network problems (he's studying computer engineering). Long story short, we realized that Phil's dad taught Jeffry's dad in a computer class and Phil actually attended Carmen and Cesar's wedding as a young boy. So we stayed an hour longer and enjoyed some of Carmen's tamales.
To wrap up, I'm going to throw up a few more random observations:
- Bullfighting happens 24/7 on TV here during the week before/after Christmas. It's unbearable to watch.
- I left Slumdog Millionaire at Carmen's house while Phil and I worked on the computers. When we came back, they had just started watching it for the third time.
- Mosquitoes make me look like a lepers.
- Many people think Costa Rica's national sport is soccer. I think it's UNO.
- MY ROOMMATE!
- McDonald's delivers here.
- Fireworks never stop.
- I now eat tomatoes like apples.
- Camp starts tomorrow.
- It ends Friday.
- HOLY CRAP.
--Hannah
On Monday morning, I headed to el campo (the countryside) with Susie, Sarita, and Ana Virginia. Susie is a missionary with CFCI who has been here for over 40 years, Sarita is her Costa Rican best friend who speaks fluent English and Spanish, and Ana Virginia is a young woman from Pavas who teaches at the Refuge with me. We visited the hidden villages where Susie used to live for nine years, dispensing medication as a nurse to a people who had never experienced things like electricity.
The first house we stayed in was a very humble one that belonged to one of Susie's friends. The woman came from a hard past, having been abandoned by her mother, left at her grandmother's doorstep, and treated like a dog in a place that was supposed to be her "home". This led to a string of men later in life that tied to a longer string of children. Her brother finally took her in, promising a place to stay as long as she didn't get pregnant again. An older single man in the village approached her, asking if she would be willing to have a son for him. When it was obvious that she was pregnant again, she was kicked out of her brother's home and stayed with her unborn baby's father until her child's birth. As it turned out they never got a baby. They got two. And here's the real kicker -- they were both girls. One came out dark and the other a little chubby; ever since they have been known as "la gorda" and "la negra" (the fat one and the black one).
Over the years Susie watched the old father and the young mother fall in love with each other, fall in love with Christ, and then fall ill. Susie cared for her friend's husband until he died and maintained an incredible relationship with the widow.
So then, thirty years later, we showed up at her front step and she beckoned us into her home (which she shares with la negra, her son-in-law, and their six-year-old daughter). We ate hearty meals, played lots of UNO, and read and read and read piles of picture books that Susie brought with her.
Rio Naranjo (the name of the village), is squeezed between two mountains, constantly pelted by wind and rain. Because of this, absolutely no produce can be harvested (aside from grapefruits, which no one in Costa Rica eats). For this reason, la negra's husband must wake up at 2:30 every morning and bike through cold, wet darkness to his work that begins at 4 am. There, he and one other man are responsible for milking 352 cows. He returns home at eleven, takes a nap, and does the same process at one in the afternoon. He does this six days a week with no holidays.
Please think about that on Monday as you head off to your school or work place.
The next day we drove another two hours to the house of some of Susie's other friends. We called ahead of time, asking if we were intruding on "family time" (the few days after Christmas). We were assured that no, the house was more than open. When we arrived though, it turned out over ten family members had come to visit. By the end, I felt like one of them.
We attended a large birthday party full of music, laughter, and ceviche (raw fish soaked in lemon juice until the acid cooks it through). At one point, a young boy approached me. This was our conversation:
Boy: You're tall.
Me: Yes, I am tall.
Boy: Is that why you talk so funny?
Me: Haha no...that's because I'm a gringa.
Boy: You're from the United States?!
Me: Yes I am. Do you know many people from the United States?
Boy: No.
Me: How many do you know?
Boy: You're the first.
The next day we returned to San Jose, driving five hours through pineapple patches, volcano silhouettes, and sunsets and moonrises.
My host family had flown to Panama the day I left on my little adventure, so I came home to an empty house. I rocked out on my ukulele, had lots of late night Skype convos, and made a serious dent in our stock of sweetened condensed milk. Bleh.
New Years Eve I went over to Carmen's family's house, eating and tickling and living the Carpio life until two in the morning. We watched 300 and 2012, ate fistfulls of colored marshmallows, and set off bottle rockets in actual coke bottles in their living room. I have video proof.
The following morning we learned that one of their neighbors, a young man who had gone to camp with me six years ago and had recently joined a gang, was murdered during the night one bus stop away.
Think about that the next time you breathe.
New Years Day I went with Jeffry (one of Carmen's sons) to meet up with Phil, a boy who went to Sojourn with me when I was here in seventh grade. He's visiting his mom who still lives here and agreed to help me with some network problems (he's studying computer engineering). Long story short, we realized that Phil's dad taught Jeffry's dad in a computer class and Phil actually attended Carmen and Cesar's wedding as a young boy. So we stayed an hour longer and enjoyed some of Carmen's tamales.
To wrap up, I'm going to throw up a few more random observations:
- Bullfighting happens 24/7 on TV here during the week before/after Christmas. It's unbearable to watch.
- I left Slumdog Millionaire at Carmen's house while Phil and I worked on the computers. When we came back, they had just started watching it for the third time.
- Mosquitoes make me look like a lepers.
- Many people think Costa Rica's national sport is soccer. I think it's UNO.
- MY ROOMMATE!
- McDonald's delivers here.
- Fireworks never stop.
- I now eat tomatoes like apples.
- Camp starts tomorrow.
- It ends Friday.
- HOLY CRAP.
--Hannah
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