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