Sharks look disarmingly languid as they move through the water. At least until they see something they want, or are made curious by some movement that is nearby.
In New York, when they talk about someone swimming with the fishes, its a rather permanent state of being, you know.
Playa del Coco sits on nearly the northern most point of the northern penninsula. It is far less developed than many of the beaches to it's south, Tamarindo having become one of the more developed enclaves of monied foreign nationals with it's white sands and gleaming high-rises.
Coco's sand is, well, coco-colored - making the place look a little dirty, like someone forgot to wash the beach. There is, of course, commercialization, (you can't have a beach without people figuring out how to cash in on it), but not nearly as much as some of the less-accessable and more highly-developed beaches on the penninsula. Coco is quickly becoming a haven for divers and sport's fisher-folk due to the wide variety of marine life so easily accessible around the spectacular islands that rise from the sea-bed. One of them, when seen from the shore, looks like a giant turtle, and is aptly named, Tortuga Island.
We boarded the public bus in San Jose. The price for a trip almost across the country was about $6.50. A nice big bus with fairly comfortable seats and an air-conditioning system that was operated manually -- by opening the windows. When we boarded the bus was about half full. But along the way more and more people kept getting on, until there was a cue of bodies down the entire center aisle of the bus. Finally, I could not help myself and offered a seat to one of the young women, who, taking me up on the offer, sat down, and immediately went to sleep. As it happened, I only had to stand for about thirty or forty minutes before a seat was made available by someone getting off the bus, and I was able to ride the rest of the way with my friends, Kelsey and Aaron.
Kelsey is a junior at Baylor University, studying to be a teacher. An remarkable young woman who has, at one time, spent six weeks in Morocco on a mission trip. Her goal in teaching is to work with inner-city or other youth who might otherwise be shunted aside due to the many wounds that poverty inflicts. She's here immersing herself in spanish so she can be more effective at her job. Quite a bright light.
Aaron is fifteen and a sophomore in Boise, Idaho. His mother was with him for a week of spanish classes, until she felt safe leaving him alone in a foreign country to do two more weeks of immersion. Little did she know we would whisk him half-way across the country for a weekend at the beach. I think he cleared it with her by email before we left. At least he said he had.
When I told them what I was planning to do for the weekend, both decided that it might be fun to spend the weekend on the beach, and so we booked some rooms, bought our tickets, and began our adventure.
The place we found to stay is called Laura's House. It is an eight-room bed and breakfast (cost: $40 per night for a double) with a staff that is very accomodating. As a matter-of-fact, when they discovered that we were studying spanish, they went out of their way to keep us in practice, even though the proprieter could speak English very well. When I would start to say something, she would say, "In espanol, por favor."
The place had a nice pool, real air-condtioning, breakfast and wi-fi included, and perhaps the best shower I have experienced in two times in Costa Rica. And you needed the showers because the fine, brown sand coats everything it touches and you can't walk three feet in the dense air without prespiring through everything in which you are dressed.
Aaron and Kelsey were there just to hang out and breathe in the local air. My main goal, however, was, perhaps, a little more ambitious.
I booked a three-tank boat dive for Saturday, beginning at 7:30 a.m. I got up as quietly as I could so as not to disturb Aaron, who was so sound asleep that I could probably been a brass band in full throat and not have disturbed him, and headed for the dive shop.
There I met a young man from Canada who is working on his instructors credentials and so has committed to working at the shop for free for three months, getting his dives in and helping with the dives for the those just doing exploration dives (no certification necessary and just brief instruction landward before being taken out by a master diver and assistant). Another young man, Owen, was from Boston. The owner, whom I met later, was a tall woman from Germany. I think most of the businesses in Coco seem to be owned by foreign nationals, and operated by a conglomeration of Ticos and others who may or may not be there for very long.
I was told before the dive that the waters would not be clear and blue like those I had experienced in Cozumel or Boca Chica, but that we were likely to see a large variety of marine life, including star fish, eagle wrays, barracuda, shark, lobster, tortuga (turtles), etc.
I was not disappointed.
The beginning of the dive was a little rough given the fact that I hadn't done it for more than a year, and was a bit rusty on the procedures, coupled with being very excited. So it took me a little while to settle my breathing and relax. But once down around 25 meters, it all came back to me, and Miguel, my dive-master, and I, just explored the waters of Coco. There was another group with us on the boat, but they were taken separately on their dive because none were certified and were, therefore, much more limited in where they could go.
Almost immediately Miguel began pointing to our left, and when I turned was greeted by the sleekly-moving form of a white-tipped shark, amblling along paying us no attention whatsoever. It made me a little nervous to turn my back on it as it slid past. Within seconds it had circled round and was having another pass, this time about five yards closer. Miquel, in the meantime, was trying to show me a rockfish that had half-buried itself in the sand. I decided if he wasn't worried, I needn't be. I guess we must not have looked as appetizing as I thought I did, and the toothy preditor ambled up a slope in search of more succulent 'comida' (food).
We saw so many different kinds of fish, and other marine life. The colorful coral was not as prominent, nor the different kinds of coral I had experienced on Planchar Reef, but it was none-the-less spectacular. Before long I checked my meter and noticed that it was time to head for the boat. We did, and took an hour, eating fresh pinapple and drinking lots of water, before motoring to another island and heading down for the second dive.
This time we saw a small eagle wray gliding along with a trumpet fish sitting like a second spine along it's back, lots more rock fish, starfish, sea horses, etc. and then, coming up over a mound of coral, three rather large white tips lounging on the bottom. By the time we saw them we were less than five feet from them. We just kept still and watched them as one and then another foraged out for a little ways and then swam back. Again, they paid no more attention to us than as if we were rocks or some very uninteresting form of sea life. It was amazing to be that close. One was small, about two meters. The others were about three to five meters each.
At one point, later in the dive, we came upon what appeared to be a wall of stone about three meters in front of us, and stretching to about four meters up from the sea-bed. It wasn't a wall at all, but a school of fish - hundreds of them, who never even moved until I reached out to touch one, and then, as one, sailed like a flock of birds around us and out of reach. I thought of that scene in 'Finding Nemo' when the school of fish, who were like Dora, formed an arrow pointing them toward Austrailia.
The third dive produced for us a very fat, very slow-swimming tortuga with whom we wandered for several minutes, and, again, two or three white-tips. Since we did each dive in a different location, several miles apart from each other, the scenery was always different. For instance, this one sported a wreck and when we floated over the open holds, we could see hundreds of fish, a different type in each of the six holds. I wanted to swim down in, but that would have to wait for another time.
The dives have only served to whet my appetite for more. Before I leave here I hope to do some in the clearer waters to the south, or at the spectacular reefs to the far north. Whether or not I get the chance, I have at least experienced what I had hoped, but still will probably not be satisfied until I can do more.
Havng Kelsey and Aaron share the weekend was a real blessing. I never mind being by myself, but it's always more fun when you have others with whom to share. Some of my best times when I was here before were those shared with Steven Battle and his family, and with Ancilla and Pablo and Alex at Tortugero.
Kelsey and I plan to do a few more trips before Kelsey leaves, including perhaps, a twenty mile hike to the festival of Santa Maria in Cartago. This festival will have more than a million people crammed into this tiny village around the spectacular little basillica, to celebrate the Miracle of the Virgin. The roads between Nicaraqua and Cartago will be closed to traffic to accomodate the pilgrims WALKING all the way from Nicaragua to Cartago. We figure if they can do that, we can make the twenty miles on foot.
We will see!
That's enough for now.
The rain has stopped and I really should get to the homework for tomorrow.
Via con Dios, mis amigos. Go with God.
One who 'swam with the fishes' and lived to tell about it.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Hospitality is not a lost art
Buenas noches, mis amigos.
Que pasa! Para mi, esta bien.
It's been a little while since I posted last. Haven't been doing much except studying and hanging out with some of the other students. They are, of course, tons younger than me, but seem to put up with the geeezer hanging around. We've been to San Jose several times, viewed a few museums and eaten at several interesting little places. This weekend I plan to take off on my own across country to Guanacaste, to Playa de Coco to do some scuba diving. It's been more than a year since I've dived, so I'll have to do some reading and boning up on the rules and signs, although I'll be doing dives with a dive master so they'll go over everything with me. Looking forward to it. The place I'm headed has sharks, eagle wrays, dolphin, and even whales this time of year. Should be spectacular.
Yesterday I had a wonderful experience.
Back in Stillwater there is a group of women who have been friends for a long time. They get together periodically to hang out and just talk, eat, drink a little wine. As far as I have been able to ascertain, their main purpose in being together is indeed a noble one: it is to remind themselves that one of the most precious gifts in the world is to have good friends, and one of the most necessary roles a person can have is to be a good friend. If anything else comes out of their association (and plenty does) well that's just gravy. They fondly call themselves "the biddies" and have allowed a few others of us to benefit from what happens when they are together. I will not divulge names, except to say that I count all of them among my most cherished of friends, which means that their main objective noted above, is indeed fully functional.
Yesterday I met 'the biddies' of San Jose, Costa Rica.
Sunday afternoon Nury's sister was by the house and she and Nury invited me to go with them to take a leisurely afternoon drive to see someplacae whose name I never did quite catch, but which was advertised by both of them to be "muy lindo" (very precious and beautiful). They had to stop at one of their friends houses first, "but just for un poco minutos".
We got to the friends house, were offered libation (beer for Nury, wine for her sister and I, beer for our hostess. They started talking (spanish of course). They touched on lots of things. We were then offered some prochuto (probably spelled wrong) wrapped around some cheese chunks, some olives, and a "little more (wine, beer). They continued to talk. Got into some political discussion in which it was clear even to the casual observer, that they were on opposite sides. A little more wine. A little more beer. A little more food.
Well, we had arrived at two. At six-thirty we finally left, with the little bag of something they had stopped to retrieve, and never did get to the 'muy lindo' place we were supposed to have visited. It was great!
So, then, yesterday, Nury said her sister had invited she an I to the little hotel she owns and operates, for a homemade meal, after which we might take in a concert at the Teatro Nationale.
In a pouring rain we caught a cab right after I got home from class (about 1:00 p.m.) We arrive at the little hotel (seventeen rooms, with free wi-fi, free breakfast, hot showers, etc. about 10 blocks from the center of town, all for the whopping price of $14 per day.) and another of Nury's sisters was there, along with the friend whose home we had visited on Sunday. We all greeted each other with the typical latin kiss to both cheeks. In a few minutes we were joined by another friend, whom they affectionately call 'the China' (because she is part asian). Everyone had brought something to add to the meal.
Within moments it dawned on me that I had been invited to one of the meetings of 'the biddies'. We had wine. We had beer (my could those ladies drink beer) and we had a wonderful meal, the center piece of which was hand-made gnoche (potatoes grated and rolled with three kinds of cheese and a little garlic and lots of butter, then rolled out into a long tubular shape and cut into finger-sized pieces and boiled like dumplings, upon which was poured a simple sauce of crushed tomato, garlic, bacon, and olive oil). The information in parentheses are for a couple of my friends who love to cook.
But the main ingredient of the day was the conversation, delivered in spanish(of course) and a breakneck speed, usually involving three to five of them talking at the same time. The level of the conversation rose or fell depending on the subject and the passion with which each individual was invested in the subject. I understood that they were talking about: husbands/lovers/boyfriends, shoes, manicuring tips, politics. sex, rememberances of times past, recycling, fashion, children, grandchildren,jewelry and accessorizing, and a range of other topics that kept them all laughing, drinking, eating, and generally enjoying the company of one another.
They told stories on each other, some of which they translated so I could get in on the fun. One was of a time the five of them took a vacation weekend together to the home of another friend, who own a particulary annoying duck, kept in the house as a pet. Finally la China had had enough of its quacking and began to feed the feathered annoyance part of her beer. The duck got reeling drunk, and when the owner saw it falling down and asked what might be wrong with it, all of them denied any knowledge. I don't know if they ever told the truth.
It was a marvelous experience and I felt privileged to have been invited to be part of it.
Hospitality is a way of life here, not just something you do for points or to insure a return. Nury is a prime example. She opens her home, and her heart, to those of us who come here seeking to add something to our lives and are far from home. She makes us a haven and invites us to share her life. I am truly grateful.
That's enough for now.
Next time I hope to be able to tell you about swimming with the fishes.
Until then,
cherish your friends. And the best way to do that is to be one.
That's my sermon for the day.
Adios, amigos
Que le vaya bien (take care of yourselves)
The wandering Aramean
Que pasa! Para mi, esta bien.
It's been a little while since I posted last. Haven't been doing much except studying and hanging out with some of the other students. They are, of course, tons younger than me, but seem to put up with the geeezer hanging around. We've been to San Jose several times, viewed a few museums and eaten at several interesting little places. This weekend I plan to take off on my own across country to Guanacaste, to Playa de Coco to do some scuba diving. It's been more than a year since I've dived, so I'll have to do some reading and boning up on the rules and signs, although I'll be doing dives with a dive master so they'll go over everything with me. Looking forward to it. The place I'm headed has sharks, eagle wrays, dolphin, and even whales this time of year. Should be spectacular.
Yesterday I had a wonderful experience.
Back in Stillwater there is a group of women who have been friends for a long time. They get together periodically to hang out and just talk, eat, drink a little wine. As far as I have been able to ascertain, their main purpose in being together is indeed a noble one: it is to remind themselves that one of the most precious gifts in the world is to have good friends, and one of the most necessary roles a person can have is to be a good friend. If anything else comes out of their association (and plenty does) well that's just gravy. They fondly call themselves "the biddies" and have allowed a few others of us to benefit from what happens when they are together. I will not divulge names, except to say that I count all of them among my most cherished of friends, which means that their main objective noted above, is indeed fully functional.
Yesterday I met 'the biddies' of San Jose, Costa Rica.
Sunday afternoon Nury's sister was by the house and she and Nury invited me to go with them to take a leisurely afternoon drive to see someplacae whose name I never did quite catch, but which was advertised by both of them to be "muy lindo" (very precious and beautiful). They had to stop at one of their friends houses first, "but just for un poco minutos".
We got to the friends house, were offered libation (beer for Nury, wine for her sister and I, beer for our hostess. They started talking (spanish of course). They touched on lots of things. We were then offered some prochuto (probably spelled wrong) wrapped around some cheese chunks, some olives, and a "little more (wine, beer). They continued to talk. Got into some political discussion in which it was clear even to the casual observer, that they were on opposite sides. A little more wine. A little more beer. A little more food.
Well, we had arrived at two. At six-thirty we finally left, with the little bag of something they had stopped to retrieve, and never did get to the 'muy lindo' place we were supposed to have visited. It was great!
So, then, yesterday, Nury said her sister had invited she an I to the little hotel she owns and operates, for a homemade meal, after which we might take in a concert at the Teatro Nationale.
In a pouring rain we caught a cab right after I got home from class (about 1:00 p.m.) We arrive at the little hotel (seventeen rooms, with free wi-fi, free breakfast, hot showers, etc. about 10 blocks from the center of town, all for the whopping price of $14 per day.) and another of Nury's sisters was there, along with the friend whose home we had visited on Sunday. We all greeted each other with the typical latin kiss to both cheeks. In a few minutes we were joined by another friend, whom they affectionately call 'the China' (because she is part asian). Everyone had brought something to add to the meal.
Within moments it dawned on me that I had been invited to one of the meetings of 'the biddies'. We had wine. We had beer (my could those ladies drink beer) and we had a wonderful meal, the center piece of which was hand-made gnoche (potatoes grated and rolled with three kinds of cheese and a little garlic and lots of butter, then rolled out into a long tubular shape and cut into finger-sized pieces and boiled like dumplings, upon which was poured a simple sauce of crushed tomato, garlic, bacon, and olive oil). The information in parentheses are for a couple of my friends who love to cook.
But the main ingredient of the day was the conversation, delivered in spanish(of course) and a breakneck speed, usually involving three to five of them talking at the same time. The level of the conversation rose or fell depending on the subject and the passion with which each individual was invested in the subject. I understood that they were talking about: husbands/lovers/boyfriends, shoes, manicuring tips, politics. sex, rememberances of times past, recycling, fashion, children, grandchildren,jewelry and accessorizing, and a range of other topics that kept them all laughing, drinking, eating, and generally enjoying the company of one another.
They told stories on each other, some of which they translated so I could get in on the fun. One was of a time the five of them took a vacation weekend together to the home of another friend, who own a particulary annoying duck, kept in the house as a pet. Finally la China had had enough of its quacking and began to feed the feathered annoyance part of her beer. The duck got reeling drunk, and when the owner saw it falling down and asked what might be wrong with it, all of them denied any knowledge. I don't know if they ever told the truth.
It was a marvelous experience and I felt privileged to have been invited to be part of it.
Hospitality is a way of life here, not just something you do for points or to insure a return. Nury is a prime example. She opens her home, and her heart, to those of us who come here seeking to add something to our lives and are far from home. She makes us a haven and invites us to share her life. I am truly grateful.
That's enough for now.
Next time I hope to be able to tell you about swimming with the fishes.
Until then,
cherish your friends. And the best way to do that is to be one.
That's my sermon for the day.
Adios, amigos
Que le vaya bien (take care of yourselves)
The wandering Aramean
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Reality Checks and Other Interesting Occurances
I've been in Costa Rica since Friday. I've spent a lot of time just wandering around and reaquainting myself with familiar places, gotten used to using the local currency, and immersed myself in the local cuisine. I always make it a point when I'm out of the country to never, never eat anyplace that I could go to eat in the United States. Much more fun that way.
Today I went into San Jose' to take in one of the museums I had not seen before. I had walked quite a bit, when it started to rain, so I decided to give it up and catch the bus back home before it really got started.
Did I mention that it rains a little here?
San Jose' and it's suburbs sits in a bowl between the mountains on all four sides. Every day the clouds roll in from the coasts, like a peddler whose sacks are absolutely bursting at the seams. At some point during the day you know that he's going to dump it all out.
Sometimes it's like a gentle, steady shower and just tinkles on the ground, but more often, and especially in the rainy season (October/November) it comes down in a deluge which, if you happen to be caught out in it, even with an umbrella, you emerge soaked to the skin.
Today it turned out to be more on the gentle side, so I could have stayed in San Jose, but I need to remind myself that it's really only day two here, and I've got a lot of time to take in the sights, shop, watch the people. Avienda Central is a pedestrian walk that goes for a couple of miles and is a I've found several restaurants where I can sip a glass of wine and watch the parade of Ticos for as long as I want. A lovelly way to spend part of an afternoon.
One year when I was in Lyons, Kansas, a donkey basketball troupe came through town and several in the congregation thought it would be a really neat idea to field a team and donate the proceeds from the gate to charity.
I don't know if you've ever seen a donkey basketball game. It consists of idiots like myself perched atop these critters while trying to move up and down a court carrying or passing the ball until someone is finally able to score. The animals, are, I believe, spawns of the devil, who have been trained to make it as difficult as possible to do anything, so you end up looking stupid and giving everyone in the audience, and the donkeys themselves, a good belly-laugh.
The creature upon which I was mounted was particularly diabolical. It never went when I wanted it to go, then, all of a sudden would take off and bounce my increasingly sore rear-end all over the place. At one point it decided, I suppose, that this particular idiot no longer derserved to be a rider, and bucked me backwards with no apology whatsoever. I landed on my knees, and as I wrenched myself up to attempt to mount the beast again, it gave me a good swift kick in the shins which sent me crashing to the floor again, this time on my nose which proceeded to bleed like a vampire's dream. I lay on the floor for a while and finally stauched the bleeding and crawled to the sidelines where I spent the rest of the game wishing for something stronger than water.
Fortunately nothing was broken. But for days my shins and ankles resembled two black and blue bowling pins turned upside-down, and bore little resemblance to legs at all. Of course everyone in the congregation thought it a real hoot.
Reality checks can be like that, sometimes.
My first day of class certainly was.
The school, of course, had a record of the level to which I had progressed the last time I was here, and so put me in a class the next level up.
Oh, my!!!
I was out of my comfort zone by about ten miles, and gasping for breath within the first two minutes, like a pelican coated with some of BC's best.
For one thing, the class was filled with high school and college students who have all had years of Spanish and who understood everything la maestra said - no sweat. They were busily learning the subjunctive something something case and I was totally lost.
So at the first break I quickly went to the administration and explained that maybe I needed to wratchet back a notch. So, then, instead of Intermediate II I was tossed into Intermediate I where there were more of them (the young, spanish-speaking, comfortable ones) and a maestra asking questions at a pace that left me wondering if I would ever catch up. When she would say something to me, I could get part of it, but not enough to respond in any intellegent way. Instead, I sat there like I was dipped in liquid nitrogen and usually, finally stammered "uhhh, lo siento. No comprendo." (Sorry, I do not understand) After four hours of straining my brain, I just kind of checked out in my mind and began to fret over the price I was paying to be priveleged to endure this humiliation.
After class I started walking to sweat out my frustration. I decided to try some different directions, and for a while was very lost, but finally began to work my way back until things began to look familiar.
In the process I decided that the best tack for me was perhaps to
hold myself back for a couple of grades and backtrack through some of the familiar and move at a slower pace, until I feel comfortable to move on.
Emma agreed, and today I was much more comfortable. I ended up in a class (Beginner II) with the couple that is staying here, in Nury's house, along with me. They are from Washington, near Seattle, and both teachers. Wonderful couple and very easy to get to know. They are here just for two weeks and it was nice being in their class and feeling like I knew what I was doing.
Again, I need to remind myself - IT'S ONLY THE SECOND DAY!!
It's just so hard to waddle like a turkey when you were so sure you were going to soar like an eagle.
Costa Rica is a such beautiful place, and I feel so lucky to be able to spend some time here. There are so many more things I want to do and see this time. I want to take it all in and have the time of my life.
Who knows, this retirement gig could get to be habit-forming.
Hasta luego, mis amigos
El Pavo (the turkey)
Today I went into San Jose' to take in one of the museums I had not seen before. I had walked quite a bit, when it started to rain, so I decided to give it up and catch the bus back home before it really got started.
Did I mention that it rains a little here?
San Jose' and it's suburbs sits in a bowl between the mountains on all four sides. Every day the clouds roll in from the coasts, like a peddler whose sacks are absolutely bursting at the seams. At some point during the day you know that he's going to dump it all out.
Sometimes it's like a gentle, steady shower and just tinkles on the ground, but more often, and especially in the rainy season (October/November) it comes down in a deluge which, if you happen to be caught out in it, even with an umbrella, you emerge soaked to the skin.
Today it turned out to be more on the gentle side, so I could have stayed in San Jose, but I need to remind myself that it's really only day two here, and I've got a lot of time to take in the sights, shop, watch the people. Avienda Central is a pedestrian walk that goes for a couple of miles and is a I've found several restaurants where I can sip a glass of wine and watch the parade of Ticos for as long as I want. A lovelly way to spend part of an afternoon.
One year when I was in Lyons, Kansas, a donkey basketball troupe came through town and several in the congregation thought it would be a really neat idea to field a team and donate the proceeds from the gate to charity.
I don't know if you've ever seen a donkey basketball game. It consists of idiots like myself perched atop these critters while trying to move up and down a court carrying or passing the ball until someone is finally able to score. The animals, are, I believe, spawns of the devil, who have been trained to make it as difficult as possible to do anything, so you end up looking stupid and giving everyone in the audience, and the donkeys themselves, a good belly-laugh.
The creature upon which I was mounted was particularly diabolical. It never went when I wanted it to go, then, all of a sudden would take off and bounce my increasingly sore rear-end all over the place. At one point it decided, I suppose, that this particular idiot no longer derserved to be a rider, and bucked me backwards with no apology whatsoever. I landed on my knees, and as I wrenched myself up to attempt to mount the beast again, it gave me a good swift kick in the shins which sent me crashing to the floor again, this time on my nose which proceeded to bleed like a vampire's dream. I lay on the floor for a while and finally stauched the bleeding and crawled to the sidelines where I spent the rest of the game wishing for something stronger than water.
Fortunately nothing was broken. But for days my shins and ankles resembled two black and blue bowling pins turned upside-down, and bore little resemblance to legs at all. Of course everyone in the congregation thought it a real hoot.
Reality checks can be like that, sometimes.
My first day of class certainly was.
The school, of course, had a record of the level to which I had progressed the last time I was here, and so put me in a class the next level up.
Oh, my!!!
I was out of my comfort zone by about ten miles, and gasping for breath within the first two minutes, like a pelican coated with some of BC's best.
For one thing, the class was filled with high school and college students who have all had years of Spanish and who understood everything la maestra said - no sweat. They were busily learning the subjunctive something something case and I was totally lost.
So at the first break I quickly went to the administration and explained that maybe I needed to wratchet back a notch. So, then, instead of Intermediate II I was tossed into Intermediate I where there were more of them (the young, spanish-speaking, comfortable ones) and a maestra asking questions at a pace that left me wondering if I would ever catch up. When she would say something to me, I could get part of it, but not enough to respond in any intellegent way. Instead, I sat there like I was dipped in liquid nitrogen and usually, finally stammered "uhhh, lo siento. No comprendo." (Sorry, I do not understand) After four hours of straining my brain, I just kind of checked out in my mind and began to fret over the price I was paying to be priveleged to endure this humiliation.
After class I started walking to sweat out my frustration. I decided to try some different directions, and for a while was very lost, but finally began to work my way back until things began to look familiar.
In the process I decided that the best tack for me was perhaps to
hold myself back for a couple of grades and backtrack through some of the familiar and move at a slower pace, until I feel comfortable to move on.
Emma agreed, and today I was much more comfortable. I ended up in a class (Beginner II) with the couple that is staying here, in Nury's house, along with me. They are from Washington, near Seattle, and both teachers. Wonderful couple and very easy to get to know. They are here just for two weeks and it was nice being in their class and feeling like I knew what I was doing.
Again, I need to remind myself - IT'S ONLY THE SECOND DAY!!
It's just so hard to waddle like a turkey when you were so sure you were going to soar like an eagle.
Costa Rica is a such beautiful place, and I feel so lucky to be able to spend some time here. There are so many more things I want to do and see this time. I want to take it all in and have the time of my life.
Who knows, this retirement gig could get to be habit-forming.
Hasta luego, mis amigos
El Pavo (the turkey)
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Well, here we are again, on the brink of new discovery and the beginning of a new chapter in life.
Retirement has yet to set in. I've been moving too fast to get everything wrapped up, boxed up, cleaned up, and moved out, as well as making the last-minute preparations for my second trip to Costa Rica, with the express purpose of getting more comfortable and fluent in Spanish. But to do so I'm first going to have to take a moment to breathe in the new air and relax into the learning opportunity. I have yet to do that. Maybe after tomorrow, when the trip is behind me and I've got a chance to just sit and take in the view of the mountains and breathe the air of San Jose, I'll begin to let go of the tension and open myself to the possibility.
Of course, that's only half of the process. The other half is letting go of myself enough to allow me to make the mistakes and live with the humiliation. I couldn't do that the last time out, so the language remained 'academic study' and never moved into the level of conversation. This time has to be different.
Am I setting myself up for failure? Will the new air give me a new confidence? Will I just let go and let it flow through me? That's the question.
The answer waits for Costa Rica.
I'm going back! And that, my friends, is reason enough for celebration.
I want to see new things, meet new people, express myself in a different language and enjoy the wonderful culture again. Pictures will be posted. Events will receive reflection, and you and I will explore together this new reality.
I look forward to sharing the journey.
And so, to bed.
Rick
7/8/2010
Four Points by Sheridan at Will Rogers World Airport
Retirement has yet to set in. I've been moving too fast to get everything wrapped up, boxed up, cleaned up, and moved out, as well as making the last-minute preparations for my second trip to Costa Rica, with the express purpose of getting more comfortable and fluent in Spanish. But to do so I'm first going to have to take a moment to breathe in the new air and relax into the learning opportunity. I have yet to do that. Maybe after tomorrow, when the trip is behind me and I've got a chance to just sit and take in the view of the mountains and breathe the air of San Jose, I'll begin to let go of the tension and open myself to the possibility.
Of course, that's only half of the process. The other half is letting go of myself enough to allow me to make the mistakes and live with the humiliation. I couldn't do that the last time out, so the language remained 'academic study' and never moved into the level of conversation. This time has to be different.
Am I setting myself up for failure? Will the new air give me a new confidence? Will I just let go and let it flow through me? That's the question.
The answer waits for Costa Rica.
I'm going back! And that, my friends, is reason enough for celebration.
I want to see new things, meet new people, express myself in a different language and enjoy the wonderful culture again. Pictures will be posted. Events will receive reflection, and you and I will explore together this new reality.
I look forward to sharing the journey.
And so, to bed.
Rick
7/8/2010
Four Points by Sheridan at Will Rogers World Airport
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