So, I’ve been MIA for about three weeks, but I’m finally back in San José. Just a head’s up – this blog is going to be a little long. But I just have so much to say!
This past month I have been living with a family in Paso-Llano of San José de La Montaña outside of Heredia for my internship. My mom and dad (I found out later are actually third cousins. Weird.) have five children. One of them lives with them, José Alberto, 33 years old. The three daughters and other son all live within a couple feet of each other. The neighbors are family. There were children running everywhere. That was actually kind of fun sometimes. Originally, I was assigned to work in a flower farm for this time, but because there has been so much rain, many of the flowers are diseased and they didn’t want me working in there, so I could avoid getting sick. So instead, my internship was being a housewife.
Yippee. Kind of.
Every morning I woke up around seven and ate breakfast, which usually consisted of buttered bread, tortillas and eggs, or gallo pinto). After eating, I would do all the dishes (without a dishwasher), sweep the floors, and clean off the table. Then, I would make my bed, and sometimes help out with making the other beds. After showering, I would help wax the floors (I’m not actually sure what I was doing, but that’s what it looked like). When it was sunny, I would water the flowers. I planted cilantro one day. Went to feed the cows twice. And picked the kids up from school another day. I liked working around the house because it will prepare me for my future as a wife, but it was boring a lot of the time. After lunch, there wasn’t anything for me to do. I usually used this time to work on homework, read, or journal.
Life out in the campo was very interesting – a learning experience for sure. I didn’t really like how they raised their children. My 33 year old brother didn’t make his own bed or do his own laundry. One of the girls was 8 years old and still used Sippy cups and wore diapers to bed. One of the kindergartners drank milk out a bottle. The parents pretty much did the homework for their kids. I felt that the children were raised to be able to support themselves.
I also didn’t quite understand my mom. Not just because she spoke another languge (and very quickly, I might add), but I never really knew if she liked me or not. After lunch some days, I would sit in the kitchen, hoping that she would talk to me, but she told me that I could go to my room because she was going to do whatever she needed to do. I did as I was told, and a little bit later she would come by and shut my door. Maybe she thought I wanted privacy. I don’t know. Sometimes, I ate in the other room while everyone else ate together in the kitchen. She talked a lot about the past students they had. She told me that I needed to study more after college and that I shouldn’t get married – a civil union was good enough. Very weird. And her tone was kind of like she was talking down to me a lot. I felt like I was being judged a lot. However, to my surprise, one day she said that I was like a daughter. Maybe this is part of her culture that I don’t totally understand yet. I hope that one day I can understand.
But she did feed me very well. Too well. I can’t explain how much I actually ate while I was there. The first day, my mamá tica tells me that I am going to get fat while I’m at her house. All of the past students did, so I will too. Let me tell you… She wasn’t kidding. The portions were all SO HUGE. More times then not, I would go to my room (which was actually a hallway with doors) and just lay down because my stomach hurt so much. After a couple of weeks of this, one day she actually told me that I had gained weight – which was definitely true. I even had to go to the next notch on my belt. So ridiculous.
I had some very interesting and memorable experiences in Paso-Llano. The one day I helped plant cilantro, I heard a lot of screaming coming from where the pigs were kept. I asked José Alberto what was going on and he said, matter-of-factly that they were killing a pig. The next thing I know, one of the guys walks by with a white bucket with the pig head in it. It was just staring at me as he digs a hole to bury it. I will never forget the look on that pigs face. And sure enough, the next night we ate chichurrones.
At the top of the mountain where I was living, there is Volcán Barva. The higher you go up, the colder and rainier it gets. Well, one day, Anna, Kristen (two other students who lived nearby), and I went to the volcano. Anna and I walked to the school, where she worked as a cook for her internship, and waited for some man to pick us up. Being the Tico that he is, he was almost an hour and a half late, but that’s fine. I’m supposed to be engaging in the culture, right? Anyways, after picking up Kristen a little further up the mountain, he dropped us off and pointed us in the direction of la laguna. When we started walking, it was just raining a little bit. After about 45 minutes, it was pouring. Rain, wind, and really cold air just don’t mix very well. We decided to head back without going to the lagoon because we were just so uncomfortable. When we found the man and the Ranger’s Station, we were expecting to get back in the car so that he could drive us back. Ha. Silly gringas. We had to walk back. Again, in the rain and cold. When we finally got home, we had been walking for almost 4 hours. Most of it was downhill, thank goodness. Let’s just say my legs hurt the next day.
This year I didn’t have a typical Thanksgiving. That morning, I told my mamá tica that it was El Día de Acción de Gracias in the United States, and at lunch she said a few things that she was thankful for. That was really nice. Later on that day, Anna and I went to the pulpería (like a little general store) to buy foods that were similar to the foods we would have eaten if we were at home. We bought popcorn because that’s the closest thing they had to corn. Little packets of jell-o because it was like cranberry sauce. Chocolate for dessert. And ice cream cone because I love ice cream. Then we ate it at her house and said things we were thankful for. It was a very strange Thanksgiving, but a memorable one, as well.
All in all, my time in Paso-Llano had its ups and downs. It was a great experience as a whole, but I am thankful to be back in San José. And I can’t wait to be home. Just a little more to go!
