Buy into my twenty-gr8ness

I have deemed 2015 my year of Twenty-Gr8ness!!! This is my first year out of grad school and my last year as an unwed woman. I recently accepted a position as a chaplain at WakeMed in Raleigh and will be living in the downtown area. I am super excited about all the new things I will learn and experience this upcoming year. I expect to use 2015 as a time to reflect, grow, and explore. 

Part of this twenty-gr8 transition is moving. I have accumulated many cool things that will not fit into my new apartment and may no longer have a place in the home my fiancé and I will establish. For these reasons I will have a twenty-gr8 yard sale on Saturday, July 25, 2015 from 8AM-1PM. Stop by, grab an icie, and find your next gr8 treasure. Click here to see more details. 

The Internet and My Dual Degree Experience

I decided to study social work while working on a prenatal research study at Duke. As I recruited women to participate in the program, I was captivated by the social workers around me- especially those who worked with Strong Couples, Strong Families, a research study developed by a clinical associate professor in the UNC School of Social Work. These men and women were so passionate about their causes and about helping their clients lead the best lives possible. Their work resonated with my upbringing and my desire to be a resource for people. Using the Internet, I began to research graduate programs in 2010. The dual-degree program between UNC School of Social Work and Duke Divinity School brought together my faith and my interests in holistic healing and culture in meaningful ways. I will complete the dual-degree program in 2015. The Internet allowed me to find places and spaces that cultivated my passions and allowed me to pursue professional and personal development.

            In the dual-degree program I have tailored my coursework to address theology and the engagement of others across lines of religion, race, language, and ability. I have traveled to Central America, Africa, and the Midwest, witnessing God at work in cities and on farms, in ornate sanctuaries and in lawn chairs covered by tarp. The Internet has allowed me to remain connected to the people who helped form me personally, professionally, and spiritually.  Witnessing the way that across borders of language, distance and culture, the message of the Gospel still empowers and reflects the story of the human experience has inspired me and challenged me. This challenge has been most experienced during my time at the School of Social Work.

At the UNC School of Social Work, instead of scriptures, I use theories and frameworks to justify and support the value of spirituality and faith. By spirituality, I mean interconnectedness of others and our inner being. By faith I mean, belief in the “big picture.”  Both are deeply ingrained into some, for better or worse. As I bridge the curriculum and skill sets of both professions, the Internet has proved an invaluable tool in finding assessments that engage the whole person: mind, body, and spirit. Webinars and academic journals have allowed me to connect with and learn from other professionals who value spirituality and offer empirical evidence to support its validity.

While it has been interesting to research such things, I am still saddened by the amount of research that supports how detrimental institutional spaces remain for people of color, especially in the church. At times research has been mentally exhausting and spiritually draining, which leads me to explore the drawbacks of the Internet and its content. The Internet has created a cloak of invisibility for many people, allowing them to express themselves in very hurtful, derogatory and hateful ways. Unfortunately these instances fuel the reasons my professions could be so meaningful and impactful. The Internet offers a wealth of resources, but not all resources are accurate or objective. For instance, everyone loves Wikipedia, to the extent that some professors have to specify that students ought not cite it as a source for academic papers. Some do not know how to critique information and its source. My time in the dual degree program have taught me to analyze resources and their content, but not everyone does their due diligence.  

 I consider myself a vessel of a powerful message of love and transformation. The Internet has proven a powerful tool to connecting me to the resources and people I need to make my dream a reality. At the same time, like its users, the Internet is not without fault. I believe my dual-degree experience prepares me to better advocate for the spiritual and socioemotional needs of future clients. I believe my use of the Internet has allowed me to skillfully call pastors and parishioners, practitioners and patients into action.

Say, CHEESE!

Khumbo, 6, eating a slice of pizza. 

 





     A lot has happened since the last post. One highlight was the Debonair's Pizza party. Maibusa (the title for pastor's wife- not her name) always hosts us for dinner. She often prepares meals for a minimum of 10 people, so adding two more to the count never seems to bother her.

Crispin, 7, deliriously happy

Christina and I decided to host a pizza party at her house and invite all those who had a hand in welcoming us, feeding us, praying for us and playing with us. We hosted the party on a Monday, because that is BOGO day (we are ballin' on a budget). That night was amazing. The power went out. Everyone was anxiously waiting by lantern light for the pizza delivery man (who arrived an hour late on motorcycle).

Eluphy and Abusa Nkhoma laughing, "Bo?" (see Chichenglish)

For some it was their first taste of tomatoey, cheesy goodness. For others it was their first time to choose which kind of pizza they wanted and to mix-and-match flavors if they so chose.

Overall it was a great time of fellowship with our new friends and fam.

Eluphy, Me, Steve 

May God continue to knit our hearts together even though our bodies will soon be on two separate continents. (sigh).

Chichenglish

I keep track of time by looking at how many anti-malarials are in my prescription jar:

HALF-WAY THROUGH!

Favorite Phrases: 

Here are some phrases that I have learned to love. If I say them once I get home, forgive me. 

"Not so?"- Isn't that right?
"Can you borrow me....?" - May I borrow...?
"We will start at half four."- We start at 4:30.
"You are welcome. Feel free."- Welcome. Be comfortable.
"Go well!"- Safe travels.
"Zikuyenda"- All good? (both a question and response)
"Bo" and "Sharp"- (Good- put thumb up)
"I'm coming." - I'll be back.
"Are we together?"- Are you with me? Do you understand?

Favorite conversations:

6/25/2013 in Lilongwe marketplace:
Vendor: "Sister, where are you from?"
Me: "The US."
Vendor: "What?! I thought all Black people were from Africa."

7/15/2013 in the Mango marketplace:
Woman to me: Something in Chichewa...
Joyce to woman: "...She is a Black American."
Woman to Andrina: "She is Black! She is from America!" (in Chichewa)
Andrina to woman: "I tell you! We are everywhere, my friend!" (SMILES, in English)

Ups and Downs. Smiles and Frowns.

It's been a while since I posted! I am now 26 years old! Praise the Lord! There have been several highs and lows over the past couple of weeks.

HIGH: I spent my birthday at Lake Malawi with a youth group from Belmont UMC in Nashville,Tennessee. The lake was gorgeous. The cost of a night's stay included three hot meals, a sunset cruise and a snorkeling cruise, and kayaking or fishing. Christina and I woke up early on Saturday morning to sit on the dock and watch the sun rise. I truly felt that God was welcoming me into a new year of life and vibrancy. The team surprised me with a birthday cake and homemade card before we left for the capital of Lilongwe. It was quite a humbling and refreshing birthday weekend.

Sunset at Lake Malawi 7/5/2013

Sunrise at Namaso Bay on 7/6/2013

Homemade birthday card

low: On Sunday at 4:56AM I woke up with "open bowels." I could not keep my malaria meds or cipro down. I couldn't decide whether my system was reacting to the "public chips" aka street fries that I ate the day before or whether I was nervous about my next

HIGH: I preached this past Sunday and Christina led a prayer workshop. Overall both went very well! I preached on Luke 7:33-50 about the importance of seeing with our spiritual eyes in faith, wisdom and love. The topic first tugged at my heart during my New Testament Exegesis course this past semester about biblical bodies. My professor had us research the meanings of hair in Jesus' time.(long story short; unbound hair often meant single, wild etc. etc) This kept nagging at my spirit because females and youth are often held in lower esteem and viewed in stereotypical ways (girls should be in the home, boys at school; youth are less motivated/capable etc etc), and Malawi is no exception. Our supervisor has prayed for us to be prophetic voices, but in many ways I'm still operating as a pilgrim... Anyway, I read some articles from The Nation... reflected on my experiences and preached from the standpoint of being the Pharisee in the story. The one who fails to see Jesus for who he truly is and fails to see the woman as a forgiven and redeemed servant of Christ. I asked, "Do you see what He sees?" (He being Jesus).

Preaching with an awesome interpreter, Seleni

low:  Some people in the community saw the way God has blessed Galilea UMC and decided to take some of their material wealth. You see, GUMC is building a new sanctuary that is slated for completion by annual conference next weekend. Unfortunately, last night around 2AM a group of more than 10 men came to the church and removed four of the new steel-framed windows. The compound guards were unable to overtake the thieves and recover the frames. Church members have been pledging to pay for the windows and the pastor secured a loan to cover the remaining building costs so that the project would be complete by conference time although pledges are still being paid!

Abusa Collings putting a rust protectant on the window frames 7/9/2013

I know that the MOST HIGH: will continue to watch over this Zion. The hearts of the people are receptive to the promptings of the Holy Spirit. They trust in God with a deep faith that I am learning to cultivate.

Are you a woman?

One of the youth members asked Christina and I this question as we waited for the Women's Revival to begin on Friday afternoon. 

I was slightly offended and just shot him a "Are you really asking me this question" type glance. 

The evening continued with a lively sermon from the conference superintendent about the qualities of queen Esther that all women should aspire to embody: courage, knowledge, sacrificial love and being prayerful. 

The president of the Methodist women's organization in Zimbabwe then listed what a Methodist woman ought to do and Be. She follows Christ, wants to learn, and lives life with 5 items: bible, hymn book, constitution for Methodist women, and a notebook and pen. 

During this workshop the pastor nodded to me several times saying, "That's a good wife!" 

I just nodded. 

The president continued speaking. She explained that a Methodist Woman is jealous of her home: she doesn't leave her kids playing in the streets or leave her husband for long periods of time, she cooks good meals, doesn't brew beer, draws hot water for her husbands bath, doesn't quarrel, etc. etc. 

The pastor leaned over and said, "That's an African wife!" 

I just laughed. 

I have observed many things about womanhood and coming of age in Malawi. Perhaps because I am 25, an "acceptable age for marriage," I am highly aware of what women do and what they are expected to do. 

Since arriving I have cooked dinner on a charcoal burning stove, rubbed my knuckles  raw while washing clothes in the bathroom tub and danced into the night surrounded by women desperately seeking a revelation from God. 

The pastor's wife gave me an unsolicited definition of womanhood at the beginning of my stay. Her words replay in my mind often as I consider all these things. 

"We carry babies on our backs. Firewood on our heads. We are no strangers to hard work." 

I am not a mother. I am not married. I am not 35.

And in Malawi I am not yet a woman. 

First response

The leaves rustle in the breeze and I am at ease.
Crickets chirp, men chat, kids play.
A minibus sputters up the road.
One groans under the weight of people packed 4-4 or more onto wheels burdened by an almost empty tank that feeds on K698/liter fuel,
weighed down by mothers and babies,
teens and crates,
cardboard and luggage,
wise women draped in chitenges,
Eyes down, voices low,
"Muzungu!" children squeal, eyes aglow
White skin?
Black American?
Either way this sight is new- or at least rare-
our presence brings truth to tales....
Heads turn. Eyes stare.
"How are you?"
"Do you play pool?"
"Will you pay 3.7 for these goods?"
"Ask GOD why Blantyre?"
"Be serious when you pray!"
If I seek-
GOD will reveal the divine purpose for these days.

-Written 10/6/2013
Muzungu- refers to people with white skin
Chitenge- is like a sarong made of fabric that women tend to wear over trousers or shorter skirts when going out
minibus- basically a 15 person passenger van used like a city bus, usually has 4 rows, and they seat at LEAST 4 people on each row. A ride to town costs 100-200 kwacha.
Kwacha is the Malawian currency, which is rapidly depreciating. The exchange rate: K320= $1

Maswera bwanji? (Good afternoon)

Hello! I hope you all are doing well. Welcome to the posts of my 2013 Summer Field Ed Experience in MALAWI! Thanks to Rev. Cayce Stapp and the Church of the Resurrection and Duke Div for making this possible. Praise GOD for the wonderful people we have encountered so far and the amazing ones we have yet to meet!

After many hours of travel, Christina and I were welcomed to "The Warm Heart of Africa" with "open hands" on Thursday, June 6th.We are living  in the Nancholi area of Blantyre, Malawi. We are six hours ahead of EST. So it's about 6:30pm here. We live on a compound which includes Galilea United Methodist Church, the pastor's house, a health clinic, our guest house, Malawi UMC conference offices, 3 other living quarters and a nursery school.

Once a week we will work in the health clinic, teach at the nursery school, and attend home visits. We will each preach 3 times and lead Sunday school lessons and nightly prayer groups. We will individual host dance and prayer workshops. 

In Malawi they speak Chichewa (the vowels sound like Spanish vowels, n at the beginning is silent, k's and t's are usually followed by h- but it's silent)  and English- along with other languages. Abusa Collings (Pastor Collings)  and his wife Esther (maiabusa) are very hospitable. Esther cooks for up to 10 people a night because so many people come to visit the pastor. And people often drop by the guest house to speak with us. We have learned to have a flask (thermos) of hot tea and some biscuits (cookies) available at all times. 

The food is kinda like southern comfort food. Most meals people eat nsima with ndiwo (relish).  Nsima  remember, the "n" is silent) is basically thick grits. The relishes can made from spiced beef, fish, MUSTARD greens =) , "pigeon" peas, CABBAGE etc. 

We quickly learned that black outs and water outages are common. We have a garbage bin filled with water to use to cook or bathe with when water stops running. And we have to manually fill the toilet at those times...Cold showers and boiled water bucket baths are our current MO. We have head lamps and flashlights and book lights to use power outages. We are learning to cook on a mbaula aka chacoburna aka charcoal burner aka mini grill during power outages. Maibusa showed us how to light it twice, but we've only boiled water so far. 

The internet at the church is fickle. We are using a dongle that provides 3G internet, but my Ipad doesn't have a USB connection so I will have to use the internet when our supervisor lets us borrow her laptop- like she did tonight. If anyone has suggestions on how to link a USB to an Ipad, please let me know.

Continue to keep our summer in your prayers. God is doing mighty things here in Malawi. 

Zabwino zonse (all the best)

K

Soy Nica ¿y que?

Tio took us to the market this morning to shop for souvenirs. Then we stopped to see some of Mo's family. I personally cherish family. I was glad to see her family reunite after such a long time. My camera died that night at Alfredo and Lucy's house. We took a pic together and off it went. Now I can honestly say, "Tengo familia nica!!!" 

  They're coming to Miami the wknd I get back. We traded info so I may see mi familia nica in a few weeks =D 

Managua, Masaya. MASAYA, MANAGUA!!!

The weekend in Managua was definitely an awesome one for me. After walking thru the pouring rain Mo and I caught a bus for a dollar to Managua to meet her family. We arrived and they formed a circle around Monique... kinda ignored me thinking I spoke no spanish. HA! if only they'd realized. I instantly clicked the her cousin's wife and daughter and they eagerly showed us around the city.

   Tia Miriam's friend was a cab driver and he shuttled us from one historic site to another. There's such a rich history in Nicaragua and I learned it within 5hrs... apparently the current prez is not too popular among the people...

The Vieja Cathedral was ruined by an earthquake and sits in ruins. The clock permanently reads the moment the earthquake began. We went to the mall to exchange so cash and tried this refresco de cacao. DELISH!!! YUMM!!! Great stuff. To end the night we ate dinner at a local restaurant. QUE RRRRRICO! Carne, maduros y arroz con frijoles por supuesto. 

El mundo es un pañuelo

Granada is absolutely beautiful. It was named after the Andalusian city of Granada and IMMEDIATELY reminded me of Spain. =) There were tons of restaurants and bars with tables set up in the street. It was a very chill atmosphere situated in one of the oldest established cities in the Americas. We stayed in Hospedaje Cocibolca for $20/night with AC. It was right at the end of the main street so we put up our stuff and walked around the city. 

As we were walking around we met  a group of girls who interning with Viva Nicaragua! We went to an outdoor cafe so that I could finally eat dinner. Two of the interns were from Michigan and it turned out the owner of the bar was also from Michigan and had been living out of the US for five years. He said that wasn't his plan at first but he felt, "If I have to struggle, I'd rather do it here than in America. It's just different."

He and his girlfriend bought the bar 6 months ago and still hadn't broke even, but he enjoyed what he was doing. This feeling of satisfaction is prevalent both here and in Costa Rica. It reminded me of the question Carla posed to our class. Even if they aren't wealthy by our standards they live their lives to the fullest...

 We left the bar and went to Cafe Neut. A live band took the stage and there were PLENTY of  dance partners vying for a dance ;-). I've never danced salsa, merengue, or bachata SO much in my life. It was great. =D Something outta Havana Nights. ha. 

The next day we toured Granada. We saw the main sites in the city and then toured the isletas by boat. We passed the monkey island and a spider monkey decided to hop aboard! fun times. We decided to walk back to catch the bus and while we walked God decided to open up the heavens above us and shower the earth. We were drenched hasta la ropa interior. But it was worth every moment. VIVA NICARAGUA. 

Safety Primero...

I've learned how to trust the feelings God gives me. I prayed and claimed that I would travel to Nicaragua and Panama while I was studying down here in Costa Rica. This weekend the first goal was accomplished. Mo and I traveled to Granada and Managua, Nicaragua. This is how it all worked out...

Mo's grandmother moved to the US before her youngest sister (Mo's great aunt) was born. None of Mo's family has been to Nicaragua since. Thursday before we met Morgan to go to Cultura Extrema we hit up Tica Bus, some other sketchy bus station, and TransNica. The first was filled, the second was closed, and the third wasn't sure if they would have room on their buses for us to return home Monday. (I have to meet my OTS group Monday evening) He told us to call Friday morning and he would call headquarters in Nicaragua. Ivannia, mi mama tica, called and reserved our seats Friday morning. We get to the station and the man says all the seats are filled and there's NO SPACE!!! =O We get in another line explaining that we had called ahead and reserved seats. The woman confirmed this and we were on our way... First Class ;-)

Once we got across the border four other dudes hopped onto our bus. Mo and I were in the last row by the bathroom and they stood beside us. They looked sospechosos from the jump off but as we watched Little Man in Spanish their laughs kinda eased my fears. Then they started asking where were going and talking amongst themselves about how we were traveling solas. Mo felt the need to tell the bus driver to call us a taxi and  about shady dudes behind us... with her spanish, I doubt she conveyed all those ideas. lol. But she asked me to get out my knife. Do you know how many times I cut myself trying to master that thing within 10mins?! craziness.

  We got off the bus in Granada (no taxi was there, go figure?!) But the guys went their own way... which makes me wonder how we as humans draw some conclusions. I know people say it's better to be safe than sorry, but was I misjudging someone's character and intentions because he seemed dangerous? So many people had warned us about safety in Nicaragua. In San Jose there are always stories of muggings especially of people who appear too touristy. Had I let the warnings justify my prejudice? Just wondering because I felt really bad about my assumptions.

Cultura Extrema

Dear Diary, 

  Today was a good day. lol! I've always wanted to write that. Today that line rings true. I went to Calle Blancos today. I've had many rewarding experiences in the last two weeks, but this one was joyously indescribable? Mo and I went to buy our tickets after school at TicaBus and they were sold out. We went to TransNica, the bus line Dorian recommended and they didn't have contact with Managua. It wouldn't have been wise to purchase salida tickets and not know if we'd make it back on Monday (I have to meet the OTS group Monday). So we went to McDonalds in the Centro to meet Morgan. I wanted to see what she did in her spare time with these "teams."

Calle Blancos is "one of the worse" barrios in CR. It was raining, the door was locked and three teens were already outside. We did the whole introduction with a kiss on each cheek. Morgan told me there was one cat named Meneo would'd be coming  and if I could understand him (he speaks a lot of slang) then I'd mastered the Spanish language! Ha! Challenge much?! Meneo arrived with a box and introduced himself... indeed understanding him was quite a feat. 

Finally some of the other volunteers arrived with the keys to open the center. The interior was not what I'd imagined. But God doesn't require anything elaborate or ornate to get his mission accomplished, just willing vessels. The center was basically an old car garage transformed into a youth center complete with a ping pong table, a 4 square grid on the cement, a foosball table, some old couches and chairs and plenty of eye-catching graffiti. One wall read "Jesus es gratis pero no barato" (Jesus is free but not cheap). Another asked "Que buscas?" (What are you looking for?). Another stated, "Reflejamos la luz de adentro hacia afuera" (We reflect the light from within, without). The kids started to fill the center. We blasted music and left the doors open to attract passersby. 

If you've ever been in place anointed with the Spirit, you can relate to the peace and happiness I felt within the four walls of Cultura Extrema. There were eager youth wanting learn about Christ and young adults willing to share. When the program began four years ago, the church stopped allowing CE to use its facilities because they viewed the program as just that... extreme. The next three years the youth met in the youth minister's house  but because of the way the Lord works, the group soon outgrew the house. Thanks to funding from several churches in the US the old garage was purchased and transformed. No one was shoving doctrine down these kids throats. There were no crucifixes or condemning messages decorating the wall... just warm hearts and open minds. My cheeks hurt from all the smiling I did that night. The younger girls loved my hair (that's been a trend this entire trip btw) and stayed with me most of the night. They loved my lipsyncing renditions of Chris Brown ballads. ha. I played 4 square for the first time in a LONG time and foosball for the first time... ever? Some of the guys breaked and you know I had to school 'em on some thangs ;-)

  We ended up heading back home at 11pm. God is just too good. 

~Isaiah 61:1

   

Who says we aren't happy?

Today I graduated from the Costa Rican Language Academy. I opted to bypass the graduation ceremony because Mo and I needed to work out the logistics of our excursion to Nicaragua. Carla said a lil speech in front of the class and presented me with my "diploma." Though I've completed my course of study according to CRLA's standards, I feel I still lack sufficient knowledge about life... about viewpoints... about the reality of others. Our discussion in the afternoon only gave me a taste of the "knowledge" I long to acquire. 

We read an article dealing with development in Latin American countries, specifically Costa Rica. Halfway thru the reading Carla stopped and asked us why Costa Rica was considered a third world country. She asked whether different equated to lesser. "Even though we may not have as much, we are happy. Why should financial status be valued more than spiritual and emotional well-being?" We were all silent for a few minutes. I drifted back to a conversation in Samara...

While we were walking to the beach one night, Monique and I were brainstorming about our future non-profit organization which would provide educational and vocational classes, sponsor drug and alcohol prevention programs and create numerous jobs on the beach. Another student who was walking with us laughed and made this snide remark, "If you give them good jobs, who's gonna clean our toilets and pick our fields?" 

I shared this anecdote with the class. How important are socioeconomic levels? Are these levels really necessary for a productive society? Do we need a lower class to work and a higher class to "rule" and act as motivation for the 'lower' class? 

La Segunda Semana

My mother has always told me that learning styles are important. This week I realized that there are several aspects that must be present in order for me to fully enjoy and engage in a class:

1. Structured lesson plan
2. Clear and concise explanation
3. Real world application
4. Practice of the newly acquired knowledge  
   

My instructor this week is Carla and she is an awesome person and teacher. She seems to base her lessons on things we struggle with or questions we asked the previous class. Maybe I enjoy her class because the material we cover addresses my Spanish language problems, for example,  past perfect/imperfect subjunctive, conditionals, indirect/direct objects,  the proper use of gerunds, and the many uses of "se." 

In addition to hardcore grammar, Carla teaches us things we would never learn in a traditional Spanish class  and "Tiquismos" (phrases/words commonly used by Ticos). Like in the morning you can ask Como amanecio? Which basically asks how did you sleep and how was your morning all in one. We learned how to say "I did #2" in ways ranging from most crude to most formal and how to express your relationship with a significant other. ha! Stuff I can actually use. (btw I can't wait til I can teach Cherry all this stuff)

In the afternoons we do activities that reinforce the lessons. For instance, to practice subjunctive we each but two items in a bucket. In order to retrieve our belongings we had to fulfill a request from each person in our class. "Quiero que preguntes a la recepcionista por un tampax." "Ordeno que cantes "La cucaracha" en voz alta mientras estes de pie en el poyo." Good times... just let me say that. 

My classmates this week are much more interactive and we are evenly matched linguistically. Morgan goes to UI but is a die-hard TARHEEL fan plus she works with a local youth group. Caterine goes to U. Michigan, Jens in my class again and we have a girl from Austria named Claudia. Our discussions are classic. ha! Oh, and Carla served  on some of the reservations I'll be visiting through the Peace Corps. She's teaching me some common words for the Bribri. I'm going to miss this class... can't believe I only have one more day here at CRLA. =( 

at midnight... it's on

I learned how to surf today!!! Paco was right, it's totally addictive. I wanted a bigger wave every time even though I never stood up on the board for more than 5 seconds. ha. The key is to fix your eyes on the shore for stability.... def didn't get to that level. 

       Mo, Joy and I went to a beautiful house in Carrillo to chill before we went to the beach. A friend of a friend was house sitting. There were machetes on EVERY level of the house to kill unwanted intruders, like snakes for example. It was beautiful, the view was great and I met some awesome people. 

    We danced until 3AM then went to say goodbye to Lenning. He wrote me three poems. He's never gone to school so most of the words were spelled phonetically. But they are beautiful nonetheless. I took a shower and watched the sunrise. Then I took an hour nap before heading catching the bus to head back home to San Jose. Spontaneous trips are the best!!!

Life on the beach... is different

Beach Life: that's what Monique and I have been discussing these last couple of days.

Yesterday I learned that Friday nights are used by the locals to recuperate from Thursdays festivities and rest up for Saturdays extravaganzas. We went to Las Olas to dance again and it was barren, with the exception of Juatu, Jose, and locals with nothing better to do. The dance floor was empty. Recalling the events of the previous night, Juatu simply told me, "I want to see you move" (apparently I dance like "una negra real") I laughed and told him I wanted to see his life. With the help of Jose and Alejandro, Juatu painted a powerful picture of life on in Samara, where drugs and alcohol are just as much of a staple as rice and beans:

•  Jose is 18. He moved from San Jose to get a job as a janitor and make money. He lives on his own with a couple friends and smokes nightly. 
• Juatu was introduced to me as an "island thug." Apparently along with his 4 brothers he runs the beach? 
• Alejandro moved from Colombia to sell handmade crafts. He is permanently scarred from  elbow to belly button because he stepped on land mine. He uses his profts to pay his rent and buy materials,  then he sends the rest to his parents back home. 

Every weekend different people come to the beach only to leave within a few days. Relationships aren't lasting and everyone lives for the moment. If you aren't teaching surf or kayak lessons, selling artesanias, or running a soda, there's little legit work to do... but they love and appreciate the life and don't seem to want to trade it...

     

Tuanis, mäe

Since my arrival I've realized that life in Costa Rica is COMPLETELY chill. There's no rush to do anything or go anywhere unless you're in a vehicle between the hours of 8:30-9:30AM or 5-7PM. Ticos live by the motto "Pura Vida" which literally means "Pure Life." 

   The title for this blog reflects PURA VIDA to the extreme. Beach life here in Samara is something I've never observed before. "Tuanis" simply means cool and  "mae" means dude. To ask how someone is doing (especially on the beach) may elicit the response, "pura vida," "tuanis," "solo bueno," or "purosdieses." The last two mean "it's all good" or "pure tens." Or you can skip ALL of that, dap up the person you're greeting and say "Tuanis!"

   Today we found an older French couple renting out two rooms in their beach house.  When we walked thru the backyard we were on the beach... three seconds tops. We each paid $10/night.  Martina made us CREPES when we first moved in. We filled them with caramel, chocolate syrup and powdered sugar. Pretty sweet, eh? (the deal and the crepes, ha!)

After we moved in we chilled a lot and scored some cheap surf lessons for tomorrow by talking to Paco, one of the instructors. I ate the BEST fried chicken of my life at a little Cevicheria on the main road. Ceviche is a typical dish consisting of raw fish "cooked" with citrus juices. In Costa Rica the fish is usually tilapia and  is marinated in lime juices, cilantro, onions and pepper. Raw fish doesn't sound too tempting to me... I've never even tasted sushi. If I get a burst of boldness, I'll let you know ;-)

  

VAMOS A SAMARA!!!

On Wednesday night, Monique and I decided we'd go to Samara for the weekend. We packed all our stuff and bought bus tickets on Thursday for 6PM. Joy decided she wanted to go to and together we headed to Samara. Using our handy dandy lonely planet guide we decided to hit up Cabinas Arenas for $14/night. Upon arriving at 11:45PM in Samara we went to CA where the owner led us to a room with one queen bed and  one twin bed, a single revolving fan, and  lighting reminiscent of SAW I, II and III. He turned on the light in the bathroom and the fan. The fan catalyzed the permeation of the smell of urine already wafting from our "private bathroom." Joy suddenly screamed at the sight of  an enormous cockroach scuttling across the curtain. The owner laughed, grabbed the insect, and walked out the door. We decided we could hack it. Then another cockroach scurried from under the bed to another part of the room. We took the key and lefted it on the step of the owner's door. DEUCES!!!

  We walked around until we found Lenning...the 19 year old Nicaraguan night security guard for Casa del Mar. We each put in $30 for a room with three beds, AC and a sparkling clean bathroom on the beach.  Then we explored the beach. At Las Olas we ran into some twins from Connecticut who loved to drink ridiculous amounts of liquor. I  peaced out and made my way to the dance floor. In my pants and "once on this island" cast shirt I flowed with the music. It was amazing. I met a cat named Jovani from the Keys. He also had a fluid style of dance. We infused African, Salsa, Merengue, Hip Hop and everything else we could into our dances. 

     Mo, Joy and I made our way back to the hotel at 3am. We stayed up taking to Lenning for an hour and I stayed up with him until 5am talking  about his life in Costa Rica and the stigma that exists towards Nicas in Costa Rica. From my understanding the Ticos regard Nicas much like some Americans view Mexicans. 

El orfanato

Today was the last day to the first week of classes and I will give Jaqui her props for our afternoon activity. We watched a spanish suspense movie called the Orphanage. Here's the plot, it's twisted, but I loved it:

•    There was a girl named Laura who lived at an orphanage with five other children. As an adult she adopts a child with AIDS. Along with her husband, Laura buys the orphanage and uses it as a home for kids with special needs. 
• The son starts playing with imaginary friends. The "imaginary friends" are actually the ghosts of the children who lived in the orphanage with Laura. It turns out after she was adopted the kids had played a trick on the son of one of the orphan caretakers. His face was deformed and his mother made him wear a bag over his head. The kids led him to a cave and took off the bag to see if he would come out and show his face. He did not and when the tide came in, he drowned. The caretaker then poisoned the kids for killing her son, however since Laura was adopted and so she was not killed. 
  
• During the opening of the special needs home, Laura's son wants her to come to his friends house, but she says angrily says no, telling the son he needs to stop playing with imaginary friends. The son disappears.
• In the end, she had accidently killed her son because she locked him in the basement, which was where the deformed child was hidden during his lifetime. She then commits suicide and keeps watch over the ghosts of the orphaned children. 

 AND it was all in spanish. BOOYAW.