First week:
Group Orientation:
At MVI:
San Luis Coffee Farms:
San Gerardo:
Okay, so that takes us through the big trips in February. Next up is spring break: Nicaragua and Playa Junquillal. I'm saving all the family things for their own entries.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
33 (where we left off.)
Okay, so, I left off at the beginning of February with photos. But maybe I should just start from the beginning.
First week:
Group Orientation:
At MVI:
San Luis Coffee Farms:
San Gerardo:
Okay, so that takes us through the big trips in February. Next up is spring break: Nicaragua and Playa Junquillal. I'm saving all the family things for their own entries.
First week:
Group Orientation:
At MVI:
San Luis Coffee Farms:
San Gerardo:
Okay, so that takes us through the big trips in February. Next up is spring break: Nicaragua and Playa Junquillal. I'm saving all the family things for their own entries.
Monday, April 20, 2009
32 (or 1000 photos later.)
Back in the United States.
I arrived around 2am Saturday morning, collapsing in my bed at my dad's house just as I expected. Woke up with an odd feeling of detachment. This feeling will last until I collide with the reality and weight of my departure.
collision is such an ugly sound.
The end of Costa Rica was nothing short of sweet. Well, in some ways it was, I suppose, since I was leaving. Our last Saturday morning we had our agricultural film fest at the farmers market and it felt so good to see the final products and so many people from the community watch and comment. On Monday we had our Oral History & Material Cultural symposium and every seat was filled in the auditorium and people made comments and asked questions and had discourses about our projects and that's what this is about. It's about the community. Matt and I decided last minute to present bilingually ourselves and I am absolutely, absolutely thankful for his friendship and comraderie, in the classroom and outside of it. 100 percent. On Tuesday we had our big, intimidating ecology and anthropology symposium, which went well, despite being 8 hours long. And from there we packed, had our final goodbyes, and were torn from Monteverde. I walked with my mom down to Santa Elena on Thursday (she was going to work, I was going to the bus) and she cried the whole way down. I need to call her this week.
Socially, the final week was filled with bars, fiestas, BBQs, slip n slides, hammocks, salsa, and being pined after. Pura vida. I learned how to act out this concept. After three and a half months, the life wasn't romanticized anymore. It was just life. It was just living. And it was healthy, with or without the charm.
When I got into Charlotte I started crying, and it is the only occasion during this entire farewell process where I did. Everything was so bright and loud and mean.
Luckily DC and Baltimore are not so much those things. The people, I mean. Saturday I unpacked and cleaned and James picked me up and we went to Baltimore to see Good Luck. They closed with 1001 Open Hands and right before they played it, "This song is for Hillary from Max and it's about being positive about the future." And I think I can do that. I think I can be positive. I feel this shell around me, but I think it will become more malleable as the days go on. What I liked most about Saturday night was that I was not overwhelmed by "SO HOW WAS IT TELL ME EVERYTHING BLAHSLBADDSSK." It was just a "hey, nice to have you home. let's hang." and that's it. Once I get settled down I will want to tell everyone about everything, but I don't have the capacity currently to really...to talk about my trip. I'll get there though, I promise.
As I said good-bye to Yanni last weekend, he said something along the lines of "whenever you feel bad, you will be able to return." And right now I don't feel bad. I ask for patience, though, allowing me to go slow with my reentry. But my heart will let me know, let me know where I will go.
huge, HUGE photo posts coming within the next few days.
I arrived around 2am Saturday morning, collapsing in my bed at my dad's house just as I expected. Woke up with an odd feeling of detachment. This feeling will last until I collide with the reality and weight of my departure.
collision is such an ugly sound.
The end of Costa Rica was nothing short of sweet. Well, in some ways it was, I suppose, since I was leaving. Our last Saturday morning we had our agricultural film fest at the farmers market and it felt so good to see the final products and so many people from the community watch and comment. On Monday we had our Oral History & Material Cultural symposium and every seat was filled in the auditorium and people made comments and asked questions and had discourses about our projects and that's what this is about. It's about the community. Matt and I decided last minute to present bilingually ourselves and I am absolutely, absolutely thankful for his friendship and comraderie, in the classroom and outside of it. 100 percent. On Tuesday we had our big, intimidating ecology and anthropology symposium, which went well, despite being 8 hours long. And from there we packed, had our final goodbyes, and were torn from Monteverde. I walked with my mom down to Santa Elena on Thursday (she was going to work, I was going to the bus) and she cried the whole way down. I need to call her this week.
Socially, the final week was filled with bars, fiestas, BBQs, slip n slides, hammocks, salsa, and being pined after. Pura vida. I learned how to act out this concept. After three and a half months, the life wasn't romanticized anymore. It was just life. It was just living. And it was healthy, with or without the charm.
When I got into Charlotte I started crying, and it is the only occasion during this entire farewell process where I did. Everything was so bright and loud and mean.
Luckily DC and Baltimore are not so much those things. The people, I mean. Saturday I unpacked and cleaned and James picked me up and we went to Baltimore to see Good Luck. They closed with 1001 Open Hands and right before they played it, "This song is for Hillary from Max and it's about being positive about the future." And I think I can do that. I think I can be positive. I feel this shell around me, but I think it will become more malleable as the days go on. What I liked most about Saturday night was that I was not overwhelmed by "SO HOW WAS IT TELL ME EVERYTHING BLAHSLBADDSSK." It was just a "hey, nice to have you home. let's hang." and that's it. Once I get settled down I will want to tell everyone about everything, but I don't have the capacity currently to really...to talk about my trip. I'll get there though, I promise.
As I said good-bye to Yanni last weekend, he said something along the lines of "whenever you feel bad, you will be able to return." And right now I don't feel bad. I ask for patience, though, allowing me to go slow with my reentry. But my heart will let me know, let me know where I will go.
huge, HUGE photo posts coming within the next few days.
Friday, April 17, 2009
31 (or lead/follow.)
DILEMMA: WHO WILL DANCE SALSA WITH ME BACK IN THE STATES?!
OR MERINGUE.
OR CUMBIA.
SERIOUSLY.
i'm really going to miss piropos.
OR MERINGUE.
OR CUMBIA.
SERIOUSLY.
i'm really going to miss piropos.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
30 (or USA! USA!)
Invited to watch the sunset and make grilled cheese tonight up in Gringo Hill.
The offer came after drinking two Pilsens at Moon Shiva last night and I was really only excited about the idea of eating grilled cheese.
But the sunset will be okay, too. Like, real okay.
Oh, the staples of my US diet. I had a spoonful of peanut butter a couple weeks ago and it felt like heaven. Part of me wonders if I'll still like sushi, or ethiopian, or indian. What about mac and cheese? What will my first meal be when I get back home? So many foods I haven't eaten (and so many food I will be unable to eat after I get back).
I will wake up that first morning home and panic.
But here I wake up at 5am and my mind fills with "to-dos" for my return. Dentist, haircut, shopping, trashing. I will have more options for breakfast, more options than the handful of shirts and couple of dresses and trying to swing an outfit with the sole pair of Levi jeans that now have more than half a dozen holes in inappropriate places. And the vans, the poor vans.
Purge purge purge. I will have TOO MUCH STUFF.
I'm excited about the getting rid of lots of things. But the disposal must be swift and quick, before I have a chance to get nostalgic over everything. Luckily there's a Baltimore clothing swap within the week of my return. Before I left the States my dad and I went through most of the closets and the basement and had about three full carloads of things to take to Salvation Army. I can't wait to get back and get rid of all the (relatively) stupid things I've held onto for years and years and years that take up space. All I want in my room are my records, my books, some clothes, and a bed. And I'll have a sweet new computer, which is pretty cool, too.
Simple simple simple. Its not something that has to only exist on the road.
Yesterday I played an indoor soccer game and got all bruised up but it felt so good to run. Soccer over study groups.
Exams are over, I picked my classes, I have a room, and things are coming to an end. Now it's just the final push for research papers and presentations. The symposiums are Monday and Tuesday, so today I need to buckle down and finish this methods paper. TODAY. RIGHT NOW. SELF, I MEAN IT.
So everyday my feelings are up in the air. Monday I obviously was on the downside of leaving. Today I'm excited to return. Tonight I may feel different. Tomorrow, who knows? I just feel GREAT.
And that's how it should be.
The offer came after drinking two Pilsens at Moon Shiva last night and I was really only excited about the idea of eating grilled cheese.
But the sunset will be okay, too. Like, real okay.
Oh, the staples of my US diet. I had a spoonful of peanut butter a couple weeks ago and it felt like heaven. Part of me wonders if I'll still like sushi, or ethiopian, or indian. What about mac and cheese? What will my first meal be when I get back home? So many foods I haven't eaten (and so many food I will be unable to eat after I get back).
I will wake up that first morning home and panic.
But here I wake up at 5am and my mind fills with "to-dos" for my return. Dentist, haircut, shopping, trashing. I will have more options for breakfast, more options than the handful of shirts and couple of dresses and trying to swing an outfit with the sole pair of Levi jeans that now have more than half a dozen holes in inappropriate places. And the vans, the poor vans.
Purge purge purge. I will have TOO MUCH STUFF.
I'm excited about the getting rid of lots of things. But the disposal must be swift and quick, before I have a chance to get nostalgic over everything. Luckily there's a Baltimore clothing swap within the week of my return. Before I left the States my dad and I went through most of the closets and the basement and had about three full carloads of things to take to Salvation Army. I can't wait to get back and get rid of all the (relatively) stupid things I've held onto for years and years and years that take up space. All I want in my room are my records, my books, some clothes, and a bed. And I'll have a sweet new computer, which is pretty cool, too.
Simple simple simple. Its not something that has to only exist on the road.
Yesterday I played an indoor soccer game and got all bruised up but it felt so good to run. Soccer over study groups.
Exams are over, I picked my classes, I have a room, and things are coming to an end. Now it's just the final push for research papers and presentations. The symposiums are Monday and Tuesday, so today I need to buckle down and finish this methods paper. TODAY. RIGHT NOW. SELF, I MEAN IT.
So everyday my feelings are up in the air. Monday I obviously was on the downside of leaving. Today I'm excited to return. Tonight I may feel different. Tomorrow, who knows? I just feel GREAT.
And that's how it should be.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
29 (or semana santa.)
I stopped at the vista yesterday morning on my way to the Institute. Sat on the rock and looked over the valley with the ocean swallowed by the sky. They're the same color in the mornings.
And then I hear Manchita and Carlitos, the little rascals, chasing and barking at the parade of taxis and turismo vans going up the reserve. The doggy gang.
Take breaks from the Institute by going over to Alan's to watch howler monkeys and cook food and draw and talk about jobs with Annie and it all seems so plausible.
Staying, living, being.
Over Semana Santa I went to Turín with Maribel and Ariel. Vast farmland with a vast amount of family and I spent the day exploring old gold mines and riding horses to the river with Brazel sitting in front of me (he's grown up so much in four months!). After lunch I sat on the front steps of the main house drinking coffee grown, harvested, roasted, and brewed by the same hands that served it to me, on the same farm.
The seeds are sewn and I wonder if the sprouts can survive the season without me.
I dig my heels into the ground and try and keep time from pushing me over but it's impossible to stop so I just choose not to sleep.
Which isn't the best strategy for the final week. But I need these channels to be open. I sacrifice something either way, and I'd rather give up on dormancy than on my support.
At La Pension Diego says he doesn't want to see me like this. Ten to twelve hours at the Institute and I come over looking tired and not so much broken but filled with a painful hopefulness. I tried to explain the whole "growing season" thing and he asked me if I thought living here was a fantasy. I was taken aback, somewhat offended, because the point is it isn't a fantasy, I don't want it to be a fantasy. This is real. This is my life. I have something here but it's so separate from my life in the States that I wonder if it will just be like a wormhole and close. This place will not stop existing, I know that, but I'm scared that as soon as I step back through that door into the noise, the heat, the concrete, this chapter in my life really will turn into just a dream, a blip. I can't let that happen. I've gained too much ground for myself to let it all slip away.
So I won't.
This is nothing new, this travel and meet and move but plant and grow and pick up and let go and risk and see. And I asked in the first entry, pre-departure, if this trip was any more consequential than the rest. Is it? I don't even know what I meant when I asked about its consequence.
It's just another landmark, another stake in the ground for this garden.
Growing roots.
And then I hear Manchita and Carlitos, the little rascals, chasing and barking at the parade of taxis and turismo vans going up the reserve. The doggy gang.
Take breaks from the Institute by going over to Alan's to watch howler monkeys and cook food and draw and talk about jobs with Annie and it all seems so plausible.
Staying, living, being.
Over Semana Santa I went to Turín with Maribel and Ariel. Vast farmland with a vast amount of family and I spent the day exploring old gold mines and riding horses to the river with Brazel sitting in front of me (he's grown up so much in four months!). After lunch I sat on the front steps of the main house drinking coffee grown, harvested, roasted, and brewed by the same hands that served it to me, on the same farm.
The seeds are sewn and I wonder if the sprouts can survive the season without me.
I dig my heels into the ground and try and keep time from pushing me over but it's impossible to stop so I just choose not to sleep.
Which isn't the best strategy for the final week. But I need these channels to be open. I sacrifice something either way, and I'd rather give up on dormancy than on my support.
At La Pension Diego says he doesn't want to see me like this. Ten to twelve hours at the Institute and I come over looking tired and not so much broken but filled with a painful hopefulness. I tried to explain the whole "growing season" thing and he asked me if I thought living here was a fantasy. I was taken aback, somewhat offended, because the point is it isn't a fantasy, I don't want it to be a fantasy. This is real. This is my life. I have something here but it's so separate from my life in the States that I wonder if it will just be like a wormhole and close. This place will not stop existing, I know that, but I'm scared that as soon as I step back through that door into the noise, the heat, the concrete, this chapter in my life really will turn into just a dream, a blip. I can't let that happen. I've gained too much ground for myself to let it all slip away.
So I won't.
This is nothing new, this travel and meet and move but plant and grow and pick up and let go and risk and see. And I asked in the first entry, pre-departure, if this trip was any more consequential than the rest. Is it? I don't even know what I meant when I asked about its consequence.
It's just another landmark, another stake in the ground for this garden.
Growing roots.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
28 (or siren.)
10 hour workdays at the Institute. I wish I could say Semana Santa is a blessing, but it feels like a curse. The country shuts down for four days and I should totally take it as a break but, well, you know me. No breaks until the work is done.
The boys leave today.
Spent the last night eating comida china at La Pension and drinking tea.
I wake up smelling like smokefire.
Patient eyes and soft voices.
oh, we're so c-c-c-c-c-controversial.
we are entirely smooth.
we admit to the truth,
we are the best at what we do.
and these are the words you wish you wrote down.
this is the way you wish your voice sounds,
handsome and smart.
oh my tongue's the only muscle on my body
that works harder than my heart.
One night last week at Moon Shiva, a friend told me I was unaware of my abilities. Maybe I'm just not willing to accept them.
So September, on the back porch in Pigtown he said "You need to accept and appreciate how incredible of a person you are..."
His actions spoke louder then than his words.
So I acted, too.
It was the Get Out of Jail Free card. Because as the sheets twisted, I was across town curling an old flame around my finger, no matter how badly I would be burned come November.
We prefer to remember the destruction over the construction.
I know my power when I walk into a room with that big smile and those bright eyes. How many free drinks can I turn down in a night? I am fully aware of my abilities, I know the hurt I can cause, and I cry harder on those days when I hold the knife than on any day when I'm the only one wounded.
But the temptation to play the game...
I just have restraint and willpower.
And I am still just as hopeless as the rest of the romantics.
That's why I stayed home for so long.
Take a drink.
It feels good to be called beautiful. And smart. And intelligent. And powerful.
Take a drink.
So I enter the game I say I don't play.
I can do it anywhere with anyone at anytime don't you forget
this is my life and it's going to be good, don't you know
not a promise or a threat or an ultimatum, though I can do that too
I'm just telling you, I've got this life I've got to live
I'm just following through...
If I say I play, then I start playing by the rules.
Maybe then I won't let you down.
Maybe then I won't lose so sorely.
The boys leave today.
Spent the last night eating comida china at La Pension and drinking tea.
I wake up smelling like smokefire.
Patient eyes and soft voices.
oh, we're so c-c-c-c-c-controversial.
we are entirely smooth.
we admit to the truth,
we are the best at what we do.
and these are the words you wish you wrote down.
this is the way you wish your voice sounds,
handsome and smart.
oh my tongue's the only muscle on my body
that works harder than my heart.
One night last week at Moon Shiva, a friend told me I was unaware of my abilities. Maybe I'm just not willing to accept them.
So September, on the back porch in Pigtown he said "You need to accept and appreciate how incredible of a person you are..."
His actions spoke louder then than his words.
So I acted, too.
It was the Get Out of Jail Free card. Because as the sheets twisted, I was across town curling an old flame around my finger, no matter how badly I would be burned come November.
We prefer to remember the destruction over the construction.
I know my power when I walk into a room with that big smile and those bright eyes. How many free drinks can I turn down in a night? I am fully aware of my abilities, I know the hurt I can cause, and I cry harder on those days when I hold the knife than on any day when I'm the only one wounded.
But the temptation to play the game...
I just have restraint and willpower.
And I am still just as hopeless as the rest of the romantics.
That's why I stayed home for so long.
Take a drink.
It feels good to be called beautiful. And smart. And intelligent. And powerful.
Take a drink.
So I enter the game I say I don't play.
I can do it anywhere with anyone at anytime don't you forget
this is my life and it's going to be good, don't you know
not a promise or a threat or an ultimatum, though I can do that too
I'm just telling you, I've got this life I've got to live
I'm just following through...
If I say I play, then I start playing by the rules.
Maybe then I won't let you down.
Maybe then I won't lose so sorely.
Friday, April 3, 2009
27 (or prep.)
Classes taper off which means research mode is in full swing. Multiple interviews daily, literature reviews, proposal meetings...we have two weeks to get everything together. My final projects are:
ENVIRONMENTAL SUSTAINABILITY: THE VALUE OF POOP: BIODIGESTORS AND SUSTAINABLE WASTE MANAGEMENT SYSTEMS
FIELD METHODS IN COMMUNITY HEALTH: PIROPOS: DEFINITIONS AND REACTIONS
DEVELOPMENT AND SOCIAL CHANGE IN COSTA RICA: DOROTHY ROCKWELL'S LITTLE BLACK BOOK: SCRABBLE IN THE QUAKER COMMUNITY
We have a huge community symposium on the 21st of April which will be bilingual and totallyyyyy overwhelming.
I also have to start getting my things together for next year. My class schedule for next semester should be as follows:
MGT 245 M 6:30-9:00 (Organizational Behavior)
MGT 247 MWF 10:30-11:20 (Introduction to Human Resource Management)
MGT 210 TUTH 10:00-11:15 (Financial Management)
ART 382 TUTH 12:00-1:15 (Visual Remedies and the Consolation of Philosophy-Topics in Early Modern Art)
ART 204 TU 6:30-9:00 (Digital Imaging I)
And that means Spring semester is:
ART 230 (Sculpture I)
ART 268 (Early Renaissance Art)
MGT 231 (Introduction to International Business)
MGT 320 (Small Business Management) - I AM SO HAPPY MY ADVISOR CHOSE TO TEACH THIS AGAIN AND FOR MY LAST SEMESTER
MGT 375 (Strategic Leadership for the Arts Administrator)
MGT 380 (Strategic Management)
And I pray pray pray there will be no scheduling conflicts.
I really wanted six classes next semester but one just got switched back to spring semester. So just five for next semester, and six in the spring. I don't have a choice, really, and I'm bummed that teaching Connections is no longer feasible. I'm actually looking forward to getting back into the grind of my disciplines in the fall.
QUESTIONING MY CAPACITY.
I'm looking forward to, relatively, sacrificing all the extracurriculars I used to do to be an awesome profile student. I'll have class and I'll have a job. And maybe live off campus. I sent an email to Kate yesterday that said "I can't wait to come home to you," so we can have sewing projects and grow a garden and make our pancake breakfast with old bay potatoes and listen to records and sing cute acoustic music and snuggle and giggle in our nest of a bed and even if we don't live together just living and breathing in the same city as her will be enough to keep me fulfilled...
...and not be concerned with gender roles perpetuated in bar culture or discriminatory words begin thrown carelessly like a drunken game of darts. We have to pick our battles and I should realize I probably won't win this one here. So I try not to get wound up in it and find alternatives to these situations. Like wine and cheese parties at Michael and Kamila's when I'm not falling asleep, or dinners and movies at Mike's. I still go out and I still enjoy it but I'll be more at ease when my social nightlife has more options than those that revolve around a bar.
...but my afternoonlife revolves around delicious baked goods and reading at Dulce Marzo so I think I'll do that riiiiiiiiight NOW.
ENVIRONMENTAL SUSTAINABILITY: THE VALUE OF POOP: BIODIGESTORS AND SUSTAINABLE WASTE MANAGEMENT SYSTEMS
FIELD METHODS IN COMMUNITY HEALTH: PIROPOS: DEFINITIONS AND REACTIONS
DEVELOPMENT AND SOCIAL CHANGE IN COSTA RICA: DOROTHY ROCKWELL'S LITTLE BLACK BOOK: SCRABBLE IN THE QUAKER COMMUNITY
We have a huge community symposium on the 21st of April which will be bilingual and totallyyyyy overwhelming.
I also have to start getting my things together for next year. My class schedule for next semester should be as follows:
MGT 245 M 6:30-9:00 (Organizational Behavior)
MGT 247 MWF 10:30-11:20 (Introduction to Human Resource Management)
MGT 210 TUTH 10:00-11:15 (Financial Management)
ART 382 TUTH 12:00-1:15 (Visual Remedies and the Consolation of Philosophy-Topics in Early Modern Art)
ART 204 TU 6:30-9:00 (Digital Imaging I)
And that means Spring semester is:
ART 230 (Sculpture I)
ART 268 (Early Renaissance Art)
MGT 231 (Introduction to International Business)
MGT 320 (Small Business Management) - I AM SO HAPPY MY ADVISOR CHOSE TO TEACH THIS AGAIN AND FOR MY LAST SEMESTER
MGT 375 (Strategic Leadership for the Arts Administrator)
MGT 380 (Strategic Management)
And I pray pray pray there will be no scheduling conflicts.
I really wanted six classes next semester but one just got switched back to spring semester. So just five for next semester, and six in the spring. I don't have a choice, really, and I'm bummed that teaching Connections is no longer feasible. I'm actually looking forward to getting back into the grind of my disciplines in the fall.
QUESTIONING MY CAPACITY.
I'm looking forward to, relatively, sacrificing all the extracurriculars I used to do to be an awesome profile student. I'll have class and I'll have a job. And maybe live off campus. I sent an email to Kate yesterday that said "I can't wait to come home to you," so we can have sewing projects and grow a garden and make our pancake breakfast with old bay potatoes and listen to records and sing cute acoustic music and snuggle and giggle in our nest of a bed and even if we don't live together just living and breathing in the same city as her will be enough to keep me fulfilled...
...and not be concerned with gender roles perpetuated in bar culture or discriminatory words begin thrown carelessly like a drunken game of darts. We have to pick our battles and I should realize I probably won't win this one here. So I try not to get wound up in it and find alternatives to these situations. Like wine and cheese parties at Michael and Kamila's when I'm not falling asleep, or dinners and movies at Mike's. I still go out and I still enjoy it but I'll be more at ease when my social nightlife has more options than those that revolve around a bar.
...but my afternoonlife revolves around delicious baked goods and reading at Dulce Marzo so I think I'll do that riiiiiiiiight NOW.
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