When it comes to commenting on one’s physical appearance, Americans tend to let their positive feelings be known, and to keep their critical opinions to themselves, or wait to talk about the person behind his/her back. Ticos, on the other hand, will not hesitate to comment on your physical appearance right to your face. I find it funny that in our Peace Corps training we learn that Tico culture is indirect, because I personally could not find them to be more direct. Obviously I am writing this because I have an example to share, and the story is actually very, very short. It goes like this: A friend of mine stopped by my house the other day after we hadn’t seen each other in about 2 weeks. Here’s how our conversation went:
Ana: Hi, how are you? What have you been doing lately?
Me: I’m good, just been working a lot. I’ve been sitting in front of the computer writing a huge report for the last couple of days.
Ana: Oh yea, I can tell you haven’t been exercising, cuz your face got all fat and stuff.
Me: Ummm…ok.
I mean, what can you say when someone says something is wrong with you face? Nothing, absolutely nothing. The thing is, I know she didn’t mean it to be offensive at all, but it just so happens they don’t tend to be offended when someone says they’re fatter, they just accept it, whereas we, well, do get offended. Here, telling someone they are fat is like us telling them they are wearing a green shirt – it’s not bad or good, it just is. Part of me wants to fully embrace the straight-up, brutally honest approach to body image, while the other part of me finds it to be a little unnecessary. Everyone is entitled to express their thoughts and feelings…I guess.
Mis Pollitos!
I love my job. This started out as a bunch of high school girls in my exercise class asking me to teach them the “Thriller” dance for their music class. Then they mixed Michael’s tune with contemporary music, and we worked together to make it fit the theme of “values” so as to enter their performance in a competition for “Arte por la Paz,” (Art for Peace), in which students of all ages from all over the country participate in arts-related projects that promote peace.
In this performance, one of the girls is having a nightmare that zombies (which represent violence in modern-day culture) are taking away her values and replacing them with anti-values, but I pretty much just had the memory card space for the Thriller part…you can just picture it all being very deep and stuff. Enjoy.
Those Magic Changes...
As I sit in my living room, watching two lizards run up and down the pale green wall next to me, and listening to another one make a screeching sound as it hides behind the map of the Americas above my head, I do not flinch. When I first encountered the little creatures, which find their way into each and every dwelling in my town and most others in Costa Rica, I was fascinated by them, and startled by their quick little steps and far-from-discrete nighttime noises. My newfound apathy for them is just one of many examples as to how my thoughts and behaviors have been altered by constant exposure to Tico life. So, I figured I’d just make a list off the top of my head of different ways in which my life or I have changed during these first 6 months in Costa Rica:
1. I eat just about every meal/food with a spoon instead of a fork and knife
2. I say “mamita” and “mi amor” on a regular basis
3. I brush my teeth about 4-5 times a day. I have always been a big fan of oral
hygiene, but here the norm is to bring toothbrush and toothpaste to work and
school, so that you can always brush after lunch and cafecito
4. Every day I speak more Spanish than I do English
5. I sweat ALL the time
6. People call me “machita” (“little blonde girl”)everywhere I go.
7. I eat a huge bowl of beans at EVERY lunch and dinner
8. All of my dirty clothes get washed and ironed every single day (I finally
convinced my host mom and sister that my workout clothes and underwear do not
need
to be ironed)
9. My clothes get ironed…period
10.Instead of running every day I jump rope every day (like Rocky)
11.I teach exercise and English classes
12.I live with little kids
13.People stare at me all the time (being a gringa here is kind of like being a
pretty circus freak)
14.God is referenced in nearly every conversation/social interaction I have
15.A group of high school girls asked me to teach them a choreographed dance (for
those who don’t know me, I would be an absolutely absurd candidate for such a job
in the States)
16.I wear business-casual clothing on a regular basis (who knew that my impressive
24 years of avoiding work clothes would come to an end during my Peace Corps
service)?
17.I am considered tall.
18.People offer me food all the time
19.I never pay for pineapple…cuz it’s everywhere.
20.I am an auntie
Ok, I could easily spend days adding to this list, there are just soooo many.
1. I eat just about every meal/food with a spoon instead of a fork and knife
2. I say “mamita” and “mi amor” on a regular basis
3. I brush my teeth about 4-5 times a day. I have always been a big fan of oral
hygiene, but here the norm is to bring toothbrush and toothpaste to work and
school, so that you can always brush after lunch and cafecito
4. Every day I speak more Spanish than I do English
5. I sweat ALL the time
6. People call me “machita” (“little blonde girl”)everywhere I go.
7. I eat a huge bowl of beans at EVERY lunch and dinner
8. All of my dirty clothes get washed and ironed every single day (I finally
convinced my host mom and sister that my workout clothes and underwear do not
need
to be ironed)
9. My clothes get ironed…period
10.Instead of running every day I jump rope every day (like Rocky)
11.I teach exercise and English classes
12.I live with little kids
13.People stare at me all the time (being a gringa here is kind of like being a
pretty circus freak)
14.God is referenced in nearly every conversation/social interaction I have
15.A group of high school girls asked me to teach them a choreographed dance (for
those who don’t know me, I would be an absolutely absurd candidate for such a job
in the States)
16.I wear business-casual clothing on a regular basis (who knew that my impressive
24 years of avoiding work clothes would come to an end during my Peace Corps
service)?
17.I am considered tall.
18.People offer me food all the time
19.I never pay for pineapple…cuz it’s everywhere.
20.I am an auntie
Ok, I could easily spend days adding to this list, there are just soooo many.
I Love My Little Brother
August 21, 2009
Hi party people, sorry for the delay in posts…I promise it’s not that I don’t think of you all often, it’s just that I live in the jungle (‘cept not really).
I am currently in my host sister’s house, where I’ve been sleeping the past couple of nights while her husband gets some tests done in the nearest hospital (which is an hour and a half away). She has a baby and a 5 year old son, and like many Ticos she does not like to be alone, so I’m keeping her company at night. She and her 2 sons are sleeping in her bed and I’m sleeping in the 5-year-old’s bed, which is, umm…let’s say…different. My feet just stay on at the end, so the fit is just fine, but the mattress is definitely just for show, because it doesn’t do anything. If sleeping on hard surfaces is as good as they say it is for one’s back, this kid is going to have the healthiest back there ever was. In any case, I’m happy that I can be here for my host sister, and I hope they can find out what’s going on with my host brother-in-law and get him home feeling better very soon. We definitely miss him around here. Also, I think his bed had bedbugs, which is disgusting, but I definitely woke up with, uhh, problems (I’ll leave it at that).
I cannot believe that I haven’t written in a month! A lot has happened since then of course, the highlight being my little brother’s visit, which sadly ended last week. After 5 months without seeing each other, neither one of us could believe that we were actually together. On the day of his arrival I went to San Jose to meet him at the airport, and my bus was making extremely good time (we were going to arrive in 4 rather than 5 hours). That is, until it smashed into a pickup truck that pulled out in front of us. After seeing glass fly everywhere outside of the bus (we were all fine, hardly even felt it), I heard about 5 or 6 more vehicles smashing into each other behind us, which was pretty scary. After hearing that everyone was miraculously okay, I boarded another bus and carried on to San Jose, thankfully still getting to the airport on time. It was so wonderful to see my favorite boy in the whole world, and his Irish-Catholic whiteness was beyond blinding. I mean, this boy is W-H-I-T-E! I have never felt so tan in my life as I did during his trip. It was fabulous.
So as not to waste any time in the miserable city of San Jose, we immediately set off for a beach located about 2 hours from where I live. This came as a surprise to my brother, who thought we were only going to my site and San Jose (I’m so sneaky). Although it rained our entire full day at the beach, we still had a good time catching up and just being together. During one downpour I decided I wanted to try running (which I haven’t been able to do since January due to an injury), so we set out into the rainy jungle to see how it would go. The scenery was so beautiful that it wasn’t until we were a couple of miles in that I realized I was not, in fact, ready to run yet.
The next day we set off to my site, which was certainly the best part of his stay in my opinion (and I think he would agree). I loved introducing him to my friends and family here. Everyone was quite impressed by his Spanish, and it was nice to see how happy he was to be putting it into practice. My host mom was thrilled to have someone who could eat an entire table full of food (so she proceeded to fill the entire table for him at every meal). She nearly died of embarrassment when my brother insisted on helping wash the dishes, but it was a good opportunity to show the anti-machismo ways of my family in the States.
We stayed in my site for 6 days and 5 nights, and my brother got to experience my daily life to the fullest. He took my exercise classes in the Baptist church and in the community center, attended meetings in the high school and with various community members, helped paint traditional masks with a group of kids in the elementary school, entertained the younger kids who showed up to my meeting for adolescents in the shantytown, sipped cafecito, and ate lots and lots of traditional Tico foods. The pic at the top of this post is from the hike we went on with my mentorship program from the high school. My brother is the large white one.
His last week here was unfortunately consumed by a conference that I had in San Jose. The conference was about service learning and solitary volunteerism, and how to introduce these concepts to our communities.
Community service is generally a good thing, but its impact is much more profound when 1) the project idea comes from the people who will benefit 2) the volunteers and community are informed about the project, including its origins, consequences, and future steps to maintain or improve its effects. These are the kinds of components that separate “community service” projects (e.g. taking a science class to a river to pick up trash) from “service learning” projects (asking a science class to analyze the strengths and weaknesses of their community, seeing that they identify the dirty river as a primary concern, teaching them about how rivers affect communities and the consequences of contamination, taking those who are interested to the river to clean it, and meeting afterwards to celebrate the project’s success and to form a plan of action to keep the river clean). While community service is something that is valued by many people in the U.S. (so much so that an entire government institution - Peace Corps - is dedicated to its implementation in countries all over the world), it is not a common value here. This is not to say that Ticos are not generous nor that they do not want to help others – they are by far the most generous people I have ever met – but rather that the idea of community service is not something that has not yet infiltrated the culture. Peace Corps Costa Rica has made service learning a primary concern, with the ultimate goal-of-goals being the implementation of a corps of Tico volunteers who work for Ticos (i.e. the equivalent of AmeriCorps in the U.S., but in Costa Rica).
In any case, it was too bad that my brother had to come to the conference with me and my community counterpart (the high school counselor), but the 3 of us had a good time together along with the other 14 volunteers and their counterparts, and I learned a lot about how to work more effectively in my community. It would be awesome to see the creation of a Tico Corps in the coming years.
No, gracias.
July 21, 2009
“Viejo verde,” which literally means “green, elderly man,” is the name Ticos have bestowed upon older men who spend their days in heavy pursuit of younger women’s affections. Besides the occasional brief encounter, I haven’t really been bothered by these tortured souls…until this week, that is. I’m not sure why (it may be the new deodorant I just bought, which smells fabulous), but I managed to have my fair share of viejo verde encounters in just these past three days. The first is an employee in one of the institutions for which I work, which is always fun. Every time I see him, he tries to make plans for the two of us to go see some waterfalls that are a couple hours away from our town. Anytime I mention anyone else who might like to go too, he assures me that they have already seen them. So far, my indirect attempts to tell him “no, gracias” have been insufficient in ending the repetitive proposals. Yesterday he decided to try and work “I live alone, I have no woman” into each one of his terribly uninteresting stories, and proceeded to ask me about my marital status. I told him all about my “very serious boyfriend” in the States (we’ll call him, Tommy), and when he asked how long Tommy would wait for me I very confidently responded, “forever.” Tommy and I are very happy together.
My other viejo verde is even worse. Unfortunately, when I first him I was not thinking clearly, and told him I did not have a boyfriend (although I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t have mattered to him). I was minding my own business, walking home from the center of town, when he spotted me. He asked for a minute of my time, which happens constantly here, and it wasn’t until 5 minutes into the conversation that I realized he was tryna be someone’s sugar daddy. After several unsuccessful attempts to find out exactly where I live, what my phone number is, and when we could see each other again (because apparently this first “date” of ours went so well), he settled on giving me his phone number (which I keep with me always…), and finally allowed me to escape his oppressive charms. Not only did he have no “verguenza” or shame in asking me ALL the personal questions, he saw no problem in telling me that he has always wanted to marry a “White (not Black)” girl from the States. He would have been in luck if I had always dreamt of marrying an old, unfaithful, racist turd…but that just isn’t my type. I had the pleasure of seeing him again today, but I was mentally prepared for his aggressiveness, and was able to get myself out of the situation relatively quickly.
Overall, the men here have been very respectful towards me, and I feel extremely safe in my community. There just always seems to be a few bad apples in every bunch (mmm…apples). Speaking of apples, the other day I bought the best ones I’ve had in Costa Rica, which nearly produced tears of joy. Not only that, but I also bought natural peanut butter (in the town an hour away), so you can imagine my excitement when I was able to eat the natural peanut butter with my crispy, perfect apples. It was heaven. Yes, mom, I already finished the jar of PB that you sent me, but it brought many people (and by that I mean me and my host mom…no one else likes it) lots of happiness.
Everything here is good, the kids just had a bonus, third week of winter break due to sudden, increased outbreaks of swine flu in children here. I am looking forward to school getting back in session, not only because the kids here need all the time they can get in school (they attend classes for about half the time of students in the States), but also because it is a lot easier to get work done on projects when people are in their normal routine.
I have official news of my first visitor from home. My brother, who apparently loves me more than any of the rest of you, is coming in just a couple of weeks! I am stoked to see him, and cannot wait for everyone in my community to meet the nicest boy in the entire world!
“Viejo verde,” which literally means “green, elderly man,” is the name Ticos have bestowed upon older men who spend their days in heavy pursuit of younger women’s affections. Besides the occasional brief encounter, I haven’t really been bothered by these tortured souls…until this week, that is. I’m not sure why (it may be the new deodorant I just bought, which smells fabulous), but I managed to have my fair share of viejo verde encounters in just these past three days. The first is an employee in one of the institutions for which I work, which is always fun. Every time I see him, he tries to make plans for the two of us to go see some waterfalls that are a couple hours away from our town. Anytime I mention anyone else who might like to go too, he assures me that they have already seen them. So far, my indirect attempts to tell him “no, gracias” have been insufficient in ending the repetitive proposals. Yesterday he decided to try and work “I live alone, I have no woman” into each one of his terribly uninteresting stories, and proceeded to ask me about my marital status. I told him all about my “very serious boyfriend” in the States (we’ll call him, Tommy), and when he asked how long Tommy would wait for me I very confidently responded, “forever.” Tommy and I are very happy together.
My other viejo verde is even worse. Unfortunately, when I first him I was not thinking clearly, and told him I did not have a boyfriend (although I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t have mattered to him). I was minding my own business, walking home from the center of town, when he spotted me. He asked for a minute of my time, which happens constantly here, and it wasn’t until 5 minutes into the conversation that I realized he was tryna be someone’s sugar daddy. After several unsuccessful attempts to find out exactly where I live, what my phone number is, and when we could see each other again (because apparently this first “date” of ours went so well), he settled on giving me his phone number (which I keep with me always…), and finally allowed me to escape his oppressive charms. Not only did he have no “verguenza” or shame in asking me ALL the personal questions, he saw no problem in telling me that he has always wanted to marry a “White (not Black)” girl from the States. He would have been in luck if I had always dreamt of marrying an old, unfaithful, racist turd…but that just isn’t my type. I had the pleasure of seeing him again today, but I was mentally prepared for his aggressiveness, and was able to get myself out of the situation relatively quickly.
Overall, the men here have been very respectful towards me, and I feel extremely safe in my community. There just always seems to be a few bad apples in every bunch (mmm…apples). Speaking of apples, the other day I bought the best ones I’ve had in Costa Rica, which nearly produced tears of joy. Not only that, but I also bought natural peanut butter (in the town an hour away), so you can imagine my excitement when I was able to eat the natural peanut butter with my crispy, perfect apples. It was heaven. Yes, mom, I already finished the jar of PB that you sent me, but it brought many people (and by that I mean me and my host mom…no one else likes it) lots of happiness.
Everything here is good, the kids just had a bonus, third week of winter break due to sudden, increased outbreaks of swine flu in children here. I am looking forward to school getting back in session, not only because the kids here need all the time they can get in school (they attend classes for about half the time of students in the States), but also because it is a lot easier to get work done on projects when people are in their normal routine.
I have official news of my first visitor from home. My brother, who apparently loves me more than any of the rest of you, is coming in just a couple of weeks! I am stoked to see him, and cannot wait for everyone in my community to meet the nicest boy in the entire world!
Machismo and Generosity
July 10, 2009
This week I started about five different blog posts, and then erased them after feeling unable to articulate the meaningfulness of the experiences I was attempting to share. Here I’d like to share two characteristics of Tico culture with which I am confronted every day – one negative (Tico machismo) and the other negative (Tico generosity).
- When I was in training, I only had minor exposure to the “machista” or patriarchic culture that is so prevalent in Latin America (Costa Rica being no exception). Since arriving to my site, machismo punches me in the face on a regular basis, and it often takes all my energy to contain my frustration. For example, my host sister really wants to come to my exercise classes, but can’t because her husband gets home from work during class….I you are like me you might be asking, “Who the @!#$ cares?” If you are my host sister, however, you care because your husband’s dinner needs to be hot and ready the moment he gets home. When my host sister told me this was why she couldn’t come to class, all I could do was stare at her. The notion that, twice a week, this 30-year-old man could not find some other solution to eating dinner (e.g. wait an extra hour, make it himself, heat up something that she already made) left me dumbfounded. What’s even more is that I was with my host mother and other host sister, and both of them (of course) shared the “poor Warner needs his dinner so obviously Jamie can’t go” point of view. Same thing happens in the morning – she can’t walk with me and my other friend because pobrecito Warner needs to have his freakin’ breakfast. Lawd help him if anything (heaven forbid) were to happen to my host sister. Sometimes I wonder if the men here even manage to wipe themselves in the bathroom. One more quick example of my host brother’s machista ways: Just now, my abuelo was calling for my host mom (his daughter). I was in my room, and heard him, but Warner was literally right next to him, laying on the couch. Warner managed to let out a pathetic call to my host mom to let her know, but when that didn’t work he just gave up and let my abuelo continue to call her in his weak, elderly voice. Hardly able to believe what I was hearing, I emerged from my room, confirmed that this was actually happening, and asked abuelo what he needed. Unbelievable. Side note: My host Dad is super helpful around the house, which I love love love. He is so incredibly generous and treats my host mom with all the love and respect in the world. He is definitely the exception, not the rule.
- The other day, I was about to walk home from a nearby shantytown when a ferocious lightning storm emerged out of nowhere. I ducked into the house of a woman I know, seeing as bolts literally seemed to be hitting the tops of the tin roofs that surrounded me. My friend, Marta, doesn’t have enough money to pay someone to make another hole behind her house to use as a bathroom, but she still managed to bring me a bowl full of shopped up papaya in a matter of 5 minutes. I was thankful for the lightening storm, because I allowed me a full hour of nonstop conversation with her and family that would not have happened otherwise. In addition to the papaya, my hands were full with a loaf of homemade bread and ice cream from 2 others families before I made it out of the shantytown community. Although I still feel guilty when people who are struggling to survive give me (the gringa who has everything she could ever ask for) presents, I am beginning to accept the fact that pleasing other people genuinely pleases them – the fact that they are able to offer something to others breeds a sense of pride, and assurance that they are going to be alright. I am confronted by Tico generosity on multiple occasions every day, and yet it still never ceases to amaze me.
The generosity displayed by community members in the shantytown, and the machismo so beautifully demonstrated by my brother-in-law are merely two examples out of the many that catch my attention on literally a daily basis.
Today involved hiking to the top of a mountain, serious jump-roping, teaching an exercise class, and eating lots of arroz con leche with coconut cookies. Needless to say, it is time to go to sleep. Next week I’m helping Jenna run a swim camp in our town, so that should be fun…or really painful and stressfull…but interesting none the less. I’ll letcha know all about it. Send me emails, it is really depressing if I go a week without internet and then when I finally get access my only emails are from Peace Corps, Bank of America, and my mom. Thank you.
This week I started about five different blog posts, and then erased them after feeling unable to articulate the meaningfulness of the experiences I was attempting to share. Here I’d like to share two characteristics of Tico culture with which I am confronted every day – one negative (Tico machismo) and the other negative (Tico generosity).
- When I was in training, I only had minor exposure to the “machista” or patriarchic culture that is so prevalent in Latin America (Costa Rica being no exception). Since arriving to my site, machismo punches me in the face on a regular basis, and it often takes all my energy to contain my frustration. For example, my host sister really wants to come to my exercise classes, but can’t because her husband gets home from work during class….I you are like me you might be asking, “Who the @!#$ cares?” If you are my host sister, however, you care because your husband’s dinner needs to be hot and ready the moment he gets home. When my host sister told me this was why she couldn’t come to class, all I could do was stare at her. The notion that, twice a week, this 30-year-old man could not find some other solution to eating dinner (e.g. wait an extra hour, make it himself, heat up something that she already made) left me dumbfounded. What’s even more is that I was with my host mother and other host sister, and both of them (of course) shared the “poor Warner needs his dinner so obviously Jamie can’t go” point of view. Same thing happens in the morning – she can’t walk with me and my other friend because pobrecito Warner needs to have his freakin’ breakfast. Lawd help him if anything (heaven forbid) were to happen to my host sister. Sometimes I wonder if the men here even manage to wipe themselves in the bathroom. One more quick example of my host brother’s machista ways: Just now, my abuelo was calling for my host mom (his daughter). I was in my room, and heard him, but Warner was literally right next to him, laying on the couch. Warner managed to let out a pathetic call to my host mom to let her know, but when that didn’t work he just gave up and let my abuelo continue to call her in his weak, elderly voice. Hardly able to believe what I was hearing, I emerged from my room, confirmed that this was actually happening, and asked abuelo what he needed. Unbelievable. Side note: My host Dad is super helpful around the house, which I love love love. He is so incredibly generous and treats my host mom with all the love and respect in the world. He is definitely the exception, not the rule.
- The other day, I was about to walk home from a nearby shantytown when a ferocious lightning storm emerged out of nowhere. I ducked into the house of a woman I know, seeing as bolts literally seemed to be hitting the tops of the tin roofs that surrounded me. My friend, Marta, doesn’t have enough money to pay someone to make another hole behind her house to use as a bathroom, but she still managed to bring me a bowl full of shopped up papaya in a matter of 5 minutes. I was thankful for the lightening storm, because I allowed me a full hour of nonstop conversation with her and family that would not have happened otherwise. In addition to the papaya, my hands were full with a loaf of homemade bread and ice cream from 2 others families before I made it out of the shantytown community. Although I still feel guilty when people who are struggling to survive give me (the gringa who has everything she could ever ask for) presents, I am beginning to accept the fact that pleasing other people genuinely pleases them – the fact that they are able to offer something to others breeds a sense of pride, and assurance that they are going to be alright. I am confronted by Tico generosity on multiple occasions every day, and yet it still never ceases to amaze me.
The generosity displayed by community members in the shantytown, and the machismo so beautifully demonstrated by my brother-in-law are merely two examples out of the many that catch my attention on literally a daily basis.
Today involved hiking to the top of a mountain, serious jump-roping, teaching an exercise class, and eating lots of arroz con leche with coconut cookies. Needless to say, it is time to go to sleep. Next week I’m helping Jenna run a swim camp in our town, so that should be fun…or really painful and stressfull…but interesting none the less. I’ll letcha know all about it. Send me emails, it is really depressing if I go a week without internet and then when I finally get access my only emails are from Peace Corps, Bank of America, and my mom. Thank you.
Showing off my blogging skillz...this is a video
This is pretty much how my nephew and I spend our free time...I try to do work, and then he comes and distracts me and acts too cute for me to turn him away. Here he is ¨reading¨Beauty and the Beast, and talking about how the Beast wants to eat children who don´t behave themselves....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)