Say Yes.

I am lazy. And no, I don’t mean the kind of lazy where you just want to lie around all day watching TV and eating chips and popcorn and ice cream because real food is too much work. (I mean sometimes I’m that kind of lazy…but who isn’t really?) No, I’m talking about the kind of lazy that keeps you from really enjoying life. The kind of lazy that makes you say no to things that you know will be fun and will enrich your life. The kind of lazy that leaves you home alone in your apartment washing dishes and sweeping up microscopic grains of dust that somehow seem to multiply just faster than you can remove them, while your friends are hiking a 14er or skiing fresh powder or lying on a beach somewhere clear and beautiful. It’s just easier to stay home. It’s easier to be alone and to look at the pictures later and have a moment of regret before moving on with your life.

I am that kind of lazy. Or I was.

The past 4 weekends in a row I have done something that I normally would have said no to. In fact, initially I did say no. I always said no.

“No, I think I’m just going to sleep in and get some stuff done. You guys have fun at the beach.”

“Ugh. I drank a little too much last night and got home really late. I don’t want to get on a bus and ride to this festival. I know it’ll be fun but I kinda just wanna take it easy.”

“Man, I really don’t wanna go anywhere this weekend. We don’t know these people very well and it’ll be a lot of work. I know we’ll get to be on a boat and it’ll probably be relaxing but…”

Yeah, THAT kind of lazy.

But I know this about myself, so the past 4 weekends in a row, after saying no, and grumbling with myself a little bit, I packed up my red and white striped bag, grabbed my swim-suit, or sunscreen or sandals looked at my roommate and said, “Ok, let’s go!”

And we did.

It didn’t occur to me how important this was until this last weekend though. The wind in my face and hair and the light spray of the ocean as we sped towards white sands and bluer waters beneath a sky so clear you could almost see the future, and it was good. Not ‘good’ like “oh yeah I’m good, thanks”.  I mean ‘good’ like water when you’re hiking in the desert, like standing at 13,000 feet for the sunrise, like finishing something old or starting something new.  I mean good like soul food and music that gives you chills, like laughing for no good reason. Good like friendships that can endure the silence of distance, or time or even just a walk without any words. Good.

It’s good to say ‘yes’ sometimes. It’s good to let yourself have fun and to enjoy life to the fullest. So then I guess here’s to not being lazy…at least not when it means I might get to experience something …GOOD. 

Oh, so you're gonna be a teacher...

"What are you studying?"

"English."

"Oh so you’re gonna be a teacher?"

I resented those words for the greater part of my college career. NO! I’m not going to be a teacher! I’m going to do something…something…I don’t know!...Something ELSE!

So now I have been out of college for a year and a half, and what am I doing?

I’m teaching.

And I love it.

Granted, I have only been at it for a week and a half and I haven’t faced many of the usual nightmares I’m sure to encounter in the future. But for now I’m actually making money (not a lot of it) doing the things I love: experiencing a different culture, speaking a different language, thinking about English all the time, and (yes this is a thing I love) presenting information to small groups of people on an almost daily basis.

The only thing that could make this any better would be if home were a little closer. But home (if you’ve been following me at all) is a subject all its own.

I guess this post is pretty short and sweet.

I love teaching.

I don’t know why I frowned upon it so much when I was younger but…well, people change.

So one more thing before I go: this may not be the ideal financial situation, but for once in my life, I can finally see what my dad meant when he said it is so much better to be doing something you love…Now I just have to cross my fingers (or just get my tushy in gear) and see what I can do about making this job work for me. 

Sunday at the Beach

I had decided a few summers ago that I just wasn’t a beach girl. We were in Florida, we were broke, and I missed the mountains so much I could physically feel it.

Things change though. People change, and one day you find yourself standing on a beach with your feet in the sand and the water, the sun on your face and your back, and you are in love. [*Disclaimer-my heart is still in the Rocky Mountains, but they are far and in another life so for now I will love the water.]

*****

He said we would leave at 7:30 so even though Ashley and I hardly slept we were up and ready to go almost on time. We sat together at the dining room table eating cereal, drinking coffee and talking about whatever it is people talk about over breakfast.  

We should have known better. Time is a relative thing here. I was raised to understand that when someone says a time they mean it, and you should always be early just in case. Here when someone says a time, it is probably just the first number that came to mind and you should just be ready to entertain yourself with whatever else until…whenever. It really isn’t that big a deal though. It’s sunny. It’s warm. Life is beautiful. Enjoy being lazy. You’ll eventually get there.

And we did. After a beer run, two bathroom stops, a gander at some gators from a bridge, a few terrifying turns here and there, and more than a few negotiations over what language should dominate for the day we finally made it. We trekked across the brown sand and rocks, up over a rocky land mass jutting out into water and dropped our stuff under a palm tree in paradise. White sand and blue waves called our names and within minutes we were flipping and bobbing in the clear, salty water.

And so the day went. Sandy beach to salty sea and back and forth again. By the end I was the kind of tired that just leaves you staring off into space with no desire to move or speak or think or even sleep. The sun has dried your worries, the sand has rubbed them loose, and the water has washed them away to find you on some other rainy day.

*****

I have never been much of a beach person. I’ve always been bored, and annoyed by the scratchy persistence of the sand clinging to everything it touches. But I am in Costa Rica now so I guess I’ll just say Pura Vida! 

Ok, Back to Business

I’m back. Christmas is a yellow and green blur (those are the colors of my sweat pants and hoodie I wore every day I was home). I slept. A lot. In fact if you know me at all you might choose to believe I am lying when I say I slept until 9 or 10 almost every day (and no, I didn’t stay up past midnight…except for new year’s…then I slept ‘til 10). It was relaxing. Christmas was perfect, slow, candlelit by the fire until the electricity came back on. New Years was…anticlimactic… but then really, it’s just another night isn’t it?

And so I’m back. Just 4 hours on a plane and it’s like I never left. Scorching sun, windy evenings, a not-quite-as-predictable-as-you’d-like-it-to-be bus schedule. Home? We’ll see. Friends met me at the airport. It’s always good when flying to a foreign country, to be able to say you have friends meeting you. It makes customs and baggage claim that much less painful. Even better than that though, is having a place to stay already lined up. Not only do you not have to find a taxi (Actually it’s harder to avoid them but that’s something else) but you don’t even have to find a hostel. You just meet your friends, hug them, play catch-up, and before you know it you are unloading your stuff into your temporary new room.

I have been back in the country for less than 24 hours and I have already had a job interview, met a potential private student, picked up a pay check, accepted a job at another school, gone to the grocery store and checked out (and loved) our future apartment. What a day. Now all that’ left is to just finish this blog post, make some homemade guacamole and drink a beer with Ashley and Sacha.

(So that’s it. Short and sweet. I’m back so I’ll be back to writing regularly…later ;)

Half-assed update

It has gotten a little late to tell the rest of the Manuel Antonio story. I’ll just say that we stayed at the most questionable hostel I have yet to encounter. But yeah, we arrived hungry and thirsty and hung-over. The next day was better. Jungle, beach, monkeys, sun, sloths…etc. You know, got chased by an iguana. It went well I think. We made it back to Heredia in time to finish our homework for the next day. Really, the whole thing probably would have been less stressful if we had only bought our return tickets that first day.

But that’s all past now. In fact, a lot has passed. I am now a TEFL certified English teacher…without a job. But then I’m getting used to the idea that I will likely be broke for the rest of my life. At least I get to go home for Christmas.

I’d like to be able to tell all my stories (not that I have that many) but let’s be honest…would you really want to read a post that long? I wouldn’t. I don’t really want to write one that long either, so at least we agree.

Highlights it is then.

1: Sloths are funny.

2: I’m surprised I wasn’t ever mugged. (knock on wood…I haven’t left the country yet.)

3: A 4 week TEFL certification class does not leave much room for travel. When the weekend comes, you drink and sleep and do homework. (Sound familiar to anyone?)

4: Rice and Beans will never be the same.

5: I’m still a beer snob….but I’ll drink whatever you have.

6: I’m not attracted to Latin American men (except for Javier of course)…They, on the other hand, seem to find me quite fascinating. I, though, apparently prefer skinny, awkward, white dudes who can’t dance and don’t like me back. Go figure.

7: When I do get to go to the beach I get bored after about 24 hours. (If I had more money maybe I’d be less bored, but I think we already established the fact that I will be perma-broke for most of my life) Don’t get me wrong, I love the sun and lying in it and standing in the water. It’s just that I only like it for so long; then I feel the need to do something else (like make money so I can do it again sometime).

8: I still like dancing.

9: I like speaking Spanish and wish I were way better at it. Actually, I just can’t wait until I am better at it.

10: I almost have a job. I’m going to need about 2 more to survive but that’s life I guess. (again…sound familiar to anyone?)

11: It is very green.

12: It’s not that much cheaper.

13: There always seem to be nice people in hostels...(I just have to get better at talking to them)

…

So yeah.  Costa Rica. Headed back January 3. But for now…Home for Christmas. 

Manuel Antonio Part 1

It felt just like a scene out of a movie. The sun was shining but not quite warming the chilled breeze that blew through the tents and over the fresh fruits and vegetables being sold all along both sides of the street. Everyone had come to stock up on ingredients for soups and salads and fresh snacks for the week. The people meandered in and out and around the tents. They visited with their favorite vendors, shared the weekly gossip, maybe they even haggled over a fair price for the onions. It was a normal Saturday morning… until the 3 gringas came running by like an episode of the amazing race with their backpacks in tow and their shorts riding up…

That’s right. My Saturday started off with a taxi ride to the wrong bus station so that we had to secure our belongings on our persons as best we could, tuck our prides away in our back pockets and hit the sidewalk running toward a vaguely explained destination. We asked for directions along the way from the meandering pedestrians who only slightly quickened their steps to point out the turn. The turn. We crossed the street without incident and immediately found ourselves headed up hill, not through a crowd of shoppers (which might have been somehow less surreal) but rather behind the veggie stands so that the vendors set off behind us as we went, yelling and cheering and laughing us along. What a sight. The three foreign girls (one in neon yellow shorts I might add) running (in a country where no one does anything in a hurry) and laughing hysterically to the point of tears as tico after tico turned and pointed and ran and yelled any and everything that came to his mind.

We missed the bus. Well we made it on time but there were no seats left so we had to buy a ticket for an hour and a half later. So we wandered around a little while, grabbed a snack, and by 10:30 we were finally headed to Manuel Antonio for our relaxing weekend away.

The bus ride was uneventful. We met a nice Italian woman who lives and works in New York. I slept. Kiera and Ashley listened to music and watched the breathtaking green pass by the windows. We arrived at about 2 in the afternoon next to a beach that could have been clipped out of a magazine, under a sun that could fry an egg. The vibe coming off the beach and tiny village reverberated with waves of what can only be described as “pura vida.” Relax. You have arrived in the land of leisure, so grab a beer or a piña colada and do whatever the hell you want. Sounds great right?

I guess I forgot to mention that none of us had gone to bed until 3 that morning and we had gotten up at 7 to get packed and catch our taxi by 8. Sure 4 hours of sleep isn’t so bad...unless maybe you were out until 3 the previous night as well, and unless maybe you forgot to grab coffee at any point in the day. I guess I also forgot to mention that when we bought our ticket to Manuel Antonio we didn’t buy a ticket home. Whatever, we thought, we’ll just get them at the station when we get there…except that there isn’t a bus station in Manuel Antonio.

So there we stood…three tired gringas in paradise, and all we wanted was food, a ticket back home and a good night’s sleep.

To Be Continued

Observing

We showed up not knowing quite what to expect. I have been to classes before. I would actually consider myself a world-class student (by the definition of: One who excels at attending class in the role of student). I have been to all your normal classes that everyone has to take. I have been to foreign language classes and tried to cram an entirely new vocabulary and grammar set into my already relatively full brain. I have even been to classes about teaching classes. Would observing a class really be that different?

We went in and did the whole hey we’re here, but just pretend we aren’t thing (even though this room is smaller than most one-person bedrooms, and the table almost fills the whole room, and there are only 8  people, and two of them clearly don’t belong. But yeah…pretend we aren’t here). So class started. The students were 5 Costa Rican teenagers, 3 girls and 2 boys. The teacher was a tall, gangly white guy with one of those personalities you just can’t help but like. The topic: “to make” versus “to do”, which is just “hacer” in Spanish. IT WAS SO INTERESTING! Granted they had already learned all the rules but it was fun to hear them trying to apply it, and fun realizing there really is just no really good set rule for why we use “make” sometimes and “do” others. Spanish-speakers seem to get by just fine with just the one word.

Clearly though, despite the fact that I don’t know a rule for it, I do know how to use these two words and didn’t need a class on them. I was there to learn everything else. How did the teacher present the information? How did the students receive it and respond. How did the teacher respond back to the students? How did he correct them? How did they correct themselves, or how did they just not ever really get it. Woah. I mean  I just get to go sit in this class and watch this guy teach, and, possibly even more interestingly, I get to watch these kids learn. It’s so neat.

I think the best moment of all would have to be when this little (I have no idea how old she was, but I’m guessing around 15 to 17) Costa Rican girl who speaks pretty intermediate English, just spouts off to her teacher, “hey, are you pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down?” Oh my god! The other observing student and I just about lost it. I know it doesn’t sound that impressive…but you just have to think about how hard it is and how much work it is to learn proper, logical things in a new language. Then think about how much more work it is to store away and recall for practical use a completely idiomatic phrase like that one. It’s just amazing to watch language take action in that way.

By the end of the class I couldn’t say that I had learned a ton of new things about teaching. I don’t know anything new about “to do” and “to make.” I still wouldn’t be comfortable helping new speakers navigate this huge maze of new language. I can say though that I got to see the inspiring side of the classroom. I got to see for the first time the thing I have always heard the good teachers in my life refer to. I got to see other people getting excited about learning and it was just reaffirming. I only hope that in the future I can have that moment again when I am the one leading the class.