Friday, December 26, 2008
If someone had told me a year ago that I would spend Christmas Day 2008 with 10 Columbias I had never met, and a little white dog named Maria, picnicking on a Costa Rican hillside, I would have…well I would probably have believed them, but only because these kinds of things always seem to happen to me (right, Patrick?).
I now have a Tico Family and a Columbia family, all thanks to my new friend Carolina (and my growing Spanish skills). During the rafting excursion on the Pacuare River, while we were eating the breakfast provided by the adventure company and fueling up for our day on the river, I saw a girl sitting alone eating her beans and rice. It was pretty obvious after the 2 hour bus ride that all of the tourists on the trip that day were English speakers, and the guides (who were trying to earn tips) were doing their best to only speak in English as well. Assuming that the reason this girl must be sitting alone was that she only spoke Spanish, I did a quick review in my head of all my verbs needed for introductions, and headed over to introduce myself. It was true that Carolina, a sweet 25-year-old girl from Columbia, was feeling a little out of the loop. Can you imagine being a Columbian, only speaking Spanish, traveling to Costa Rica, and finding yourself totally lost on an excursion trip because no one there is speaking Spanish? The guides were giving all safety instructions and directions in English, so Carolina had to hope for the best when we hit a Class IV, following everyone’s lead and the sound of urgency in the voice of out river guide.
Carolina and I stuck together from breakfast on and made simple but solid conversation in the van, and on the small hike down to the river bank. I learned that she is from Cali, Columbia, and that she is in CR on vacation because her aunt lives here and owns a hostel near downtown. She is also scoping out the job opportunities because she is considering a move to San Jose, but not sure if she can find work since she doesn’t really speak English and San Jose is such a tourist driven city. Just as the conversation began to get a little deeper, and my vocabulary became a little sparser, it was time to board out raft. The guides gave all safety instructions and directions in English, so Carolina had to hope for the best when we hit a Class IV rapid, following everyone’s lead and the sound of urgency in the voice of our river guide. During the trip down the river, we continued to communicate, this time with winking, laughter, eye movements, smiles, and screams. The messages were always clear; we were both having a blast while simultaneously petrified
After the trip, Carolina and I, as well as a friend from my school, decided to split the cost of the photo CD, and I became in charge of copying it and getting everyone a copy. Carolina would be in San Jose until the 26th of December (about a week away), and we decided we would meet up again so that I could get her the CD, and we could hang out again.
After exchanging a few emails, Carolina and I finally talked on the phone the day before Christmas. After I told her to please speak very slowly because the phone is even more difficult for me (no puedo ver la boca!!!) we decided to meet on Christmas Day, and I would come to her aunt’s house at 2pm. Her aunt’s house is on the other side of the city, and don’t forget there are no street names, so I was to go to the white house 100 m north of the shopping center near there. My family helped me by showing me which two buses to take, and I was all set.
On Christmas Day, however, I received a phone call at 10:30am from Carolina asking me if I wanted, instead of coming to her aunt’s house, to have lunch with her family. If so, I should be in front of the bank at 12pm and they would pick me up there…I think. I said sure (of course), and after another call from Carolina changing the pick-up location (and a little help on the phone from my Tica Mom, me, Ivette, Karla, and Renato got in the car and drove to a shopping center near my house. I got out of the car and heard someone call my name from across the street. It was Carolina and two other people I didn’t know. I said “muchas gracias!” to my mom and crossed the street to find the hostel van waiting there full of Carolina’s family. I got in, was introduced, and we headed…somewhere.
I really wasn’t sure where we were going, but I didn’t want to seem rude or ungrateful by asking too many questions, so I just sat back and enjoyed the view. Carolina’s niece was in the can with us, an adorable 7-year-old girl who knew an impressive amount of English. She told me all about the butterfly’s (“blue and amarillo!”) that she saw recently in the national park.
We finally arrived at our destination about 30 minutes later, and I quickly realized (as we parked on the side of the road and bowls of food started to appear) that we were having a picnic. My first thought was that I was really glad I had gone to the bathroom before I left the house. We unloaded the food from the car only to find the park to be closed due to the holiday, gated, and locked. The picnic tables (thankfully outside the gates) were turned upside-down, but we quickly turned a few over and began our almuerzo, as another family had done right next to us. Carolina sat next to me always, and was so generous with the speed of her words. The family asked me simple questions, and I was able to feel comfortable with most of the conversation going on around me.
After about half an hour, as we were finishing up the food, we heard a small voice begging for our attention. We looked up to see that Sarah, the 7-year-old, was not only on the other side of the park’s locked gate, but had also found the solitary Park Ranger on duty, and had convinced him to open the park for us so that we could walk around inside for a while to take some pictures and enjoy the spectacular view. Only an adorable 7-year-old could manage such a task, and I’m so glad she did. The view from inside the park was spectacular, and is where the pictures in this blog entry were taken.
During our conversations on the hillside, I found out from the family that we were currently in Cartago, just outside of San Jose, and this was a part of Cartago called Orosi, home to a river of the same name. I was invited several times to visit Columbia, and told how beautiful it is there (much more beautiful than Costa Rica, to be sure!). They demanded that I be in the family photo, and I had to insist on being the photographer for at least one so that they could have a photo of the entire family together.
After making our way out of the park we all piled back in the car and Carolina and I sat in the back, continuing our chatting. It became evident to me quite quickly that after only a week of having first met Carolina, I was able to ask her so much more and to respond in more depth to her questions as well. A week had made so much difference in my conversational ability.
We drove around in the van, with Maria the little white dog’s head out the window. I wasn’t sure if we were going somewhere else, so I asked Carolina what we were doing now. She answered, “Conocemos la ciudad.” Conocer is the verb meaning “to get to know” and can refer to meeting a person as well. I love this verb, used in plaee of “ver” or to see. We were not just seeing the city, we were getting to know it.
After a quick stop at a roadside vendor to get some grilled corn on the cob, we headed back to San Jose. I was able to guide the driver back to my house (a huge feeling of accomplishment), and gave the family my biggest thank you’s as I spilled out into the street from the back of the van. I tried to say that this was the perfect Christmas Day, but definitely used the wrong verb (oh well…they knew what I meant). I promised to go visit the hostel and to come to Columbia some day to see Carolina.
Who knows if I’ll ever see any of them again, but for a few hours, I was part of their family. This instantaneous generosity, the warmth and kindness of sharing a holiday with a complete stranger, is a really cool phenomenon that I continue to run into here in CR. I think it’s definitely a cultural phenom, with a little bit of luck thrown in there. Well, whether luck is a part of it or not, I feel pretty darn lucky.
0 comments:
Post a Comment