ESTOY EN COSTA RICA!

The hotel we stayed in last night.

     After a long plane ride and being the only white girl on it, I arrived in Costa Rica last night at 11:30 with no trouble. The Mexico City airport was massive and trying to find a gate was a litte stressful but I felt accomplished having been able to do it on my own. Today we head to Jaco which is a three hour bus ride from San Jose where we are now. The weather is beautiful; there is some tropical rain but it is very warm. Last night I met my first mosquito he became very friendly with me in my bed. It made me think of a quote I once read by the Dalai Lama. He said something like: whomever said a little thing could not make a difference, did not share a bed with a mosquito. Lesson learned mosquito, now it´s time for me to make a difference.

p.s. writing on a Costa Rican keyboard is a little tough; hang in there with me.

THE ITINERARY

           

The beach view from the train ride last night.

  I left San Diego last night at 6pm as my dad dropped my friend Vince and me off at the train station five minutes before our train was scheduled to leave. In a theatrical race across the tracks, we made it in time to get a window seat and a view of the ocean while we headed to Anaheim. Today, my first plane takes off at 1:30 PM from LAX. At 7PM, I arrive in Mexico City and then at 9:15, I leave Mexico City for Costa Rica where I land in San Jose at 11:11 (make a wish!). Total duration: 8 hours and 40 minutes. 

            Once I arrive in Costa Rica, my friend is meeting me at the airport and we are headed to a hotel where we will spend our first night. The next morning, it is about a four hour public transportation ride to Jaco, the city where she lives. On Friday, I get to head to the River where there is a missionary group working until Sunday. I will tag along with them until they leave and then, it will be time to clear my own path.

            For all of you that asked, my address in Costa Rica is:

                                    Jaco, Puntarenas
                                    apartado postal 157-4023
                                    Costa Rica 61101

I don’t know how long it will take to actually receive mail so if it was your intention to send something, the sooner the better. I have an Aunt in Panama that says it takes about three weeks to get to her which means in order for me to actually get letters, you will have to send it sometime this week. Speaking of letters, I have a box of envelopes all addressed with your addresses on it already. They just need to be filled and stamped and then they are on their way to the United States.

            As far as packing, I have two carry-on bags. They are filled with lots of books, some cameras for documentation and clothes. Keeping it simple in order to live that way. Waking up this morning, there was a mixture of excitement and anxiety but that aside, the sun is shinning, my bags are packed, and Costa Rica had ought to get ready for me!

I SEE YOU

Jessica, Jose, Me, and Paola (from left to right) at Disneyland

            The adventure begins tomorrow as I head to LA where I will stay the night and then take off from LAX at 1PM on Wednesday. I have been showered with good wishes and many hugs over the last few days as the big day draws near. Throughout this week, I have been preparing for the trip but I have also been building a few relationships. Yesterday, I talked about the new opportunity I have had with my Grandma. Today, I realized once more that in every avenue of my life, I have been presented with unexpected opportunities. 

            My mom’s house has become increasingly busy in the last year. Jose, my 21-year-old best friend from when I was born moved in last year. A few months later, his two cousins Paola (16 years old) and Jessica (14 years old) moved in. Finally, about a month ago there was one last addition, Paola and Jessica’s siblings: Pamela (12 years old) and Alex (10 years old).  This means, that when I am home there is a grand total of seven children in one house and a whole lot of crazy.

            During my vacations throughout the year, I have had time to get to know Paola and Jessica but Pamela and Alex were new to me and so I had this one week to establish a relationship with them. Some of the best moments this week have been with them. Two nights ago, Alex snuggled up to me as we joked around in my mom’s room. I got to peel away the hard shell he puts on for the rest of the world and meet the little boy that is still there. Yesterday, Pamela and I bonded as we picked an outfit for her for Mother’s Day brunch. Her goofy sense of humor shined behind a vibrant smile and it was a beautiful moment for the two of us.

            Today, however, Jessica reminded me to remember the loved ones that I already had relationships with. While I had spent all my time at home trying to get to know the new children, I forgot that the ones I already knew still had a lot to teach me about themselves. After a long day involving a 6 AM alarm clock, a visit from a friend from school, and a lice outbreak in the house, I had had enough. Similarly, Jessica was tired and worn out. In short, we ended up with the door locked on the floor of my old room (her room now) holding each other close in comfort.

            Usually, people are quick to point out the differences between Jessica and me. While I am more passive she strikes with a fiery tounge. When I study for hours, she chats with her many friends. I love to read she watches Mexican music videos. Today, as we stared at one another on the floor, our similarities couldn’t help but grab hold of us. We were both eager for the love of the people around us. We like to make our friends and families happy and when they aren’t proud of us, it is the most painful feeling in the world. It was a time where two opposites looked at one another and understood without too many words.

            The whole thing reminded me of a greeting an old teacher once told me about in an African village. When two people pass by each other instead of hello, the first says, “I see you” and the other replies, “then I am”. Today I saw Jessica, and she was a beautiful, compassionate young woman. Tonight, while I write, I think of her again while we hugged and I promised her I would always be on her team. Today, Jessica was. Tomorrow, I will be. Together, we were a stunning team.

MARIPOSAS AZULES

           

I woke up this morning at my Grandma Leanie’s house where I have been sleeping while I am in San Diego. Once I get back from Costa Rica, I’m looking forward to spending a lot of my Summer there with her. We don’t do much; we play board games, run errands, or watch sappy movies but I love the moments I share with her. As we watched BET last night and grandma was shocked by the prevalence of black actors, I thought of the rare opportunity I had with her.

            At the memorial service for my grandpa, I sat next to my grandma. As she cried, I held her in my arms and I could feel her pulse with the crying of her heart. With one arm wrapped around her in a cherished embrace, the other held her hand. That was a moment I will never forget—a moment when our role’s completely reversed. The woman who watched me as I learned to walk and soothed me when I was upset was helpless in my arms. This is where my rare opportunity started. With the ending of my grandpa’s life, an intimate friendship between my grandma and myself has started.

            My mom took us to the bookstore today. Piling into two different cars became necessary when my mom, step-dad, and the six of us kids went on a search for books that we could all spend the next week reading. For two hours we weaved through the Barnes and Nobles and as time passed I became more and more frustrated. Granted, some days, I spend six hours at a time just flipping through books at the library. Today, the search wasn’t about my tastes though. My mom asked me to find a book that each of my siblings could read; when teenage kids are just learning to read in English, it is difficult, to say the least, to find books that they actually want to waste their time reading and were easy enough to understand. I sat in an aisle for five-year-olds and struggled to find books that a fourteen-year-old girl would care about.

            On one of the shelves, I found a journal with blue butterflies. My grandma had been telling me last night that her sister went to Costa Rica and raved about the blue butterflies. In this moment of frustration at Barnes and Nobles with all of the books sprawled in front of me, I thought of Leanie and I thought of the kids I would be serving in only a few days. The more I reflected on the connection between my grandma’s pain and the difficult task of finding an appropriate book, I realized that this was only a teaser to what I was up against in Costa Rica. When I start working on the River, I will be juggling the pain of a silenced population and trying to help them with the limited resources that are available. So I bought the notebook, and on the first page wrote: “The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.” For the last few nights, I have been having nightmares about the taxi drive once I get off of the plane. The thoughts of being pick-pocketed or just clueless in general terrify me. But, today reminded me that being a little lost isn’t such a bad thing so I am welcoming uncertainty and with open arms I look forward to the confusion of a new world.

L'Arshe

Some of the core-members and me hanging out after a long day of farming.

Les with his Elvis shirt, leather jacket, and puzzle!

            A month ago, I went on a mini service retreat in Tacoma Washington where a group of about ten University of Portland students volunteered with the L’arshe community (link to L’arshe page is on the sidebar of the blog). This was my first encounter with the community and the effective model that the organization provided for the population they were serving struck me. The model is one of simplicity. The L’arshe community is built on the humble fact that each of us is disabled in some way whether it be one of noticeable mental or physical capacity, or if we appear to be relatively “able”. In each L’arshe home, there are people with various mental disabilities (called core-members) that live with people that work to establish independence for the core-members in their everyday lives.

            Attached to one of the houses is a farm where the housemates work during the week. In so doing, they have a sustainable business that provides healthy food for everyone that lives in the houses and then they are able to sell the large surplus at various farmer’s markets. While I was playing in the mud and transplanting small plants, I met Les. He is a core-member that has lived in one of the houses for many years. Instantaneously, we became attached. He loves Elvis and at dinner on the last night, we spent the time dancing while I pretended to be his number one girl.

            The retreat lasted all weekend and gave me and the other students a break from the rush of school and social activities that surround a college campus. We were allowed to just enjoy our time with each other and ourselves. The most touching part of the trip for me was the genuine love that Les had for me. Here I was, a stranger, and new but, he welcomed me happily. I showed him a little love and he gave it all back; it was a beautiful moment to be a part of.

THE BADASS ON ALBERTA STREET

Me outside of Saint Andrew's

         

         Last Sunday, I went to Mass at Saint Andrew’s on Alberta street in Portland (I put the link to the Church’s page on the sidebar of the blog). For the San Dieagans reading the blog, it is a mix between Hillcrest and a more reasonably priced La Jolla. There are coffee shops everywhere and on a sunny day the little shops of boutiques and Oregon made art studios preoccupy procrastinating students for hours. At the end of Mass, a four-foot-something girl stood up to make an announcement about the fair trade fair that was planned. She sounded informed and confident. My friend and I looked at one another bewildered by the girl’s maturity and chuckled. Personally, it struck me because I couldn’t believe that someone so young could be so conscious. I thought to myself instantaneously that I hoped my kids were that much of a badass (because I am pretty sure that is the only term that completely exemplifies this little girl).

            Granted, in Portland, I have found a community of people that are committed to a socially just world. I know where to find the people on campus that understand why I was upset that people celebrated murder when Bin Laden was killed. Murder is not a celebratory event. I am grateful for the hopeful change that Bin Laden’s death may cause but there is a clear distinction between social change and murder. I know the shelters I can drop-in freely to when I want to spend time with people that live differently than I do on the streets. I have become accustom to reading the newspaper each day so that I understand the world a little more. Despite all of these sources of compassion and knowledge, as the week has progressed, my thoughts have continued to turn to this compassionate sixth grader that stood up in front of the congregation.

            So, to the sixth grade four-foot-something that wanted to make a difference in the world, you are successful. Little girl you made me think: a task that is easily forgotten in a world that encourages the lack of thought. The next month is going to be one of strange “newness”, I hope to remember to think when it is easily forgotten. With the little girl’s image in the back of my mind, I plan to evoke a greater sense of thought. In so doing, relationships of depth are established and that is my plan.

             The friend that I am living with became a missionary a few years ago for her church hoping to help the prostitutes in the area to overcome the many obstacles that they face. Slowly, she learned that the prostitute’s children were where she felt she could most help the community. In so doing, she no longer receives funding from her church because she isn’t helping the intended population. My goal when I go to visit the children on “the River” is to establish a relationship so that perhaps I can learn what is missing. Maybe it is funding for Rebecca so that instead of having to work and volunteer with the children, she can focus solely on them. Perhaps it is inspiring the children with the gifts that I can bring to the table. Regardless, the badass on Alberta street will be the role I play when it all get’s to be too overwhelming. When the fear of the momentous task becomes threatening I will pretend to be the twelve-year-old at the pulpit with wide eyes, I will look over to the pew that I sat at last Sunday. There, I will be laughing at myself playing the part of confident twelve-year-old with bewilderment. Hopefully, this will inspire a new sense of hope. Neale Donald Walsch once said “life begins at the end of your comfort zone”—here is to a new beginning!

SECRET TO LIFE: GENTLE HEART AND LOVING INTENTIONS

Ian and Brett at the Saturday Market in Portland enjoying the sunshine. We went with a group of friends and remembered that sometimes taking a break from the books helps out the studying process more than cramming!

The last month has been hectic to say the least; between finals, being sick, and fun the blog has been lacking. However, for the week that I am home, I hope to update each day until I head for Costa Rica on May 11^th for the big trip! Then, the updates will be weekly because of the infrequent computer access.

            A friend joined me while I was studying on the grass in the quad a few days ago. Some time in our conversation, I told him that I thought I was amazed by how much I learned about myself this semester. I had acknowledged this growth in a general manner but when he asked me to be more specific, I was even more shocked by the weight of the lessons I had learned.

            This semester, I learned that I am not the quiet girl that I thought I was in high school. I was the first to claim introvert and keep to myself a year ago, phone calls to the pizza man/woman were rare because of the fear of talking to them, quick trips to the grocery store could be doubled in time because of my fear of people when asking for help finding something, and the thought of starting a conversation with a perfect stranger was ludicrous in any social situation. As I said my goodbyes yesterday, I ran down the halls of dorms and realized what closeness I felt with the strangers of 8 months ago. I was loud, and the fears of high school were left in high school; that was a neat feeling.

            I learned that making a birthday card for a friend means a lot. Put simply, it’s the little things. Erin, my roommate has a jar on her desk that she has used for the last month. It says, “it’s the little things” and she writes on a post-it-note the small things in her day that made her happy. The cards I make on birthdays for example, take me a half hour but in turn, someone knows that the people they spend their time with value them.
            I learned the power of feeling valued. When you are in a school with thousands of other college students and someone sees you and acknowledges your uniqueness—that is pretty cool. When someone does something that is nice—I tell him or her I noticed. When someone makes my day, I make sure they know.  I have forgotten the embarrassment of security and realized that sometimes you need to take a leap of faith in order to create a relationship that has true depth.

            I have found pride in my love for words. I like to write and I don’t just mean poems or essays. I learned that I love to leave notes for my friends. When I fall asleep in my bed at night and I hear my roommate come in at 2 AM from a long day of studying, it makes me smile secretly knowing that I left her a note and she is happy to read it. Like I said, it’s the little things. Likewise, I wrote letters to my friends and found a closeness with them that can’t be discovered any other way. When you write a letter, there is a deeper sense of intention and I was happy to give them that. Sealing an envelope, I knew I was giving them my deepest sense of intention. What I mean is, I was making them aware of how I was thinking about them even when we were states away because I wanted them to know that I valued them in my life. Likewise, when I received letters from friends, a sense of attachment that is different than what can be found in a telephone conversation or even being face-to-face shocked me. I saved every letter and read them often.

            Mostly, I learned that the fear of the unknown, whatever it may be, does not have to lead to a sense of paralysis. I don’t shutter at the thought of what lies ahead, I’m learning to live in a moment that is now. Going to college you wonder if you will belong. I learned that with a gentle heart and loving intentions, belonging becomes easy. Sitting on the plane last night, I was overwhelmed by the gratitude of this genuine sense of belonging. With Costa Rica quickly approaching, the fear of the unfamiliar is slowly coming back to haunt me. However, while reflecting on the fear of the next unknown, I have reminded myself of the similar feeling I had before college. There are lessons waiting for me; it is time to mold the fear into joy.