Two weeks down, three to go

So we're two weeks into our program in Costa Rica, with three to go (I know I told everyone it was a six-week trip, but apparently my days of acing calculus and memorizing calendars are behind me, and I can no longer count to ten). The TESOL program folks left this Saturday morning, which included the only two people outside my program who have made any effort to talk to me so far this summer -- there's an odd clique-ishness among the English-speaking staff, the naturalists & the overall program staff and whomever else, and other than my specific program's director, who is fabulous (and a sci-fi-loving 80s pop culture fiend), the Internet has provided pretty much all of my adult companionships and conversations since getting here. It'll be interesting to see who shows up for our little Saturday night fiesta and/or our Sunday movie night (Goodbye Lenin and Km. 0 (Kilometer Zero) are the program.

We leave next Friday for Puerto Viejo, on the Caribbean coast, close to the Panamanian border. That trip is mostly for relaxation and to see this small, funky town and savor its reportedly pristine beaches, in the heart of the country's Afro-Caribbean community. Interestingly, all the ticos we've met have warned us that it's a little bit dangerous there, but the other University folks who have traveled there have had a blast and had no comment about safety. Whether those reports of danger are related to the fact that I have not seen one person of predominately African descent in Costa Rica so far (except for those on our University's programs), I can only speculate. Besides the beaches, our Puerto Viejo itinerary includes a tour of an organic chocolate factory and a trip to Punta Mona -- Monkey Point -- which is reportedly somewhere beautiful but I don't know much about it). A couple of us may go rafting again as well on our free day.

Saturday morning's excursion was lower key than ziplining or rafting the Rio Pacaure, but it was still fun -- we walked over to La Finca Bella, a 15-year-old cooperative, organic farming community here in San Luis, where one of our students is homestaying. Her family runs a trapiche, growing raw sugar cane and processing it into liquid form. We all got to walk through the stands of sugar and then work the machine, and enjoy both chewing on raw sugar and drinking a little bit of the raw sugar cane juice. The students clearly came away impressed and having had a better time than they had expected. (Well, except for the four students who struck out on their own this weekend for a trip to a town on the Pacific Coast, on a trip they originally tried to keep secret -- except for desperately needing help from the Research Station staff to actually plan how to get there, where they'd stay, and so on. ¡Ay, niños! Repeat after me: children are our future...)

The students are -- mostly -- well accommodated to their homestay families, calling them "madre" and "padre" and "hermano" and "tio" and so on, and getting used to not having the level of creature comforts they have in the States (A couple like to shower at the main campus site, or have arranged slumber parties with their friends who are staying with families in nicer houses). It's especially interesting to watch these 19- and 20-year olds interact with local residents their age who already have a couple kids and are working away, and are not part of the long, drawn out transition to adulthood that U.S. undergraduate life creates.

As promised, it is the rainy season, and we oscillate between stunning blue skies and downpours with some regularity. The humidity isn't too bad -- I'm certainly enjoying a far milder summer than I had before I left Athens or that I'll return to to finish packing. I am most definitely ready for some different cuisine (I see that Puerto Viejo has Thai food... yay!) -- the cafeteria workers does heroic labor in feeding all the visitors three times a day, seven days a week, though they tend to prefer beef and pork to chicken, to my exasperation, and three more weeks of rice and beans is not the end of the world. They do provide fresh fruit every morning -- pineapple, watermelon (with more flavor than usually found in the US), papaya, sometimes bananas or plantains. (A South Beach-friendly country this is NOT -- Carbo Rica is more like it. Once I'm settled in Boston, I'll get back on the regimen). Dessert, served at every meal, brings out the creativity of the kitchen staff, and we've had everything from sweet potato pie with an egg-white topping to homemade ice cream and fudge to a host of other sweets. They are served in far smaller portions than North Americans are used to, and there's a lot to be said for just having a small taste of those delicious desserts than the huge slabs of cake or mongo portions of ice cream we all know and often crave. Though tonight's banana bread might just require a trip back to the kitchen...

Other than a cloth bookmark embroidered with a quetzal (the national bird of Costa Rica, which I have yet to see, but hope to when hiking in the Monteverde Cloud Forest Reserve at some point soon) made by the mother at the farm this morning, I have not bought any souvenirs yet. I think a trip into Santa Elena for a small bit of shopping is in the works for Monday, and at least, I want to pick up a Costa Rican national soccer team jersey. Am also debating what would make good gifts for friends (requests are especially welcome from any very close friends who happen to be getting married while I'm in Costa Rica...); other than a trip to the local doctor to be confirmed as having bronchitis and the resulting prescription drugs, I've spent amazingly little money so far (of course, my food is paid for and I'm at a research station 8km from town).

The bronchitis is slowly improving -- Friday's 1.5km hike on El Camino Real wasn't too rough (mud was a bigger issue than my chest congestion), and Saturday morning's walk uphill to La Finca Bella was rougher, but the healthy and thin 20-year-olds were huffing and puffing too, so I don't feel too bad. As far as going to the doctor, he spoke reasonable English, which was helpful, though he was also, well, a doctor with pretensions of grand importance -- apparently, one can get those either from Duke University's School of Medicine or El Colegio de Médicos y Cirujanos de Costa Rica. Another instructor had a far worse time meeting with him; I just got attitude, a reminder that I need to lose weight, and what's apparently the Costa Rican medical cure-all: a shot in el culo. Thankfully, my program's health insurance will cover all my prescription drugs in full, as the $53 doctor's visit took care of the deductible in full.

Well, that's it for this Saturday afternoon update - I'll post this when the Internet tubes are all cleared up, and wish everyone a great weekend.