Moon. Tonight I’ve been hearing a lot of talk about the moon, various interpretations of what people have heard on the news. We’re lounging around and enjoying what seems to be a larger moon, but people seem to think that at midnight it will be really “Wau!” Whether or not I’ll be able to stay up three hours past my normal bedtime…solo Dios sabe.
Saturday. Saturdays are wonderful days for a Peace Corps trainee. One can sleep in until later than the usual 5:30am wake up time, lounge around until just before noon, and spend the afternoon playing soccer and Frisbee with seven year-old neighbors. It’s truly a wonderful day. Another volunteer came today from her urbanish host family to visit our lovely area, well also to visit her husband who lives up in the mountains with us. Just when I was starting to take the beauties all around me for granted, a city-dweller drops in to remind me how lucky I am. On top of that they’re a wonderful couple, capable of spreading their energy into those around them. Today was proof. I admire their spunk and audacity; Chris and Stephanie, you guys rock.
Saints? Also tangentially worthy of mention are Coy and Melissa (well, they’re worthy of a biography, but…), two volunteers who completed their service in Belize and decided to extend for another two years. Melissa was also a volunteer for two years in Zambia before her program in Belize. She is a Peace Corps rock star and an inspiration to us all. Whether their dazzling worldviews and personalities are products singularly of Peace Corps experiences is doubtful, but I can still hope my own experience will imbue me with some of that Snazz.
Back to Saturday. I must mention the tiny black blood-sucking beasts that have munched craters in my legs. Not quite sand flies, but not quite black flies. Sometimes one might not even know one’s being eaten alive, potentially they inject an anesthetic before they beginning to eat. One only notices when spots of blood begin to accumulate on the skin, long after the beasts have slithered away into the mists.
Culture. My host family is quintessentially Tica (Costa Rican) and I am so grateful to them for all they do for me. Worthy of mention was the lack of any antagonism when I turned the faucet on one morning and exploded the shower head, when I dropped a roll of toilet paper in the toilet, when I clogged the toilet (twice in one day), when I let the dog run away, when I asked if I could set up my gymnastic rings in their garage, or when I showed up at 8pm when I told them I’d be home at 4:30pm. They have shown me only compassion and understanding while adopting me into their family despite my multiple and obvious ignorancias.
Birds. The aforementioned Melissa, whom I once caught daydreaming amongst the sounds of birds outside our conference room during a session, seemingly seeing the sounds and hearing the colors, mentioned something of important parts of the day for bird-watching. I stumbled into one of these periods today and saw something like twelve different types of birds in one hour, including two different types of humming birds. And now that I’m an amateur photographer with equipment that surpasses his skill-set I was able to catch a few of them in action. My favorite so far is a jet black hummingbird with metallic green on his back and a little red near his eyes. Thanks to Stephanie for being hopelessly addicted to photography and catching the little bugger suckling on some flowers outside and for doing so with my camera.
Food. I have never eaten so much fruit in my life and for those who know me well that seems like it might be a hyperbole. Now although half of the jokes I make are based on nonfictions that I create for you, my friends, this blog is reserved for reality, albeit reality à la Mason. Fruit bowls of mango, pineapple, melon, and banana come in threes, daily. Sometimes I substitute whole meals for bowls of fruit. Fish, chicken, and beef come in random intervals and are welcomed wholestomachedly. Fruits whose names have no translation sneak into my diet intermittently (as do sweet breads of many types and sizes). Many Costa Rican men have robust bellies, otherwise known as panzas. But these are not beer bellies, these are strong bellies capable of many things, which I will continue to discover as the weeks go on.
Happiness. See above.
