The Pura Vida

Brief Note

If you are interested just in some final thoughts of my experience in Costa Rica, please see the Reflections piece towards the end of this entry. Otherwise, enjoy the entirety! Many thanks to each of you who wrote to me during the time I was abroad, and faithfully followed my blog. If you are ever interested in going to Costa Rica, feel free to give me a shout! I know of some families who would welcome visitors with open arms. :) And I dedicate this to Dona Ada, Alejandra, Yanik, los guapisimos (the super handsome ones, i.e. my nephews), my Honduran Hector, Yi-Cheng, and Ryan from Wisconsin.



My Last Weeks and Arrival Back to the States


Friends and family asked me “When are you coming back?” My host mother always said, “Know that I will always be waiting for you.” They wrote me goodbye letters; one was from my 6-year old nephew who made a sweet drawing of the whole family in stick figures including a lopsided one, labeled with my name “Estephanie” (two attempts covered with white-out: “Stefann”, “Stefannie”).

I returned to the States nearly one month ago. My final weeks in Costa Rica are strangely a fog now that I am back at home in New Jersey. But I remember my last day: I went to the English class for a couple hours. They threw a goodbye party for me! Then I went home to pack. And on my last night in San Ramon my host parents drove me around several houses to say farewell to the family members. In a moment of thought, I said to my host mother Ada, “You can’t even imagine how different my life is in the States compared to life here. They’re like two different worlds.” And she responded, “I believe you’re right.”

As I walked through the departures entrance at Juan Santamaria International Airport, I turned back to wave to my host parents and the last vision I have now is my host mother standing outside as the sliding glass doors closed between us, with tears in her eyes. Then I turned forward and faced the Continental check-in counter and didn’t look back. And I breathed a sigh.

And another one when the plane landed at Newark International.

I was overjoyed to discover the utility of my Spanish the moment I stepped foot on US soil again. Two women standing in front of me at Immigration were confused about which line to choose and I explained the direction to them. When they approached the immigration officer’s counter, they could not understand the officer’s questions in English and the officer called over to me, “Do you speak Spanish?” So I came up to the counter and he asked me to translate a set of questions. He asked me to say to her “You don’t speak any English?” And she didn’t. And he shook his head in disapproval. I said to him, “Is that so wrong?” He responded, “It depends on her answers to my questions” (or something like that). I have always believed that if one chooses to reside in a country, one should attempt to speak the local language. But this only applies to living permanently in a place. As for short visits, don’t we all go to foreign countries? The problem is, perhaps many of us in the US assume that wherever we go, people should be able to speak some English and so if we went to an immigration officer in another country, we might be annoyed if he doesn’t speak English and perhaps equally annoyed if he expected us to speak his language. This encounter was my first tangible taste of how hostile US people may seem to foreigners. The officer was somewhat militant, unfriendly, and without a smile or any resemblance of patience on his face. The women seemed flustered and confused. Once one of the women was approved and passed, the second said to me, “No se vaya!” (don’t leave!). And so I translated for her as well. On her way past the counter, she said to me “Muchisimas gracias!” (thank you soooo much) When it was my turn and I was stamped and passed, the officer said thank you for being so helpful. But still without a smile.

Anyways, for me it has been wonderful being back in my hometown in NJ. Yes, my parents have taken me in for the time being and I am very grateful to them. These days, I am job-searching (yay!), spending time with my mom and dad, and planning mini trips to visit friends. I even made a last minute trip for a few days to London + Paris with my mother! And about once a week, I write an email to my host sister Alejandra and every Saturday she writes one back. (Before I left, I taught her how to access the internet from a public computer, I set up a gmail account for her, and explained the basics of sending email.)

I am sure one question you have is, “What are you going to do now?” You’ll just have to stay tuned. :)

Phrases that I miss hearing on a daily basis:
Que lindo, Que bonito, mi amor, mi vida, mi Reina, mi Chiquita, que Dios le acompane
Translated:
How nice/pretty, how nice/pretty, my love, my life, my queen, mi little girl, may God go with you

Random Thought:
I meant to include one more thing that perhaps you will notice if you ever make it to Costa Rica, which I hope you do. If you see a big yellow heart enclosed in a square painted on the pavement of main highways, those mark the general vicinity where a person was struck and killed while crossing.

Reflections

Before I share my final thoughts on the 4 months I spent in Costa Rica, I want to say a few things. I embarked upon this trip for several reasons, some of which are personal, and acknowledged that economically it wasn’t the best time to be gallivanting to the tropics with no fixed post-plans in sight. But as a close friend nicely phrased it back in the fall, I had a fundamental desire to seek change and if I didn’t travel abroad as I had wanted to for quite some time, I would later regret it. Further, I was lucky that I had saved enough over the last few years to be in the position to make this choice, and I had the support of my family, friends, and colleagues. For all these reasons, I am intensely grateful. Now, moving on ...


I will speak mostly on the time I spent in San Ramon because my one month in San Pedro didn’t have as much impact, as life there is fairly similar to what I know. My host family in San Ramon was probably more “back-to-the-basics” than some families in Costa Rica, while also being more “modernized” than others. Like in any country, a distribution of classes exists, the level of education varies, and technology is less prevalent as you move towards the country-side. In Costa Rica, the closer one is to the capital of San Jose, one finds more people who get graduate degrees, work in corporate environments, have traveled and lived in other countries, live comfortably and with many modern amenities, etc. So the observations I make below should not be taken for vast generalizations, as they do not necessarily apply to all Ticos* nor are they intended to contrast with all citizens of the US. They are just my own observations.

The distance that separates what I saw of San Ramon and what I know of the metropolitan US in terms of culture, lifestyle, advancements, standards of living, and outlook is not ultimately the most vast that exists in this world; that’s obvious. We’re not talking of unpaved roads, lack of clean drinking water, or famine. What we are talking of is a world where: you can make coconut cookies for a living; time is devoted almost every day at 4pm to sit down for coffee and pastries; Father’s and Mother’s Day are a big affair and the whole family celebrates it together all day with music, beer and spirits, rice with chicken, tortillas, black beans, and salad; it’s common not to finish high school if you have a family first; the gym or ‘working out’ is almost unheard of; you make your daughter’s wedding dress from scratch because buying one is too expensive; you sweep the house every morning as well as the sidewalk in front; men in their 40s or older tell young women (or any women, really) they’re beautiful right in the street, and it’s not offensive or sleazy; people walk door-to-door selling cilantro, milk, or eggs; you don’t flush toilet paper; cockroaches and other critters are a part of your home (if you don’t pay for an exterminator), so buck down and get used to it; if you need meat to cook lunch you walk a block to the butcher shop, or if you just ran out of a spice, go buy a packet at the corner store; if you want to visit a friend or neighbor, you simply stop by and say “Upe??” (pronounced OO-pay; means “anyone home??”) and if no one is home, you just come back another time; and if the friend is home, you sit down and chat for at least an hour; you wake up around 6am almost every day and listen to salsa or meringue music as you make the morning coffee; most of your attention is devoted to the wellness of your family; the ‘economic crisis’ is something you hear about and see on the news; going to another country overseas is a dream (or sometimes hardly so) that will likely never be realized, and it’s okay.

Life is not always easy, in fact sometimes it is extremely hard. My host mother ran away from abusive foster parents when she was 15 years old; my host father left his first wife after she threatened to kill him. Compared to me and many people I know, they’ve experienced far worse, own fewer life accessories, are less educated, and have less opportunities (though I suppose this depends on how one defines ‘opportunity’). With lives that some could consider unimaginable, they seem to be grateful and happy for their lives, aware of their past obstacles as mere fact and nothing more. But they never dwell on it, nor worse, regard themselves as ‘survivors’. They are vaguely aware that so much exists in the world that is never a part of their lives. So they simply enjoy being in awe when they hear or read about something new (and typically respond with “Que lindo” or something equivalent to “Well, whadya know…”). For them, fundamentally, life itself is simple and good, especially if it comes with a house, good food, family, and love; and if you’re lucky, maybe a mid-20s Taiwanese-American girl on a ‘self journey’.

And so, my glimpse - my little glimpse - of the Pura Vida** bestowed all that I sought for in my pursuit of perspective and change. To be clear, I don’t claim that I would rather live like them. I do indeed prefer: easy access to wireless internet; the clean insect-less house; the fortune to have opportunities for a better education and promise for a worldly and comfortable life; the blessing of a family that provided (and still provides) for me in all ways that one could hope; natural citizenship in a country that has high standards for pretty much everything even if sometimes at a high cost; a world where everyone works beyond the 9 to 5 and they check work email on weekends; and even (am I really saying this?) the ubiquitous reminder that “In this economy, it’s pretty hard to find a job right now”. Because sometimes, when all you know is a world with opportunity, complexity, technology, and more - a world deeply affected by economic change - you decide to opt for what has been ingrained in you, at least for now; only these days, you aim to appreciate it for what it is, trust your instincts (or take advice but with a grain of salt), define for yourself what success and happiness mean (and thus ‘opportunity’), and don’t stress. When in doubt, remember the Pura Vida…

And no regrets.

*If there was every any question, “Tico” is the nickname for a Costa Rican. I apologize if that term confused you; I should have explained it from the onset!
**In case I never indicated, “Pura Vida” means “pure life”.

© Copyright Stephanie Lin Wu