The following comes straight from the ol journal on my last full day in Costa Rica. We spent our last days in Nicoya in Guanacaste a much more rural area in CR. We spent four amazing days soaking up life there and getting to know Rosy's family. This was just one day.
Last day in Costa Rica baby-down to the real last one...and it’s weird how quickly life here has become normal....yet I still so miss everyONE-not necessarily everyTHING, back home. I am learning that so much of life here is about the process-of cracking panfuls of roasted cashews-the process of using a two dozen limes to make lemonade-the process of waiting an hour for the next bus, the process of cracking open 100+ clams, each with less than an ounce of meat within, the process of making coffee through a sieve, the process of cooking over a wood stove, the porcess of waiting to head home, but being asked to stay fully present even still.
Yesterday Rosie was able to reunite with 3 of her brothers that she hadn’t seen in years-so many that two of them had never even seen Meli, who is now 21 and has a son. Th first brother actually drove to pick us up and take us to each place we were headed. We picked up his wife and met the second brother at his construction job. Rosy was so precious-she fell apart at the first sight of him. He bought us all drinks and we stopped to talk for awhile....where do you even start after this much time? I can’t even imagine that scenario being a possibility, but it was just totally different for each one of them growing up.
Then we headed further down the road to Bonavacio’s (another brother) who has his own shrimp farm. He and his family have a very humble house planted on a couple acres of land with a huge lake. We greeted everyone and then started the long trek around the lake to see the other side. Bonavacio caught some shrimp for us so we could see them and they were huge! We took a boat ride in a paddle boat and walked back. Then out of nowhere, just when were thinking about how long it might be until we ate again, mama love (Bono’s wife) brings out huge beautiful plates of food of beans, rice, shrimp, noodles, and salad. I’ve been almost amazed at how much I’ve been able to eat here, or at least how I’ve been able to clean my plate and then grab more-fish, meat, chicken, whatever it is-it’s gone in seconds. And I haven’t been sick of beans and rice. In fact, my heart dropped a bit last night when I was filling my plate and I though there were no black beans for that place on my plate.
While we ate, Bonovacio’s family decided they wanted to send us home with a gift...of a live chicken. The youngest son through a net over the chicken, mama love tied him up and there was dinner to go. Lauren and I looked at Rosie with eyes full of a cross between utter fear and sadness...(Confession....Lauren felt bad for the chicken...I was more concerned about the ride home)....so Rosie convinced them to let the chicken go in the end.
So I ate, and out of surrendering to the fact that as gringos, we never know what the hell is going on-if we are going to be there for two hours or ten minutes, I laid down on the cement porch, “muerta de cansada”, and fell asleep.
Eventually we headed out again, and in complete silence bearing the heat and the lack of space in the back seat. Rosie tried to hide her tears behind her sunglasses. Nevertheless, they flowed until she fell asleep.
When we got home, we waited around for cold showers, and Rosy brought us ice cream and snuck whole sleeves of cookies in our purses. We played Spit in the rain before dinner. We ate an amazing fish dinner and then Lauren and I laid in our beds and laughed and talked with Lulie (another roommate) and at our entire package of cookies. Later Miguel, Rosy’s 19 year old nephew who has his own band asked me to translate one of their songs into English and then we played around trying to record it. Now Jerry (Miguels’s BFF) has his work cut out for him trying to learn how to rap in Engligh. It was a really cool connection piece to one, be able to help by translating lyrics and then to be able to sing it with them too. Before Jerry took off, all of us just sat and talked on the front porch. We tried to teach the boys some English...at least enough to let them know how to call eachother names with, and then there was the exchange of some very special stupid human tricks, like being able to move your scalp or ears without moving any other part of your face or all the stupid sounds you can make with just your mouth and hand.
Every night I’ve slept so perfectly here even though the mattress was terrible. And so I wake again to be able to say-tomorrow-tomorrow I get to see my Josh and my Kristin.
And as always, when I woke, Rosy tells me that there’s coffee ready and then just when my cup is almost empty, it’s like she knows, and she calls,
“Dee-Ann, hay mas cafe. Voy a traerlo a ti.”
“No es necesario, ya me voy”
But before I can move, she grabs my cup again, singing some ridiculous song in English like “Mamamia” or “I Need a Hero!”. It’s like she has come to totally understand God’s heart when he said, “I didn’t come to be served, but to serve.” I want to be more like her, anxious for nothing but the chance to serve.
And as I sit here, Rosy’s sister rides to work an hour early just to see what time she was suppose to be there because she can’t remember what time it starts today. My gosh, I told Rosie, that would never happen in the states. But then the neighbor, Arturo, (who is 19 and I want to shrink and put in my pocket-sorry Josh) came by to say good-bye and swap emails. Then soon enough Jerry rode up on his bike before we left to give us the cd of the two tracks of songs their band had recorded. Then at noon, he showed up at the bus station for one last goodbye to us all.
I have felt so absolutely cherished here and it certainly didn’t have to be this way, but it has been, and I love you Costa Rica, for all of it.
