Una Noche Imperial

This first part is an account of what I wrote on the plane that brought me to this most magnificent place.

Cat Stevens says we're only dancing on this earth for a short while, but he also says that the goodbye makes the journey harder still. Both are true and present in my mind and heart as I sit on this plane, right over the wing (my favorite place). My thoughts drift lightly among these wisps of clouds, and I'm wondering how strange these words will seem in a few months when I return to them on a homeward flight. I have never loved and never will love anything so much in my life as I love my family. Easily the hardest goodbye of my life as the airport man tells us that we must cut it short, and I'm holding on for dear life. I can still smell them on my clothes. My dad's handkerchief will be a constant in my pocket. In this quiet, this soft lull before the adventure truly begins, I can hear the worry knocking on a back door that I must choose to close as I jump out into the wild blue yonder through the front window. How will I do with Spanish? How will I get a phone? How will I run? Will my host mama like me? Can I make friends? What if something happens at home while I'm gone? But these cannot win and settle down. They must keep moving on and away. I must be present in this great opportunity, this remarkable, exuberant moment of my life. Time will fly more assuredly than this flying bus does.
The man to my left is watching Twilight avidly on his iPad. The beginning of what I believe will be a constant stream of "people will surprise you," over the next couple of months.
So many things at my fingertips and yet I'll always be carefully holding my life's beautiful constants: family, friends, and love in the palm of my hands.

So now for August 29, 2011:

Today we walked. And I mean walked. We walked aqui, alli y todos (essentially here, there, and everywhere). We walked with the purpose of a cerveza after a long day of orientation, tours, and understanding that we are all in this for the long haul. There are about 60 Americans here to study this semester, and it is honestly overwhelming and paradoxically comforting to have so many people around constantly.
Tonight a group of us grew close amid impromptu games with napkins, mucha Imperial (THE beer of Costa Rica), and the significant and momentous occasion of clinking bottlenecks together in a toast to all that we will learn here in our time. El Pescadito will be our bar of choice, with its faithful owners, Olga y Jose, keeping loving watch for their gringo customers. Faux thatched roof and all, this place offers a refuge among all that we cannot yet understand and seven blocks to walk home to the peace of our host families.

Ruth is my mama, Angel y Sofie are my sisters, Kyndra is my housemate, and this life is one big beautiful Costa Rican love song with lyrics of hope, acceptance, challenge and laughter.

This may be the best decision I have ever made.

Comments

  1. Aw, good memories drinking Imperial ¡Pura vida! Hope you're loving it.
    - Tori

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