Roaming and Rambling

It has been almost ten days since my last entry, and when I try to think of why I have been unable to put my fingers to this keyboard to record the details of my life, I honestly cannot come to any good conclusion. Life has had other plans for me.  Last week marked the ending of my first Spanish immersion class: Intermedio 2. I passed the class with a 96 which both surprised me and lessened my worry for the classes ahead of me. The final exam last Friday was something else, and I can honestly say I fought back tears in the middle of that last class - for good reason.  The last essay question was crafted specifically for us to demonstrate our use of the conditional tense (would haves).  De tener una segunda oportunidad de vivir tu vida, que cosas  cambiarias? (basically, if I had another chance to live my life, what things would I change?) I have always been steadfast in the parts of faith that say things happen for a reason. Usually when I am forced ...

This Sunday September 18th marks that I have exactly three months more here in Costa Rica.  I started graduate school applications, but that's too tangible to talk about. I wish I were a painter so that I could capture the inexplicably wonderful way the wind dances with the lace curtains of my room as morning breathes deeply.  There is so much that I have seen, so much I have felt on this sun kissed skin that I wish to share, but it all circles in my mind - I never have been a very direct storyteller.  Today is Bid Day back home in Boone for my KD sisters, and last night as I wrote my last pref letter, re-read my senior letter that was read this morning in our beloved circle, and looked at photos of my wonderful family (Mary, Molly, Maddie), I was overcome by just how much I miss being with them. I miss standing in such strong unity, I miss the ritual, I miss the songs everyone else thinks are cheesy, I miss smiling across that circle at the people who have helped ...

I wish I had the right words to describe the beauty of the emotional journey of this time. Though I am always able to see that it is beautiful here, sometimes my selfish mind slams the door on these sights and resigns to the burdens of insecurity and uncertainty. But every day, I am knocking softly in a reminder that this too is beautiful.  The night of my last update was spent in an old sleepshirt of my Dad's, clutching his handkerchief that saw the first tears of this trip, always ready to catch the inevitable new ones. And though good sleep has escaped me for the past two nights while early mornings have found me with ease, my cup is full once again.  The earliest of sunrises in that precious 6am hour, a new running route around San Jose, and deep breaths of clarity have brought me back to center.  I had an amazing weekend. Amazing.  I found the unity of the ocean, the unity of mind, body and spirit in surfing. If I could push myself up on that board, stand ...

My heart has betrayed me. I looked away, distracted by the delirious effect of sheer happiness and when I looked again it was gone. The dust was still settling from its escape when I was able to see the place to where its footprints led. Home. The worst part about betrayal is that it is so often unintentional. Across the shore, I could see my heart waving slowly, sad and slow, apologetically promising that this would hurt.  Sitting on that bus on the ride home this evening, it did not take long before my eyes quietly became traitors amid the stale air and the shade of evening. Shut against the world, those eyes of mine stung, open they leaked the secrets of my sadness. Long is the journey from lashes to chin for the first tear.  Homesick.  It has stolen my words and the familiar flowers from my hair.  I lie in these sheets fresh with the clean smell of Mama Tica, and I focus on breathing and the small weight of Harold in my arms. For tonight, I am raw, burned...

I fell this morning while running, and I never want to forget what a humbling experience it was.  I survived my first huge exam, began free taekwondo classes and sparred with a tico man that I accidentally kicked square in the privates (thank goodness he had a cup on), and have pushed myself to conquer new things in every possible moment. As a sidenote, I hate Wal-mart here just as much, if not more so than I do in the states.  8,000 colones (16$) for a small agenda. Forget that noise. Evil empire indeed. We're off to Tamarindo on the northern Pacific shore this weekend.  For now though, my heart has escaped this country and rests where my worry lies. Please pray for a dear man Roy Stewart and my best friend Emily who are both not well, and though I am trying to shield them both from the cold sterility of their hospitals with my distant love, I could use some help. Thank you.

I wore my cowboy boots today. Speaks for itself.  The past few days have seen torrential downpours from both the clouds and my eyes. In the face of this isolating distance, I read and re-read the card that my dad so lovingly slipped into my carry on for me to find on the plane when I left. The familiarity of his handwriting seems to minimize the miles, lighten the loneliness.  But honestly, after skyping my parents last night for the first time in five days, I feel incredible. The former words would not lead you to believe that I am in fact tucked cozily up in my room while an exciting rainstorm takes the stage outside my window, one of my favorite Juanes songs is playing and I am full of the happy knowledge of a new Costa Rican dish from my cooking class this afternoon. But these things are true and surrounding me.  Though sadness may fall from my fingertips when I write, do not be fooled. There is an inescapable contentment here that wipes the worry from my forehead a...

My shoes slip on the sidewalk and every other step of this run is an act of faith. My bookbag faithfully slaps my back, my dress is plastered to my legs, the flower behind my ear falls somewhere when I turn the last corner to home. Water cascades down my face when I lift my hood, find the keys and pacify the lock with fumbling fingers.  I have not stopped laughing the whole way home. Neither a giggle or a belly laugh, but a pure joy somewhere in between that comes with the soft rhythm of waves. By the time I got through the door to Mama Tica asking in scattered spanish for a towel, Angel, Sofie and Mama Tica have joined in the laughter, one hand covering their comforting smiles, the other freeing me from my soaking jacket and shoes. I have never seen such beautiful rain. Running for no reason through the thunder, daring the lightning, spinning under the bravado of the dark sky. Everything just vibrant.  This past weekend was spent on an excursion to Puerto Viejo, an incred...

There is something about the rhythm of Spanish, its soft lilt, with which I have fallen madly in love. There is no turning back, I have overwhelmingly lost my tongue to this language and my heart to these ticos y ticas, this place.  I have been here for five days now. The complete and beautiful nature of my all morning Spanish classes, constant practice, Spanish skypes with my dad and coming home to a tico family creates an immersion that already has my mouth fumbling when asked to speak English. All I can do is put my fingers to my lips with wonder and shake my head in disbelief when I'm unable to remember the word "keys" rather than llaves.  My mornings are founded on an incredible peace as that equatorial sun comes shining through the modest lace of my curtains at 5am. Every time I am surprised at how quickly my feet find the floor, ready for the adventure that arrives in those rays of light. Quick showers with the water pressure of a soft rain, but oh so warm, and...