I have started to type so many different entries about my
homestays in Costa Rica and Panama, but they never seem to say what I want to
say. Maybe I don’t know what I want to say, more than possible- highly likely.
I paid to stay with 3 different families, though I would
consider myself to have 5. Two of my families were of humble means, though one
more than the other, and I found these families to be much more warm and
welcoming than the family I lived with that had the most money. I was most
unhappy with the wealthy family. Mind you- my use of the word wealthy in Costa
Rica is entirely different than my use of the word wealthy in the States… Keep
that in mind.
During my stay in Central America I lived among many bugs
including centipedes, ants, cockroaches, fleas, and more. I lived with lizards
too, though I considered them to be my friends because they eat the mosquitos. I
stayed in one place where my mattress was set atop cardboard on its frame. In
this room I learned to check structures before standing on them (VERY valid
lesson). In two of the four homes I stayed in, I could expect hot water but not
be disappointed if it ran out. In one of these houses I was frequently given an
electric shock while accidently touching the shower head (unpleasant but
certainly wakes you up!).
One of my families was highly religious. I loved them dearly
but their virtuous expectations made me feel guilty about my less than innocent
life style. Another family was perfect in terms of religion and politics, but
hardly spoke to me, and therefore I did not practice Spanish or form much of a
relationship with them. I did not spend much time with my family in Panama- Only
5 days due to the fact that I left early to cross the border with Heiner. I
imagine though, that we would have gotten along splendidly! I ate breakfast and
dinner every day with my mum, and she was lovely to chat with. I usually ate
fish that my dad there had caught, and it was delicious. Both of the families
that I consider to be less wealthy served mostly fried food and the two with
more money served healthier choices in addition to a wider variety.
By far my favorite families are the two that I did not pay.
I think that that makes them more like a real family anyway right? One of them
includes Heiner, Elizabeth, and the staff at Canal Grande. I feel so at home at
that hotel and Heiner and Elizabeth are two of the greatest friends I could ask
for in a foreign country. Hanging out with Heiner in Panama was fantastic as
well, then he let me tag along back across the Panama border and I could not
have been more thrilled for the experience. Upon arriving in Limรณn his mother asked why I was
staying in a hostel and not with them. That was sweet. Everyone is so lovely
and welcoming I could cry with happiness.
My other favorite family is one that I was adopted into unintentionally.
This family is beautiful. Beyond beautiful. It consists of a mom, a son, and a
daughter in the house. Though of course I met aunts, uncles, cousins, and
grandma too- all of which are lovely. Grandma went outside and cut bananas
right off a tree and then gave them to me for a gift! This family took me in
when I was feeling bummed, and showed me different parts of Costa Rica, they
taught me new words and customs, picked me up from the bus station and drove me
to two different airports. I can genuinely say that I love this family. I feel
bad, I feel truly guilty, that they may not understand that I am not a good
family member even in the states. Even that our culture is different in that
sense, and I fall on the extreme in the direction of hermit. I think that over
time they may believe I don’t want to communicate when this is not the case. I
simply live in my own little world.
I miss Central America already. I loved the thrill of walking
up to a new house and not knowing what to expect. I truly feel as though they
are happier than we are. They are “poorer” (in terms of paper money), they have
political issues just as we do, they have environmental issues to work on… and
yet- they are closer, and nicer, and much much more welcoming. They support
their families because they want to, not because they have to. They know all of
their neighbors and they help them out with anything and everything. This is
sad… but I can’t tell you my neighbors’ names. I guess that is a lie. I know
the lady upstairs is named Paula, but only because she walked into my kitchen
without asking when I first moved in and made a damn strong impression. Later she
threw her couch off of her balcony and it hit mine on the way down. In addition
there is a stain on my bedroom ceiling because she flooded or spilled or who
even knows what!... What a bad way to know one of my neighbors. It just feels
like I don’t live in a city or building where it is acceptable to knock on
someone’s door and ask for an egg. Sad.
And yet- in Central America I found more than one family
that welcomed me into their homes without asking for a thing in return and
loved me for the strange new person that I was. They trusted me with their home
and their things. Home alone even- imagine that? We wouldn’t do that here. In
return I trusted them. Imagine that. A world where someone makes the first move
to trust another without reason and then the other can trust them right back. It’s
too bad we are all too scared to go back to this as it is a rather enjoyable
and loving system.
