After a Spring semester sure to rid me of all thoughts of free time or a social life, summer has finally arrived. My reward to myself for another year of college completed: a return trip to Costa Rica. I promised my family and friends that I would return to see them, y a Brittney no le gusta romper ninguna promesa ni compromiso. Entonces, I planned a ten-day trip back to that country that I love so much.
After arriving "home" on Monday (the 11th) I was sure to spend plenty of time with Dulce and Melissa, visit my favorite coffee shop and internet cafe, take my familiar bus routes, and drink a few Imperials and Bavarias for old times' sake. Dulce insisted that I stay in her house for nothing, and she even made my old favorite meals for me unnecessarily. If there is one thing to say about most Latin Americans, it's that they will open their houses, wallets, arms, and hearts to you and expect nothing for it. I had missed she and Melissa both, and I was ecstatic to get to see the two of them again. Her house was just the same: looked the same. smelled the same. This familiarity immediately took effect in me, and I felt as if it were my home all over again. What fulfillment.
Of course, I wasn't the only one that was in town for the week. Elena was at the airport with Dulce to pick me up. Who did she bring with her? Marco Venicio. Ah. even more Costa Rican familiarity. I spent most of my week passing the tico time with Ellen and Marco, enjoying their company and Spanglish conversation. The three of us enjoyed a weekend beach trip to Parque Nacional Manuel Antonio including a nice climb to the lookout point. What a gorgeous creation. At the sight of such a unique coastline with intricate, jagged rocks and such perfectly crashing waves, it is more than difficult to entertain the thought of mere non-existence of God Himself. I believe He is a skilled artist, and Costa Rica was his painting that he completed for fun.
I attempted to explain to Elena the feeling that overwhelmed me as I explored the known territory that is Heredia, Costa Rica. I quickly found that I was not overly excited to be abroad for vacation: I was simply content to be back home. I felt just like I feel going back home to Sparta for a basketball game: I know most people and most all places, everything is still very familiar, but some things have changed in a minimal way. I missed mi segunda patria, and walking the streets of Heredia with gravity-defying raindrops landing on my shoulders was a breath of fresh air.
Every time that I travel, I find it easy to remove myself from any situation that is going on at home and metacognitively assess my own thoughts and actions concerning said circumstance. It's usually an easy self-reflection because I have no external influences on my thoughts. Upon traveling this past week, one of my main internal conversations concerned my loves in life: travel and family. I learned this past week that even though I consistently seem to think I can conquer the world single-handedly and live independently for the rest of my existence, I realized that I really have nothing without those who are closest to me. Traveling to Costa Rica for ten days for a vacation is fantastic but only if I have someone to share it with. One love is not complete without the other in my life. Travel is important to me, but my family and friends are even more important. I need you both.
On that note, my trip was sadly cut a few days short on account of the death of my grandmother, Sarah Elisabeth Geer Barker. With her age and condition, the event was to be expected, but no one ever wants to say goo
dbye to someone they love. After a long day of travel on Tuesday, I sorrowfully attended services to honor my mema and to pay respects to her life. I will never forget making kleenex-box apartment buildings for my "Anne of Green Gables" paper dolls, reading Bible stories and learning the names of its books, eating pizza hot pockets with sweet peas and crangrape juice out of saved preserves jars, and riding that springy horse for hours on end. I won't forget the alarm box that I was supposed to wear around my neck in case I was kidnapped. I won't forget going to Aunt Sally's for chocolate chip cookies on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. I won't forget feeding the goats and avoiding the electric fence. I won't forget the moon pies. I won't forget the two dollars every birthday and Christmas--five when it was a good year. I won't forget lime sherbert even though I didn't need it. I won't forget your French harp. I won't forget the letters and cards in such precise grandma script. I won't forget that you loved me bunches and bunches. I will miss you terribly, Mema, and I won't forget you. See you soon.
After arriving "home" on Monday (the 11th) I was sure to spend plenty of time with Dulce and Melissa, visit my favorite coffee shop and internet cafe, take my familiar bus routes, and drink a few Imperials and Bavarias for old times' sake. Dulce insisted that I stay in her house for nothing, and she even made my old favorite meals for me unnecessarily. If there is one thing to say about most Latin Americans, it's that they will open their houses, wallets, arms, and hearts to you and expect nothing for it. I had missed she and Melissa both, and I was ecstatic to get to see the two of them again. Her house was just the same: looked the same. smelled the same. This familiarity immediately took effect in me, and I felt as if it were my home all over again. What fulfillment.
Of course, I wasn't the only one that was in town for the week. Elena was at the airport with Dulce to pick me up. Who did she bring with her? Marco Venicio. Ah. even more Costa Rican familiarity. I spent most of my week passing the tico time with Ellen and Marco, enjoying their company and Spanglish conversation. The three of us enjoyed a weekend beach trip to Parque Nacional Manuel Antonio including a nice climb to the lookout point. What a gorgeous creation. At the sight of such a unique coastline with intricate, jagged rocks and such perfectly crashing waves, it is more than difficult to entertain the thought of mere non-existence of God Himself. I believe He is a skilled artist, and Costa Rica was his painting that he completed for fun.
I attempted to explain to Elena the feeling that overwhelmed me as I explored the known territory that is Heredia, Costa Rica. I quickly found that I was not overly excited to be abroad for vacation: I was simply content to be back home. I felt just like I feel going back home to Sparta for a basketball game: I know most people and most all places, everything is still very familiar, but some things have changed in a minimal way. I missed mi segunda patria, and walking the streets of Heredia with gravity-defying raindrops landing on my shoulders was a breath of fresh air.
Every time that I travel, I find it easy to remove myself from any situation that is going on at home and metacognitively assess my own thoughts and actions concerning said circumstance. It's usually an easy self-reflection because I have no external influences on my thoughts. Upon traveling this past week, one of my main internal conversations concerned my loves in life: travel and family. I learned this past week that even though I consistently seem to think I can conquer the world single-handedly and live independently for the rest of my existence, I realized that I really have nothing without those who are closest to me. Traveling to Costa Rica for ten days for a vacation is fantastic but only if I have someone to share it with. One love is not complete without the other in my life. Travel is important to me, but my family and friends are even more important. I need you both.
On that note, my trip was sadly cut a few days short on account of the death of my grandmother, Sarah Elisabeth Geer Barker. With her age and condition, the event was to be expected, but no one ever wants to say goo
dbye to someone they love. After a long day of travel on Tuesday, I sorrowfully attended services to honor my mema and to pay respects to her life. I will never forget making kleenex-box apartment buildings for my "Anne of Green Gables" paper dolls, reading Bible stories and learning the names of its books, eating pizza hot pockets with sweet peas and crangrape juice out of saved preserves jars, and riding that springy horse for hours on end. I won't forget the alarm box that I was supposed to wear around my neck in case I was kidnapped. I won't forget going to Aunt Sally's for chocolate chip cookies on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. I won't forget feeding the goats and avoiding the electric fence. I won't forget the moon pies. I won't forget the two dollars every birthday and Christmas--five when it was a good year. I won't forget lime sherbert even though I didn't need it. I won't forget your French harp. I won't forget the letters and cards in such precise grandma script. I won't forget that you loved me bunches and bunches. I will miss you terribly, Mema, and I won't forget you. See you soon. Until we meet again...
love. love. love.
B
