El mes de la patria

September is the most important month of the year for Costa Ricans. It is El mes de la Patria, Patriotism month, and the 16th is their independence day.  All month long they celebrate their national pride with parades, neighborhood parties, and fireworks. Everywhere you look there Costa Rican flags hanging.  It is much like the month of July in the United States.

September was also a big milestone for me.  It marked the 2/3 point of my time here in CR (only 4 more months), as well as my one year mark in Latin America (8 months in CR and 4 in Chile).  

One year is a long time to have spent in Latin America and to have never been to any type of soccer game; national team, club team, amateur, AYSO, foosball-- nothing.  So I decided I was well overdue to experience one.  Luckily, on the 5th of September the Costa Rican sele was scheduled to play against Mexico.  I decided this would be the perfect opportunity for me to pop my futbol cherry.    

For weeks prior to kick off, costa rica was caught up in news surrounding the game.  The thousands of fake tickets circulating, the recent success of the both teams against the likes of the US and other powers in the region, and their hopes to make the World Cup.  

A few hours before kick off my friend Dan and I got ourselves ready with a little “Girl Talk” dance party and some liquid spirit in our hotel room (we’re huge dorks).  Then we jumped into a taxi and headed to the game.  On the way over, our taxi driver explained to us how important the game was.  He said that if Costa Rica looses, and the United States wins, then Costa Rica would be in fourth place in region and would most likely have to play a repechage match against the fifth place team in the extremely strong South American region in order qualify for the World Cup.    

  

As soon as we arrived at Estadio Ricardo Saprisa we walked up to the first street vendor we saw and bought two tri color jerseys.  Now looking like true Costa Rican fans we made our way up towards the entrance, and missed getting run over by Oscar Arias’ (President of Costa Rica) motorcade by mere inches.  

After a seres of security check pat-downs and “can I smell what’s in your water bottles”-- we finally got our first look inside the 23,000 person stadium. The stadium was built vertically, and the stands seem to hang right over the field, I couldn’t believe how close the lower seats were to the action, no more than fifteen feet from the end lines. The upper sections were filled with Mexico green and the rest of the stadium was a covered in a blanket of red.  We found some seats in the top corner of the stadium behind one of the goals.  Probably the worst seats in the place, but the way the stadium was built it didn’t make for bad viewing at all.  

The atmosphere in the stadium prior to kick off was electric. The crowd took part in a seres of Costa Rican fight songs and chants, and it didn’t take Dan or I long to pick up the words.  In between songs the crowed scream obscenities at small group of Mexican fans just below us.  We decided that we only heard about a 20 different words the entire time we were there, most of them cuss words and a few others having to do with some kid of a gripe going around in Mexico right now.    

During the first half of the game the Ticos, who were caught up in the patriotic sprit of the month and the importance of the game, were itching for any little thing to cheer about.  However, La sele had a hard time getting anything going and gave up a goal one minute before half time.  Once the second half started it was obvious that some of the air had been taken out of the stadium.  Mexico got two beautiful counter attack goals after failed corner kick attempts by Costa Rica, and that was it.  The cowed started making their way towards the exits.  I felt pretty bad for the Tico fans, they defiantly felt like their team let them down.  La sele didn’t even give them one legitimate thing to cheer for.  A breakaway, a close shot, a juke, anything would have sufficed, but it never came. Mexico dominated.    

I was very impressed with the Mexican fans.  I know it was probably only the most diehard fans that made the trip to CR for the game, but i couldn’t get over how crazy they were.  Most of them were completely decked out in goofy mexican gear and were equipped with all kinds of horns and other noise makers.  They didn’t sit down once the entire game and even controlled the stadium at a few points with their cheers of MEXICO... MEXICO.  After the game ended and everyone had left the stadium, the mexicans stuck around singing songs and applauding their teams performance.  

Dan and I spilled out of the stadium into the street with the rest of the crowd.  It took us half an hour to find a taxi because of the packed sidewalk and near fight we got into with a bum who wouldn’t leave us alone.  

The night was capped off while Dan and I were laying in bed recapping our first professional soccer match and watching TV.  We were just about to fall asleep when our room started to shake.  We looked at each other thinking “is the room spinning because of all the guaro we drank tonight, or was that an earthquake?”   

When I look back at my first soccer match years from now I don’t think Ill remember the goals that were made or anything that happened on the field.  I think what I’ll remember most is the hour or so I spent before the game singing and cheering on La sele with a group of happy Ticos, and feeling the amount of pride they had for their county.  

The next morning, despite the loss and the earthquake, most of the Ticos didn’t seem too sad. They jumped right back into their happy, pura vida way of life pretty quickly.  Maybe it was the month of parties and parades they had to look forward to.  

El Vergel

I realized that I have been writing a lot about what I do on the weekends and my time away from El Vergel.  This was done more subconsciously than anything,  because other than some porch lounging and farming, not too much usually goes on here.  But let me tell you about what has happened here the past few months, and about some of the people whom I’m close with.  

El Vergel has gone through somewhat of a boom in growth this past year.  And I think now Vergel can be classified as a pueblo.  Before this year I wouldn’t have even consider it to have reached that status. It was that small.  It was essentially a tiny collection of houses (only about 5 or 6) and a school plopped on the side of the Pan-American highway. 

At the end of 2008 a government housing project started, and a group of Nicaraguans have been building homes in Vergel ever since.  Over the past few months 15 or so brand new homes have been built.

The gov't housing, escuela vergel, and my house

In January 09 alone El Vergel saw more growth than it ever has.  A second pulperia was built (which provides sweets to the school kids, and me with an abundance of headaches), two pay phones were installed, and a satellite dish was put on top of the school’s comedor (the CR ministry of education plans on having all schools online by 2010) which supplies wireless internet through much of the town.  Furthermore, this March a new classroom was built for the Borucan culture/crafts class, and they are currently in the process of building a Pre-K classroom.  

My host family has also been getting in on the growth.  This year alone they have purchased, a new computer monitor, a digital camera, and even a laptop computer-- and they are now learning to use internet and email.  Vergel has defiantly come a long way since 08. 

 

I couldn’t even imagine living in El Vergel without internet or phones.  Messing around online defiantly takes up a chunk of my day and getting a phone call from a fellow volunteer every now and then is exciting. I defiantly have a lot of respect for the three Teachers, Joe, Alex, and Radford, who were here before me.  I’m defiantly living large compared to them.  

Vergel’s tiny size has defiantly been the root of some of my frustrations this year.  It has been difficult for me to adjust to a small town lifestyle.  Other than a few Sunday afternoon majengas, pickup soccer games, and biannual BINGO fundraisers there are absolutely no social functions in Vergel.  I’m defiantly jealous when I go visit other volunteers and find out that they have dances, karaoke nights, and cantinas where they can meet people and socialize.     

Luckily for me, though, I have my friend Jeremy just up the road in Rey Curre.  In comparison to Vergel, Curre is like New York City, Los Angeles and, Disneyland put together.  They have bailes, mask-carving classes, TV, dance lesson, “real” pulperias (that actually sell stuff other than rice, beans and toothpaste), and even get a few gringos every now and then. The closets thing to a gringo in Vergel is a rental car full of tourists speeding down the Pan-American highway on their way to one of the nearby beaches.   So after I have checked my email for the 10,000th time and gotten bored counting the trucks drive by the highway I usually head up to Curre for a visit.     

Before coming here, I had a pretty good idea that I wouldn’t really have problems living a simple lifestyle and that I really don’t need much to be happy.  I have become perfectly accustom to eating the same meal everyday (rice and beans), the cold-- sometimes bucket-- showers, and the lack of other modern convinces like TV and video games.  Surprisingly, I don’t miss watching TV one bit-- well... maybe sportscenter just a little.     

(Note: Some other things I miss-- playing piano, ice cubes, good plumbing, cold weather, carpet, playing water polo, Mexican food, swimming.)

I have defiantly been a bit bipolar with my opinion of Vergel this year.  I either love it, even so much so that I consider staying another year, or I absolutely hate it and can’t wait for the next bus to pass so I can get the heck out.  Much of my unhappiness has to do with my living situation.  My family is very nice but isn't particularly talkative and can be extremely difficult to engage in conversation sometimes.  This really bothered my for a while but I have since gotten use to it.  Living in a house with eight people and one bathroom isn't exactly fun either.  However, the good defiantly out weighs the bad.  

Miguel ready for work

I really enjoy my host Dad, Miguel.  He is an extremely loving and affectionate father and the little ones (Quito and Melissa) absolutely adore him.  He’s always giving them kisses and calling them mi amor.   He’s also super funny and even reminds me of my real Dad sometimes. Unfortunately Miguel has to work a lot. He is a police officer in the nearby town of Buenos Aries and is only home four out of every eleven days.  When he is home though the house is much more pleasant and lively.  He hangs out all day with his shirt off cracking jokes, dancing around, and playing with the kids.  He’s a big goofball.  Miguel is also a great cook (very unlike my Dad in this sense). He is a much better cook than my host mother and makes every meal when he is home.  He knows how to say a couple words in english and loves to show them off after he hands me a plate of food-- chicken... rice... pig.  Sometimes just to get a laugh out of me he’ll pat his big belly and say “sexy”.  Its gets me every time.  

Miguel and my host mother, Eliza, hitting the pinata

Some of my other favorites...

My host brother, Juan Pablo (18), is one of my favorites and not just because we share the same name.  Pablo has a very active personality, much like me.  I can tell that he notices I get really bored sometimes, so he invites me to go along with him on his activities.  Surprisingly, there’s a decent amount to do in Vergel; play soccer, go for bike rides, swim in the river, fish, shoot the pellet gun, go cow tipping, throw stuff off the bridge.  The list goes on and on.  Pablo is also very hard worker and very smart. He gets almost perfect scores in all of his classes and really understands the importance of education, which is something a surprisingly large number of people here don’t quite get.  However, Pablo’s ambitions out weigh his smarts, if his dream of becoming a professional soccer player doesn't work out he plans on going to college.   

Jody (15), my host cousin, is a lot like Pablo.  He is also very smart and ambitious. He works at the new pulperia during the day and goes to high school at night.  Jody defiantly impressed me when he realized that the pulperia isn’t a great place to work; he  told me he hardly makes any money and wastes a lot of time sitting around doing nothing. Next year he plans on getting a real job in the nearby town of Palmar. Jody seems pretty grownup for a 15 year old, however he is very much of a kid at heart. He loves watching cartoons and still thinks that farting the funniest 

thing in the world.  Jody is also much more talkative than most of my family.  So we spend a good amount of time hanging out on the porch or playing soccer together.  

Left to right; Miguel, Negro, and Jody

Pablo and Jody defiantly are unique compared to a lot of people their age.  So many people between the ages of 16 and 25 approach life very passively and apathetically.  A lot of them sit around all day doing absolutely nothing and many have even accepted the fact that they’ll just end up being farmers and have dropped out of school.  These two have defiantly been a breath of fresh air.

Diego (22) has been best friend to all the volunteers in Vergel (me included) and is one of the most ridiculous people I have ever met.  Diego works at the local pulperia and teaches first communion classes in the church.  When I arrived in Vergel Diego spent most of his days pacing around Vergel looking for something to do or someone to talk to.  He liked to practice his English every chance he could and even wanted to move to the United States.  He has since give that up and has now dedicated himself to learning everything he can about Mexico.  Diego doesn’t even consider himself to be Tico.  He thinks he is mexican.  Now, he paces around Vergel singing the mexican national anthem and showing off his mexican dichos, slangs.  “Super padrisimoooo weeee” is his favorite.  Like I said, he’s ridiculous.  

Quito and Melissa.  My host brother (8) and sister (10).  Living with these two has taught me what it’s like to be an older brother.  I’ve learned how fun, and also how annoying it can be.  

Quito drove me nuts a the beginning of the year. Whenever we played together he’d end up getting really angry (usually for no reason) and start calling me names.  “Donkey Viejo” was his favorite.  Whenever I heard Donkey Viejo come out of his mouth I knew I must have done something horribly wrong and that a temper tantrum was coming soon. The name didn’t really bother me too much. I actually though it was pretty clever/funny, and at least he learn something from my lesson on animals.  Quito has done a lot of growing up the past few months and now we get along great. We roughhouse all day long without problems and I must admit it’s a lot of fun having a little brother around to torture.  And for some reason, even after eight months, Quito has a hard time pronouncing my name.  He calls me Jonk. Jale a jugar Jonk!!   Lets go play John!!

Melissa defiantly inherited all the family’s talking genes.  She doesn’t shut up.  Which isn't necessarily a bad thing.  Melissa also loves to eat, all day long she’s munching of something.  Her older brothers are constantly making fun of her.  They call her names like chancho, vaca.  Luckily though she also has really good sense of humor and dishes it right back at them calling them “bones” and “skeleton”.  Melissa is shameless when it comes to talking, usually whatever is on her mind comes out of her mouth, which has been a good and bad thing for me this year.  She has no problem telling me “hey tonto stop walking through the house with you shoes on”, or “do all gringos slam doors as hard as you.”  She was nice to have around when I was adjusting to life here because she was the only one who would tell me when I was doing something wrong.  The rest of the family was much too quiet.  However, she can get irritating sometimes.  Melissa has just recently started calling me her “empleo” and has even taken it has far as “esclavo”. She’ll half-jokingly say “John your my employee do my chores for me and cook me some lunch, Im hungry!”  

Most nights Melissa and I eat dinner together at the kitchen counter.  Melissa was very good at speaking clearly and slowly with me at the beginning of the year and didn't have any problem correcting me when I made mistakes.  I think I have improved my spanish more with her than anyone else.  

I spend more time hanging out and talking with Quito and Melissia then anyone else in Vergel.  I’m at school with them all day, and at night all the boys (Pablo, Jody, Diego, and Negro my other host brother who’s 28 yrs old) go to colegio-- high school-- so Quito and Melissa are the only ones around to hangout with.    

Thanks for listening of me ramble on for 2,000 words about my pueblo.  I hope it gives you a better understanding of what my life is like here in Vergel.  

Hasta luego  

P.S.   I tried to put more pictures up of my family and town but my CR internet is having a hard time with blogger.  Check back later if you want to see more.