Loosing Things

I have lost a good amount of weight since my arrival to Costa Rica.  I think somewhere between 15 and 20 pounds.  I attribute my weight loss to a few things.  First, my diet.  Switching from a college student’s diet to the diet of the 3rd world country defiantly took a few inches off my waist. Instead of eating burritos and 2:30AM and drinking three nights a week, I eat a diet of almost purely rice and beans and only get served food when it’s meal time.  And yes I am hungry a lot.  The second cause of my weight loss is sweating.  It is always hot in Vergel. and it’s not the dry type heat that I was used to in Arizona, its a wet, muggy, jungle heat.    

The combination of my weight loss and the nonexistence of dryers here has caused many of my cloths to stop fitting properly. My pants especially is where I’ve noticed the biggest difference.  I officially had to go up a loop in my belt.

The problem with my weight loss/clothes got me into a little bit of trouble on one of my recent trips to Dominical.  It was a typical Sunday afternoon.  The sun was out, the beach was packed, and the waves were big and powerful.  I decided to go out for a quick surf before the US and Brazil went at it in the final of the Confederations Cup final later in the afternoon.    

The waves were good and I caught a few really fun rides.  It was however when on one of my paddle outs that my troubles began.  I duck dove under a wave and on my way up to the surface I felt my shorts slide down a little bit. I didn’t have time to pull them up before the next wave came, so I duck dived it leaving them where they were.  This time on my way up to the surface my shorts fell completely off.  They didn’t stop down around my ankles, they fell completely off.  I was laying on my board totally bare-assed and there was another wave coming toward me that I was going to need to get under.  Rather than trying to duck-dive again, and moon the entire beach in the process, I decided to ditch my board, swim down, and try to fish out my shorts.  Luckily I found them down around my leash.  I untangled them and pulled them back on all the while trying to dodge the big waves breaking in front of me.  I paddled back out to the line up happy that I didn’t have to give the crowded beach too much of a show. 

I tied my shorts as tight as they would go and kept surfing.  It was however only a few minutes later when I found myself in almost the exact same position; in the water, naked, trying to find my pants.  I fished them out and pulled them back on.  As I was treading water tying to tie the drawstring a wave came.  I dove down under it, and just as I reemerged on the other side I felt my leash snap off my ankle.  

I swam the 50 yards or so to the beach and when I arrived I couldn’t find my board anywhere.  I signaled to my friend Jeremy, who was sitting under a palm tree if he saw it wash ashore.  He pointed over to the lifeguard tower and gave me a little applause. Not really understanding what the applause was about, I walked over to the lifeguard tower and saw my board lying there broken into two pieces.

The board had a huge buckle in it and I new that it was going to break sometime soon, I was actually surprised it lasted as long as it did, so I didn’t feel too bad about it.  Two little kids came up to me and asked it they could have the board.  I knew it was going to be way too expensive to fix it so I gave them the broken pieces.

The Confederations Cup final was about to start so me and some friends went to our favorite beach-side bar to watch it.  Jeremy bought me a beer to ease my pain and we spent the rest of the afternoon watching the game.   The bar was packed with Americans and Brazilians so I’m sure you could imagine the atmosphere was pretty exciting.  Unexpectedly, the US took a 2-0 lead over world-number-one Brazil in the first half.  Jeremy, who is a huge soccer fan, and I ended up getting a little too excited and ordering a few too many drinks.  But thats another story.  

I wish I could have broken my board doing something cool- like pulling into a ginormous close out barrel, or landing wrong after boosting a huge air.  But  my weight loss and stretched out shorts denied me of that.  Oh well.  At leas it was only a board and a leash that were permanently lost and not my pants.   

Post Vacations

Nothing too exciting has happened since I returned to Vergel after our July vacations. Anyhow, here is a little bit about what’s been going on the past few weeks.  

(Note: I think I’ve been scaring my mother a little bit too much with my stories about run ins with crocodiles, police, and big waves (sorry ma), so Ill save some stories from my vacation for a later time.  Also, in case you were wondering TIco means Costa Rican.)  

The first Wednesday back after vacations my WorldTeach boss, Leilani, came to El Vergel to observe me teach.  I was a little bit nervous about this especially because Wednesdays I have 3rd grade, and 3rd grade means Carlitos.  Carlitos is by far the most hyper and poorly behaved student in the school.  I was praying he would 

behave and not embarrass me in front of my boss.  But, of course, he did. 

During class we were playing one of Carlitos’ favorite games, airplanes.  Carlitos called one of the girls in the class a bad name and she punched him in the face.  Both of them were put on a time out.  Carlitos couldn’t stand sitting out while the rest of the class played his favorite game and ended up having a complete breakdown.  He started crying, screaming, and rolling around on the floor.  It was awful and very embarrassing, but just another day at Escuela Vergel.  

Leinani made me feel a little bit better about the Carlitos situation and told me that I handled it well and I defiantly had better control of the kids then any of the past volunteers did.  Although I do enjoy teaching more now than I did in the beginning of the year, the kids do still drive me nuts sometimes.  

My first weekend back after vacations turned out to be pretty fun.  My host brother, Pablo, asked me if I wanted to go with him down to the boarder so he could do some shopping.  He said there was a market there that sold chunche (stuff) for really cheap.  Being a Sunday and having nothing to do I said claro.  The boarder isn't too far from Vergel, only about an hour and a half.  So at around eight in the morning Pablo and I jumped on a bus for Pasa Canoas, a small town on the Tico side of the boarder with Panama.   

Pasa Canoas is exactly how you’d picture a typical Central American boarder town. It’s dirty-- full of poverty, half finished buildings, and crime.  So I was a little bit skeptical about the legitimacy of this “shopping” we were about to do.  I pictured the place as a sort of out door flee market, where one could bargain for suspicious merchandise from shady salesmen.  

So after a quick stop at bank, I followed Pablo through the crowded streets of Canoas up to where the market was.  I had no idea where we were going, and kept thinking “where the heck is this place” because since arriving I hadn’t see anything even closely resembling a market.  

I stayed right behind Pablo as we dodged a few last street beggars, then Pablo made a sharp turn down a dark ally.  The ally was so tight I had to turn myself sideways just to fit in it.  Again I was thinking “where the HELL is he taking me? we’re going to robbed and murdered here!”  Then it appeared. And I couldn’t believe my eyes. We popped out on the other side of the ally into a long corridor packed with people. The corridor was impeccably clean, everyone was wearing expensive brand-name clothing (Polo, Loccoste), and there was even AIR CONDITIONING!!!   WHat?!! The market was totally legitimate.  One side of the corridor was lined with small mom n pop type tiendas, and on the other large two-story department stores that sold everything, and I mean everything!  Bathtubs, plasma screens, brand name clothing, birdcages, shoes, sports equipment. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was like we stepped into another world!  I felt like Harry Potter stepping on to Diagon Ally for the first time.  It was surreal!  

Pablo and I spent the next few hours shopping around.  Pablo ended up buying a pellet gun (which he says he’s going to use to protect our mamon trees from birds but I really think he just likes to shoot stuff), a couple pairs of shoes, and a zip drive.  I wasn’t even planing on buying anything, I was just along for the ride.  But I found that the pric

es we so low that I couldn’t afford not to.  I ended up buying a pair of pair of Reef flip flops for $12. a Croatian soccer jersey (something I had been searching for for 2 years and in 3 different countries) for only $4. 

I later found out that all the merchandise was once on its way to Panama but couldn’t pass the boarder for whatever reason and ended up in those stores. Shopping was defiantly a cool experience I think I’m going to go back sometime in December to buy some Christmas presents.  

The only other thing that i can really report on is that have a new favorite food, mamones.  I thought that after avocado season ended I wouldn’t have any new harvests to look forward to, however one good thing about living in Vergel is that almost every month some new fruit or vegetable starts sprouting.  I absolutely love this about Vergel

, and I absolutely love mamones.  

            Avocado and mamones (upper right corner)

In case you have never heard of a mamon before, a mamon is a small neon-colored fruit about the size of a golfball.  They are most commonly yellow and purple but can also be red, blue, green or a mix of those colors.  On the outside there a thick, spike-covered rind, and Inside there is a tasty white fruit wrapped around a pit.  To me they taste like super sweet grapes.  

Mamones are just as tasty and cool to look at as they are fun to eat.  In order to eat a mamon you have to rip open one end of the shell (or you can be like a true tico and bite it open), pull the fruit with your teeth, suck the fruit off the pit, then spit out the pit. 

Eating mamones is a great activity for porch lounging (vergel’s favorite activity), as they provide for an endless possibility of games, which is really good because since april when my family cut off the TV, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a group of people so bored.  So anything that can be made into a game or some kind of entertainment is good thing. Some of my favorite games include seed spitting contests, rind toss into a wast basket contests, juggling contests, and who can fit the most mamones in their mouth at once contest (Melissa usually wins this one). 

Thats all for now. Hope you enjoy reading.   

Bigfoot and Balls of Poop

El Vergel is just one of the many tiny pueblos on the Borucan Indigenous reserve.  Borucans are a very kind and welcoming people who believe strongly in their sense of family and community.  They are also deeply invested in preserving their culture, language, and customs.  I feel very lucky to have been place here in El Vergel because its given me, not only, a chance to learn about Costa Rican culture but also the Boucan.  I like to ask my family about the history and the customs of the area and their people.  In doing this I have learned that, like many other indigenous tribes, Borucans are very superstitious.  They believe and all kinds of mythical beings and spirits.  

From the first day I arrived Vergel I started hearing stories. Stories about witches that sneak out of the mountains and rob people at sunset,  trolls that take on the form of people and kidnap children, and my favorite, the Hombre Peludo, who lives in the river behind my house and kills people that try to go swimming at night. 

Late one afternoon my family and I took a trip up the mountain to the town of Bouca to visit some relativ

es.  Most of us were riding in the bed of the pickup truck when we stopped to pick up a hitch hiker.  As the man jumped in the back with us and I could tell he was extremely disturbed by something.  My host mother asked him what was wrong and he told us that he had just seen the Hombre Mono (I guess thats like the Costa Rican version of Bigfoot).  The man seemed legitimately scared for his life and was tremendously thankful that we stopped to pick him up.  My host mother tried her best to comfort him until we reached town.  I found the whole thing pretty ridiculous and tried to keep a straight face for the remainder of the ride. 

I have heard dozens of these stories, each one more dubious than the next.  However the Borucans, absolutely 110% believe that they are true.    

There was one story, however, my host brother Pablo told me that I didn’t find entirely absurd and actually did give me a little bit of a fright.  The story was about the first WorldTeach volunteer in Vergel in 2006, Joe.  I had heard a little bit about Joe in the past and knew that he left after only six months because of a death in his family.  However Pablo told me the “real” reason he left.  

Just before Joe arrived the family added a small room to the side of the house that would be the new cuarto de teachers (teachers room).  Joe moved in and got settled. A little while after arriving his girlfriend came out for a visit and ended up staying for a few months.  Shortly after she arrived was when the trouble with the brujas (witches) started.  Supposedly, one night all the stray dogs in the area decided to sleep right outside Joe’s room, like they were protecting him from something. Then at some point in the middle of the night they all got up and chased something over to his classroom barking the entire way, and remained there barking for thirty to fourty-five minutes.  When Joe arrived at his classroom early the next morning he was met with a unexpected surprise. He found perfectly round circles of feces, about the size of baseballs, scattered all over the floor of his classroom.  The door to the classroom was closed exactly the way he had left it the night before, it was obvious that no one had opened it.   

This exact same scenario was repeated night after night at exactly the same time. The only difference being that the balls of feces would rotate between the floor, Joes desk, and the blackboard.  The family was convinced that one of the many brujas in the area was haunting Joe.  The last straw came one morning while Joe and his girlfriend were still lying in bed.  They heard the soft knock on their door and bruja calling out Joe’s name, Jooooee, Jooooeee, Jooooeee.  This really freaked everyone out and my host mother decided it was time to take action.  She made crosses out of banana leaves and put then on all the doors entering the house to scare away the evil spirits. And sure enough they did the trick; the dogs stopped sleeping outside el cuarto de teachers, the feces stopped appearing in the classroom, and the bruja stopped haunting Joe.

However, the crosses weren’t enough to suppress Joes fear and he moved back to the states shortly thereafter.  

My host mother became really worried when she found out that Pablo told me about the brujas.  She feared that I might get scared and want to leave too.  She reassured me that she has take many precautions to keep the brujas away, including making the teachers sleep in a different room, placing rosaries on the doors, and calling in Fathers Merriin and

karras to preform an exorcism (just kidding about that last one).  Since Joe left no one has spent the night in the cuarto de teachers.

I don’t know exactly how much of this story is true, and if I had to guess, I’d say not very much of it.  I say this because I know first hand how gossip can spread in a small town like Vergel, and how easily little things can get blown out of proportion.  However, I have to admit this story did scare me slightly more than any of the others I’ve hear so far.  Its also made me slightly more of a believer in the Borucan Folklore.   

Dominical

Many weekends I take a short bus trip just up the cost  to a little surf town called Dominical.  This is one of my favorite places to go because its ease of accessibility , laid back atmosphere, and good waves. It’s known in the surfing world as the Puerto Escondido of Costa Rica because its big, powerful, hollow, and great for tube riding.  

On one of my trips to Dominical back in May I found myself in a little bit of trouble. After arriving on friday afternoon, I threw my stuff down in my hostel, grabbed my board, and ran down to the beach to catch the last few hours of sunlight.  When I arrived I found the waves to be pretty big (the report said 7-10 foot and building throughout the night and next day).  Having surfed the beach quite a few times and feeling pretty confident out there, I didn’t even think twice about paddling out. However as soon as I got in the water I could tell it was much bigger than I thought. When I finally made my way through the heavy waves to the line up I noticed that the crowd was very small, only me, one other local, and a group of 5 or so lifeguards doing toe-ins on their rescue jet ski.  I spent the next few hours getting a number of good rides, pulling into a half dozen close-out barrels, and taking a few beatings in the process.  It was getting late and I decided to get one more.  I saw a solid over head wave coming my way and paddled for it, stood up and pulled into the barrel just like I’d been doing all afternoon.  This time, however, I didn’t get crushed by the falling lip and tossed around underwater, instead I got spit out into the shoulder, dry as a bone.  After having caught such an amazing ride a decided to paddle out for one more wave despite the late hour and being extremely fatigued.  Just as I arrived at the line up a HUGE set was peaking on the horizon, by far the biggest set of the day.   I paddled as hard as I could towards it, the wave growing bigger and bigger as I got closer.  I knew I had a chance at getting over it but it was going to be a close call.  Just as I got to the foot of the wave the lip started to curl over and I realized that it was going to land right in front of me.  I knew there was no way I was going to be able to get deep enough to duck dive it so I ditched my board and swam for the bottom.  I felt the wave explode above be so violently that I thought for sure my board was going to be in two pieces when I surfaced.  I was tossed around underwater for what seemed like an eternity.  The wave let up just enough to give me a chance to come up for a breath of air and a mouthful of foam before the next wave in the set exploded in-front of me.  I took 4 or five of these before the set let up just enough to allow me to get my bearings.  I noticed that my board was, thankfully, still in one piece.  I decided to call it a day so I jumped on and caught some white water for shore.  

I walked up the beach and sat down on a log to watch the lifeguards squeak in a few toe-in rides before nightfall.   I glanced down at my board and noticed how close it actually came to being snapped into two. There was a huge crease down the middle any small wipeout would surly break it.  Upset about the inevitable fate of my board, I didn’t even notice the on-duty lifeguard walking over to me.  When he stopped in front of me I thought he was going to tell me that he was worried he was going to have to rescue me from the huge set, but he actually came over to complement me on the barrel I had a few minutes prior.      

The waves that broke on me that day were, by far, the biggest and most powerful waves I’ve ever experienced.  Though they did give be a bit of a fright, they didn’t, scare me enough to want to leave my favorite little beach town.  

I’m still having a blast here in Costa Rica. Everyday is a new adventure.  Stay tuned for more tomorrow... 

Mono and All That Jazz

Hello all.  Sorry I’ve been a slacker lately with my blogging.  My schedule has been a bit hectic lately with mid year vacations and a short bout with mono, but here are a few cuentos from the last few months. 

For a big part of May and June I wasn't feeling 100%.  I hardly had the energy to stand up in class let alone make it through a whole day of teaching.  I told my host mother about how I was feeling and she just kept reassuring me that I had “un gripe nada mas” (just a cold).  At about the same time many of the other volunteers weren’t feeling great either and within the next few weeks WT started invading Clinica Biblica hospital in San Jose. By the end of June, 14 of the 23 volunteers tested positive for mononucleosis, me included. The country declared us (worldteach CR) a national epidemic.

The doctor told me that I had to be bed ridden for the next 8 days and that I could not teach. My fist reaction upon hearing this news was “but I have to teach! My students can’t miss 8 days of english class.” My response actually surprised me!   Somewhere in the weeks between our mid-service meetings in May and the beginning of June I stated to really enjoy teaching.  Weeks prior I would have loved to have a legitimate excuse to take a few days off work, but now the thought of not teaching for eight whole days actually scared me a little bit. What the heck what I going to do in Vergel for eight days?  I couldn’t exercise, play soccer, or go to the school to use the internet (because of the risk of passing on virus to the kids). I was going to be bored out of my mind.  Luckily I had a few good books, some empty sheets of sudoku, and chess on my computer to keep me busy.  I spent my mornings sitting on the cool cement floor of my room switching off reading A Thousand Splended Suns and Think and Grow Rich,  both of which i really enjoyed.  Once school was out and all the guilas had gone home, I’d walk over to my classroom and mess around on the internet for a while. I did my best to follow doctors orders and rest. I worked in at least 1-2 siestas per day.  The eight days went by a lot easier than I thought they would.  All in all I finished two books, played at least 40 games of chess against my computer, and got some much needed rest.      

My first day back at school felt great. The kids greeted me warmly and were legitimately excited to have English class again, although some were a little bit concerned to come near me because when they heard that I was sick assumed that I caught Swine flu, or Gripe de Chancho (Pig Disease) as they like to call it.  Nonetheless, I think the best part of being back was just getting into a routine again, even if it was only for a few days.  Because at the beginning of July our midyear vacations started and I had plans to travel  Costa Rica with my friends Ricky and Jon.  

Be sure to check back later this week for more D’Amico and the Ticos...

Un Dia Tipica

People have been asking me what a typical day for me in Costa Rica is like.  So I thought I’d describe, more or less what, I do here.  

6:00am- Wake up to the sound of roosters crowing outside my room. Stumble into the kitchen, drink some coffee,  eat breakfast.  Get ready for school. 

6:57am- Arrive at my classroom where there are 25 kids waiting for Teacher to open the door so that I can “prestame las cartas” (give then the Uno cards).  I must hear that phrase 500 times a day “Teacher, Teacher, prestame las cartas!!” 

7:00am- 10:30am Teach

10:30 - Lunch

11:00-12:00pm Teach 

12:00pm- to 12:30pm- Get out the hammer and nails. The next half-hour of my day is usually dedicated to keeping my rickety old classroom from falling down.  The door has already been fixed 1,755 times and counting. 

The students absolutely love to play “touch the board” game. Which is where I tape two pictures on the blackboard; (e.g. if we are learning about animals there may be a picture of a cat and a picture of a dog).  Two kids stand a few feet away from the board, then I’ll say either cat or dog and the first kid to touch the picture I say wins.  This game almost alway ends with the class breaking out into complete chaos or someone bleeding, usually both.  But the kids love it so we keep playing it.  The game is also hugely detrimental to my classroom, as it causes the panels on walls to fall off, making big holes.  If these holes are not fixed immediately the kids will escape out of them whenever Teacher’s back is turned.  

12:30 to 1:30 Make lesson plans for the next day, clean classroom, mess around on the internet.  

1:30 to 3:00  Usually this large chunk of my afternoons is dedicated to finding something to eat.   

Every morning my host Mother makes a pot of gallopinto, which is just a mixture of rice and beans, and a very typical Costa Rican breakfast.  The pot is supposed to last until the afternoon so that once the kids come home from school there is something they can snack on.  However, between me, my four host brothers, my host Dad who has a belly big enough to push around in a wheelbarrow , and my chubby-little host sister who everyone calls “chancho” (pig) the pot of Gallopinto is usually gone pretty quickly.  By the time 1:30 comes around I’m starving. I rush home as fast as I can to try and scrape whatever is left at the bottom of the pot, which is usually nothing.  There are no super markets or grocery stores in my pueblo.  So there is nothing I can buy to curb my hunger.  So usually I go back to school and bribe kids with stickers to climb trees and pick me mangos.  A couple mangos will usually hold me over for a few hours.

After I find something to eat I usually hangout on the front porch of my house and either read, play guitar, or talk with my host brothers and friends Diego and Jody.      

  

3:00pm-5pm  Tuesdays and Thursdays I ride my bike down the highway to some friends house and give them English lessons.  Usually they treat me to, much appreciated, plates of arroz con pollo.    

Mondays and Wednesdays are my favorite days of the week because they are soccer days.  The local teenagers gather on the plaza behind my house and have “majengas”, or pick up games.   My host brother, Pablo, is an amazing player. He practices on the plaza everyday; running laps, juggling, and taking set shots.  He even had a brief stint on the Costa Rican Junior National Team. Furthermore, Jeremy (the volunteer 15 min up the highway) takes the bus down to Vergel and plays sometimes.  Jeremy is also an excellent soccer player, he played four years on his college team.  I have always considered myself to be a decent soccer player, having played AYSO and Club for most of my youth, however playing with these guys everyday has really been humbling.         

5:00pm  Take a shower, then read in the hammock on the front porch, more guitar, play with the little kids, more messing around on the internet. 

7:00pm  The news comes on.  Everyone in Costa Rica watches the news. Everyone! And I don’t understand why?  It reminds me of the movie Anchorman.  Some of the things they consider news here I find ridiculous.  I’m pretty sure Ill see a pregnant panda or a waterskiing squirrel sometime before December. However ridiculous it is, I still find myself on the couch every night glued to the TV along with the rest of the family.  I have also found that the news is really good practice for my Spanish, as it allows me to listen to many different people’s voices, as well as, many different subject matters which builds my vocabulary. 

7:30pm Dinner 

8:00pm More porch lounging... read... play guitar... hang out with the family.

9:00pm Bed

So, mas o menos thats my life right now.  Hope you enjoy reading. Go Lakers!!! 

Gringo Time

This past week was horrible.  The kids were SO bad.  They wouldn’t listen to anything I said.  They were getting out of their seats whenever they wanted, climbing up walls, screaming, throwing things, crying: it was madness.  In my eighty minute classes we only did about thirty minutes of “work”.  The rest of the time was spent just trying to keep order.  By the time the weekend came I badly needed a break from teaching, as well as from Vergel.  It still really bothers me that I can’t find privacy here.  All I wanted to do was sit around, relax, read, and hangout.  There is no way I can do that in Vergel without someone bugging me.   I couldn’t wait to get out of town.  

Ten of the other volunteers and I were going to meet in San Jose and have “Gringo time”. It had been almost two months since most of us had seen each other, and all we wanted to do was speak in English, eat something other than rice and beans, and maybe drink some beers.  After class friday I rushed home, threw some cloths in a bag, and caught the first bus out of Vergel.  I fell asleep in my seat almost instantly, and stayed that way for almost four hours. I was woken up, however, when the bus made an unscheduled stop just outside of San jose in a town called Cartago.  I looked out the window to see what was going on, and noticed there were policemen everywhere.  One of the police men, armed with a machine gun, entered the bus and said that all foreigners needed to take out their passports.  As I was reaching for my bag I realized that I did not have my passport.  My passport was in San Jose going through a process to get a visa, and the consularized copy, that I was supposed to be carrying, was in Vergel.  In my rush to get out of town, I had forgotten it on my bed.           

If you get caught without a passport in costa rica you are taken into custody immediately, and most times have to spend the night in jail.  So I’m freaking out!! I frantically dig through my bag looking for any kind of ID possible.  I pull out my cloths and books, and ask the man next to me if he could hold on to them while I searched.  I pulled my head out from inside my bag, the machine gun-clad police officer was only two rows away and I still hadn’t found anything resembling an ID.  Luckily, just as he arrived at my seat, I found two credit cards and my WorldTeach ID, which is just a laminated piece of paper with my name and picture.  I looked up at the officer sheepishly as I handed him the documents.  He took one glance at them, then stared down at me as if he was saying “seriously, this is what you’re giving me?”.  He began to look annoyed, and his machine gun was really intimidating, so I started to talk.  I explained to him that I was a teacher in La zona sur (the southern zone), and that I did not have my passport because it was being processed for a visa.  He snapped back at me saying “where in La zona sur do you live!?”  I said “I live in a small pueblo near the town of Palmar Norte”, the whole time thinking myself O God please don’t shoot me!! Then he said “where? what is town called?!”  I said “Vergel”. As soon as I said this I noticed his irritable tone turn to affable. He said “Oh, Vergel, do you know Dona Eliza?” I quickly responded “yes yes I live with her, she my host mother, as well as the director of my school.”  He said “ahhhh yea... tell her so and so (I cant remember his name) says hello”. Then he handed me back my credit cards and WT ID, and exited the bus.  

I was at a crowded police checkpoint four and a half hours away from my tiny village, and the officer who just happen to inspect my bus, also just happen to know my host mother. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was.  Not only that I didn’t get arrested, but also that I lived with such a well know and respected lady.  

While driving away from the checkpoint the reality of the situation began to sink in, and I began to put had just happened into perspective.  I thought about what might have happened if the officer hadn’t known Dona Eliza.  I pictured myself getting handcuffed, put in the back of a police car, and thrown in jail for a few days.  I thought how awful that would have been.  Then I thought about where I had just come from; and the madness that Is Escuela El Vergel.  Being throw in jail started not to sound half bad.  At least then I would have gotten a vacation from teaching for a few days.