It’s dawning on me that I’ve been exceptionally lame about maintaining this blog since I left Guatemala. There are a few reasons for that: First, I was very busy with program activities in Costa Rica – much more so than in Guatemala. Between speakers, class, and three different homestays, I simply found it hard to find time to sit down and reflect. I guess that’s what this week (fall break) was for.
Beyond that, however, I’m actually finding blogging to be a more challenging medium for me than I had initially expected. Normally when I write, such as for school or for the Chronicle, I have a lot of time to think, research, write, edit, write, and edit some more, in order to produce a polished final product. Even if I sometimes end up cramming all of those steps into a single night, I love that process.
But I'm beginning to understand that blogging doesn’t really work like that. I think that blogging is less about producing a polished final product, and more about engaging in a process of reflection. You kind of just have to sit down and do it. I know there’s a part of me that’s really uncomfortable with the idea of publishing anything that I see as anything less than perfect, which makes posting several times a week on a blog quite difficult. Even so, I think that learning to engage in this process is important for me, so I’m going to make a very concerted effort to post more regularly during the last segment of the program.
But I'm beginning to understand that blogging doesn’t really work like that. I think that blogging is less about producing a polished final product, and more about engaging in a process of reflection. You kind of just have to sit down and do it. I know there’s a part of me that’s really uncomfortable with the idea of publishing anything that I see as anything less than perfect, which makes posting several times a week on a blog quite difficult. Even so, I think that learning to engage in this process is important for me, so I’m going to make a very concerted effort to post more regularly during the last segment of the program.
SO, HOW WAS COSTA RICA?
You know, I’m not really sure how to answer that (which is dumb, considering I asked the question).
Did I have fun in Costa Rica? Absolutely. I enjoyed taking time to do some touristy stuff like visiting Manuel Antonio National Park, sitting on the beach, and being terrorized by wild monkeys. I loved trolling around the Universidad Biblica Latinoamericana with the other six students in my program. I really liked learning about liberation theology in Central America and conservation efforts in Costa Rica, especially by visiting the unique communities of La Carpio and Longo Mai.
The final project I completed with Nicole and Leah (an interfaith worship service focused on criminality and liberation theology) is the most proud I’ve been of a school project in a long time. And the individual project I made (a songbook full of hymns that I felt reflected the tenets of liberation theology) is something that I was happy to be able to give the university…something I wish I could have shared with my Grandfather.
(To learn more about our Liberation Theology course, I highly recommend you read my friend Leah’s blog post. She does the topic more justice than I could – and in a much more timely fashion.)
(To learn more about our Liberation Theology course, I highly recommend you read my friend Leah’s blog post. She does the topic more justice than I could – and in a much more timely fashion.)
But did I love Costa Rica the way I loved Guatemala? The honest answer would have to be no. For a variety of reasons, it was hard for me to feel as integrated into life in San José as I felt in Xela. We weren’t really in the thick of things in the city, we were moving around so much, and I just felt more socially isolated. It was also harder to connect to people. In Xela, even if I just went for a walk around the block, I could count on being greeted by at least ten different people. In San José, though I initially tried to greet everyone with “Buenos días!” or “Buenas tardes!” I gave up after receiving countless stares that seemed to say, “Who is this crazy gringa and why is she talking to me?”
I also witnessed a racism and xenophobia in Costa Rica that, while it may have been present, certainly wasn’t as obvious to me in Guatemala. When Costa Ricans sell shirts that say “Costa Rica: We’re Different,” they really believe it. Certainly racism and xenophobia are present all over Central America – indeed, all over the world. But in Costa Rica, I heard comments* that would make even Donald Trump say, “Woah! Take it down a notch.” I can’t pretend that didn’t put a damper on my experience there.
In a sense, though, I am glad that I was able to witness that. I got a look at something other than the glossy, neatly-packaged Costa Rica seen by most tourists. Yes, this part of Costa Rica made me uncomfortable. But it was a discomfort that was important for me to experience, so I can’t really complain. What I can do is process, reflect, and remind myself that while Costa Rica may have some really disgusting prejudices, I do too.
*Note: These observations are based on my unique experiences, living situation, and acquaintances in Costa Rica. There are others in my group who had very different observations, which gives me hope that I might have been presented with a particularly extreme portrait of racism in Costa Rica.
I also witnessed a racism and xenophobia in Costa Rica that, while it may have been present, certainly wasn’t as obvious to me in Guatemala. When Costa Ricans sell shirts that say “Costa Rica: We’re Different,” they really believe it. Certainly racism and xenophobia are present all over Central America – indeed, all over the world. But in Costa Rica, I heard comments* that would make even Donald Trump say, “Woah! Take it down a notch.” I can’t pretend that didn’t put a damper on my experience there.
In a sense, though, I am glad that I was able to witness that. I got a look at something other than the glossy, neatly-packaged Costa Rica seen by most tourists. Yes, this part of Costa Rica made me uncomfortable. But it was a discomfort that was important for me to experience, so I can’t really complain. What I can do is process, reflect, and remind myself that while Costa Rica may have some really disgusting prejudices, I do too.
*Note: These observations are based on my unique experiences, living situation, and acquaintances in Costa Rica. There are others in my group who had very different observations, which gives me hope that I might have been presented with a particularly extreme portrait of racism in Costa Rica.
WHERE AM I NOW?
Again, a complicated question.
This last week was fall break, most of which I spent traveling around Nicaragua with my dad, who flew down to visit me. We spent most of our time eating delicious food, swimming in the gorgeous Laguna de Apoyo outside of Granada, and chatting up various tourists about their respective countries’ politics (okay, that last one was mostly my dad).
On Friday, I flew back in the US for less than 48 hours, to attend a beautiful memorial service for my grandpa. Now, I’m on a plane returning to Managua, the capital Nicaragua, where I will be living for the rest of the semester and taking courses in political science and history.
Stay tuned! (I promise to be less lame.)
This last week was fall break, most of which I spent traveling around Nicaragua with my dad, who flew down to visit me. We spent most of our time eating delicious food, swimming in the gorgeous Laguna de Apoyo outside of Granada, and chatting up various tourists about their respective countries’ politics (okay, that last one was mostly my dad).
On Friday, I flew back in the US for less than 48 hours, to attend a beautiful memorial service for my grandpa. Now, I’m on a plane returning to Managua, the capital Nicaragua, where I will be living for the rest of the semester and taking courses in political science and history.
Stay tuned! (I promise to be less lame.)