Costa RIIIIIIIIICAAAAAA!!!!

I haven’t really even told you the basics of what its like in this awesome little country.
The first day I walked off the plane and climbed into a strange car with two guys who threw my luggage in the back. We took off down the road; I looked out the window and thought “What a shit-hole. “
Shacky houses, pink, blue, green, and gray, all thrown together close to the tiny street we zoomed down; bony stray dogs; people sitting outside and walking along the road; nothing very pretty, but looking very stereotypical S.A. The next thing I thought was “This is more like a third world country than like the U.S.”
The car stopped and one of the guys shook my hand and gave me my luggage. The other guy, Victor, walked me up to a house covered in plants. I still don’t know what color the house is. It’s just plants. He opened the door and told me “Here is your new mom.”
I looked into the house and saw a woman, about 40ish with short shiny black hair, tan skin, and blue eyes. She smiled, gave me a hug and began talking rapidly in Spanish.
This is a little sidebar dedicated to Ilse. I love my host mom Ilse. She has always been warm and welcoming since the first second I met her. She goes out of her way to take care of me, show me around, and stuff me full of food. She told me (and the rest of her crew reiterated this) that I have a family in Costa Rica forever.
The first night was overwhelming, but I just kept throwing out Spanish words I knew in response to the onslought of rapid conversation. During my first week, I really felt lost and lonely at Amistad Institute where I took Spanish lessons. I was the only one in my class and people did not seem very friendly to the only newcomer.
However, that soon changed and I became the most popular girl at Amistad Institute. Just kidding, but I really did make a lot of friends really fast. It took off after that first week of loneliness. For my birthday, everyone made me a pinata and signed it at the Institute. Then, when I was leaving for Liberia so many people came out to say goodbye to me and give me hugs and wish me well. Oracio (one of the guys who works at Amistad and drove me to Liberia) kept saying, “Wow. So many amigos.”
I was really amazed how comfortable and settled in I felt in San Pedro (the actual town that I live in near the capital San Jose) once it was time for me to leave for Liberia. It was really my home. I learned how to navigate the bus around San Pedro into San Jose, Heredia, and Santa Barbara, which is actually quite a feat considering there are NO street signs, NO addresses, and very few clearly marked bus stops. Often the stop is a random object like a public telephone or a pole, or a yellow line painted on the road. I really think you can’t find your way in Costa Rica unless you’ve lived here for at least ten years. Even then, people get lost going to places forty mintues from their home of thirty years (Me and my host family got lost when we went to Volcano Poas which is only 20 km away).
The weekends in San Jose have been a whirlwind of travel, jetting off early Friday to spend two days somewhere and then coming back on another five hour bus ride. The bus rides are always long and arduous, but just one of the many unique characterisitics of Costa Rica.
I had the craziest time in Puerto Viejo one weekend. It’s a town on the Carribean that has a strong Jamaican/Reggae influence. Manuel Antonio was incredibly beautiful with a gorgeous beach and a tropical forest on the side. I got to see monkeys, sloths, crocodiles, and wild bugs galore. Then Jaco, which was feo (ugly) but a big party town. I’ve really been so many places on little weekend trips that I’m sure that its boring to hear a list of it all. I’ll organize my pics and put on slide shows when I get back!!! (just kidding, only my family will be subjected to a three hour slide show bwahahah!)

My address in San Pedro is literally a paragraph of directions. The address for a letter is: 200 meters south of the church, 150 meters east, in front of the gym; San Pedro de Barva; Heredia; Costa Rica. Nothing has a street name or a house number. For example, an address for a new store or an advertisment will say “Across from the dairy near the church.” So, if you don’t know the town, and the dairy, and the church, you’re screwed. However, the friendly ticos are eager to point you in the right direction once you ask how to get somewhere. They will enthusiastically tell you where to go, even when they really aren’t sure and don’t know the right way.
The best plan is no plan because nothing is organized or on time. Just go with the flow, show up, and see what happens next. FYI: Drinking and driving is legal in Costa Rica. Soooo bring a few for the road and come visit!!!!!!