Llevarse de miedo

At my school last year, a few of my students felt comfortable enough to dress as me during a spirit week day (One was quite the doppelganger, being mistaken for me a couple times throughout the day). But this year, I don’t think any students are going to opt to embody me in their spirit at all. We are not going to llevarse de miedo, literally "carry away from fear," or get along really well. In fact, I'm a little afraid because I feel like I’m back in my first year of teaching, when I struggled to establish rapport with my students.

Now sure, this rapport takes time. I’m sure no student during my first year in Israel would’ve even known my personality well enough to come up with a costume to represent me. And I’m sure that kind of thaw will happen in Costa Rica, too, as I get more comfortable and let down my guard.

But I get the impression that it’s not going to be the same here. Rapport involves reaching some common ground, and I just don’t know how much I have in common with these students. There are basically two kinds: the locals who have enough money to go to private school (or parents whose jobs at the school gets them free tuition) and the foreigners who have moved to the country to do some type of church-related goodwill.

I never was privy to the entitlement of the first group of students; my mom never drove me to school simply because I didn’t want to ride the uncool school bus. And I’m not exactly the model of spirituality the other students might hope for. On the very first day, one student asked me about my religious beliefs. He didn’t seem upset when I told him I practiced morality instead, but he did point out that his father was a Baptist minister.

The problem is, with this lack of diversity – which the school plans to maintain in the interest of keeping instruction individualized (and finances in check) – it’s hard to find students who are willing to share in my brand of cynicism and sarcasm. I have all 50 high-schoolers, and not one has responded enthusiastically to my clearly brilliant and witty teaching methods yet.

I am keeping an open mind that perhaps I will be pleasantly surprised as the year progresses. Who knows, maybe I’ll even find my inner privilege and piety. But I’m not holding my breath that I’ll be held in high enough esteem to be flattered with imitation – I’d even take mockery – any time soon.

Llevar a cabo

We had our first long weekend break from school, and there was no Prague or Budapest, because we still haven’t figured out overnight arrangements for our dog. But even though that meant only day trips, we were still able to llevar a cabo, or "carry to end," which means "pull something off": seeing the Caribbean and the Pacific oceans in two consecutive days.

The long weekend was because of Costa Rica’s independence day, so we decided to spend one day in Limón, the Caribbean port city that was the focus of celebrations (At our school assembly, this meant students wearing fake dreadlocks and Bob Marley shirts; hardly the heritage the tourism ministry would promote, I bet).

We thought that perhaps the city, not normally a tourist destination, would have some sort of timely patriotic draw. Apparently, though, celebrating independence in Limón means freedom from capitalism. The downtown was pretty dead except for one bar and a handful of shaved ice vendors, both of which we patronized.

So we decided to celebrate independence day just like some do in the States: going to the beach and drinking beer. The nearby beach, Playa Bonita, wasn’t extremely bonita, as you can see, but the beach restaurant food was good and the Pilsen was cold.

We had already decided to celebrate our independence from school by going to a beach on the Pacific. Playa Jaco, recent host of the international Billabong surfing competition, is dogged by controversy because of imposing development, which has driven the quality of life down and the cost of living up. Tim can verify the latter from inquiring about a hookah, which cost $45. I guess the shop owner, who happens to be Israeli, wasn’t expecting us to know that the same nargilahs cost $10 in Jaffa.

But by going on a Monday, when the rest of the country still had to work, we perhaps dodged the normal ire directed at the tourist influx. Besides, we spent most of our time on the beach, avoiding typical tourist activities; because of the rough waves, not even that many people were swimming. We didn’t get in most of the time ourselves, preferring to veg on the sand instead.

Ironically, when we went to find independence festivities in Limon, they were nowhere to be found, but when we went to Jaco, they seemed to follow us. On the bus ride there, we passed the independence torch, being carried throughout Central America by students, in a kind of united, flaming middle finger to Spain. And on the way back, the bus had to take a detour because a drum corps, in full regalia, was playing for some village residents in the middle of the central plaza.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t get photos of either from the bus window. In fact, I was too lazy to take shots of nearly everything. Let’s just say I was too busy enjoying my independence from constructive thought and action.