As I write, the temperature is 31. Farenheit. Yesterday all day little bursts of snow would fall and stop, fall and stop, amounting to nothing except dismay. May 1. Snow. I am freezing.
Mike and I got ready to walk to the coffee shop yesterday and he turned to me, as I was fussing with a turtleneck, wondering about a hat, about gloves, and said,"I think you're having the most trouble getting used to the weather and money here."
He's right. Putting socks on in Costa Rica was a form of torture. My daily outfit was sandles, a skirt and a tank-top. Even then, I'd be sweaty and hot in every bus or taxi, at the bus stop, on my uncomfortable couch at the end of the day. But the hot was also glorious. Predictable. Every morning I'd wake up to the bright 6:00 a.m. sun, and I knew what the day would hold: sun. Heat. Which tank-top should I wear? That was about as far as my decision making went. Sometimes there was rain, more as April wore on, but even then the air was always so soft and warm on the skin.
My other struggle is how much things cost here, how easy it is to spend. I'm fairly cautious (my family would say tight or some less flattering adjective) about spending money. I loved going out to dinner for 5 bucks, including a glass of wine. Truth be told, neither the food nor the wine was very good. But 5 bucks! Mike and I went to a jazz club here the other night and I had wine that cost 6.50 a glass. Almost killed me to order it (it was the cheapest on the list) and then I saw that same wine at the liquor store on Saturday for 6.99 a bottle. I thought I'd have a heart attack. It wasn't even very good wine (not surprisingly!). Now, before going to Costa Rica, I would have just laughed that off. But the poor people there live on about $200.00 a month; an average income for a teacher is about 10-12,000 a year. When you live in that for a while, spending 6.50 on a glass of wine seems pretty appalling. But it's not just food (though that seems to be my focus right now). Last week I had to go downtown to the credit union to finish up work on the grand theft situation, and I parked in a lot for one hour. Less than one hour. And the cost? $5.00. For 50 minutes in a parking space?
But maybe it's not so much how much things cost as how many things there are, brightly begging us to buy them, pulling our hearts toward the empty promises they make. We get caught up in the materiality they possess when it's the immaterial that matters in the end. Costa Ricans understand this--maybe by necessity, not having much choice--but I think just by culture. They move slowly and deliberately, enjoying their friendships and especially their families. I don't want to idealize, a pull a recognize now that I'm home again, a pull that I felt toward the US when I was gone, but the value system there is very different.
Here we have so much. I was struck by how clean this city is, how quietly the buses run (how few people are in them!), how nice everyone's cars are. And most Americans are appreciative of what they have. But I don't think they know (I certainly didn't) how much it is we do have. And how caught up we are in getting more things, more stuff, in work, in rushing about, in stress. I read about a woman in southern MN who was attacked by tigers. Of course, someone owned these tigers, kept them caged up, and when the woman went to feed them, they went for her. I think that exemplifies the most extreme cases of our desire to possess. Four tigers in S. MN? To what end? well, we can see how the story worked out.
So I am stunned a bit. I guess that's why they call it culture shock. I had it going to Costa Rica, too, but there I was so lost--linguistically, practically, in every way--that I felt less shocked than terrified. And there's this: the fear was so huge it couldn't be maintained; it turned into something sort of charming and amusing. I couldn't be graceful or clear in my interactions so I just was. I learned that things work out even when you don't understand them. That if you say "the bank speak me with my ATM card is ok" someone will eventually understand what you mean. (It really was the last week when I realized I'd been using hablar for say the whole time.)
Make no mistake. I am happy to be home. I love my home. My wonderful family. My most comfortable bed in the world. The delicious food. The freedom of movement through this great town with my car and to nearby shops. But I hope I can maintain the essential lesson: life isn't about making and buying and having. It's about all the other moments, sitting at the table with friends. Having the teenage daughter lie down on the couch and put her head in your lap. that stuff. That's real.
Ok. I got a little preachy there. Forgive me. But look in your medicine cabinet one day. Count the products you have there. If you're like me, there will be lots and lots, some costing lots of money, that you've purchased over time for various reasons (Aveda Hang Straight hair product, Aveda Sap Moss spray something, Aveda Defining Whip (don't ask), Aussie Miracle hair something, Clinique hair spray (free sample), four different moisturizers, and tons of misc. stuff) only some of which you actually use. That's the kind of thing I see now that I didn't see before. I believe something magical will happen through the use of these products. I'm not sure, so far, that it has. Enough. Onward into this cold day. Where is spring?
I don't know whether to keep this blog going or let it end, having served its purpose. Comments? Also, I appear to have a popup blocker on the computer that keeps me from spell checking. Apologies to all who catch the errors I'm sure are here!
