Blood Bank II

These posts are excerpts from my journal from my rural stay. If you're looking to read them in order, start from two posts ago.

10/05
I turned on Bon Iver's "Blood Bank" and a wave of memories come flooding back to me. It was my song of the summer, I must have listened to it everyday on the Metro ride to work. Why does that seem like so long ago? I miss that faux-adult feeling. I miss catching the metro, walking to work, chilling with Nabil, Lavi, Isis, Alex, Liz, etc. I miss my PB&J every day for lunch in DuPont Circle. I miss walking south ten blocks after work so Annika could make me dinner, then stumbling pass the White House on my way to ChinaTown after a bottle of wine. Finally, I miss eating ice cream and watching movies with See-Yin as we both talk about how our day went.

I am nostalgic, but I don't wish to be back in the past. This summer was one I'll never forget, and I'm glad it is that way. I have probably grown more in the past six months of my life than in quite some time. The world has turned on its head and yet in some ways I am more sure of myself than before. I have gained new friends, and have failed to keep old ones. I recognize that I am where I am now do to the hard work of others (mom, dad, friends, family, and anyone who has ever taugh me something) and yet I often fail to recognize them. Well world, thank you for being here and thank you for offering so much.

"Well I met you at the blood bank
we were looking at the bags
wondering if any of the colors
matched any of the names we knew on the tags..."

10/08
I think yesterday was about what kind of physical toll my body could take. For starters, I was pushing the wheelbarrow up a hill when my feet slipped out from under me, and the wheelbarrow came down on me. My lower back is kind of ache-y and I was spitting blood for a while but I'll survive. All in all I bled probably five times yesterday. Once was when I was cutting down an orange tree with a machete and a thorn went through my thumb to the bone...ouch.

I've been growing out my mustache. I was curious to see what it looked like and there's nobody here I need to impress (Amelia and Isabel have been keeping a safe distance). It's all there, except some of it is black and some is blonde, so I've essentially got a calico cat on my upper lip. Whatever keeps the girls at bay, other than my boorishness and bad grammar.

10/10
Ultimo dia. Holy cats and dogs. Yesterday was absolutely fantastic: spent the morning planting semillas and in the afternoon Yoni, Heinard, and I rod our bikes to the border. The trip probably took about forty-five minutes and took us through absolutely beautiful countryside. There were volcanoes in the distance and river as well, along with cattle and grandiose trees.

on our way to the carnival

So as it turned out I made last minute plans and spent the last three days in Puerto Viejo, on the Caribbean side. Because of this, I was unable to write more from my journal. Phew, I have a lot of catching up to do. I'll have to keep my journal entries brief. Oh, and while I'm writing this, my host sister is snogging her novio on the couch behind me; hilarious. "Oh Marlo, eres perfecto, eres mi mundo, eres guapisimo." She didn't actually say any of this, that was just the play by play I was giving to my host-mom in the kitchen.

9/30
Somewhere between planting cacao semillas with monkeys howling around me as well as drinking from coconuts while grafting cacao trees I think to myself, "how the hell did I get here?" When I spotted a tarantula crawling across the floor of the bar last night I knew that I had gotten into something special. That thing was bigger than my fist. Might've been bigger than my face, but I was going to find out.

Last night I swear Edwin said we were going to the bank. I was definitely confused as it was about eight. I asked Amelia, who was giggling, to clarify and eventually I gather we were going to the bar.

I'm sure that there has to be a certain level of comfort to let another man ride on the back of your motorcycle, and I guess Edwin and I have reached that point. Anyway, the bar we went to is in Pataste, about a ten minute bike ride away.

I had the assumption that this would be a quick, cordial, event. Something Edwin was doing to be nice and probably because he thought I was bored or something. To keep a long night's worth of stories short, I had only two things on my mind that night: when is this man who is half my size going to drop? and how much money is in my wallet?

Sometime later in the night one could have caught me with the stupidest grin, riding on the back of a motorcycle home, once again wondering how life had taken me to this place.

10/03
Edwin took me to a fiesta last night; it was someone's birthday as well as a reunion for a farmer's coop he belongs to. At one point I was talking with a tica who knew a little English and a German who knew bits of English and Spanish. It was a bizarre cultural experience to say the least. Last night was also a good example of how at times my Spanish can be great and at others I can hardly speak at all. This accompanied by the fact that I'm boring in English makes me a social outcast sometimes at parties. If I'm boring in English, I must be a dread in Spanish.

I did meet a man who has visited both Kansas State and Iowa State, for agricultural programs...small world.

10/04
After breakfast I helped clear the field for the game today. In as few words as possible it was such an incredibly amazing, awesome, foreign experience. All of the men in the area got their weedwackers out and then out of nothing appears a futbol field in practically the middle of nowhere.

The game was intense, with the ages of the players ranging from 14-50. And to add to the experience, practically the entire time it was downpouring. I was allowed to play (against the neighboring town) because I'm not a registered team member, but there were certainly countless jokes about sending me in. I was invited to play in a less formal game next Sunday though (for some reason they think I'm good at futbol).

you're so far around the bend

Somewhere along the border between Nicaragua and Costa Rica is a boy wearing a Boys' State Kansas t-shirt.

Somewhere in this house, sitting at this computer is a boy wondering what the hell just happened in the past two weeks.

For starters, there simply aren't words to describe everything I felt, learned, experienced in the past two weeks. Unfortunately, there aren't pictures that capture everything as well. I can say however that every night that I spent in Pataste de Delicias, just like every night I spend here in Santa Marta, I went to bed wondering how I ever got to where I am now, how anyone could possibly be this fortunate, and how am I ever going to repay the world back.

The following are a few excerpts from my journal while I was gone (I'll post more later).

9/27
Yesterday I arrived in Upala where I was picked up by a sister whose nose comes to about my elbow and whose accent I could not pick up at all. We hitched a cab to Pataste, which cannot really be described as a town because it consists of one dirt road with maybe ten houses spread along it for a kilometer. Most of these houses are occupied by my family, the Arista Silvas. As it turns out, Hilario, the patriarch of 82, had fifteen children, many of whom have children of there own.

I am currently staying in a house which is about fifty meters from the main house, where everyone gathers to eat, watch t.v., etc. I also discovered that I kicked my sister, the one who picked me up, out of her room. Great. This sister, Isabel, happens to be 33. I could have sworn that she was my age or younger; perhaps there's something in the water. I only know her age because my uncle/brother-in-law Omar has been incessantly trying to get me to marry her since minute one. Omar assured me that not knowing much Spanish was not a problem, all I really need to know is "amor, quiero comida" (love, I want food). She is cute, and very helpful; but she could also be my mother.

I thought things couldn't be more awkward until Omar gave Isabel some cash and sent us to the bar. First dates are awkward enough when you a) know the person b) know what they're talking about and c) didn't just meet them two hours before. It looks like I'm going to have my hands full while I'm here. On my way to bed Isabel let slip that Omar said that I should plan on sleeping much tonight. Oh dear lord.

And that's pretty much life. I wish I was an extrovert, but I'm not. Hell, I wish I was an introvert; maybe I wouldn't feel as bad about not being an extrovert. I'm just sociable enough to recognize that I can just be plain awkward.