This story will take you back to eleven years ago, back to a time when I was a young, single, poor, college student. And then my life got turned upside down. It is my coming of age story, my love story and my family story. When this memoir is up and running I have plans to write at least two more -my experience being a child of a battered wife and my husband's experience coming to the United States as an immigrant and how we merged our lives in the "real world."
Sneak Peek At My Study Abroad Memoir
PART I Immersion in a New Life “Traveling is a brutality. It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all that familiar comfort of home and friends. You are constantly off balance. Nothing is yours except the essential things – air, sleep, dreams, the sea, the sky – all things tending towards the eternal or what we imagine of it.”
Cesare Pavese
Arriving in Costa Rica January 2003
The stars outside blink and twinkle in the immense darkness. I stare at them, my face pressed against the thick double pane airplane window. Down below I can scarcely make out the distant lights from the Costa Rican pueblos breaking through the ominous night sky. I swallow hard and will myself not to think about the bubbles that are doing a not so merry dance all around my stomach. I try not to focus on the unknown –both the places and the people that will become part of my life once we land. I glance over at the other girls in my group. Some are listening to music, one is sleeping and two are writing in their journals, surely capturing every detail of the flight. I watch them writing furiously, as if not to miss a thing, although there really isn’t anything happening to write about. I ponder what they may be writing –letters home already? relationships that have been left hanging in the air? the other girls on the trip? It feels weird to be traveling with these girls that I really don’t know at all. I am sure I will know them well enough soon. We have already been on the flight for three hours and the initial excitement has long since passed. I am bored sitting on the airplane, but at the same time I’m not sure I want to get off it when we land. I glance at the girls once more, put on my headphones and listen to my music (“Best Friend Mix,” from my roommate Kami.)
I have never been much of a “journaler,” however my roommates gave me a journal as a going away gift and I vowed that I would capture as much of my trip in writing as possible. As I reach in my backpack for the journal, I envision the things that I will soon write. I expect things like lazy days on the beach, dancing, class, and exploring the jungle. What I am really excited about is the unexpected adventures I’m sure to have. I’m not sure where to start or what to write. I chew on my pen cap for a minute as I think –this feels so forced. Well, I may as well write about the flight. I flip open the journal, but rather than start writing, I re-read, for about the tenth time, the notes my roommates had written me before they gave me the journal. I think about the great going away party they threw for me.
The five of us started out with a Chinese dinner and ice skating down town. Then we went back to the apartment, and much to my surprise (ok, I kind of knew, but I pretended it was much to my surprise), it was jam packed with just about everyone I had ever met and plenty of people I had never seen in my life who heard there was a college party with a keg. I saw friends from both college and high school and the party was already in full swing when we arrived. As I opened the door to the apartment, I thought I did a pretty great job feigning total shock and surprise, but I guess not because in the moment of silence that followed the choral “Surprise!” I heard my buddy Taylor yell, “She knew. She Fucking knew!” which was then followed by brief laughter, which in turn was followed by card games, keg stands, and hook ups. Life seemed so fun, carefree and easy that night that I almost hated to leave it behind, but I knew it was what I needed to do with my life. I also knew that my particular life style was not doing me any good –in fact I was not sure I liked who I was turning into. All night I got a lot of well wishes, advice, and plenty of jokes about the men I would meet. Since my cousin Melisa and I had a small obsession with Enrique Iglesias at the time, we kidded that I would meet my own Costa Rican version of the Latin god. Kami’s boyfriend Stan had named a certain body part of his “Pablo,” and many partygoers warned me not to meet a “Pablo” of my own. I also got a lot of “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…ha, ha that leaves just about anything open.” However, the truth is that I am really more interested in the jungle than the men.
At the time of the party I was still struggling to stay away from Max and our toxic, dysfunctional relationship and did not think looking for a new man a continent away was what I really needed. I was pretty sure that immersing myself in the language and culture while learning as much as I could was what I should and would focus on for the next four months –it would benefit my future. Besides, Max was at the party and he was much more interested in the keg than in spending time with me before I left. And still, I could not completely let go of him or maybe it was the idea of a “ him” rather than the actual him, I’m not sure.
I had called Max during a moment of weakness a couple of days after the party, the day before I left. I was spending some time at my apartment, and all the other girls were working; I was feeling lonely I guess. I think I also wanted to see if I should hold onto hope for Max and me or if it was time to really let him go, so I picked up the phone and called.
“Hello,” he mumbled, as if I had awoken him. What was he doing sleeping? I glanced at my clock, it was 10:23 am, way too late to be sleeping.
“Hey Max, what are you doing?”
“Just sitting around, I have to go to work in about a half an hour.”
“Oh, I was wondering if you wanted to come over for a bit?” I hoped I sounded relaxed and not desperate.
“Maybe later, I don’t have much time before work.”
“Well, I’m going home later and I leave tomorrow morning for Costa Rica, so I guess good bye.”
“Oh, well, have a good time I guess.” He dragged his words out slowly. Was this really how he wanted to end things? I needed closure because he definitely was not giving me any hope for a future.
“Well, don’t break too many girls’ hearts while I’m gone.” I tried really hard to keep my voice light and playful. There was no way I was going to let him hear that I was really hoping he would have said, ‘I’ll be right over, I’ll wait for you while you’re gone.’ But he hadn’t, and he didn’t owe me anything so I was trying to just let go and I didn’t want him to know I was hurt by his lack of caring.
“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be so busy with baseball as soon as spring training starts, I won’t have time for girls. It’s you I should be worried about; don’t fall in love with some Casanova.”
“I won’t, I’m going on this trip to study. I’ll be much too busy for guys.” I meant it when I said it –it wasn’t just for his sake.
“Hey, let’s just not worry about each other for a couple of months. When you get back, if we are both single, and still feel something for each other maybe we can just start over and forget the past. If either of us finds someone else or isn’t interested anymore, then I guess it wasn’t meant to be.” I was surprised, but for once I actually agreed with him; this sounded very reasonable and oddly mature.
“OK, sounds good. Bye.”
“Bye, have a good trip, be careful.”
“You be careful too. Good luck with the season.” I would have liked some closure in person, maybe a hug, but I guess that was as good as I was going to get. I decided I would do just as Max had suggested and not worry about him until I got back, which meant I would not call him or email him or even buy him a souvenir.
“Would you like a drink?” The flight attendant breaks my wandering memories of the life I am temporarily leaving behind. After I guzzle my signature mid-flight apple juice, I jot down a few unimportant observations of the trip so far, put away my journal and sit back and focus on my music.
The rest of the flight is pretty eventless. As the plane begins to prepare for landing I know that my true adventure is about to begin. My first steps into Costa Rica are at the same time filled with fear and excitement; exhilarating and paralyzing. I am actually really doing this! It still doesn’t feel real to me. I have planned for months and read mountains of brochures and web pages about Costa Rica, but I still feel like I am in a dream. Studying abroad has always been something I heard of other people doing, not something I do. None of my family or friends have done anything like this. I think about my new “familia” that I will be staying with. I’m sure once I give them the gifts I brought and get to know them this will all feel more real. I take my first steps out of the airplane and take a deep breath and whisper a quick prayer, God, please help me to do this. I know I can. Please make me brave. As scared as I feel, I know I will be ok, I do not quit at anything in life, I will see this through.
I’m walking toward customs when I suddenly feel a lurch of resistance from my big old fashioned roll suitcase. I tug hard and see that it is caught up on something. I stop and frantically try pulling it out. I look up and I see no one from my group…I am separated and alone! Everyone else kept on walking. I feel panicked for a moment, but take a deep breath, again, and concentrate on what I am doing. I quickly free my wheel and catch up to the group. This brief scary moment makes me realize one very important thing; I. Am. Alone. Here. I am not physically alone, but rather with a group of 9 other girls. I don’t know them and they are all on their own adventure with their own agendas. Nobody is going to stop to help me if I get stuck, lost or hurt along the way. Nobody is going to wait for me or check on me. I can do this I repeat to myself yet again. At that moment I burst out of the crowded airport into the tropical breeze and the hustle bustle and sense of urgency I had felt inside is replaced by calmness and tranquility, which I will later learn is “pura vida[1].” As our group is ushered away from the airport doors and into the Costa Rican night my new life begins.
The first “tico,” as the Costa Ricans are called, that I meet is Don Jose, the director of my college program in Santa Ana. I stare, and try to keep my mouth shut, at this old man with a full head of very gray-white hair and the most enormous bright red glasses I have ever seen that dominate his plump face. This is not at all what I was expecting. He speaks in a loud booming voice, but I notice, he takes care to be slow and deliberate enough so that we gringas can understand him. As I stare at Don Jose and semi-understand him, I think about how different my new life is going to be compared to the life I left behind in Michigan. Don Jose begins to walk (still babbling on in his loud but slow voice) and we follow. We follow him out of the airport and onto a little bus with a large luggage rack on top. We jam in all of our luggage and sit in expectant silence as the mini-bus speeds away from the airport and into the darkness.
I stare as the tropical trees fly by the side of the bus in a frenzied blur. I listen to the warm but refreshing air navigate in one set of windows and out the other set and instantly have visions of the beachy breezes that await me. We have almost arrived! As we approach Santa Ana I wonder some more about my “familia.” I hope they have kids; I brought some toys to give them. I also brought a photo album of my family back home to share. I really look forward to becoming a part of this family and learning from them, and although I love my real family, I secretly hope that my new “familia” is not as screwed up as them and that we can all just be happy together. Don Jose gives us a “cinco minutos” heads up and I feel my excitement and nerves escalate more. I have a great feeling that I am really going to like my Costa Rican family.
[1] Literally “Pure life.” It is a common expression similar to Hakuna Matata, and embodies the laid back atmosphere abound in Costa Rica.
Cesare Pavese
Arriving in Costa Rica January 2003
The stars outside blink and twinkle in the immense darkness. I stare at them, my face pressed against the thick double pane airplane window. Down below I can scarcely make out the distant lights from the Costa Rican pueblos breaking through the ominous night sky. I swallow hard and will myself not to think about the bubbles that are doing a not so merry dance all around my stomach. I try not to focus on the unknown –both the places and the people that will become part of my life once we land. I glance over at the other girls in my group. Some are listening to music, one is sleeping and two are writing in their journals, surely capturing every detail of the flight. I watch them writing furiously, as if not to miss a thing, although there really isn’t anything happening to write about. I ponder what they may be writing –letters home already? relationships that have been left hanging in the air? the other girls on the trip? It feels weird to be traveling with these girls that I really don’t know at all. I am sure I will know them well enough soon. We have already been on the flight for three hours and the initial excitement has long since passed. I am bored sitting on the airplane, but at the same time I’m not sure I want to get off it when we land. I glance at the girls once more, put on my headphones and listen to my music (“Best Friend Mix,” from my roommate Kami.)
I have never been much of a “journaler,” however my roommates gave me a journal as a going away gift and I vowed that I would capture as much of my trip in writing as possible. As I reach in my backpack for the journal, I envision the things that I will soon write. I expect things like lazy days on the beach, dancing, class, and exploring the jungle. What I am really excited about is the unexpected adventures I’m sure to have. I’m not sure where to start or what to write. I chew on my pen cap for a minute as I think –this feels so forced. Well, I may as well write about the flight. I flip open the journal, but rather than start writing, I re-read, for about the tenth time, the notes my roommates had written me before they gave me the journal. I think about the great going away party they threw for me.
The five of us started out with a Chinese dinner and ice skating down town. Then we went back to the apartment, and much to my surprise (ok, I kind of knew, but I pretended it was much to my surprise), it was jam packed with just about everyone I had ever met and plenty of people I had never seen in my life who heard there was a college party with a keg. I saw friends from both college and high school and the party was already in full swing when we arrived. As I opened the door to the apartment, I thought I did a pretty great job feigning total shock and surprise, but I guess not because in the moment of silence that followed the choral “Surprise!” I heard my buddy Taylor yell, “She knew. She Fucking knew!” which was then followed by brief laughter, which in turn was followed by card games, keg stands, and hook ups. Life seemed so fun, carefree and easy that night that I almost hated to leave it behind, but I knew it was what I needed to do with my life. I also knew that my particular life style was not doing me any good –in fact I was not sure I liked who I was turning into. All night I got a lot of well wishes, advice, and plenty of jokes about the men I would meet. Since my cousin Melisa and I had a small obsession with Enrique Iglesias at the time, we kidded that I would meet my own Costa Rican version of the Latin god. Kami’s boyfriend Stan had named a certain body part of his “Pablo,” and many partygoers warned me not to meet a “Pablo” of my own. I also got a lot of “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…ha, ha that leaves just about anything open.” However, the truth is that I am really more interested in the jungle than the men.
At the time of the party I was still struggling to stay away from Max and our toxic, dysfunctional relationship and did not think looking for a new man a continent away was what I really needed. I was pretty sure that immersing myself in the language and culture while learning as much as I could was what I should and would focus on for the next four months –it would benefit my future. Besides, Max was at the party and he was much more interested in the keg than in spending time with me before I left. And still, I could not completely let go of him or maybe it was the idea of a “ him” rather than the actual him, I’m not sure.
I had called Max during a moment of weakness a couple of days after the party, the day before I left. I was spending some time at my apartment, and all the other girls were working; I was feeling lonely I guess. I think I also wanted to see if I should hold onto hope for Max and me or if it was time to really let him go, so I picked up the phone and called.
“Hello,” he mumbled, as if I had awoken him. What was he doing sleeping? I glanced at my clock, it was 10:23 am, way too late to be sleeping.
“Hey Max, what are you doing?”
“Just sitting around, I have to go to work in about a half an hour.”
“Oh, I was wondering if you wanted to come over for a bit?” I hoped I sounded relaxed and not desperate.
“Maybe later, I don’t have much time before work.”
“Well, I’m going home later and I leave tomorrow morning for Costa Rica, so I guess good bye.”
“Oh, well, have a good time I guess.” He dragged his words out slowly. Was this really how he wanted to end things? I needed closure because he definitely was not giving me any hope for a future.
“Well, don’t break too many girls’ hearts while I’m gone.” I tried really hard to keep my voice light and playful. There was no way I was going to let him hear that I was really hoping he would have said, ‘I’ll be right over, I’ll wait for you while you’re gone.’ But he hadn’t, and he didn’t owe me anything so I was trying to just let go and I didn’t want him to know I was hurt by his lack of caring.
“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be so busy with baseball as soon as spring training starts, I won’t have time for girls. It’s you I should be worried about; don’t fall in love with some Casanova.”
“I won’t, I’m going on this trip to study. I’ll be much too busy for guys.” I meant it when I said it –it wasn’t just for his sake.
“Hey, let’s just not worry about each other for a couple of months. When you get back, if we are both single, and still feel something for each other maybe we can just start over and forget the past. If either of us finds someone else or isn’t interested anymore, then I guess it wasn’t meant to be.” I was surprised, but for once I actually agreed with him; this sounded very reasonable and oddly mature.
“OK, sounds good. Bye.”
“Bye, have a good trip, be careful.”
“You be careful too. Good luck with the season.” I would have liked some closure in person, maybe a hug, but I guess that was as good as I was going to get. I decided I would do just as Max had suggested and not worry about him until I got back, which meant I would not call him or email him or even buy him a souvenir.
“Would you like a drink?” The flight attendant breaks my wandering memories of the life I am temporarily leaving behind. After I guzzle my signature mid-flight apple juice, I jot down a few unimportant observations of the trip so far, put away my journal and sit back and focus on my music.
The rest of the flight is pretty eventless. As the plane begins to prepare for landing I know that my true adventure is about to begin. My first steps into Costa Rica are at the same time filled with fear and excitement; exhilarating and paralyzing. I am actually really doing this! It still doesn’t feel real to me. I have planned for months and read mountains of brochures and web pages about Costa Rica, but I still feel like I am in a dream. Studying abroad has always been something I heard of other people doing, not something I do. None of my family or friends have done anything like this. I think about my new “familia” that I will be staying with. I’m sure once I give them the gifts I brought and get to know them this will all feel more real. I take my first steps out of the airplane and take a deep breath and whisper a quick prayer, God, please help me to do this. I know I can. Please make me brave. As scared as I feel, I know I will be ok, I do not quit at anything in life, I will see this through.
I’m walking toward customs when I suddenly feel a lurch of resistance from my big old fashioned roll suitcase. I tug hard and see that it is caught up on something. I stop and frantically try pulling it out. I look up and I see no one from my group…I am separated and alone! Everyone else kept on walking. I feel panicked for a moment, but take a deep breath, again, and concentrate on what I am doing. I quickly free my wheel and catch up to the group. This brief scary moment makes me realize one very important thing; I. Am. Alone. Here. I am not physically alone, but rather with a group of 9 other girls. I don’t know them and they are all on their own adventure with their own agendas. Nobody is going to stop to help me if I get stuck, lost or hurt along the way. Nobody is going to wait for me or check on me. I can do this I repeat to myself yet again. At that moment I burst out of the crowded airport into the tropical breeze and the hustle bustle and sense of urgency I had felt inside is replaced by calmness and tranquility, which I will later learn is “pura vida[1].” As our group is ushered away from the airport doors and into the Costa Rican night my new life begins.
The first “tico,” as the Costa Ricans are called, that I meet is Don Jose, the director of my college program in Santa Ana. I stare, and try to keep my mouth shut, at this old man with a full head of very gray-white hair and the most enormous bright red glasses I have ever seen that dominate his plump face. This is not at all what I was expecting. He speaks in a loud booming voice, but I notice, he takes care to be slow and deliberate enough so that we gringas can understand him. As I stare at Don Jose and semi-understand him, I think about how different my new life is going to be compared to the life I left behind in Michigan. Don Jose begins to walk (still babbling on in his loud but slow voice) and we follow. We follow him out of the airport and onto a little bus with a large luggage rack on top. We jam in all of our luggage and sit in expectant silence as the mini-bus speeds away from the airport and into the darkness.
I stare as the tropical trees fly by the side of the bus in a frenzied blur. I listen to the warm but refreshing air navigate in one set of windows and out the other set and instantly have visions of the beachy breezes that await me. We have almost arrived! As we approach Santa Ana I wonder some more about my “familia.” I hope they have kids; I brought some toys to give them. I also brought a photo album of my family back home to share. I really look forward to becoming a part of this family and learning from them, and although I love my real family, I secretly hope that my new “familia” is not as screwed up as them and that we can all just be happy together. Don Jose gives us a “cinco minutos” heads up and I feel my excitement and nerves escalate more. I have a great feeling that I am really going to like my Costa Rican family.
[1] Literally “Pure life.” It is a common expression similar to Hakuna Matata, and embodies the laid back atmosphere abound in Costa Rica.