Day One: Cartago, Costa Rica

As I step off the plane, after a rocky flight - with even more turbulence than I have ever been accustomed to or welcome in my life (even though this usually does not bother me in the least) - the first image that I see outside the airport window is my plane.  The Boeing 737 is no worse off than it was when we left Houston, my layover city.  However, it is dwarfed by a majestic green mountain looming in the background.  For a moment, I feel like I have entered a scene from Jurassic Park.  You know the one, the scene at the beginning of the movie with the helicopter approaching this massive island of mountainous cliffs covered in greenery.  Also kind of like the Hallelujah Mountains in Avatar, with the cascading waterfalls that dissipate into fields of mist the farther they fall towards the surface of Pandora.  

Ok, enough movie references - I apologize.  But my point is, my first glimpse of Costa Rica is beautiful, with the green mountain enveloped in mist and clouds.  As I exit the airport, I immediately see what I have been waiting months to see: the purple and khaki colored sign that had "Cross-Cultural Solutions" written on it.  The sign is carried by the CCS driver.  He immediately introduces himself courteously, but also graciously, with a hint of pride.  I am also welcomed by a volunteer who has been here for the last six weeks and decided to come along for the ride.  This turns into a great resource, as I am given an in-depth scoop of what to expect when I get to the home base.  I have done this before, so I shouldn't be intimidated about coming to volunteer in a new country.  And I suppose I'm not actually intimidated, just more excited about finally beginning this new chapter which I have been anticipating for quite some time.  I find it interesting how the butterfly sensation we sometimes get in the pit of our stomachs is the same for various different emotions and situations like excitation, intimidation, fear, and well... bumpy plane rides.  I guess I have been experiencing this physical manifestation a great deal today, caused by mostly positive emotional feelings.

As we leave the airport, I am in full voluntourist mode.  I try to take in all of the sights, examine the people, take in what they are doing, who they are speaking to, and how they drive.  By the way, the driving here is scary, although not as horrifying as it was in Peru.  There are lots of cars of all shapes, sizes, and ages; none of them stop at the ALTO (STOP) sign.  There are also very few traffic signs.  So folks generally drive when and where they want to, regardless of who or what is in the street.  Have no fear though.  It isn't anything this New Yorker can't handle.

I am surrounded by mountains on three sides, exactly like the one I saw as I first exited the plane.  And now that there are multiple mountains, my awe is naturally tripled.  I promise I could just stare at nature all day with no other care in the world.  But I know, I know - I have work to do here.  On the fourth side, there are signs of civilization, where nature has taken a back seat to the housing and commercial  needs of us humans.  We all need somewhere to live.  There are a mix of houses, shops, car dealerships, and even pieces of the US, although not the ones I am proud of (I won't out any particular companies, but think of large fast food corporations and other breakfast establishments.)

The sites I see are a mixture of Hawaii and Peru, with an ironic outcome best described as an urban paradise.  I am reminded of Hawaii by the flowers that come in every shade of green, orange, pink, red, and purple, the green mountains, the mist, and of course, the sun with all of its accompanying heat.  I am reminded of Peru by the urban buildings, concrete walkways and bridges that have been covered with some artful - and other less attractive - graffiti.  Then there are the billboards, signs, and car music that I became all too familiar with in Peru that leave me with no doubt that I am in a Spanish-speaking country.  I feel like a dry sponge that is all too eager to soak up all of the moisuture that it can find.  I take as much in as I can.  And all of a sudden, my breathing becomes easier, more fluid and less tense.  My shoulders slump, but my eyes stay wide open.  And for the first time in all too long, I am completely relaxed.  I have been so wound up with nervous energy the last several months with applying to residency and going on interviews, and now that I am where I want to be, returning to do work that has become such a part of my personality, I am starting to feel like me again.  I, the dry sponge, am eager to expand as I learn about the Costa Rican culture and even more excited to give of myself to the people I am here to help. 

I hope this is the right mindset to be in at this moment.  Because this urban paradise I am just beginning to experience for the first time also has glimmers of trouble in the form of poverty.  Sparsely located throughout the area between the airport and the volunteer home-base, densely packed shantytowns assembled with aluminum and dirt are all too visible.  They stand as beacons of struggle, of a life that is foreign to most of us in countless ways.  After all, this urban paradise isn't actually all easy-living and relaxation.  But then again, if it was all strictly paradise, I wouldn't be here - not on a volunteer trip, at least.  This serves as a reminder that I am here to do work.  While there is no set goal or accomplishment in mind, I certainly have a role to play.  And even more certain than that, this next chapter of my adventure is just beginning.