Balancing Act

Life here is like walking a tightrope. Just to pass one day is like taking one step. To do something incredible is to do a back flip. And just the slightest breeze can throw you off balance, and toss you to the ground below.

Lately, I’ve been doing back flips, into cartwheels, into what have you. Work has been going well, my social life has been great, the kids call me professor, and the women call me Papi. What I didn’t take into account is the fact that doing so well inevitably sets the bar higher, lifts the rope a few stories higher. Now, if I don’t get a nod of approval from the school’s director, don’t get to see that intoxicating Puntarenas sunset, I may fall hard, whereas before I may have been taking another steady step. PCV veterans here have told me that “the highs are high, the lows are low.” I’m beginning to understand what they mean.

The funny thing is that I haven’t fallen off yet. When I’m not doing gymnastics, I’m still moving forward. But I can see a storm brewing in the distance, and I know that I’m sure to get the wind knocked out of me a few times. My Spanish has reached a plateau; and it’s not like the plateau is a very high one. My family no longer sees me as a novelty and may eventually realize that they have given me one of two bedrooms in household of four. And one of my best friends here is preparing to ship out of Costa Rica. We’ll see how my balance holds up.

Enough with the pessimism…and now, the news:

Last weekend, I decided to take the only out-of-site night offered for the first month of service. After the first three months, these nights are unlimited; however, for now, the powers that be want me to stay in my site in order to better integrate. So I called up my friend Hillary who lives in Liberia (the city in Guanacaste, not the country in Africa). She agreed that we both need a break and should do something fun. “What do you want to do?” she asked.

“Anything, I don’t care. As long as I don’t have to see, hear or work with kids.”

“Ok, let’s go to the beach!” Hillary replied (she is ironically an Obama fan). “My friend Brandon is at Playa del Coco to volunteer for World Ocean Day. We can go to the beach and hang out with him.”

So as you can imagine, we did not get a relaxing day on the beach drinking margaritas…we ended up flanked by kids for the wonder that was World Ocean Day. That is the bummer about being a PCV: you can’t really say no when someone asks you to volunteer for something like World Ocean Day. What was I supposed to say? No thanks, I’m going to go hit the casino? So I ended up picking trash out of a dirty beach filled with super weirdo ex-pats and creepy sex tourists.

There is an upside. World Ocean Day paid for my hotel room. It was a sweet room too. I took my first hot shower in a month, and got to swim in a pool that was Hepatitis free. The night before, Hillary and I got to go out and catch up on our first month as PCVs. It was great to see her, even though we overpaid for beer and were flanked by the super weirdo ex-pats and creepy tourists. The best part of it all is that I explained what happened to my boss, and he let me take it as a work night out of site. So I still have the opportunity to take a night and do something fun. I may just go wild in the Puerto.

I hope that all is well at home. I put my toothbrush in my mouth the other night to brush up before bed only to spit out a big bug that was in its bristles. Think about that when you step into your clean American bathroom tonight.

Best,

Dave