Saying Goodbye

I am writing this final blog from my home in New York. It feels strange to write this anywhere other than my kitchen table with its view of my mango tree. It also feels strange for it to be almost mid-day and not be sweating.

The last week of my Peace Corps service was illuminating. Goodbye after goodbye, I learned what my presence in my site really meant for those with whom I had contact. The first such instance occurred at my despedida (goodbye party) at the girls’ albergue. On a weekday afternoon, I sat down in the home and spoke with the girls and the tias about my departure. The girls were baffled by the fact that I would be traveling in a plane (“does it hurt? Isn’t it scary? Will you crash?”) They then, one by one, handed me cards and letters thanking me for taking care of them. After the cards and kisses, the spunky Tia Ruth gave me a picture frame and a card. Then the girls surprised me with a giant tres leches cake.

After eating a big slice of cake, and chatting with the girls, I got up to go. After saying my goodbyes, Tia Zobieda approached me. A stark contrast to the loud and grabby Tia Ruth, Zobieda is taciturn to the point of awkwardness. Casey and I used to call her "The Turtle" because she rarely spoke or moved in our presence. She was always kind, just shy.

As I went to say goodbye to Zobieda, she pulled me aside and thanked me for my work in the albergue. For the first time in the two years in which I worked there, she opened up. She held me close and told me that my work with the girls had really given her a chance to breathe. My classes and workshops were great, she told me. “Vamos a hacer mucha falta de usted, David,” she said. We will miss you very much, David.

I was quite touched by Zobeida’s words. A struggle that I constantly had to deal with throughout my service was the feeling that nobody appreciated my work. It made me question the value of my presence in my site. Because of this, a simple “thank you” affected me deeply.

That Sunday, I had my despedida at the children’s albergue. It was a bright, hot afternoon. I had my new friend Nick with me; he was the volunteer who would be replacing me at the albergues. His new site was a kilometer or so down the road from me.

Walking into the green albergue is always an inspiring experience. I approach the gate and yell “UPE!” which is Spanish for “knock-knock.” There is then a chorus of shouts; “DAVID! DAVID!” A clamoring of footsteps is then heard, and finally a dozen kids crash against the gate and give me high-fives. After we were welcomed in the traditional manner, the kids led us to the back porch where Nick and I were immediately given heaping plates of arroz con pollo. After introducing Nick to the tias and children, we feasted.

This party was quite different from the girls’ party. Most of the children are quite young or mentally disabled, so they couldn’t quite wrap their minds around the fact that I was leaving for good. So I made sure that they got to know Nick, while I got sentimental with the tias over yet another cake. At one point, I looked out into the yard to see the kids playing soccer with Nick, and smiled. My little guys would be cared for. Before leaving, the tias gave me presents and said tearful goodbyes. They told me that I always have a home here and that I am welcome back anytime.

After putting Nick on a bus back to his new site, I walked home. On my way, I stopped and said goodbye to my neighborhood acquaintances. I walked to my gym, and said goodbye to Jorge and Luis Carlos. We exchanged information, and they told me that I always have a home here and that I am welcome back anytime.

I popped into my green grocer and told him that I was leaving. He looked shocked, and then disappeared into the back room. When he came back, he presented me with two ripe avocados. We shook hands firmly, and then he said to me that I always have a home here and that I am welcome back anytime.

I then went to my barber shop and told him that I was leaving. He told me that I was a good guy, and not to worry about balding. We shook hands firmly, and then he said to me that I always have a home here and that I am welcome back anytime.

I then said goodbye to my video store friend, Yaco. His wife made a big fuss, and took a lot of pictures. He gave me a handful of DVDs and told me to come back soon. We shook hands firmly, and then he said to me that I always have a home here and that I am welcome back anytime.

The bike repair guy and I then said goodbye. I think that he appreciates me because I always shook his hand as I passed his shop even though they were usually dirty. After a few words, we shook hands firmly, and then he said to me that I always have a home here and that I am welcome back anytime.

I then walked down my street in the ghetto project called Jireth (I could never previously reveal the name of my site due to security concerns). I passed by my neighbors and waved to them until I came to the house of my admirer. She was sitting on her porch, swaying in her rocking chair. I went up to her, and told her that I would be leaving in a few days. She got up and hugged me, and told me that it was nice to have me around. As I turned to leave, she said “I’m sad that you are leaving,” I smiled. “But if you want, stop by my house before you leave for a quickie.”

That night, Yessenia had a despedida dinner for me. She and her warm husband, Coca, thanked me for my service. It was strange for me to be thanked so much, because these were the first sentiments of thanks that I had received in my time in country. Coca, Yessenia and I passed my last night in Puntarenas drinking beers, getting sentimental and talking about the past two years. When I left, I did not feel sad. Yessenia is a true friend and I know that I will be seeing her soon.

The next day, I made my way to San Jose. That afternoon, I had lunch with Mama Ligia, my training host mother. After eating a hearty lunch of Olla de Carne, I wandered around my former training community of Patarra. I said goodbye to Lucila, Casey’s training host mom. I then went to Marjory’s house (where Julie stayed). I spent an hour or so discussing the future with Marjory (who can only be described as “salt of the earth”) and her family. After more teary goodbyes, I got on a bus and headed back to San Jose.

After a few hours at the Peace Corps office spent signing papers and doing exit interviews, I was no longer an active Peace Corps volunteer. I received certificates proving my service, and language fluency. What struck me most though was my Description of Service: a two page long document signed by the country director outlining my main accomplishments as a volunteer. As I read through each bullet on the paper, I grew proud. It had been two long years of hard work, and I was done. I realized that I had accomplished my goals here, and could leave feeling satisfied and without regrets. And leave, I did.

Yesterday, I boarded my flight home feeling quite anxious. I wasn’t worried about anything in particular, yet found myself grinding my teeth. Then we took off, and I felt sad. The land was so beautiful, and I was leaving it. The mountains, so richly covered in green rainforest; the water so blue and clean. As we headed north, we flew over the Poas volcano. I looked directly into the crater and saw the turquoise water shimmering in the sun while sulphury plumes of smoke burst forth from the surface. The land is so alive, I thought as we passed over the border into Nicaraguan airspace. I am going to miss Costa Rica, a land bursting with life.

I slept a few hours. As we made our descent, the New York skyline came into view, and my mood changed. Costa Rica is alive with volcanoes and rainforests and monkeys, but New York is alive with a different kind of energy. I can’t say that one is better than the other, they are both awesome. On the ride home from the airport, we passed through my favorite neighborhoods on a perfect, sunny Sunday afternoon. And as I saw the streets, so full of life, and the beautiful women in short skirts, I knew that I would be okay.

I am thankful to the Peace Corps for giving me the opportunity to see another kind of land and life. I am grateful to the Tico people for introducing me to their culture. I would like to thank my parents, my brother and sister-in-law, my family and close friends for their support over the past two years and three months. Lastly, I would like to thank my fellow PCVs for getting me through. You know who you are.


Thanks for reading, and pura vida!

Dave Larkin