The Roller Coaster

The last few months have been quite the roller coaster ride. In late December and early January, my parents came to visit me. I actually started to write a long post about all the beautiful places we went, the fun things we did. But then I went into a bit of a funk after I got held up at gunpoint for my phone. It being the second time somebody has pointed a gun at me since I got here, I became angry and, to be honest, scared. It has taken me nine months to build a relationship with this community. I have learned to trust it, to call it home. When the mugging took place, it rattled my trust, my sense of belonging. It didn’t matter how integrated I had become. To anyone outside of my barrio, I was still a gringo walking around where I don’t belong.

My parents’ trip was fantastic. We went to every corner of the country, where my parents and I were constantly amazed. We saw active volcanoes erupting, howler monkeys howling, and hotel clerks overcharging. My parents loved every site they saw, but were consistently cheated or overcharged from the car rental counter to the last check out desk. It was an ugly part of Tico culture that I was sorry they had to deal with. It is a good thing that my mom is a New Yorker to the bone, and left each clerk shaking. Luckily, I was able to introduce mom and dad to some of the good guys: the members of my community.

The highlight of the trip was when Deb and Ralph got to meet the children in the albergue. My mom had an immediate rapport with the girls; she spent most of her time cuddling with them on a park bench. My dad had a good time taking goofy pictures with the boys. It was a good experience for all.

Between then and now, a lot has changed. A few days after my parents returned home, I put on a soccer camp and tournament for my community. To help me deal with the crowd of over one hundred, my friends Mario and Meaghan came to chip in. After a successful first day of camp, the three of us sat at a beach café in Puntarenas, watching cruise ships come and go. I felt so good, I just grinned as I drank my beer. After seeing the beauty of Costa Rica with my parents, I had a newfound love for the country. I had completed a camp in which the entire community turned out in support. I felt like a good volunteer. I looked at my friends and said something that I will never forget: “I think that I finally love the Peace Corps.”

The universe has a twisted sense of humor. In a matter of days, a relationship that once was, was no longer. I got mugged. It being the last days of summer vacation, I didn’t have a surplus of work to keep me occupied. I felt shaky. One night, I was so spooked that I opened up the knife on my Leatherman tool, and placed it on the floor next to my bed for protection. The next morning, I looked at the two inch knife and laughed. Not only was it a ridiculous idea in the first place, but the size of the blade made it more absurd. I picked the Leatherman up off the floor and used it for its true purpose: clipping my fingernails.

I’ve eased up now. The school year is beginning, so I have been busy planning projects, and attending staff meetings. The albergue kids have been great. I feel as if I’m getting back into the swing of things. Who knows, maybe in a short while, I’ll be as happy as I was toasting beers on the Puntarenas beach. And now that I am no longer romantically involved, I can look forward to the March arrival of the new Tico 19 group; I am fairly certain that they will be mostly beautiful Jewish girls with proclivities for short balding men.

See, I told you I’ve eased up.

Next week, I turn twenty-five, while simultaneously celebrating my first complete year in country. With such milestones approaching, I’ve been doing quite a bit of reflection. I’ve concluded that I like the path that I’ve taken over the past quarter-century, especially over the past year. Peace Corps is not what I expected, and has been difficult in ways that I did not foresee. However, I’ve done some good work with some good people. I now speak Spanish, something I could not say without rolling my eyes a year ago. I only pray that the next year is as good, if not better and more rewarding than the past one.

A good friend once asked me how I could believe in an imperfect God. I responded by saying that there is perfection in imperfection. You can’t have highs without lows; no good without evil. And it is that balance that keeps me here. There are terrible days and nights; never before has my mettle been tested like this. But there is a beauty in the despair; it makes that one great day possible. The Peace Corps has been a roller coaster ride, and that is what makes it worthwhile.