Bus Olympics

Today, I got back to my site from Fourth of July celebrations in San José.  The San José bus takes me to Santa Cruz, and the Santa Cruz bus takes me almost the rest of the way.  The three o'clock bus stops about a kilometer or two up the highway from my town and there's nothing to do but hit the pavement – I mean, the dirt.  The first time I took the three o'clock, I thought that this last stop was a regular stop.  I just happened to  be the last passenger.  I am SO rural that I'm further away from the city than all of these Costa Ricans! I thought.  It's not the first time I've had a silent and solitary competition with the people around me, trying to win points for something completely trivial.  Look at all the people getting off the bus, I thought.  They were unconscious that they had just participated in that day's particular Olympics.

 “And in the category for Extreme Bad Ass-ery the gold medal is awarded to...”

So there I sat for thirty seconds, extremely self-satisfied until I realized how much time had lapsed.  They say that Peace Corps is really high highs and really low lows, often very close together.  I went from being the most far-flung, hardcore, country-living person on the bus to instead being a clueless gringa with a weird, inappropriately triumphant look on  her face.  The bus driver, having left the vehicle to go into the pulpería and get a soda, saw me and decided to tap on the outside of my window, chopping at his neck with his hand to indicate that we were at the end of the line.  That's when I realized that the motor has been turned off for quite some time.

So today, like that day (it feels like a light year may have passed since then), I gathered up my bags, thanked the driver, and started walking.  Today I had a bunch of bags from my trip, so the walk felt a little longer than usual.  But overall, not too bad.  People in my town are generally appalled that I walk the twenty minutes instead of trying to get a ride, but it's probably the only true alone time that I have, so I like to take advantage of it.

 Alone time is something I really undervalued in the United States.  For sure there were times where I was annoyed that I had to go do something once I had sat down to watch a movie.  But generally, I had as much free time as I wanted in the US.  I worked from nine to five and everything else was just for me.  I'm not working 24/7, but one could say that I'm on call.  If it's between 7 am and 7 pm, I generally feel guilty if I'm not around people, making friends and getting involved in stuff.  What's weird?  I was never a nap person in the US.  Despised 'em, they ruined my plans.  But here, when I should most hate taking a nap because there's a thousand things to do...wouldn't you know if I collapse onto my bed around 2 o'clock like, every other day for about two hours.  And I found you can't feel guilty about stuff you could be doing if you're passed out asleep.  Oh, sweet release hah.

I had a conversation with another volunteer today and she made a valid point.  It was one of those things that I know intellectually, but actually feeling that it's true or experiencing it is a different way of knowing it...she said, “I don't go home at the end of the day.  I am always at my workplace, and so I do not feel bad about secluding myself once in awhile.”  I think that's exactly what I need to practice once in a while.  I get some alone time because I have my own house, not the usual set-up for a brand-new volunteer.  But I guess the key is the not-feeling-lie-a-hermit part about it.  It's just natural to want a break from kids screaming your name and getting frustrated that you don't understand what they're saying.  Just like it's natural that there are sometimes that I do crave company and I end up staying up late with my host family playing with the baby and watching T.V.

It's kind of weird, I guess, when I say that last sentence.  It just sounds so normal, watching TV with the fam.  I guess there are more normal things in my life – i.e. trading music with friends, doing laundry, making coffee in the morning – than there are strange things.  The manner in which each of the “normal” things are done might have changed, for sure.  But the underlying concepts of what fills each day are the same things as back home.  Kind of a revelation for me, haha.  Also kind of a contrast with the “I don't go home at the end of the day” feeling, just because so much of what I do is normal, it doesn't feel like work even if I'm “on call” all the time.  I guess that's just a good example of how I feel most of the time, living proof that two things that are mutually exclusive (“this is weird” and “this is not weird”) can be occurring at the same time.

What a weird, rambling blog post!  I mean, I was already a rambler, but I think the isolation is exacerbating the tendency.  Like, it's really exciting to express myself in my native language and I think I get carried away sometimes, like this blog post that has no real point, hah.  Oh!  Except now you know that if I'm sitting next to you somewhere and I'm really quiet, it's because I'm competing with you in something.  Maybe now you can hold your own competition by trying to guess what it is I'm competing with you about before I stand up victorious and walk away.