Heredia Hosts

Saturday, October 30, 2010

I was quickly directed to my room where the door was closed and securely locked behind me to guarantee the white devil doesn't dirty up the cleanliness of the place. Realistically, I felt like they gave me the biggest room in the house. It was a nice size bed with a tv and all the comforts needed to spend just one night. Better than any hostel or two star hotel that rents by the hour!

My mama tica, Costa Ricans are called ticos(men) and ticas(women), was on the phone immediately working out the confusion on the details of my arrival. I was not supposed to arrive according to her. The school did not fully inform her of my arrival. Needless to say, a mother of four was adapt to adding another to the table to feed.

I was finally hungry and she was ready to feed me some comida tipica of Costa Rica. I sat down to a bowl of sopa blanca "White bean soup." It was full of shredded chicken, vegetables, white beans, and seasoning. The bowl of soup was accompanied by tortillas and rice. It was heaven. Pure heaven. Not because I hadn't eaten in a long time or anything good, but because Costa Rican food is simple and delicious. How do you go wrong with an excellent seasoned broth with chicken, beans, rice, and tortillas? It was amazing for a basic meal. I wanted to eat all night, because it distracted me from being in a strange house and a strange city, with no where to go.

I was content. I excessively thanked my mama tica not because I thought it was the right thing to do, because her food made me that happy at that moment.

Well, that happiness wore off pretty quickly. I stayed in the room most of the night and left the door open, so they didn't feel like I was being rude. As I spent my time reading a book and trying to stay awake (It was only 9pm at the time), I noticed something very interesting about tico lifestyle. Everyone's business is integrated. Mama tica walks in and out of each of her boy's rooms without knocking. The younger boys spend most of the night hanging right outside of the front door shooting the breeze with their friends. Let me enlighten you that doors and windows are not shut in Costa Rica. Weather and the climate are meant to be one with the inside of the house.

Life in Costa Rica is one.

I woke up around 9:30pm to find a blanket placed on my bed. It was getting a little chilly and the mama tica already knew how to take care of me. I was warming up to my 24 hour family. I took advantage of the opportunity to get some sleep, excused myself, shut the door, and passed out in a hurry.

I woke up pretty early and quickly the following morning, anxious for my 12pm bus departure to Samara. I wasn't looking forward to the 5 hour bus ride, but that was the next challenge to take on. My mama tica was up shortly after me and ready to get the kitchen warmed up to feed the family. If breakfast was anything like dinner, I was in for another treat.

Sure enough, it was exactly what I was hoping. Nothing short of fantastic. She placed a plate of rice and beans mixed together with a fried egg, crackers, fried plantains, and a plate of pineapple/watermelon. At this point in time, I know they use some amazing seasoning, because rice and beans don't taste like that back in the states. Don't get me wrong, I love my rice and beans from the states. This style was quickly added to the top of my list.

Gallo pintos (pronounced, Gah-jee-o pintos) was the name of the dish. It is a common breakfast dish for the ticos. Absolutely wonderful. I can't wait to learn how to cook it.

Mama tica didn't want me to be late for the bus, so she had me out the door by 8:50am for my 12:00pm bus. With my 75lbs of life stuffed into three duffle bags, I quickly found out how out of shape I have been. We made it into San Jose to catch my bus and ended up walking from one bus station to another. Along the way, I saw too many reasons why I don't want to study in San Jose. The city is way too poluted. The smog that billows out of the back of cabs, buses, cars, and motorcycles is thick enough to obscure your vision and the cloud of contamination passes right through you. I think I knocked off 3 months of my life being in San Jose for three hours. I won't fully mention the dogs that sleep in the gutter where the buses park or the rat that was run over so many times by the buses that it is now a permanent fixture of the street. Oops, I guess I did mention it.

We made it to the bus station without much trouble. She purchased my ticket for me and it appeared that she was going to sit with me for the remaining time to make sure I got on the right bus. She sat with me for the remaining 2 1/2 hours. You heard that right. Mama tica who doesn't speak english and Kevin who speaks like a 2 year old over a broken connection sat together for 2 1/2 hours. She appeared to be a very active woman and didn't appreciate the finer qualities of life like sitting in a bus station. She ended up buying an am/fm radio from one of the vendors to keep her entertained. Apparently me pointed at things and say, "mira, tv....futbol," wasn't all that appealing as a conversation to her. I have not clue why.

The time finally passed and she was showing me where to drop my bags off, where to stand in line, and making sure that I was getting on that bus as her final mission as a host.

I was grateful for her hospitality and her family's tolerance. They were all truly very nice and I can't wait to speak to her in six months. Maybe when that time comes, the conversation will be filled with more than just, "Look, tv...football."