I've been to Costa Rica once before, and loved every minute of it, so I didn't think I was susceptible to culture shock. Apparently, I was wrong.
Our first week in Samara was discouraging. We didn't like the food, couldn't sleep because of the humidity, the bugs were eating us alive, and we felt like we were unwelcome by the local ticos. We'd walk around town and wave and say the customary "buenos días" to ever human we saw. Most of the time we got a few mumbled "buenos días" back, but sometimes people wouldn't even acknowledge that we'd spoken to them! Also, we kept hearing how dangerous Samara is, and how we have to be extremely, almost overly cautious. They told us stories about being robbed at gun point and about being chased down by robbers. Of course, this is all because of the Columbians living down at the far side of the beach, so, we were told to never walk on the beach at night.
More and more, Kevin and I started spending time at the apartment and feeling like it was the only place we could relax. We even threw around the idea of changing locations and heading to a different place in Costa Rica. We decided to try and stick it out for two weeks, and if we still were unhappy we'd go somewhere else. I'm proud of us for not giving up because as the new week started things started looking up. We realized that we'd been kind of harsh on the local ticos and acknowledged that maybe some people are just grumpy....they don't even really say hello to each other, so it wasn't just us! We started getting used to the humility, and started making friends.
On my first day at the Samara Language School they gave us a little booklet about the school, the town, and getting used to life abroad. I thought it was really interesting and realized that we'd been going through culture shock.
It says: Culture shock is brought on by the anxiety that results from losing all our familiar signs and symbols. These signs or cues include the thousand and one ways in which we orient ourselves to the situation of daily life, when to shake hands and what to say when we meet people, when and how to give tips, how to give orders in a restaurant, when to take statements seriously and when not. These cues may be words, gestures, facial expressions - all customs or norms which we aquire in the course of growing up, and are as much a part of our culture as the languages we speak or the beliefs we accept. When an individual enters a strange new culture, all or most of these familiar cues are removed. No matter how intelligent, broad-minded, or full of goodwill he or she may be, a series of props have been knocked out from under him or her. This is followed by a feeling of frustration and anxiety. All people react to this frustration in much the same ways, but in varying degrees. First, they reject the environment which causes the discomfort. The ways of the host country are bad because they make us feel badly. Another phase is regression. The home environment suddenly assumesa tremendous importance. Some other symptoms of culture shock are: excessive concern over cleanliness and the feeling that what is new and strange is 'dirty'; a feeling of helplessness; irritation over delays and other minor frustrations, out of proportion to the causes; excessive fear of being cheated, robed or injured; great concerns over minor pains.
The booklet, outlines four phases:
The honeymoon phase - I think we felt this when we were in Costa Rica before. We were with a group of friends, and every second was filled with fun and activities.
The hostile phase, the grin and bare it phase, and the effective adjustment phase. I think we are past the hostile phase, and are towards the end of the grin and bare it phase. It feels like we are getting used to being here, and are enjoying ourselves. The bugs seem to have gotten used to us, and we them. The sound of the rain lulls us to sleep, and the humidity really isn't a problem any more. And the more we immerse ourselves in the community, the more we feel like a part of it (go figure), and find local Ticos that are warm, friendly, and inviting.
All in all, I'd definitely say we experienced some culture shock - which is a shock! :P
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Super Samara...not so Super
In Costa Rica, the little corner markets are called supers. They are basically the equivalent of a 7-11. However, the only real grocery store is about an hour away in Nicoya. You can't buy much at these supers, even the biggest super in Samara...Super Samara.
Kevin and I were really looking forward living in a tropical paradise, and had visions of ourselves eating all the fresh fruits and vegetables that were sure to abound everywhere. We imagined that we'd be up to our eyeballs in every exotic wonderful fruit known to mankind, grilling up steaks, and chicken and fish every night and tantalizing our taste buds like never before. We just knew that we'd stuff ourselves silly until we rolled around on the ground holding our swollen bellies with big fat smiles on our deliciously satisfied faces. After about two days we realized that this was not to be the case.
Surprisingly the only fruit in the stores that isn't completely crawling with ants are the pineapples, bananas and apples. There are no vegetables, except maybe potatoes, that don't look like they've been living in the bottom drawer of the fridge, rolling around getting bruised and age spotted and all withered looking.
hmmm...soooo...we've pretty much been living on eggs and popcorn. Unless we just can't take it anymore and go out for some local cuisine. Unfortunately, the local ticos are working with the same problem. Crappy food selection. However, they've solved that problem, by deep frying everything. It reminds me of that episode on the Simpsons when Moe turns his bar into a restaurant and everything he serves is deep fried. Even the trays and the silverware etc.
When we finally got a grill, we were so excited to cook our own meat!
We made a trip over to the local carniceria and bought chicken and steak thinking it was going to be the best meat we'd ever eaten. Wrong. It is so tough that Kevin can't even cut through it, and chewing it is almost as pleasurable as chewing rubber. I think it's because the cows out here have to use their muscles! Kevin calls it 'donkey meat', and after an hour of lighting the grill, cooking the meat (which had been marinating all night) he threw it away because it was so bad.
So, needless to say, we were very unstoked about the food here (especially because it was the opposite in Montezuma where we were in June). But there is a silver lining. We found El Lagarto! I'm not sure if we would have survived another second if we hadn't found this place. It's at the furthest end of the beach, and we kept hearing how expensive it was. It was indeed expensive, but well worth it. All the food is cooked on a grill, and they buy their meat from the volcano region wherever that is. So not only is the meat quality meat, but it's grilled to perfection on an open air grill out side on the beach. The mere site of all that grilled goodness had us salivating before we even sat down at the table. So much so that we both ordered up meat specials. I ordered the plato mixto, which included chicken, pork, and steak and Kevin got the surf and turf. The meal was served on 1 inch thick slabs of tree trunk, which Kevin appropriately responded to by saying 'it was the manliest meal, he'd ever eaten'.
So, with bellies full, and smiles on our faces we walked home knowing that we could starve all week, as long as we knew we could go to El Lagarto once a week. In the mean time, Kevin decided that the grill will only work for fish, and I found out that we are going to learn to make empanadas tomorrow at school. We think that stewing the meat is the way to go, and just eating apples, bananas, pineapples, and eggs for the rest of the time. I'll let you know how it goes. In the meantime, I need to go console Kevin who is upstairs in the fetal position cradling his Costco card.
Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of great things about living here, just not the food...so far!
Kevin and I were really looking forward living in a tropical paradise, and had visions of ourselves eating all the fresh fruits and vegetables that were sure to abound everywhere. We imagined that we'd be up to our eyeballs in every exotic wonderful fruit known to mankind, grilling up steaks, and chicken and fish every night and tantalizing our taste buds like never before. We just knew that we'd stuff ourselves silly until we rolled around on the ground holding our swollen bellies with big fat smiles on our deliciously satisfied faces. After about two days we realized that this was not to be the case.
Surprisingly the only fruit in the stores that isn't completely crawling with ants are the pineapples, bananas and apples. There are no vegetables, except maybe potatoes, that don't look like they've been living in the bottom drawer of the fridge, rolling around getting bruised and age spotted and all withered looking.
hmmm...soooo...we've pretty much been living on eggs and popcorn. Unless we just can't take it anymore and go out for some local cuisine. Unfortunately, the local ticos are working with the same problem. Crappy food selection. However, they've solved that problem, by deep frying everything. It reminds me of that episode on the Simpsons when Moe turns his bar into a restaurant and everything he serves is deep fried. Even the trays and the silverware etc.
When we finally got a grill, we were so excited to cook our own meat!
We made a trip over to the local carniceria and bought chicken and steak thinking it was going to be the best meat we'd ever eaten. Wrong. It is so tough that Kevin can't even cut through it, and chewing it is almost as pleasurable as chewing rubber. I think it's because the cows out here have to use their muscles! Kevin calls it 'donkey meat', and after an hour of lighting the grill, cooking the meat (which had been marinating all night) he threw it away because it was so bad.
So, needless to say, we were very unstoked about the food here (especially because it was the opposite in Montezuma where we were in June). But there is a silver lining. We found El Lagarto! I'm not sure if we would have survived another second if we hadn't found this place. It's at the furthest end of the beach, and we kept hearing how expensive it was. It was indeed expensive, but well worth it. All the food is cooked on a grill, and they buy their meat from the volcano region wherever that is. So not only is the meat quality meat, but it's grilled to perfection on an open air grill out side on the beach. The mere site of all that grilled goodness had us salivating before we even sat down at the table. So much so that we both ordered up meat specials. I ordered the plato mixto, which included chicken, pork, and steak and Kevin got the surf and turf. The meal was served on 1 inch thick slabs of tree trunk, which Kevin appropriately responded to by saying 'it was the manliest meal, he'd ever eaten'.
So, with bellies full, and smiles on our faces we walked home knowing that we could starve all week, as long as we knew we could go to El Lagarto once a week. In the mean time, Kevin decided that the grill will only work for fish, and I found out that we are going to learn to make empanadas tomorrow at school. We think that stewing the meat is the way to go, and just eating apples, bananas, pineapples, and eggs for the rest of the time. I'll let you know how it goes. In the meantime, I need to go console Kevin who is upstairs in the fetal position cradling his Costco card.
Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of great things about living here, just not the food...so far!
Monday, November 2, 2009
Playa Samará
One of the reasons Kevin and I chose this little town is because of the beautiful beach. It has been called one of the best beaches in all of Costa Rica. The critics didn't lie! The water is warm, the sand is soft and the waves are mild. It's perfect for swimming and beginner surfers.
Today was the first day I actually swam in the ocean! Kevin didn't bring a swim suit to Costa Rica, so we had to wait for the stores to open today so that he could get some trunks! I think the best time to go swimming is in the afternoon when the heat and humidity are just too much for me to handle.
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Today was the first day I actually swam in the ocean! Kevin didn't bring a swim suit to Costa Rica, so we had to wait for the stores to open today so that he could get some trunks! I think the best time to go swimming is in the afternoon when the heat and humidity are just too much for me to handle.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
What Plans?
We woke up early today and headed back to the airport to catch our Sansa flight to Samará beach. Sansa is a small little airline that flies between all the little towns in Costa Rica, most of the time it lands on a dirt landing strip in the middle of the jungle.
When Kevin first told me about these flights I was a little skeptical. Super tiny plans and dirt landing strips? But the fare was only $12, so I decided to give it a try. We pulled up to a tiny little building next to the airport and lugged our luggage inside. It was a little worrisome to see that not only were they weighing the suitcases (mine was over 80lbs), but the passengers were getting weighed with their carry-ons! Well....here goes nothing.
At the counter the service agent told us that they had canceled our flight (the 8am flight) and instead moved all the passengers to the 12pm flight. However, she had some trouble finding our reservations, and after about 15 minutes of searching she finally informed us that our reservations had been canceled, but the airline didn't bother to notify us. "Okay....sooo...are there any other flights going to Samará today?"
"No, but there is a flight going to Tamarindo which is about a two hour taxi ride to Samará. Oh, but there is only one seat available."
"D'oh"
So, since Sansa only flies in the morning, we had to change our plans. Which is always how it seems to go when traveling. Travel plans are more like a guideline, I guess. So we rented a car, got ourselves a map and drove the 5 hours to Samará.
Driving to Samará isn't as easy as one might think it is. In Costa Rica, there aren't very many signs or even paved roads. Our Living Abroad in Costa Rica book said it best:
The guy at the car rental place told us to "stay on this road until you see Mary's restaurant and a giant bull, then turn left." That's pretty much all we had to go on to get to Samará! Lucky for me, Kevin is a great driver and extremely patient.
Since it was Saturday, it's of course the busiest craigslist day of the week. I was trying to read the map (not a talent I posses), while at the same time figure out how to get my cell phone to work (what? no 3G in the jungle?), so that I could communicate with Neil and Erika back in Santa Cruz. Neil and Erika have graciously offered to help me sell off a few of my things, that I wasn't able to sell before I left. Like my car.
Luckily we spotted the giant bull before it started to rain. It's hard to tell the scale of this bull from the picture, but it was roughly the size of a dump truck.
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And when I say rain, I mean a torrential downpour! I love the storms in Costa Rica, rain drops as fat as quarters and as warm as bathwater. When it rains, it really rains...and the roads get flooded (because most of the roads aren't paved and are full of pot holes) and you think that perhaps the end of the world is at hand, and then it suddenly stops and the sun comes out and you think...'wait a minute, was it raining today?'
We made it to Samará at 2:00pm on the dot! By the way, for those of you that are curious about the time difference, we are 2 hours ahead of California and 1 hour ahead of Utah. Costa Rica doesn't have daylight savings! The sun comes up at about 6am and goes down at about 6pm everyday, all year long.
Our little place is right next door to my Spanish School and less than 1/2 a block away from the beach.
Even though tonight is Halloween, I think I'll be turning in early. I feel like I've done nothing but ride in planes, and cars and travel for two whole days. Neeeed Sleeeep!
When Kevin first told me about these flights I was a little skeptical. Super tiny plans and dirt landing strips? But the fare was only $12, so I decided to give it a try. We pulled up to a tiny little building next to the airport and lugged our luggage inside. It was a little worrisome to see that not only were they weighing the suitcases (mine was over 80lbs), but the passengers were getting weighed with their carry-ons! Well....here goes nothing.
At the counter the service agent told us that they had canceled our flight (the 8am flight) and instead moved all the passengers to the 12pm flight. However, she had some trouble finding our reservations, and after about 15 minutes of searching she finally informed us that our reservations had been canceled, but the airline didn't bother to notify us. "Okay....sooo...are there any other flights going to Samará today?"
"No, but there is a flight going to Tamarindo which is about a two hour taxi ride to Samará. Oh, but there is only one seat available."
"D'oh"
So, since Sansa only flies in the morning, we had to change our plans. Which is always how it seems to go when traveling. Travel plans are more like a guideline, I guess. So we rented a car, got ourselves a map and drove the 5 hours to Samará.
Driving to Samará isn't as easy as one might think it is. In Costa Rica, there aren't very many signs or even paved roads. Our Living Abroad in Costa Rica book said it best:
Without a doubt the biggest threat to your safety here comes from the cars and the way Ticos wield them like enormous machetes. Some observers suggest that the national character - which is one of avoiding conflict and smoothing things over at any cost - does a flip flop when Ticos get behind the wheel, with drivers asserting every bit of the hostility they repress in other parts of their lives. They pull out into traffic that would give others pause, pass even if a truck is bearing down from the other direction, and cut off cars so closely that you are amazed that there aren't even more accidents.
The guy at the car rental place told us to "stay on this road until you see Mary's restaurant and a giant bull, then turn left." That's pretty much all we had to go on to get to Samará! Lucky for me, Kevin is a great driver and extremely patient.
Since it was Saturday, it's of course the busiest craigslist day of the week. I was trying to read the map (not a talent I posses), while at the same time figure out how to get my cell phone to work (what? no 3G in the jungle?), so that I could communicate with Neil and Erika back in Santa Cruz. Neil and Erika have graciously offered to help me sell off a few of my things, that I wasn't able to sell before I left. Like my car.
Luckily we spotted the giant bull before it started to rain. It's hard to tell the scale of this bull from the picture, but it was roughly the size of a dump truck.
And when I say rain, I mean a torrential downpour! I love the storms in Costa Rica, rain drops as fat as quarters and as warm as bathwater. When it rains, it really rains...and the roads get flooded (because most of the roads aren't paved and are full of pot holes) and you think that perhaps the end of the world is at hand, and then it suddenly stops and the sun comes out and you think...'wait a minute, was it raining today?'
We made it to Samará at 2:00pm on the dot! By the way, for those of you that are curious about the time difference, we are 2 hours ahead of California and 1 hour ahead of Utah. Costa Rica doesn't have daylight savings! The sun comes up at about 6am and goes down at about 6pm everyday, all year long.
Our little place is right next door to my Spanish School and less than 1/2 a block away from the beach.
Even though tonight is Halloween, I think I'll be turning in early. I feel like I've done nothing but ride in planes, and cars and travel for two whole days. Neeeed Sleeeep!
Saturday, October 31, 2009
My Curse of Flying Continues
I seem to always have bad luck when it come to flying, there've been mechanical problems, planes struck by lightning, cancellations, fuses blown and delays, delays, delays. Always there are delays. I thought maybe this time would be different, but it wasn't. The fog was coming in so thick in Costa Rica that we couldn't land. After two aborted attempts at landing, the pilots gave up and flew down to Panama City because we were running out of fuel. On the way there one of the passengers was having a medical emergency and the flight attendants had to call for a doctor over the intercom. It was a little chaotic with people milling around in the isles, and people craning their necks to see what was going on. I never did get a clear answer on what exactly the medical emergency was. I heard gallstones from one, and a panic attack from another. However, the sick passenger was able to deplane and see a doctor in Panama City while we were refueling and was feeling better to re board the plan with us and head back to Costa Rica.
I think it's safe to say that everyone aboard the plane was tired and cranky. What was supposed to be a 3.5 hour flight turned into 8 hours on the airplane. Lucky for us, we were seated next to a local "tico" (he was born and raised in Costa Rica), but he had moved to London 12 years ago. His English was spoken with a perfect British accent. He was about our age and fun to talk to. Also, right behind us was this really pretty woman, and a sleaze ball guy. I say he is a sleaze ball, because he was laying it on pretty thick with this girl sitting behind me. She was married and had kids, but he was pulling out all the stops with his stupid one liners. You know the type. Shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, gold chain, thinning hairline, drunken swagger. They were getting free drinks the whole night on account of my cat. They would complain to the flight attendant, but be sweet to me and maggie. It was a good system for them, but they were pretty tossed. I think the woman that was sitting next to me may have been a stripper or a porn star or something because she was waaaay done up. Lots of makeup, lots of hair, lots of skin, perfect big boobs, and fake eyebrows and lashes. I mean, who wears fake eyelashes on an airplane? She told us that she lived in Scottsdale, AZ but flew down to Costa Rica all the time because she had a house in Jaco. I was really surprised that she had a home in both places, so I asked her what she did for a living her exact response was "do I have to say?". PORNSTAR.....popped into my head again. I said "no, you don't have to say if you don't want to." That's when she told all of us that she was an "Executive Director at a Hospital". Um, okay. She looked like she was about 35. She told us that she was almost 44, and had 3 kids, one of which was 23. I guess it could all be true.
Anyway, when we finally landed in Costa Rica, and made it through immigration and customs it was about 11pm. We got a taxi and headed on over to Belin Suites. We really lucked out with Belen Suites. Last time when we were in Costa Rica, it took us much longer to drive from Montezuma to San Jose than expected and when we returned the car at the rental place, we asked them to call us a taxi to take us to a hotel. We had no idea where the taxi was taking us and the hotel was a little off the beaten path, but only about 10 minutes away from the airport. To our surprise it was a cute little hotel called Belen Suites. We loved it so much in June when we were here last, that we decided to come back and stay there again. The rooms are huge, very clean and modern. I was very happy that each room had a brand spanking new air conditioning unit.
I called my mom at midnight to let her know that I had made it to Costa Rica safe and sound. We left Santa Cruz at 6:15 am PST, and finally went to sleep at 12:00 CST. That's 14 hours of traveling. My poor cat and her tiny bladder. She must hate me.
No pictures today, sorry mom, we didn't think to take any pictures of ourselves on the airplane.
I think it's safe to say that everyone aboard the plane was tired and cranky. What was supposed to be a 3.5 hour flight turned into 8 hours on the airplane. Lucky for us, we were seated next to a local "tico" (he was born and raised in Costa Rica), but he had moved to London 12 years ago. His English was spoken with a perfect British accent. He was about our age and fun to talk to. Also, right behind us was this really pretty woman, and a sleaze ball guy. I say he is a sleaze ball, because he was laying it on pretty thick with this girl sitting behind me. She was married and had kids, but he was pulling out all the stops with his stupid one liners. You know the type. Shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, gold chain, thinning hairline, drunken swagger. They were getting free drinks the whole night on account of my cat. They would complain to the flight attendant, but be sweet to me and maggie. It was a good system for them, but they were pretty tossed. I think the woman that was sitting next to me may have been a stripper or a porn star or something because she was waaaay done up. Lots of makeup, lots of hair, lots of skin, perfect big boobs, and fake eyebrows and lashes. I mean, who wears fake eyelashes on an airplane? She told us that she lived in Scottsdale, AZ but flew down to Costa Rica all the time because she had a house in Jaco. I was really surprised that she had a home in both places, so I asked her what she did for a living her exact response was "do I have to say?". PORNSTAR.....popped into my head again. I said "no, you don't have to say if you don't want to." That's when she told all of us that she was an "Executive Director at a Hospital". Um, okay. She looked like she was about 35. She told us that she was almost 44, and had 3 kids, one of which was 23. I guess it could all be true.
Anyway, when we finally landed in Costa Rica, and made it through immigration and customs it was about 11pm. We got a taxi and headed on over to Belin Suites. We really lucked out with Belen Suites. Last time when we were in Costa Rica, it took us much longer to drive from Montezuma to San Jose than expected and when we returned the car at the rental place, we asked them to call us a taxi to take us to a hotel. We had no idea where the taxi was taking us and the hotel was a little off the beaten path, but only about 10 minutes away from the airport. To our surprise it was a cute little hotel called Belen Suites. We loved it so much in June when we were here last, that we decided to come back and stay there again. The rooms are huge, very clean and modern. I was very happy that each room had a brand spanking new air conditioning unit.
I called my mom at midnight to let her know that I had made it to Costa Rica safe and sound. We left Santa Cruz at 6:15 am PST, and finally went to sleep at 12:00 CST. That's 14 hours of traveling. My poor cat and her tiny bladder. She must hate me.
No pictures today, sorry mom, we didn't think to take any pictures of ourselves on the airplane.
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