I Got Rythm, Finally

Up and at ém Tuesday morning, full of enthusiasm, I joined the others at the breakfast table, semi frantically running Spanish phrases through my head. The whole family was there, including the other housemate, a woman from Colorado about my age.

Her Spanish was much better than mine (especially the first day´s) and she proceeded to bombard me with questions, my fork half way to my mouth. I did the best I could to respond, while the whole family politely ate and listened. But she was a low talker, to boot, and not only could I not understand, I couldn´t hear. Operating on a jet lagged molasses brain rounded out the picture of dull confusion on my part.

I finally had to just ask for uno momento, por favor. Necessito comer. It´s hard to be extra special, super duper polite when you can´t think of any words except a few kindergarden level pleas.

Walking to school was nice escape and a tinge nostalgic. I was assigned my old teacher from last year, the same great young guy who did so well with the our class of ´06. There was just one other student in the class, a retired football coach.

At the break, I kept waiting for all the other classrooms to open and the garden fill with the other students, but except for one couple, there was no one else there. Even they were there for a couple more days.

I have some weird karma; always ending up places where everyone else has cleared out.

Wednesday was the semi finals for a big soccer game, and Heredia was in the line up. Someone tried to get tickets to go to the local stadium for the game, but they were all sold out. La Maestra of the school kindly invited us to her house for the evening, so the four of us went there and watched Heredia win.

Her 12 year old son cheered, jumped up and down, and yelled at the players in a swirling mix of English and Spanish. Very fun.

We all walked home together, along with all the fans pouring out of the stadium, to the serenade of cars honking and people cheering. '¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡ Heredia, Heredia!!!

I woke up Thursday morning feeling rather punky, but went on to yoga class. For the first time in 10 years of practice, I left a class. I just felt too crummy.

I went to school, anyway, and my classmate arrived looking pale, also. Coach said he felt really tired and not so great.

It turned out that several people in our respective houses had some little something. I went home from school and went to bed, where I had a long, shivery night under every blanket and jacket I had with me. But even though it felt like days, it was only a 24 hour ick. All is well now. Not very fun and I´m really glad it passed quickly.

La Maestra told us that the license for Pepto had expired in Costa Rica and it was very hard to find. I felt kind of guilty when I didn´t offer to share my tiny bottle. I know, selfish. Thank goodness I only needed one dose for a slightly queasy stomach. And of course, I had my Cold Eze which really helped, laugh if you will. A virus is a virus.

The point of my medical records run down is that this situation did not, in any way, help my language skills. I felt like my brain was slogging along through very thick mud. I couldn´t think of anything, let alone stutter it out. Frustration is not my best side, and I was so aggravated with myself I was running through a sad story for American Airlines about why I needed to change my ticket.

But that´s one reason I´m doing this. It´s always good to challenge your weaknesses, and being a real impatient, self demanding, gripey gus is one of mine.

Today was great. We had a long conversation in class (in Spanish, of course) about immigration. Coach is from Tucson, and his views were wholly unexpected. There are immigration problems in Costa Rica as well. Other Latin Americans ,from countries not as well off as Costa Rica ,wind up here, and the national debate sounds a lot like ours.

Our Spanish was kind of fractured but our desire to understand each other was pretty intact.

Love you.
Karen

NextÑ Saturday and the Farmer´s Market, Central American Stlye