On addresses and directions

Luckily for me, almost everything I need in Puerto Viejo is on one of two parallel streets or the short streets connecting these two main roads. The two consists of more than just these few blocks, but all the outlying areas are neighborhoods. I consider this a fortunate situation because of the unfortunate situation of addresses in Costa Rica. Or, maybe better put, the unfortunate situation of there not being addresses in Costa Rica. For those of you kind enough to send me mail (shameless plug) you’ll think this odd, as my address seems very normal. That is because it’s a post office box. Houses, businesses, schools, and well, most likely the post office containing my PO box don’t have addresses in the way we think of them.

We’ll start off with my host family’s address. I live at ‘the two-story yellow house across the street from the night high school in Puerto Viejo de Sarapiqui’ Yeah, no numbers, no street name, no zip code, no district, county, province, state, or parish code. That’s how addresses work here in Costa Rica. Even in the capital city, San Jose, a major building like the Peace Corps office’s address is ‘300 meters past the Fischel pharmacy on Calle Rohrmoser.’ San Jose is big enough that you do have to say the street, but still, no numbers, no zip code, none of that jazz. Admittedly, this may mean more to me than other people, not everyone places efficiency and organization as high on their value rankings as I do. I’m the type of person who’s ideal city would have all the streets named A-Z, then AA-ZZ, with the avenues crossing the streets and being numerical, with every ten streets being a major crossway. Oh, how I love cities on a grid.

Personal quirks aside, Costa Rica’s system is nonetheless about as contextual as it gets. If you don’t know where the night high school is, you’ll have to find that out before you can find my house. If you’re looking for the Peace Corps office, you have to search across the entire San Jose map for Calle Rohrmoser, then pray and hope you can find someone who knows where the pharmacy is, or you’re stuck driving slowly with one eye on the road and one eye looking for the pharmacy. Then doing your best to estimate 300 meters from there (much easier if you grew up anywhere except the ridiculous countries not using the metric system (the United States, Burma, Liberia). In smaller towns, addresses might not even exist-at least not until a family is forced to write one down

by the pesky Peace Corps trainee living in their house (as happened to my training host family). The thing is, El Rosario (my training community) is small enough that everyone knows everyone, and thus anyone visiting the town to see my family would merely have to ask where Xinia lives and would be directed to her house. I hope you noted that the last name isn’t even necessary. When the town is small enough that everyone can see either the church or school from anywhere in town, it actually works pretty well do just give all directions with reference to said landmarks.

Of course, this isn’t quite the same in San Jose. In is defense, San Jose does keep even and odd numbered streets and avenues separated, so if you’re given a corner (which you often are) you’ll know what quarter of the city you’re in. I fully recognize that a developing country like Costa Rica may not have the money to put up awesome green signs on every corner and traffic light, but it doesn’t mean the almost total lack of street signs in San Jose isn’t all sorts of frustrating. If the lack of street numbers of signs isn’t hard enough, I have noticed (because a Tico pointed it out to me) that in Puerto Viejo everyone always give directions as ‘por arriba’ (up that way). The problem is, there does not seem to be a collective (contextual) concept of which way is up. He showed me by asking two students which way they lived, they both answered ‘por arriba’ without indicating which way. When he asked them which way, the two students pointed in opposite directions. So, even though there’s only one main road-it doesn’t seem clear which way is up the road or which way is down.

But, as crazy and frustrating as it seems initially, it wouldn’t be fair to write off the Costa Rica system of addresses (which most likely is similar to systems across Central America). You may have noticed that addresses in Costa Rica are really just directions. Unless one is a local, this means that one can’t read street signs and numbers to find a house, he must ask directions. I used to be of the opinion that needing to ask for directions was only done by jokers that couldn’t read a map. But, traveling in places like South Korea and Thailand forced me to end my shame/fear of asking directions, because, even if there were maps, streets signs, and numbered buildings, my inability to read Korean or Thai made them useless. Plus, asking directions is one of the less creepy ways I’ve encountered to breaking the ice with that cutie pie sitting on the bench or in the café. I digress. The thing about directions in Costa Rica; is they force you to actually roll down the window or, preferably, stop your bike, and actually talk to someone. As a tropical country, there are people out on the porch all year long, so it’s a great opportunity to shake hands, exchange smiles, and use our unique talent of talking with another one of our 6.8 billion fellow species. Costa Ricans, are, generally friendly people (remember-generalizations are generally true). Life here is pretty laid back; so no one feels put upon when asked for directions. Often he’ll come back with a question about where I’m from, or what I’m doing here. Maybe even throw in a ‘very good’ or some other basic English he’d like to try out. I like this aspect of asking directions, it gives locals a sense of worth, of utility, and it gets people talking to each other, engaging with their fellow man. I’ve been impressed at the kindness and helpfulness of people when I’ve asked for directions, or merely confirmed I was going the right way. I’m not going to get into a debate about what caused what, but the way the Costa Ricans handle their address system is a great part of their society or the Costa Rican address systems beautifully reflects Costa Rican’s friendly, relaxed, and talkative nature.

Pictures updated

Well, I finally got around to updating my Picasa photo albums. Pictures from Hong Kong, Cambodia, and Thailand that never got uploaded are now there. Pictures from random events in Changzhou during my two years in the normal city on the river have been uploaded. As well as pictures from this past summer in the greatest country in the world. Last but not least, I have also put up all my photos thus far from Costa Rica. So, shameless plug over, here's the link.

https://picasaweb.google.com/ken.j.ferrell

First Day of School

Yesterday (February 10) was the first day of school in Costa Rica! Call me a loser or nerd, I don’t care, but for me, the first day of school was always an exciting event. My dad wouldn’t go into work on time, and every year, stayed to take a picture of each of us Ferrell kids in our first day of school garb, backpack in tow, on the front porch. I can still remember these days, when younger walking down to the corner to catch the bus, or later, jumping in to one of the various Ford Tauruses and driving up 35th street to ol’ Valley High. In high school, it may have been the only day of the school year when I was on time to all my classes. Having already done a walk-through of my schedule during registration, the first day amounted to schmoozing with the teachers I already knew, doing my best not to make any sarcastic remarks with new teachers, high-fiving all the friends I was lucky enough to have in my classes, and seeing which girls had spent the most time at the pools/gym over the summer.

Well, the first day of school at Colegio Tecnico Profesional Puerto Viejo was markedly different than that mentioned above. Luckily, I had been well prepped by my host sister as to what to expect. Fany, my host sister, as I’ve mentioned, is a great student, and my host parents are pretty responsible people. Yet, a few weeks ago, Fany mentioned that she wouldn’t be going to school the first two days (school started on a Thursday) nor the following week. Then at a meeting with my so called counterpart, the outgoing regional English advisor for Sarapiqui (my canton), she informed us that normally teachers at the high schools in this region get their schedules at a meeting just before classes begin the first day. So, my expectations were quite tempered by the time yesterday rolled around.

One of my main activities in the past two weeks has been to try to meet up and connect with the teachers/counselors at the high school and night high school (Colegio Nocturno de Puerto Viejo). I had eight phone numbers. Two of them were numbers now disconnected/cancelled. The night school principal had apparently not been notified that the Peace Corps was working with MEP (Education Department) to send workers to help the English teachers, nor that there was one coming to his school. He told me he knew nothing of it and hung up. Another teacher informed me she wasn’t teaching this year. One counselor told me she lived out of townand would get together with me in February. One counselor was amiable, and we had coffee about two weeks ago, she was fairly excited about me being here. One teacher said we could get together in March/April. I mentioned that school started the next week; he stuck to the March/April line. Another teacher said he’d call me to get together. That didn’t happen, so I texted him yesterday, and he arranged for me to have coffee with him and the other night school teachers (including one who informed me she had lost her phone-thus solving one of the disconnected numbers). And, lastly, an English teacher at the high school told me to meet him at 08:00 the first day of school in front of the office, to go to an event.

As I hurried out the door (still haven’t become a morning person) my host mom told me everyone was at the gym for an assembly. I said the teacher had arranged to meet me at the office for an event, which was surely the assembly. After waiting outside the office for fifteen minutes, I texted said English teacher, and he said, “come to the gym”. Could’ve been a helpful text 20 minutes earlier, eh? So I went down to the gym, met the English staff as a teacher leading the assembly introduced the staff to all the seventh graders (and some other students with nothing better to do). Essentially all the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth graders know better than to come to this assembly. At the end, I was introduced to the group, as someone “like a missionary” to help the English department. I saw no need to introduce myself, as pronouncing my name correctly would just confuse the students, but the guy insisted, so, figuring the students were ready to leave and the last thing they needed was some foreigner misusing the subjunctive tense. So, with “good morning, hope you’re doing well” I exited.

I accompanied the English teacher and a new special education teacher to guide one of the twelve seventh grade sections around the school. Each section has between 30-35 students. Normally, a walk around the school wouldn’t get somebody’s khaki’s muddy up to the knees, but that’s because CTP Puerto Viejo isn’t quite normal, at least not to an American. As a technical professional high school, it offers specializations for the tenth through twelfth graders. One of these is agriculture. So, the school owns a huge swath of land across the street and up the road, with cattle pastures, a duck pond, trails through the woods, a pig barn, and goat pastures. After making our way through these areas and returning on a nice path through the woods we had some iced tea and sandwich cookies. And, at 10:00, the school day was done-for those seventh graders that attended. It never even started for the rest of the seventh graders and almost all the eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh, and twelfth graders.

Things went pretty similar at the night school. Each grade of students was taken into a different classroom with a few teachers; I joined the English teachers with the ninth graders. Although there may be seventy or eighty students in each grade, only ten to fifteen showed up for each grade (more for seventh and eighth). The teachers explained the school rules, hours, expectations, and maybe gave a short diagnostic test if the department so desired. We were done within an hour. Oh, and as to getting the schedules the first day of school-at neither the night school nor the regular high school, did the teachers have their schedules by the end of the first day of school. So, considering the teachers don’t know which group of students they are teaching, you can bet dollars to doughnuts that no verbs are being conjugated on the blackboard and no homework is being assigned. Nonetheless, I’m hopeful that things will get rolling week two.

Yeah, I wrote a post about the weather

I write this post on a delightful afternoon here in Puerto Viejo de Sarapiquí. It is in the lower 80s (26-28 C), sunny, the skies are blue with puffy white clouds, and there’s a slight breeze blowing through the palm tree leaves just outside my window. The window and door to my room are of course open. I focus on the weather not just to torture those of you trudging through the snow, but rather to focus on the fact that this weather isn’t a whole lot different than the weather here in April, July, or October (from what I’ve been told).

During one’s first three months working for the Peace Corps (at least in Costa Rica) the focus is on getting to know one’s community: the people, the government institutions, the community groups, the strengths, the weaknesses. This is so that the Volunteer will be able to better help the community develop, do something the community wants, and be fruitful in his work. So, what this really means is that I have spent lots of time walking around town just trying to get to know people. There wasn’t much to do my first two weeks, as it was Christmas and New Years, and all the public institutions were closed, as were many businesses, and I figured people didn’t want to be disturbed while they were feasting with their families, making tamales, or watching the bull festivals on TV.

(February in Clive, IA)

Since then, though, I have managed to interrupt my reading or television watching with some walks around the various neighborhoods around town, introducing myself and chatting with the people sitting out on the porch. (I figure the people sitting on the porch are fairly open to chatting with some goofy foreigner with a thick accent.) I have also gone into the stores, and disappointingly not bought anything, but just introduced myself and chatted until a real client arrived. More recently, as they opened back up, I have carried out a few formal interviews at some of the public institutions around town. This is all in trying to achieve the aforementioned goals (as well as for a report we have to write—kind of the Peace Corps’ way of keeping us in check).

So not to digress further, often, the weather is one of the things the people ask me after they ask what state I am from. Yes, they are always disappointed that it’s not one of the few they know. If only Field of Dreams was more popular in Central America. My time in China had prepared me well for the ridiculous question of “what’s the weather like in America?” I would then have to engage in a lengthy explanation that, like China, America is a giant country spanning many latitudes, from the Caribbean to the Arctic Circle. I would give examples of the differences between these similar parts of China, from Haerbin to Hainan. The inquirer would then see the folly in such a question, and I would explain what the weather was like in Iowa.

Unfortunately, I get the exact same question here. I guess most of us human beings tend to ask questions before thinking about the answer, but, I generally do my best not to, and am always hopeful that others make the same effort. Questions like “what’s the weather like in America” prove my hopes wrong. The problem, is, that I can’t explain America’s diverse weather to the Costa Ricans like I can to the Chinese. Yes, Costa Rica does posses many microclimates. Because it has mountain ranges through the middle, and the weather coming in off both the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans, traveling just a few miles here can separate dry and humid climates, as well as swings in temperature. But, these swings in temperature aren’t all that big, and the microclimates still all fall under the tropical umbrella.

(February in Costa Rica---a lot like the rest of the year)

So, answering this question pounds the assertion that “it’s all relative” into the ground. After explaining that America is the third/fourth biggest country in the world, with Pacific, Atlantic, and Arctic coasts, and thus has all sorts of weather patterns, I’ll explain that right now in Iowa there’s snow all over the place and it reaches ten below (-28 C) at night the Costa Rican will then respond “oh, so it’s much colder there.” I respond affirmatively, but then explain that it also reaches 95 or 100 in the summer (36 C). Now I’ve got a flabbergasted Costa Rican on my hands. In a region where the annual variation in temperature is about 20ºF, it’s pretty difficult for the residents to comprehend that there is a crazy place called Iowa where not only does it get much, much colder than here, it also gets hotter! I’ve heard that the cat that said everything’s relative was pretty smart, his theory certainly helps me understand the incredulity of the Costa Ricans to the concept of snow, rain, and hot sunshine all in the same place.