Pura Vida

The final dinner on Wednesday night was incredible. It was at Hotel Grano de Oro, a beautiful Victorian building converted into a small hotel. We had our own dining room, complete with a five course meal. It was so fancy! A famous musician played his favorite songs on his guitar in the corner of the room while we dined. We took pictures in the exact same spot the President of Costa Rica had stood in that day before. Waiters stood near the table to refill our water glasses as soon as the water went below the cup's halfway mark. Aside from some corny speeches, I really enjoyed my last meal with the entire group. The slideshow was great. I have a whole list of music I want to download to remember my summer. Eric gave each us a book about dreams. I thought it would be cheesy, but it's filled with creative doodlings and inspirational quotes. I love it. We laughed, reminisced and took millions of pictures, but finally, the night came to a close. It was so strange to say goodbye for the last time. I almost didn't believe it might be the last time I see some of these people. Neither Natalie, Amy or I could fall asleep when we got home. I think it finally started to hit me that I am leaving.

This last week has been just like any other week, and yet it has been so different. My routine has stayed the same. I've woken up to the sounds of roosters and washing machines and checked the mountain view out my window for signs of good or bad weather to come. I have gone on my regular morning commute, ignoring the car honks and resisting the temptation to take a taxi to work. I've sprinted from street corner to street corner, barely reaching the sidewalk before a bus blares past. I've given my usual salutations to the security guard, Eduardo, downstairs. I've sat at my desk, patient and diligent, organizing, working and waiting for lunch hour. My conversations with my co-workers have been the same. How do you say this phrase in Spanish? What are you up to today? I've wandered down Avenida Central, contemplating my minimal lunch options, always grateful that I remembered to bring my umbrella as the afternoon rain drops start to fall. I've boarded my usual bus, carefully pressing the stop button strategically after the red light but before the next corner so the bus driver stops in the right place. I've greeted my neighbors, fumbled with my keys and enjoyed afternoon coffee time with Patri and Amy. When more fish passed away yesterday, I found it both comical and metaphorical. I made a chapter of my life here. I was a part of my host family's life, in their home long enough to see beloved pets come and go. Living with them wasn't just a short trip or a temporary resting place; I became a part of their family. I've watched the news, munched on bread and cheese and laughed my last few nights away with Amy and Natalie. Should we go out? Should we stay in? I've completed my errands, walked my neighborhood streets and run into newfound friends along the way. I've teased Brandon, giggled at Jose David and joked with Juan Carlos. I've chatted with Patri and eaten second helpings of rice and beans. The only difference has been that every time I've done these things this week, I've stopped an extra second and realized, this might be the last time I do this.

Part of me knows that I am boarding a plane to go home tomorrow, but another part of me feels like I am leaving my home. I've created a life here. My hosts have become my family. My fellow group members have become my friends. My daily adventures have become my regular routine. Costa Rica feels more comfortable to me than I could have ever expected. Before coming here, I imagined my travels would feel temporary. I thought my host family would be like a dormitory, a resting place between work and travel. I figured my internship would feel more like a guest star appearance than an entire season series. I assumed I would feel foreign, almost invisible, in my eight weeks of travel. I never could have dreamed that I would come away from this experience with such a profound sense of belonging, personal growth and loss at the same time. I am leaving my new life here, and I am incredibly sad.

I am proud of what I have accomplished. I leave Costa Rica knowing that I can truly live in another country, speak another language and develop relationships with people completely different from me. In the end, religious, cultural and social boundaries don't matter. The barriers come down, and you see that all people can develop sustainable relationships despite the obstacles society has thrown between them. When it comes down to what really matters, we are all the same. I can only hope that I take these lessons with me into my future and never forget the feelings I have now.

With that, I am signing off. I know my written entries will never satiate the pangs to re-live my experiences, but I am hoping I have documented enough so that I can at least remember my time here in Costa Rica.

Pura Vida para siempre,

Lauren