We bond with each other through sharing
life lessons atop a mountain in Monteverde, Costa Rica
Culture shock, mysterious meals, and unknown insects are unique to every country. They are also some of the fears that come with being a study abroad student. As a student from the United States living with a host family in Costa Rica, my list of fears grows.
I eavesdrop on the conversations of my twenty-five-person study abroad group and realize that I don’t share the same fears as the rest. All of us are feeling anxious before being shipped away to our temporary Costa Rican homes that reside over a mile up mountain. The long walk we’ll have to make to and from campus doesn’t worry me, I’m an avid mountain hiker. Being two Spanish credits away from my degree in Spanish, I’m not worried about a communication barrier. Having saved many insects since childhood by transferring them by hand from inside of the house to out, bugs don’t bother me.
What I fear the most is rejection. My roommate assures me that, “These are nice people who signed up to do this. They want you there.” Yet I’m never easily convinced. I’m socially awkward and lack initiative in creating meaningful conversation. I fear that I’ll just be a burden to these people, and they’ll be the ones who end up counting down the days until I’m out of their house.
Homestay night one: the unknown
The first night at my homestay wasn’t anything like I expected and wasn’t anything like the other stories I heard from students in the morning. When I arrived at the home, a thirteen-year-old boy greeted me, in English. It might have been wrong for me to assume that nobody would speak English, but then again, I was there to practice my Spanish. He showed me my room and asked me if I was hungry. After my thirty-minute walk, of course I was.
Loandry is his name, and he says he’ll have my dinner ready in five minutes. At this point I’m too confused to continue on like this is normal, and so I ask him where the rest of the family is. Apparently, his father and little brother are sleeping, and his mom is at work until 10pm. It is currently around 7pm. I ask him if this is the usual, and he confirms that it is.
Not really knowing what to think, I try to relax and make myself comfortable. Loandry seemed like a genuinely amazing kid. Basically a mini-adult. He told me about how he learned English in school, described his morning responsibilities of mixing cheese on their farm, and said he enjoyed taking care of his four-year-old brother, Logan. Since when do older siblings enjoy taking care of the younger ones? We talk over food and later play cards until we can both see the bags under each other’s eyes. It’s been a long day, for both of us.
I head to my bedroom to retire for the night, feeling like this first night has been way too easy. It wasn’t supposed to be this calm. I also can’t help but wonder about my absent host parents. Are they not around because they don’t care that I’m there?
Homestay morning one: breakfast included
My presumptions had allowed me to believe that I would be awoken at 5am by the crowing of roosters, but instead I was called out of bed by the sound of loud music playing and conversations exchanging — at 5am. This is when I meet my host mom for the first time, Gaudy.
Gaudy is everything you expect a mother to be like. She asks me how I slept, if I’m hungry, and wants to know about my life in the States. She immediately strikes me as kind, caring, and high energy, traits I would assume are essential to have with a four-year-old running around.
As I sit at the table eating the freshly cooked breakfast Gaudy had just prepared, Logan is repeatedly throwing a soccer ball at the walls with full force, laughing as it bounces back and nearly knocks the wind out of his small body. I notice he also finds joy in trying to scare their three pound Chihuahua. “Poor dog,” I say. “No. Poor me with Logan,” Gaudy responds.
Homestay night three: getting to know each other
Things changed for me the third night. By then I had met every member of the family. I better understood their situation. Raul, the father, works on their cheese farm all day. Gaudy puts in about one-third of the day’s work, while also upholding a computer job in the city from 2pm-10pm. The boys are on a regular school schedule, having class from 8am-3pm Monday through Friday. They stay pretty busy.
Night three was different. While talking over dinner with Raul, the conversation suddenly turned. I can’t remember how or why, but that’s not important. We discussed everything from his old desires to move to the States and join the army to how he built their house by himself in twenty-two days. The two boys were around the table listening to us talk and go through various photo albums. There were even a few tears shed as Raul recounted the time of his father’s death.
I thank Raul for sharing his stories with me, and he teaches me an important lesson. He says, “People aren’t going to remember you if you don’t share things. We bond with each other through sharing.”
Homestay morning four: our goodbye
I can’t lie and say that I wasn’t excited to return to the school’s campus for the simple reason that there would be more privacy and long, hot showers, but when it came down to the time to say our goodbyes, I didn’t want to leave my Costa Rican family. I was enjoying getting to know them and felt like there was still so much more to learn. I started to criticize myself for feeling so emotional, knowing that this family has welcomed many students into their home. Saying bye would be easy.
Raul woke me up at 5am. He was leaving to go into town for the day and this would be our last encounter. His final words of wisdom to me were that I’m not just a student living with them for a couple of days, I’m a part of their family now, and for that, I must come back to Costa Rica, and when I do, I stay in their house, our house.
Gaudy and the boys send me off into my van back to campus, and I promise her that I’ll be back. Logan even kisses me on the cheek as I tell him adios. I reflect for the rest of the day, feeling embarrassed that I ever even doubted them or myself. Pierda el miedo, as Raul would say.
Lose your fear.
