Dear Mrs. Laffin,
When I heard you were sick and going to be in the hospital for a while longer, I wanted to write you a letter. I decided to write a letter on Thursday and on Friday you were gone. I'm sad for a lot of reasons but mainly that I didn't get to tell you so many things. I came into the office today and I had to explain who I was to the person sitting at your desk. It was really weird and the first time I realized that you were really gone and that I am far from ok with that.
You are one of my best friends at Marist. I loved having new exciting things to tell you or something that I knew would make you laugh. You listened to all my problems and news and were always on my side no matter what, even if I was being inappropriate. I knew that you were always there to look out for my Mom and keep her sane and give her perspective. You were one of HER best friends on this entire planet and one of the only people I felt accepted her fully for who she was.
I hope you know how much you meant to everyone. All I would have to do is mention your name and people immediately straightened up. I am so proud to know you- I wanted you to introduce me at my Honors Ceremony. You worked in only one office, but you made the whole campus feel more comfortable and loved and special. You weren't a dean or a Phd but you performed your job with just as much dignity and respect. And you are a nice person, probably the nicest person I know. Most people didn't know how strong you were and how much you had overcome because you were so happy and thankful every single day. I know you gave my mom courage to be happy and on the days when I thought my life was hard you did the same for me.
Thank you for always buying me Peeps and Hello Kitty coloring books and for worrying about me when I drive up to Connecticut to visit that guy. Thank you for driving my mom to work. Thank you for letting me use all your office supplies when I forgot something, which was everyday. Thank you for telling me funny stories about professors and for sharing pictures of Patrick and Lila. Thank you for letting my mom do things like put a picture of a pig on hand sanitzer. Thanks for laughing at all of Julie's new courses with me.Thanks for being nice to my friends. Thanks for calling me Angelface. Thanks for introducing me to the term “nuclear lunch.” Thank you for sympathizing when I complained and bringing me muffins on Tuesdays. Thank you for making me a dream folder when I wanted to go to music school and for writing down all the emergency numbers before I went to Spain.
It's a weird thing to say you're sad that your mom's secretary died, but that is exactly what I am. You were a constant presence for more than half of my life and one of my Marist moms. I don't know if I will ever get used to seeing someone else sit at your desk or not being able to say “Hi Mrs. L” as I stumble through the doorway with a big box of files. So much of Marist included you and believe me that every building and person on this campus misses you.
I'm sorry that you left so soon and so suddenly. I'm sorry I wasn't as talkative as I usually was during January because I was so busy/stressed and I should have stopped by your desk more. I hope that you are happy and peaceful and watching over us. No one is ready for you not to be here. Your life was beautiful and difficult and filled with a love that was uniquely yours. Thank you for teaching me so much.
Love always,
Emmy Lou
Monday, February 21, 2011
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
God, I am tedious.
What type of sick, twisted narcissist re-reads her own blog?
This one.
Sorry. I have a few blogs coming up about current events. Please bear with me: existential crises are best served blog.
I have never liked things that I can't control - I found the idea of Santa disturbing from day one. A bearded stranger bearing unmarked packages? When did I approve this? But my mother (the ultimate control junkie) sympathized with me, as I was constantly encountering something that I felt was unfair. I've learned to cope, finding small comforts in knitting, an acerbic tongue, and VH1 series. I still feel like someone missed a few lines in theHTML code of life. I encounter more error messages than I'd like- I'm still pushing Santa back up the chimney everyday. I find pockets of patience, little ways to feel like I have some say in my own destiny.
But sometimes I run out of patience and I find the human condition completely offensive and nonsensical. It can make a girl feel a whole lot like this:
Leaving out all the terrible things that people have to deal with: hunger, poverty, oppression, prejudice, sickness, just being a normal old person is pretty much the hardest thing I can imagine. What is more out of your control than being alive. It's easy to feel trapped, but who would ever want to leave it?
So we're here. Now what?
It's kind of a lonely business being a person. So we find people to help us forget that we are lonely. We care about them. We end up caring about a sizable number of people over a lifetime. And very few of those people stay with us, for whatever reason. Falling in love is particularly tricky. You are flooded with this incredible feeling - a body high that makes us entirely sure that we could never be alone now. And we enter into this mutual gushyness with a mutual understanding that it probably won't last. One or both will be hurt and someday you will just be an entry in the other's journal- an anecdote to tell, another name to remember. Again, when did I approve of this? It doesn't seem fair at all that we end up loving way more people than can ever love us back?
Here's my big problem: I want to love everyone all the time. I don't like this business of people passing through. I want to have my first grade crush, my next door neighbor, my roommate, the band,the rabbi, my family, and everyone around me so nothing changes. No one is lost or forgotten. I get attached to people and places -probably more than makes sense and I don't know how to manage holding onto everyone.
That's scary. Every once in awhile a little bit of light reaches my black,communist soul and I think " Fuck. I have a lot to lose. And chances are I'll lose most of it eventually. One day I will definitely lose all of it." If there is one terribly morbid thing I know - no matter what you believe - we all have to face death by ourselves. Someone much nicer than me said, " Well doesn't that make you appreciate things/people/feelings more?" Frankly, not most days. It makes me want to move to Moscow and hide. Maybe start making my own vodka. Becoming a social recluse sometimes seems easier than the constant inevitably drifting. At least I could maybe get a historical site out of the deal " the hermit of helinski" I like it.
These ideas don't have a big resolution because it still makes me sad almost everyday. My mom assured me, " I was alone for a long time. Yes, it is easier, but it is definitely not better." I try to make sure I tell and show people that I love them - I love all of whoever you are and I always will. No matter how much you hurt me or forget me, I will still love to hear how you are doing years from now. Other people's lives are important to me, so I don't really have a choice to withdraw. If I am clingy, its because I know you're going to leave me. If I'm distant, I'm scared about how hard that will be. Yes, sometimes I feel stuck in this weird wheel that crunches together loving and leaving. But maybe that's part of loving someone - realizing that we're all on our lonely way to somewhere or someone else. The company in the meantime is just about the best you could ask for.
This one.
Sorry. I have a few blogs coming up about current events. Please bear with me: existential crises are best served blog.
I have never liked things that I can't control - I found the idea of Santa disturbing from day one. A bearded stranger bearing unmarked packages? When did I approve this? But my mother (the ultimate control junkie) sympathized with me, as I was constantly encountering something that I felt was unfair. I've learned to cope, finding small comforts in knitting, an acerbic tongue, and VH1 series. I still feel like someone missed a few lines in theHTML code of life. I encounter more error messages than I'd like- I'm still pushing Santa back up the chimney everyday. I find pockets of patience, little ways to feel like I have some say in my own destiny.
But sometimes I run out of patience and I find the human condition completely offensive and nonsensical. It can make a girl feel a whole lot like this:
Leaving out all the terrible things that people have to deal with: hunger, poverty, oppression, prejudice, sickness, just being a normal old person is pretty much the hardest thing I can imagine. What is more out of your control than being alive. It's easy to feel trapped, but who would ever want to leave it?
So we're here. Now what?
It's kind of a lonely business being a person. So we find people to help us forget that we are lonely. We care about them. We end up caring about a sizable number of people over a lifetime. And very few of those people stay with us, for whatever reason. Falling in love is particularly tricky. You are flooded with this incredible feeling - a body high that makes us entirely sure that we could never be alone now. And we enter into this mutual gushyness with a mutual understanding that it probably won't last. One or both will be hurt and someday you will just be an entry in the other's journal- an anecdote to tell, another name to remember. Again, when did I approve of this? It doesn't seem fair at all that we end up loving way more people than can ever love us back?
Here's my big problem: I want to love everyone all the time. I don't like this business of people passing through. I want to have my first grade crush, my next door neighbor, my roommate, the band,the rabbi, my family, and everyone around me so nothing changes. No one is lost or forgotten. I get attached to people and places -probably more than makes sense and I don't know how to manage holding onto everyone.
That's scary. Every once in awhile a little bit of light reaches my black,communist soul and I think " Fuck. I have a lot to lose. And chances are I'll lose most of it eventually. One day I will definitely lose all of it." If there is one terribly morbid thing I know - no matter what you believe - we all have to face death by ourselves. Someone much nicer than me said, " Well doesn't that make you appreciate things/people/feelings more?" Frankly, not most days. It makes me want to move to Moscow and hide. Maybe start making my own vodka. Becoming a social recluse sometimes seems easier than the constant inevitably drifting. At least I could maybe get a historical site out of the deal " the hermit of helinski" I like it.
These ideas don't have a big resolution because it still makes me sad almost everyday. My mom assured me, " I was alone for a long time. Yes, it is easier, but it is definitely not better." I try to make sure I tell and show people that I love them - I love all of whoever you are and I always will. No matter how much you hurt me or forget me, I will still love to hear how you are doing years from now. Other people's lives are important to me, so I don't really have a choice to withdraw. If I am clingy, its because I know you're going to leave me. If I'm distant, I'm scared about how hard that will be. Yes, sometimes I feel stuck in this weird wheel that crunches together loving and leaving. But maybe that's part of loving someone - realizing that we're all on our lonely way to somewhere or someone else. The company in the meantime is just about the best you could ask for.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
The Not-At-All Odd Couple
The two people (under 30) that I admire the most happen to be madly, deeply, sensibly, and understandbly in love with each other. I love them. I love their relationship. I love how they treat people both individually and together. I love seeing both of them happy. Whether they know it or not they are my examples and the people I look to for most of the big things, ideas, and concepts in my life. One of them I was destined/fated/doomed to know and love and the other I met because of the good judgement of the other and it just so happens I love him almost as much as I love her. Julie and Jimmy, this one is for you.
I figure I’ll start with why and how I like each of you separately and then go into why you both together has just a synergistical effect on the whole thing.
Julie is someone who has mystified me from birth. Quiet, either by choice or because of the pacifier in her mouth, you sat back and watched while I boradcasted my every feeling, thought, and worry to the rest of the world. I thought she was strange, mainly because I didn’t know how to relate to her. As we got older, I resented the fact that we shared a room and that you seemed to be so much more together and competent than I was- an awkward, insecure, impulsive geek. I tell pretty much everyone that I cannot really account for Julie’s presence between 1999 -2005. She was floating off in Julie-land -a place none of us were allowed. We never fought, but we both understood ( i hope) that we had to settle into our own orbits for a little bit.
Now that we are older, I still find myself rather in awe of Julie - who seems to have all the dedication and levelheadedness that I lack. I’m glad our relationship has progressed as it has, because I was not a very likable person up until very recently and I have always felt like I had to earn her respect. I envy and admire how much she thinks for herself and knows so clearly what she feels, thinks, and wants. She is able to filter through all the bullshit that comes her way and find the little nugget of relevance. Julie is much more kind and honest with people( including our parents) than I have the courage to be on a daily basis. Julie-land still exists and I’m proud to say I know a little more about it lately. She can keep a secret better than anyone else.We’re really not as bad of sisters as we make ourselves out to be and if I met Julie as someone other than my sister, she is really someone I would want to be my friend. Her dedication to her causes and what she thinks is right inspires me as I eke out my own little humanitarian path. People take Julie seriously, but she has some inspired moments of humor and goofiness that I like equally as much.
And Julie has brought me one of the best friends anyone could ever hope for. I remember the first time Jimmy and I acknowledged each other’s presence. We were in that weird front room of Lourdes waiting for rides. Jimmy pointed to me and looked away quickly, whispering something hurriedly to Jay. I was suspicious, but he was already in the beginning stages of things with Julie and didn’t want to make a bad impression on me with any after school shenanigans. Jimmy has been Julie’s boyfriend for almost 5 years and he is honestly one of the most intelligent, funny, talented,wise, and principled people I have ever met -he could make Nelson Mandela look like Pauly D. Something about Jimmy is literary - he is almost too much of a wonderful anomaly to have been created by accident. He seems to walk through life, which hasn’t always been kind to him, with the poise of a main character. I am convinced that Jimmy knows something we don’t- he sees things differently, expresses them differently, and just loves whatever he does with every inch of himself. I am on a constant quest to keep Jimmy’s respect - he did buy me my first light up, action noise lightsabers after all. I know that I can call Jimmy at anytime with any problem ( he fielded my call at 1am when I was stranded and lost at JFK) and he will advise me perfectly and effortlessly. Watching him embrace my family and vice versa has been beautiful to watch over the past few years.
Julie and Jimmy make each other happy. Their relationship is “old love” - there are no illusions, but they believe in themselves just as fiercely as they believe in everything else . Sometimes I think I avoided relationships for so long because I couldn’t hope to measure up to what they have. They have taught me what a functional relationship is and what mutual respect looks like. I want them to make each other happy for as long as they can and hopefully I get to be around for some of it. I hope you get to make each other tea and play funny songs on the guitar together for a long time. I am so supremely grateful for each of you and for what you have together. Don’t let the big world get you- everything you have and everything you are is worth fighting for.
I figure I’ll start with why and how I like each of you separately and then go into why you both together has just a synergistical effect on the whole thing.
Julie is someone who has mystified me from birth. Quiet, either by choice or because of the pacifier in her mouth, you sat back and watched while I boradcasted my every feeling, thought, and worry to the rest of the world. I thought she was strange, mainly because I didn’t know how to relate to her. As we got older, I resented the fact that we shared a room and that you seemed to be so much more together and competent than I was- an awkward, insecure, impulsive geek. I tell pretty much everyone that I cannot really account for Julie’s presence between 1999 -2005. She was floating off in Julie-land -a place none of us were allowed. We never fought, but we both understood ( i hope) that we had to settle into our own orbits for a little bit.
Now that we are older, I still find myself rather in awe of Julie - who seems to have all the dedication and levelheadedness that I lack. I’m glad our relationship has progressed as it has, because I was not a very likable person up until very recently and I have always felt like I had to earn her respect. I envy and admire how much she thinks for herself and knows so clearly what she feels, thinks, and wants. She is able to filter through all the bullshit that comes her way and find the little nugget of relevance. Julie is much more kind and honest with people( including our parents) than I have the courage to be on a daily basis. Julie-land still exists and I’m proud to say I know a little more about it lately. She can keep a secret better than anyone else.We’re really not as bad of sisters as we make ourselves out to be and if I met Julie as someone other than my sister, she is really someone I would want to be my friend. Her dedication to her causes and what she thinks is right inspires me as I eke out my own little humanitarian path. People take Julie seriously, but she has some inspired moments of humor and goofiness that I like equally as much.
And Julie has brought me one of the best friends anyone could ever hope for. I remember the first time Jimmy and I acknowledged each other’s presence. We were in that weird front room of Lourdes waiting for rides. Jimmy pointed to me and looked away quickly, whispering something hurriedly to Jay. I was suspicious, but he was already in the beginning stages of things with Julie and didn’t want to make a bad impression on me with any after school shenanigans. Jimmy has been Julie’s boyfriend for almost 5 years and he is honestly one of the most intelligent, funny, talented,wise, and principled people I have ever met -he could make Nelson Mandela look like Pauly D. Something about Jimmy is literary - he is almost too much of a wonderful anomaly to have been created by accident. He seems to walk through life, which hasn’t always been kind to him, with the poise of a main character. I am convinced that Jimmy knows something we don’t- he sees things differently, expresses them differently, and just loves whatever he does with every inch of himself. I am on a constant quest to keep Jimmy’s respect - he did buy me my first light up, action noise lightsabers after all. I know that I can call Jimmy at anytime with any problem ( he fielded my call at 1am when I was stranded and lost at JFK) and he will advise me perfectly and effortlessly. Watching him embrace my family and vice versa has been beautiful to watch over the past few years.
Julie and Jimmy make each other happy. Their relationship is “old love” - there are no illusions, but they believe in themselves just as fiercely as they believe in everything else . Sometimes I think I avoided relationships for so long because I couldn’t hope to measure up to what they have. They have taught me what a functional relationship is and what mutual respect looks like. I want them to make each other happy for as long as they can and hopefully I get to be around for some of it. I hope you get to make each other tea and play funny songs on the guitar together for a long time. I am so supremely grateful for each of you and for what you have together. Don’t let the big world get you- everything you have and everything you are is worth fighting for.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Yes, but no not really
I think that there are two of all of us. Not in the “be reunited on Oprah 40 years later” two of us, but two versions of ourselves. There is the self that we button up every morning – we wake up and remember the person that we are out there. Oh yeah, I’m ---- and I am a functioning member of society. I have classes and a job and responsibilities and people who I care about and who care about me. I mean something to someone and my presence makes things easier for other people. I don’t have problems or insecurities, or at least none important enough to warrant any time or attention – after all I have many things to do. Or at least that’s how it generally goes for me. I wake up and put myself together like so many Lincoln Logs, until I become the overcommitted, loud, frizzy haired person that stomps around Poughkeepsie. I don’t really think it’s just me either – I think lots of people wake up every day, look in the mirror, and say “ I’m a lawyer/mother/student/singer/etc. and I am supposed to do XYZ.” How could anyone be expected to leave the warm grooves of their bed if there was no role to fill?
The other self is elusive and not as much fun. This self was the weird kid in your orientation group that you prayed wouldn’t be your roommate. This self has been broken up with, has said something stupid, feels weird about its relationship with its parents, doesn’t know what to do with its life, is not really sure if/why anyone likes it, is scared of failing, has a secret, is dissatisfied but doesn’t know why. I think this is the self we kinda fall asleep with. We peel off our superhero spandex (not very breathable) and reenter our much less svelte civilian skin. This self doesn’t have the energy to be anyone in particular –or to do anything really but eat and wonder when things get easier.
We are ashamed of this second self – convinced that we are the only one with an overweight, unemployed, uninteresting, uncharming being floating under our put together shell. We fight it off, even as it bubbles up, asking for attention and making you second guess yourself.
I, characteristically, swing between both extremes. ( I think) I am either an untouchable force of nature or someone on a desperate search to relate and connect, so I can feel less solitary. You either get all of my thoughts , or none at all. A few people have seen the gray area, and I’m not sure whether that’s good or bad.
I find my stance regrettably wishy washy. I can see the courage in committing fully to each self. Either you’re going to talk about it or you’re not. I admire those who are able to own up to their inherent instability. I really can’t - both options seem scary to me. Pretending that you have it all wrapped up is just as tiring as remembering that you don’t.
I’d like to say stop being so hard on yourself to all 6 of you reading. But I know if you are a friend of mine, that probably sounds like the tallest task on the planet. Try your best to be comforted by the fact that most people walk around with a little bit of “stuff” and that people will still love you even if you let your second self show. And doesn't that make you want to love them that much more?? Know that everyone deserves to be happy and that constantly making sure that other people are happy won’t keep YOU happy forever. There is something out that only you can/ need to do and that will make you and everyone else happy. Nifty, right?
This is kinda emo and I apologize. It was a thought sorter-outer for me and hopefully one of you bored internet- lurkers will find it mildly valuable.
The other self is elusive and not as much fun. This self was the weird kid in your orientation group that you prayed wouldn’t be your roommate. This self has been broken up with, has said something stupid, feels weird about its relationship with its parents, doesn’t know what to do with its life, is not really sure if/why anyone likes it, is scared of failing, has a secret, is dissatisfied but doesn’t know why. I think this is the self we kinda fall asleep with. We peel off our superhero spandex (not very breathable) and reenter our much less svelte civilian skin. This self doesn’t have the energy to be anyone in particular –or to do anything really but eat and wonder when things get easier.
We are ashamed of this second self – convinced that we are the only one with an overweight, unemployed, uninteresting, uncharming being floating under our put together shell. We fight it off, even as it bubbles up, asking for attention and making you second guess yourself.
I, characteristically, swing between both extremes. ( I think) I am either an untouchable force of nature or someone on a desperate search to relate and connect, so I can feel less solitary. You either get all of my thoughts , or none at all. A few people have seen the gray area, and I’m not sure whether that’s good or bad.
I find my stance regrettably wishy washy. I can see the courage in committing fully to each self. Either you’re going to talk about it or you’re not. I admire those who are able to own up to their inherent instability. I really can’t - both options seem scary to me. Pretending that you have it all wrapped up is just as tiring as remembering that you don’t.
I’d like to say stop being so hard on yourself to all 6 of you reading. But I know if you are a friend of mine, that probably sounds like the tallest task on the planet. Try your best to be comforted by the fact that most people walk around with a little bit of “stuff” and that people will still love you even if you let your second self show. And doesn't that make you want to love them that much more?? Know that everyone deserves to be happy and that constantly making sure that other people are happy won’t keep YOU happy forever. There is something out that only you can/ need to do and that will make you and everyone else happy. Nifty, right?
This is kinda emo and I apologize. It was a thought sorter-outer for me and hopefully one of you bored internet- lurkers will find it mildly valuable.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
We've got nothing left.
I am writing to you on what has unexpectedly become my last night in San Jose. I was not able to post my last entry before I left for the weekend, but if you read it, you will see that I have been trying against all of my gut instincts to make this work and see the sunny side of every terrible situation that has been thrown at me thus far. I was rallying. I was going to make this work. I had done more difficult things right? And a long weekend at the Arenal Volcano was going to be the perfect remedy.
Grace, 2 other Máximo girls, and myself were scheduled to take the 615am bus out of San Jose. We left the Rojas residence at 5am and took a taxi over. The bus costs and unbelievable $4 for a 4 hour ride. We got on the bus almost without incident, but the bus smelled kinda rancid and travelling with your bags in your lap ( which was sternly advised) was extremely uncomfortable. Grace was a little worried about the whole ordeal since she gets severe motion sickness, so I was trying to be calm and soothing, which is not usually in my nature.
The whole bus settled in and almost everyone was asleep. I was in an anxious half-sleep at about 7am when our bus driver slammed on the breaks ( we were on a highway going about 70). We skid for 4 or 5 seconds before we hit a car. The front of the bus was completely crunched and the whole bus was covered in glass. The car we hit was completely flattened. I heard the people inside get hit, moan, and die. People hopped out from cars and roadside stands to see what happened – as soon as they peeked into the car, their faces fell. No rescue attempt was made- a family of 5 was dead at impact. Elisabeth and I were ok physically, but Grace hit her head pretty badly and Meredith has what appears to be a broken nose.
My mind was blank except for the neon flashing thoughts saying “you need to get off this bus in case something explodes.” So there we were. 60 of us – ranging from 8 months to 80 standing on the side of a Costa Rican highway nursing bloody noses and waiting for the next direction. Grace and I looked at each other and we realized we were almost completely alone. We had no one to call and no way to call them. We seemed eons away from our families and friends, who had no idea that we were ok or that we were even on the road. I knew instantly that I wanted to go home as soon as possible and Grace agreed. What were we doing here? We had felt unsafe and isolated from the first minute we arrived and I couldn’t even say that I felt I was doing meaningful work.
They unceremoniously pulled up a second bus and told us to continue on to La Fortuna. We had to endure 3 hours more, as the bus wound around hilly coffee plantations, praying and bracing ourselves around each turn. I was shaky and sick to my stomach and trying to remember all the people I hadn’t said I love you to lately.
I have never been that close to death before. Silently, five stories ended for good that day. There was no negotiation, no challenging it, there wasn’t even time for anyone to get used to the idea. 5 futures, 5 pasts, 5 sets of dreams, 5 people with connections to countless others. The earth didn’t split open; most people didn’t even stop their car. The first thing the bus driver did was to make sure he collected his money pouch. For anyone who knew anyone in that car, Saturday was the last day of their old lives. I found myself praying, which hasn’t genuinely happened in a long time. It’s very cliché to reach out to “God” at our most mortal moments, but at the time, he does seem like the most logical option, especially to a 20 year old, for whom death is about as relevant as water aerobics and Ross Perot.
To really know for the first time that it could all end that quickly made me feel two opposite ways. My first reaction was to grasp for the people I love and hold them close. I want to snuggle up to them and remember exactly how their voices sound. My second reaction was that I was happy I was out experiencing things. No one has given me a free pass from fate. It could easily have been me and my friends in that car and Grace and I (sitting in the front seats) could have been seriously hurt and our bus was inches away from going into a ditch. Nowhere is it written that I get any certain amount of time here – no matter how entitled we feel to a long life. I can’t make my life any longer than it will be, but I can make it as full as I want to and I have done a pretty good job of chasing life around and seeing what I can make of it. I don’t have to fly half way around the world every week to make it full, but once and a while that’s a part of it.
It makes me want to crack myself open and let my dreams and idea and loves splatter all over this world. How else will anyone know they ever existed? That I existed?
I’m really shaken up and this entry is a little hokey, and I hope you will forgive me. I have more to tell and more to reflect, but I am sick of thinking about the accident and wanted to set it loose in the blogosphere.
If you are reading, expect a long, huge hug in the next 48 hours.
Pura vida,
Emily
Grace, 2 other Máximo girls, and myself were scheduled to take the 615am bus out of San Jose. We left the Rojas residence at 5am and took a taxi over. The bus costs and unbelievable $4 for a 4 hour ride. We got on the bus almost without incident, but the bus smelled kinda rancid and travelling with your bags in your lap ( which was sternly advised) was extremely uncomfortable. Grace was a little worried about the whole ordeal since she gets severe motion sickness, so I was trying to be calm and soothing, which is not usually in my nature.
The whole bus settled in and almost everyone was asleep. I was in an anxious half-sleep at about 7am when our bus driver slammed on the breaks ( we were on a highway going about 70). We skid for 4 or 5 seconds before we hit a car. The front of the bus was completely crunched and the whole bus was covered in glass. The car we hit was completely flattened. I heard the people inside get hit, moan, and die. People hopped out from cars and roadside stands to see what happened – as soon as they peeked into the car, their faces fell. No rescue attempt was made- a family of 5 was dead at impact. Elisabeth and I were ok physically, but Grace hit her head pretty badly and Meredith has what appears to be a broken nose.
My mind was blank except for the neon flashing thoughts saying “you need to get off this bus in case something explodes.” So there we were. 60 of us – ranging from 8 months to 80 standing on the side of a Costa Rican highway nursing bloody noses and waiting for the next direction. Grace and I looked at each other and we realized we were almost completely alone. We had no one to call and no way to call them. We seemed eons away from our families and friends, who had no idea that we were ok or that we were even on the road. I knew instantly that I wanted to go home as soon as possible and Grace agreed. What were we doing here? We had felt unsafe and isolated from the first minute we arrived and I couldn’t even say that I felt I was doing meaningful work.
They unceremoniously pulled up a second bus and told us to continue on to La Fortuna. We had to endure 3 hours more, as the bus wound around hilly coffee plantations, praying and bracing ourselves around each turn. I was shaky and sick to my stomach and trying to remember all the people I hadn’t said I love you to lately.
I have never been that close to death before. Silently, five stories ended for good that day. There was no negotiation, no challenging it, there wasn’t even time for anyone to get used to the idea. 5 futures, 5 pasts, 5 sets of dreams, 5 people with connections to countless others. The earth didn’t split open; most people didn’t even stop their car. The first thing the bus driver did was to make sure he collected his money pouch. For anyone who knew anyone in that car, Saturday was the last day of their old lives. I found myself praying, which hasn’t genuinely happened in a long time. It’s very cliché to reach out to “God” at our most mortal moments, but at the time, he does seem like the most logical option, especially to a 20 year old, for whom death is about as relevant as water aerobics and Ross Perot.
To really know for the first time that it could all end that quickly made me feel two opposite ways. My first reaction was to grasp for the people I love and hold them close. I want to snuggle up to them and remember exactly how their voices sound. My second reaction was that I was happy I was out experiencing things. No one has given me a free pass from fate. It could easily have been me and my friends in that car and Grace and I (sitting in the front seats) could have been seriously hurt and our bus was inches away from going into a ditch. Nowhere is it written that I get any certain amount of time here – no matter how entitled we feel to a long life. I can’t make my life any longer than it will be, but I can make it as full as I want to and I have done a pretty good job of chasing life around and seeing what I can make of it. I don’t have to fly half way around the world every week to make it full, but once and a while that’s a part of it.
It makes me want to crack myself open and let my dreams and idea and loves splatter all over this world. How else will anyone know they ever existed? That I existed?
I’m really shaken up and this entry is a little hokey, and I hope you will forgive me. I have more to tell and more to reflect, but I am sick of thinking about the accident and wanted to set it loose in the blogosphere.
If you are reading, expect a long, huge hug in the next 48 hours.
Pura vida,
Emily
Dile a Grace que....
WOW. There have been no words
So I am sorry I haven’t blogged in a while- Grace and I are doing our best to keep it togerther. I am still not sure all of this is actually happening. I have never been on a weirder and more disorganized trip in my entire life.
I have been all sorts of emotional this week- I have been happy, excited, scared, confused, homesick, brave, lonely, useless, exhausted,centered, and everything in between. I’m sure there are a few lessons and self reflection moments in there – and I am working on digging those out. I am trying to be mature and be brave and be present. I can’t help but make comparisons to Spain and even Mexico and this is VERY different. Very,very different. I was going to break it down by days but that is overwhelming for both you and I.
The Good
My host family continues to be really nice. Today I made an effort to talk to them more and spend time with Jennifer, just talking about movies and languages and fun life stuff. The son Ethan has decided I’m alright. He’s 7 so he is very particular. He came into my room last night and played on my laptop and then talked to me about his dog that died. We bonded about that and basketball. He has a good sense of humor for a 7 year old and he watches out for me ( Hey Emily- don’t pet the cat’s tail – she gets mad.) Word.
I had a cool moment with one of the kid’s moms at the volunteer site today. She came in and asked if anyone spoke Spanish. She wanted to make sure her daughter got back home in time for school and she was going to take some of the other volunteers to the airport on Sunday. I told her I did and her face immediately lit up. I translated for her and then she told me more about herself and asked if I could teach her English. We parted and she gave me a big hug. Sometimes, speaking Spanish feels like a super power. I have never been more proud of anything in my life than I am of speaking Spanish. Learning this language and traveling as I have has been the most important and rewarding thing I have ever done. This language and the people who speak it have given me and taught me so much –things that cannot be translated. My pride is coupled with a sense of humility and awe for this culture that I will never fully discover.
I have bonded with Grace in a whole new way. We have always been friends- very good friends, but there is something about traveling together, living together, being completely terrified together, and consuming enough rice to tip all of Confucius’s scales that makes you friends for life. We have decided that if we don’t end up getting married, we will at least be in each other’s weddings. She is brave when I am not ( we make sure no one has a breakdown at the same time) and is always 100% honest with me ( “Sometimes I don’t know what to do with you. Really.”). We are still managing to laugh a lot – nervously or otherwise. I am so thankful that we are here together – she is my outlet for Sylvia, she packed all of the items I forgot, and we may have turned the small outdoor room that separates us into a Michael Buble cabaret. If Grace was not here, I would be in the fetal position.
The Bad
I am very very unhappy with my volunteer placement. I think I wrote it in my last blog but we are renovating and expanding a community center in a poor suburb of San Jose – La europa . It is a tin building and several children come by to play and learn English everyday. Sounds great right? In theory it is. However, this community center involves absolutely no one from the community. Community members were not consulted as to what they would like it to include, they are not participating in the renovations, they don’t even feel comfortable coming by to check it out and ask questions. Participating made me feel like a conquistador. I am not convinced that everything we do is by nature better than what they already have. Us being American does not mean we know anything more about being happy and living a good life than they do. You can raise a good family in a tin shack just as easily as you can in a Mc Mansion. We are not doing Costa Rica a favor by being here, they are generously welcoming us and that is the attitude that is surrounding this project. It is too easy to focus on the physical details of something and forget about the people that inhabit it.
There is also no sense of continuity here. In all of the volunteer placements, people just flow in and out. Here for a week or two and then gone. The communities we serve feel this lack of permanence and investment and it affects their participation. There are no goals we must reach, no progress reports, no one is checking up on us. While it is nice to be trusted, it is important for all projects to have a direction – and that is not the case here. The result is complacency. For the most part, there has been nothing for me to do at my site- I spend a lot of time standing around and end up playing with the kids- which is fine and rewarding in its own way, but I feel superfluous .I also find it offensive that some sites have no Spanish speakers. Lest I say again WE ARE VISITORS.PEOPLE SPEAK SPANISH HERE. For all the fuss we make about ATMs and advertisements being in Spanish- you would expect there to be an interest in learning the language. Also for those teaching English, you can relate to your students so much more if you are learning a language too. You teach them, they teach you, and it’s beautiful.
The company coordinating us is disorganized, hid a lot of information from us, and has little interest in getting to know its volunteers. They sent us to work one day on the bus with a bag of machetes to cut the grass. Questionable idea, party of one. Employees rarely visit the work sites and don’t really seem to oconcerned with what’s going on. I feel deceived, lonely, and like a bad ambassador for the US.
I am trying to take this for what it is. I am glad I get to see Costa Rica and the ticos and ticas have been wonderful to me so far. I sound angry and bitter in this post, which is the exact opposite of how I wanted to feel, but I kinda am . I hate feeling like a lip service volunteer – I was hoping to come home at the end of the day feeling absolutely empty, having left it all out there. After a very cerebral semester, I was also looking forward to getting my hands dirty and using my major muscle groups. Every morning I wake up and try to reframe this experience in a positive light and I am trying to make each interaction and conversation meaningful and to give each person my full attention and care.
If anything can save this experience, it will be people, who continue to surprise and amaze me with their joy and complexity. Whether its Grace, my mom, Ethan the host son, a hug from a child at the community center, the world has sent me a million ways to stay connected to the ideas that I am clumsily trying to build my twisted life around
12 days until I go home . And I miss you all VERY VERY much.
So I am sorry I haven’t blogged in a while- Grace and I are doing our best to keep it togerther. I am still not sure all of this is actually happening. I have never been on a weirder and more disorganized trip in my entire life.
I have been all sorts of emotional this week- I have been happy, excited, scared, confused, homesick, brave, lonely, useless, exhausted,centered, and everything in between. I’m sure there are a few lessons and self reflection moments in there – and I am working on digging those out. I am trying to be mature and be brave and be present. I can’t help but make comparisons to Spain and even Mexico and this is VERY different. Very,very different. I was going to break it down by days but that is overwhelming for both you and I.
The Good
My host family continues to be really nice. Today I made an effort to talk to them more and spend time with Jennifer, just talking about movies and languages and fun life stuff. The son Ethan has decided I’m alright. He’s 7 so he is very particular. He came into my room last night and played on my laptop and then talked to me about his dog that died. We bonded about that and basketball. He has a good sense of humor for a 7 year old and he watches out for me ( Hey Emily- don’t pet the cat’s tail – she gets mad.) Word.
I had a cool moment with one of the kid’s moms at the volunteer site today. She came in and asked if anyone spoke Spanish. She wanted to make sure her daughter got back home in time for school and she was going to take some of the other volunteers to the airport on Sunday. I told her I did and her face immediately lit up. I translated for her and then she told me more about herself and asked if I could teach her English. We parted and she gave me a big hug. Sometimes, speaking Spanish feels like a super power. I have never been more proud of anything in my life than I am of speaking Spanish. Learning this language and traveling as I have has been the most important and rewarding thing I have ever done. This language and the people who speak it have given me and taught me so much –things that cannot be translated. My pride is coupled with a sense of humility and awe for this culture that I will never fully discover.
I have bonded with Grace in a whole new way. We have always been friends- very good friends, but there is something about traveling together, living together, being completely terrified together, and consuming enough rice to tip all of Confucius’s scales that makes you friends for life. We have decided that if we don’t end up getting married, we will at least be in each other’s weddings. She is brave when I am not ( we make sure no one has a breakdown at the same time) and is always 100% honest with me ( “Sometimes I don’t know what to do with you. Really.”). We are still managing to laugh a lot – nervously or otherwise. I am so thankful that we are here together – she is my outlet for Sylvia, she packed all of the items I forgot, and we may have turned the small outdoor room that separates us into a Michael Buble cabaret. If Grace was not here, I would be in the fetal position.
The Bad
I am very very unhappy with my volunteer placement. I think I wrote it in my last blog but we are renovating and expanding a community center in a poor suburb of San Jose – La europa . It is a tin building and several children come by to play and learn English everyday. Sounds great right? In theory it is. However, this community center involves absolutely no one from the community. Community members were not consulted as to what they would like it to include, they are not participating in the renovations, they don’t even feel comfortable coming by to check it out and ask questions. Participating made me feel like a conquistador. I am not convinced that everything we do is by nature better than what they already have. Us being American does not mean we know anything more about being happy and living a good life than they do. You can raise a good family in a tin shack just as easily as you can in a Mc Mansion. We are not doing Costa Rica a favor by being here, they are generously welcoming us and that is the attitude that is surrounding this project. It is too easy to focus on the physical details of something and forget about the people that inhabit it.
There is also no sense of continuity here. In all of the volunteer placements, people just flow in and out. Here for a week or two and then gone. The communities we serve feel this lack of permanence and investment and it affects their participation. There are no goals we must reach, no progress reports, no one is checking up on us. While it is nice to be trusted, it is important for all projects to have a direction – and that is not the case here. The result is complacency. For the most part, there has been nothing for me to do at my site- I spend a lot of time standing around and end up playing with the kids- which is fine and rewarding in its own way, but I feel superfluous .I also find it offensive that some sites have no Spanish speakers. Lest I say again WE ARE VISITORS.PEOPLE SPEAK SPANISH HERE. For all the fuss we make about ATMs and advertisements being in Spanish- you would expect there to be an interest in learning the language. Also for those teaching English, you can relate to your students so much more if you are learning a language too. You teach them, they teach you, and it’s beautiful.
The company coordinating us is disorganized, hid a lot of information from us, and has little interest in getting to know its volunteers. They sent us to work one day on the bus with a bag of machetes to cut the grass. Questionable idea, party of one. Employees rarely visit the work sites and don’t really seem to oconcerned with what’s going on. I feel deceived, lonely, and like a bad ambassador for the US.
I am trying to take this for what it is. I am glad I get to see Costa Rica and the ticos and ticas have been wonderful to me so far. I sound angry and bitter in this post, which is the exact opposite of how I wanted to feel, but I kinda am . I hate feeling like a lip service volunteer – I was hoping to come home at the end of the day feeling absolutely empty, having left it all out there. After a very cerebral semester, I was also looking forward to getting my hands dirty and using my major muscle groups. Every morning I wake up and try to reframe this experience in a positive light and I am trying to make each interaction and conversation meaningful and to give each person my full attention and care.
If anything can save this experience, it will be people, who continue to surprise and amaze me with their joy and complexity. Whether its Grace, my mom, Ethan the host son, a hug from a child at the community center, the world has sent me a million ways to stay connected to the ideas that I am clumsily trying to build my twisted life around
12 days until I go home . And I miss you all VERY VERY much.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Day 2 – A quick post on food
Travel is primarily about food for me. I can’t relax until I know where/when my next meal will be and I am usually pulsing with excitement to see what will show up on my plate. Spain, as almost everyone who I have ever spoken with knows, was SUBLIME food wise. Paquita served up masterpieces day after day –I will never understand how she did it in that tiny kitchen. So I expected ( hoped would probably be more appropriate) that Costa Rican cuisine would be similar – ie emphasis on meats, cheeses, and fresh fruits. Some elements are similar or even better – Costa Rican coffee is other worldly. There are lots of hornazos where you can buy all sorts of stuffed pastries and my favorite Funciona juices are all over the place. However, Paquita’s Protein Palace has been replaced entirely by Costa Rican Carb-apalooza.
SO MUCH BEIGE FOOD (all delicious fyi)
Dinner last night- Spaghetti
Breakfast – 3 pieces of toast, fruit, and coffee
Lunch – Picadillo de Papas (potatoes, herbs and sauce on a tortilla) and Rice
Dinner : Picadillo de Papas, Rice, and a thin bean soup.
Breakfast: Arenques? Very similar to pancakes/panquequess/panclocks
Costa Rica is not for those on Atkins, South Beach, or any diet that does not require lots of complex sugars. I would suggest it for runners looking to carb up. Costa Rica is still a developing country and our family lives on moderate means, so I understand that meat is expensive. I was living in meat territory in Spain ( all of the best pork comes from Castilla y Leon) so meat was abundant and cheap. It isn’t really fair or accurate to compare the two countries – they each have their own independent history and customs and for all intents and purposes have little to do with each other. Like I said, it is all really really good and pretty typical/regional, but not what I expected at all.
I am a little homesick – I miss my friends and family and food. I was beginning to reestablish a few roots at home and that was scary/exciting/very comforting. I was also caught in a huge vortex of fun, hopping from concerts, to dinners, to field trips, to my lovely job, to al fresco evenings. I was/am a lucky girl. My mother just looked at me in disbelief most days and asked when I was planning on sleeping. While I hope the fun vortex is still spinning when I get back, it’s ok to take a break and remember that some people are just happy to wake up every day in a warm bed.
Tomorrow I will have posts and pictures about my first real (eye opening) day at work.
Love always,
Emily
SO MUCH BEIGE FOOD (all delicious fyi)
Dinner last night- Spaghetti
Breakfast – 3 pieces of toast, fruit, and coffee
Lunch – Picadillo de Papas (potatoes, herbs and sauce on a tortilla) and Rice
Dinner : Picadillo de Papas, Rice, and a thin bean soup.
Breakfast: Arenques? Very similar to pancakes/panquequess/panclocks
Costa Rica is not for those on Atkins, South Beach, or any diet that does not require lots of complex sugars. I would suggest it for runners looking to carb up. Costa Rica is still a developing country and our family lives on moderate means, so I understand that meat is expensive. I was living in meat territory in Spain ( all of the best pork comes from Castilla y Leon) so meat was abundant and cheap. It isn’t really fair or accurate to compare the two countries – they each have their own independent history and customs and for all intents and purposes have little to do with each other. Like I said, it is all really really good and pretty typical/regional, but not what I expected at all.
I am a little homesick – I miss my friends and family and food. I was beginning to reestablish a few roots at home and that was scary/exciting/very comforting. I was also caught in a huge vortex of fun, hopping from concerts, to dinners, to field trips, to my lovely job, to al fresco evenings. I was/am a lucky girl. My mother just looked at me in disbelief most days and asked when I was planning on sleeping. While I hope the fun vortex is still spinning when I get back, it’s ok to take a break and remember that some people are just happy to wake up every day in a warm bed.
Tomorrow I will have posts and pictures about my first real (eye opening) day at work.
Love always,
Emily
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