I feel like when I most people talk about their travels abroad it’s closely akin to the way some people talk about high school. We look back with “graduation goggles” strapped to our heads. We recount trips with rose colored glasses pushed up high on the bridges of our noses. Now don’t get me wrong. Traveling abroad is a really wonderful opportunity. There’s so much to do, and see, and experience, and I truly believe that if you have the right mindset you can make any trip a good one. HOWEVER, this does not mean that every second of every day is going to be great. Every moment isn’t going to be fun. Every sensation isn’t going to be desirable. Every emotion isn’t going to be welcomed. For a short time I worried that maybe I was just an intense bum, or weak, or was a glass half empty kind of human because I haven’t enjoyed every second of my stay in Costa Rica. Then one day while I was reading the blogs of some of my fellow classmates studying here I realized something.

When we write about these things, everything sounds amazing because the vast majority of the experiences probably will be. Overall, in regard to these travels, the aw-inspiring and unforgettable moments vastly outweigh the not so great ones. That doesn’t mean by having those momentary feelings of wow-what-am-I-doing-here-I-fail-at-life-why-does-the-water-in-the-toilet-bowl-spin-the-other-way is a bad thing. So, in order to purge myself of such feelings as well as hopefully be able to provide some small comfort to anyone else having what I like to refer to as “a toilet bowl moment,” I have decided to put forth some of my own with an assortment of interesting, funny, and otherwise off beat photos from my trip that probably don’t belong anywhere else. Additionally, although I don’t have much time left here in Costa Rica, at the end of every blog I’m going to try to post one toilet bowl moment. My blog doesn’t need to inspire masses, but hopefully it can help a few individuals, or at the very least conjure up a couple smiles.

Okay, so I think my worst toilet bowl moment happened about two and a half weeks into my month long stay in Costa Rica. I started to get homesick. This is probably normal, but I think it’s still pretty significant. Anyway, I tend to be fine for a while, miss my home very severely for a short period, then even out again. Well, this time when I got homesick it hit me hard, I mean like a wrecking ball hard. This is probably partially attributed to the fact that in the moment that it occurred to me, “Oh wow, I miss home…A lot,” I was sitting at dinner with mi familia Tica. My tica mom looks at me and asks if I’m feeling sick again (I had just gotten over a nasty flu type thing).  I tell her no, and open my mouth to say I’m only a bit homesick. And my mouth stays open. And closes again. And reopens. Like a really confused fish. Why? Because in that moment I realized that after four years of high school Spanish, and one semester at college I didn’t know how to say “I miss my family.” Ouch. (To think I had all As… Go figure.)

You know, the language barrier is hard. It’s not horrendous, but it is hard. I can communicate my needs, make simple conversation, and since I’ve been here have gotten better at comprehending what is going on, but I still feel that I’m pretty low level. When it comes to  xpressing matters of the heart or having in depth discussions I ride the struggle bus hardcore. It can be lonely at times even here, in Costa Rica, in paradise. Maybe my language skills are just a bit poor, but I feel that this type of experience is normal. So, for anyone else out there trying to learn a second language, for anyone that is legally considered an adult and missing their mommy or daddy, for anyone making a fish face for any reason, just know that it’s okay. You’re not alone. Study abroad is wonderful, and these bumps are just another part of it. The direction the water spins in the bowl will sometimes drive you crazy, but then you’ll realize that as long as it gets where it needs to go, it’s all good. So keep flushing. Keep going.  It’s all a learning experience. “Me hace falta mi familia.” You’ll get there. 

Location: San Rafael, Turrialba CR

This was mentioned in a previous blog, but in Costa Rica things are a tad bit different than they are in the states. One of those differences lies in the window screens, or the 

lack thereof.  Originally this idea terrified me as I thought, for whatever reason, that every insect, arachnid, and otherwise creepy crawly in town wanted to frequent my room. Well for the most part this was very untrue. I have had the pleasure of an occasional gecko, but for the most part my most frequent visitors consist of cats. Sometimes they chill on the roof outside my window. Sometimes they like to peek inside. Once I even came home to one taking a nap on my pillow. Anyway, with time I have grown rather well acquainted with the strays who roam these metal roofs, and their routine visits.

That is until last night, when something very, very, not routine happened.  

I had gone to bed a little earlier than I do most nights. The day had been lovely, but tiring. So, there I lay in my soft, warm bed. I turned my light off, put my music on, and drifted away on a lukewarm and gently breezy sea of dreams. Everything was pretty standard. Then it happened.

The next thing I am aware of, my bed is trembling. I’m not talking “trembling” like every morning when the vibrate goes off on my alarm. I hear a loud meowing from the window closest to my bed, followed by the skittering of paws.  Suddenly all I can think of is the song “I can make your bed rock” as I bounce wildly in my sheets and all the things on the nightstand next to me tumble over the railing and down the spiral staircase nearby. It takes my drowsy mind 

about 3 extra seconds to finish the chorus of Bedrock and realize what was occurring.  A giant cat had just jumped through the largest unbarred window in my room, knocked over my stuff and was now thrashing about under my bed. I think suddenly of my friend in the states. She is a true cat lover, and just as I’m wondering how she would go about taming this unruly creature the shaking dwindles and comes to a stop. Costa Rica is “tranquilo” once again. For a moment I consider looking under the bed. Then I think of my physics class and reason that if Shrodinger’s cat wasn’t dead until he looked, then there wasn’t a giant jungle cat under my bed unless I checked either. So back to sleep I went.

 When I woke up for school a few hours later, I was a tad bit confused. The more daylightthat came through my window, the more awake I became and the less my logic from the night before made sense. With slightly lingering caution, I peered under the bed. No cat.

At breakfast my familia tica asked me how I had slept, at which point I recounted to them, in what was probably horrendously broken Spanish, all of the night’s events. Turns out Turrialba had experienced an Earthquake measuring a 6.4 on the rictor scale that night. My Mama Tica told all the neighbors about my new cat. I will never forget my first earthquake. 

Location: San Rafael, Turrialba CR