Saturday, November 7, 2009

Minnesota vs. Costa Rica

Riding down the Interamerica after a long weekend in San Jose always feels so good. Maybe it’s the plush seating in the Musoc buses or perhaps the cool, foggy road that curves just enough to rock you to sleep, but I know that it’s because that bus ride means I’m going home. But Costa Rica and Minnesota are worlds away, you might say. And what about the fact that no one understands that Christmas is not Christmas unless it looks like a Thomas Kinkade painting (especially if it’s the puzzle your grandma has mounted on her wall), or that while Costa Rica is beautiful nothing can compare to the North Woods on an early summer morning. Loons and roosters definitely don’t compare when it comes to which you want to wake you up. Minnesota and Costa Rica do seem like polar opposites, but you dig down deeper and they are eerily similar.
In Minnesota, there are snow days. Every winter morning after a storm, the first thing you do is turn the T.V. on just to see if school is closed or at least 2 hours delayed. Here in Costa Rica they have “meeting” days, where the teacher has a meeting somewhere about something to go to, meaning no classes. In my small town, most of the men are farmers and own plots of land up and down the mountains. I see similar issues surrounding the lack of jobs and money in the family farm as you see in rural Minnesota. Kids grow up and want bigger things; they attend college to get jobs in the city. What will happen to these farms as the generations change is all too familiar to the changing social landscape of Middle-of-Nowhere, Minnesota.
Home is also where you feel comfortable being yourself. I remember Dahlia’s sessions on indirect cultural. When they say yes they mean no. I get this, when I say I’ll think about it, it probably means I think it’s a lame idea and I just don’t want to tell you so. Ahorita is probably my favorite word; since you could often hear me say “In a little bit” or “after awhile” back home in Minnesota. Costa Ricans and Minnesotans have an undeniable connection when it comes to trying to beat around the bush. I still question whether people actually want me to come to their house or are just saying it to be nice, because an invitation is just polite in Minnesota and telling them you’d love to but you are busy is the appropriate response.
In Minnesota, saying hello is obligatory, even to complete strangers. This is practically parallel to Costa Rica. The only difference is how to say hello. O f course there is hola vs. hello or hi, but out in the campo (Costa Rica or Minnesota) you’ve got to shorten that up. Here in Costa Rica it’s typically the grunt, I believe contrived from people’s parece over saying adios. Head nods or finger waves are typical in rural Minnesota; this I believe is due to people’s laziness of not wanting to wave their whole hand. The kid racing down the hill on his bike in rural Costa Rica and the passing truck on a lonely Minnesota county road will all feel obligated to acknowledge you even if as soon as you respond they are too far away to hear. Saying hi, in both Costa Rica and Minnesota, might mean you have to stop by and start up some small talk, usually about the weather, never about politics or religion. You might get offered something refreshing to drink and there’s a difference between outside shoes and inside shoes.
Potlucks and turnos are basically the same thing. They are an excuse to get out of the house and eat. Although turnos usually have the food made on site, whereas the potluck everyone brings their crockpot with some sort of cassorole(who know that anyone could love a crockpot more than a Minnesotan). Minnesotans love Spam and Costa Ricans love Mortadala, but in the end it’s all hoofs and ears anyways. Replace rice for potatoes, both plates are at least half of either. We both love boiled vegetables, with lots of salt, and tal vez some crazy sauce on it (cheese sauce for my broccoli or salsa de tomatios, it’s a tough decision at this point).
No matter how much I miss Minnesota, there is so much here that makes me feel as if I’d never left. In fact, I’m surprised I haven’t found people with plastic covered furniture here. The weather is reminiscent of spring time in Minnesota, with sunsets casting soft pinks, purples, and yellows across the green fields. You can breathe the air and walk alone at night. People watch out for you, and yes they even know all your business. Everyone has a nephew, grandson, or friend you just have to meet, and most importantly hugs are always appropriate hellos and goodbyes.