Last week, I began my month-long stay in Costa Rica's capital, San Jose. I'm taking four weeks of Spanish classes here and living with a host family. Rita, my "mama tica," welcomed me with a hug and introduced me to the other generations of her family who live in the house - her daughter Grettel (close to my age), granddaughter Amanda, and 1-year old great-granddaughter Ariana. Already, I feel a sense of accomplishment. I know who lives in the house and how they are all related! There are other students staying here too - two undergraduates from the U.S. studying abroad for a semester and three medical students from Mexico and here in Costa Rica. It's a full house, but it's been fun talking with the other students at dinner time. The medical students have been particularly fun and friendly - letting me practice Spanish with them (even though they all speak English) and teaching me slang expressions.

The day after I arrived, Rita invited me to join her and two of her friends for a trip to the Orosi Valley southeast of San Jose. We spent the day driving through Cartago - the former capital city - and on to Lake Cachi. Soon after leaving Cartago, one lane of traffic was closed off to cars because hordes of people were walking. Through my many questions to Rita and her friends (supplemented by ferocious googling when I got home), I learned that every year in mid-March there is a religious procession from Cartago to another town called Ujarras, about 10 miles away, where the ruins of the first church in Costa Rica are located. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people were walking in the heat of the day, down steep roads into the Orosi Valley (and then making the return trip back up those hills), many with questionable footwear, pushing strollers, walking dogs. While some people carried backpacks and occasional concessioners offered some refreshments along the route, most carried nothing - no water, no food. If I were here on August 2, I learned I'd see thousands of people walking - some barefoot, some crawling - on a pilgrimage to the Nuestra Señora de los Angeles Basilica in Cartago. Regardless of your religious beliefs, you have to admit that these people have drive and passion.

Our day in the Orosi Valley was beautiful. We ate lunch at a restaurant with a gorgeous view of the lake. Rita and her friends asked me lots of questions about myself and my home town and were very patient and helpful as I tried to answer them. We visited a large public park on the shore of Lake Cachi and listened to a band that was playing Latin music. People were dancing, laughing, enjoying themselves. Pura vida!

The next day, I started my Spanish classes. The school is about a 30-minute walk from my house. I could take a bus, but there is so much traffic I feel like walking is actually faster. I attend classes Monday-Thursday from 9-3, and so far, the classes have been great. They're very small (there are two other students, both young, both European, in my class), and we cover a lot of material. The school also offers cooking classes (yes!), dancing classes (no!), and side trips on the weekends. There is also a movie theater nearby, and last week I watched The Monuments Men (or Operación Monumento, as it is called in español). It was in English with Spanish subtitles, and I had fun trying to follow along, see what translations didn't match up quite right, and learn some bad words. (Not many though - it was pretty G-rated.)

Since I've been in Costa Rica, I've been seeing lots of red and yellow flags and not really sure of their significance. I see them everywhere - flying on people's houses, cars, sign posts, fences. At first, I thought they were the flags of a football (or soccer) team. I mean, what else could have so many people flying the colors and showing allegiance? Turns out, it's actually the flag of… a political party. Sunday was the national election for the new president, and by late afternoon, the streets were pure mayhem. Red and yellow flags flying on every car, everyone honking, street vendors selling airhorns and red and yellow paraphernalia. It was like the entire country was going to a tailgate party. With so much red and yellow flying everywhere, I figured the candidate from that party was a shoe-in, and I was right. The margin of victory was 78% to 22%. *

It seems to me that Costa Ricans celebrate their religious beliefs with enthusiasm, support their political candidates with enthusiasm, do everything with enthusiasm - dancing, singing, talking, living. They truly live with passion, and it is contagious. It makes me take everything in and enjoy it all the more.

* Footnote: Today (Tuesday, two days after the election), I walked home from school a different way and saw a house 2 blocks away from my house that had red and yellow flags all over it. People were coming and going and there was a guy directing traffic in front. Hmmm… I thought… this is interesting. I snapped a photo (and posted it here) and when I got home, I asked my mama tica about it. And… lo and behold… it is the newly elected president's house! Right here in my 'hood!