Errybody Kissin' Errybody

As an observer and receiver of perpetually new cultural differences and customs, I've decided to blog about one in particular...heaven knows it deserves a darling little blog or two...

I'm just going to say it straight – everybody is seriously kissing everybody down here. Now me, being a touchy-feely person, at first, did not mind this. However, I found myself in some strange and rather awkward encounters with this ever so normal complementary peck on the cheek. To put this in perspective – think about how occasionally awkward it is to meet someone for the first time anywhere. In the U.S., it's customary to shake hands, but even now, especially with people my age, the gesture seems too formal. Instead, we wave or mutter a polite “nice to meet you.”

The same is true for down here...apparently the younger generation sometimes feels it too formal to greet with a kiss, which is fine, if you understand these inaudible social cues, which I don't. Every time I meet someone my own age, I wait to see if they do the “lean in I'm about to mooch you” move, or just offer a friendly “mucho gusto.”

 When I first arrived in Costa Rica, kissing my host mom and brother was fine...but when I arrived at school and met my twenty-something, recently married, male teacher and he leaned in for a kiss, I was a smig taken aback. Not only that, but every time a mom comes into visit, he kisses her on the cheek, because it is honestly rude not to.

Two blunders come to mind with this whole kissy kissy situation. One time, when I went to the movies with my host mom (to see movie in Arabic with Spanish subtitles...that's a story for another day) we ran into an older couple whom she knew. She introduced them to me, and they spoke English. I immediately introduced myself and started asking questions about where they had traveled and how they learned English...but I never offered a kiss on the cheek. That's like meeting a precious old couple and forgetting to shake their hands. Oops.

The other blunder came when a father arrived at school to drop off his daughter's books. I opened the door and greeted him with a casual “Buenos Dias,” and then he leaned in...and I stood there. It was probably only a milla-second, but it seemed to me like an eternity before I realized that I, myself, needed to lean in and kiss his cheek. This was a FATHER of one of my STUDENTS...here I was trying to remember how to say “Who's father are you?” in Spanish and he was leaning in for the kill. Whoops-a-daises (said in a Notting Hill British accent).

My last thoughts on the subject are these: Tico men certainly are some lucky guys, within the first few seconds of meeting them, they receive a complimentary kiss. Secondly, if I kiss you when I return to the States...you're welcome ;)

Xxoo (litearlly),

A kissable little darling

A Tribute to My Grandfather

Grandpa Stewart

My favorite memories of my grandpa are recent, after he hovered on death's door. If he told you about his near-death experience this summer, he would have said that I saved his life. I promise I did nothing more than schedule him a doctors appointment. However, after his heart was literally zapped back into rhythm, he approached life differently. Suddenly it didn't matter how loud we were laughing in a restaurant, how much dirt we tracked into the cabin, if we ate cookies in the living room, or if we took over his garage with motorcycles. What mattered was his family, and the precious moments he had left with them. At any random moment he could be found attempting to hand his grand kids a twenty or take us out for a bite. He actually tried to pay me after I took him to the emergency room, ever afraid of being a burden.

There are things about my grandpa that I will never forget. According to him, his grand kids were going to rule the world someday, just like their mother was already doing. Growing up, us Brittan kids got called the wrong name by grandpa so many times it's a wonder we don't suffer from identity crisis. On the other hand, what better compliment than to be mistaken for “Kathy” every time grandpa visited? If you ever met his dog, Sandy, she was his baby. She had a chair in the house that no one dared sit in, and a special place on his bed and in his heart. She temporarily replaced the void of my grandma who is ten years passed, the void that will now be forever satisfied.

Grandpa enjoyed hitting a tennis racket well into his eighties and had a sweet tooth or two in that golden smile of his. Probably one of his more well-known attributes was his ability to tell awkward jokes at the most random of times. Often we would laugh not at the joke itself, but at the absurd moment of its delivery. Family dinners will never quite be the same.

However, there is one family meal that rises above the rest. Grandpa insisted on taking his family out to dinner, his treat. He chose Pizza Hut, one of his favorites, and somehow all six Brittans found a free night a few months ago to spend together with grandpa. At dinner, I noticed he didn't say much, but rather reveled in his surroundings. He was engulfed in his legacy. They were laughing, eating, and enjoying one another all around him. He was proud, and he was thankful.

After that, for the next couple of months he could be seen muttering to himself, that was when he was talking to his Jesus. He started praying ceaselessly, and thanking his father for every little thing. At the end, in the hospital and later in Hospice, not a complaint could be heard. He could be found flirting with the nurses while he was flirting death itself.

But the truth remains that I believe my grandpa was never happier than when he was dying. It took a life-threatening experience for him to declare everything in life a blessing. He started giving radically, realizing the fleeting value of material things this side of glory. His glass went from half empty to perpetually half full. As I sit down, far from home, to write this, I can't help but realize what a valuable lesson he has left behind.

My grandpa wouldn't want a fuss over him, he never did. He would want you to live, and live to the fullest. Abandon the dirt covered floor and crowded garage. Forget the loud laughter in public, and eat cookies in the living room. Live for the things that will last, the things you can reap the befits of when your short life here is over. Above all, consider it all joy...and it never hurts to add a tasteful joke or two.

Read at my grandfather's funeral 9.21.12



XXOO, from a little darling far from home

When the Earth Quaked

It was a Wednesday just like any other day. I woke up after a short night of sleep, slapped on some make up, scarfed a delish breakfast from my host mom, walked my daily jaunt to where I get picked up, and prepared for another day of 5^th grade shenanigans. School starts promptly at 8, and as my cooperating teacher started the class off with devotions, I sat down to grade some composition notebooks. About 40 minutes later, as I prepared to take over and teach Reading, my teacher was taking a minute to explain to the class just how fragile and expensive the new “Interactive Board” in our classroom was. As we all looked at the screen, we couldn't help but notice that it started shaking ever so slightly. Some of the kids looked at me in the back of the classroom to see if I was playing a little joke, then we all directed out attention to the projector hanging from a pole from the ceiling of the classroom, which was definitely trembling. “Is that...?” my teacher started to say, and looked at me. Suddenly the entire earth started to move.

“Under your desks, under your desks!” Mr. Valverde yelled in a voice I had never heard before. Like magic, the students simultaneously scurried their little bodies under their desks. “Protect your head!” He yelled again.

Well, I certainly wasn't going to argue, so Miss. Brittan shoved herself under her desk too! (Which is the same size as the student's I might add). It was probably the longest thirty seconds of my life. There, on the ground, I looked at the white tile underfoot. It had turned to a big pan of jello, it was moving up and down, swaying back and forth, impossible to stand on.

I suddenly realized that my teacher had completely endangered himself attempting to save the expensive projector dangling from the ceiling. I started feeling rather silly for being the teacher and hiding under my desk, so I bravely decided to peek my head out and move the curtain from the window next to me. Outside I could see teachers and students who were on the playground had started to gather in circles and sit on the ground.

“Is it over?” My teacher asked as he looked at me. I shook my head “no,” as there was still a little movement felt.

A few more seconds allowed the foundation to stabilize and everyone made a line and paraded outside to wait. At this time, everyone counted their students and accounted for staff members. For the next half hour, parents called, emailed, and some came to pick up their kids. But I assure you that an hour later, we were all back in the classroom and learning was in full speed, like nothing had ever happened.

As I returned to my desk, I swear I felt another earthquake coming, but I was told later it was probably just a tremor. I did feel dizzy and have a headache for the rest of the day – I think the whole “tile turning to jello” thing really messed with my equilibrium. And honestly, as I sit here in my living room and write this, I'm getting a little queasy! There's something unnerving and unsettling about having one's foundation taken from you, from seeing something completely stable and reliable become unpredictable and threatening.

My host brother sent me a lovely “Welcome to Costa Rica” text later that day, and my host mom swears that the earthquake happened just because “Sarah es en Costa Rica!” All this little darling knows, is if that's my first and last earthquake experience, I'll be just fine.

The earthquake was originally estimated at 7.9, but later was downgraded to a 7.6 – the strongest to hit Costa Rica in about 20 years. Only two deaths have been linked with the earthquake, and the entire country is working together to repair buildings, roads, and houses that were in the effected areas – there was no damage where I live, thank the Lord! Since the initial earthquake on Wednesday there have been hundreds of small tremors, mostly in the northwestern part of the country, including a magnitude 5.6 that happened yesterday. Don't worry – I haven't felt a thing!

Who would have ever thought that after countless fire drills, tornado drills, even lock-down drills, I would be lacking in the basics of “Earthquake Procedure” … well, not anymore =)


All for now,

XXOO