What's to love about moving to Costa Rica, international school and wrinkles?

Wood-cut by Costa Rican artist, Emilia Prieto----captures early days as an expat

It's been a long time since we've checked in- more than a month. The cascade of bends in the wood-cut above captures how life has felt being a new expat in Costa Rica over the last four months.  Every week, every day- sometimes every hour- seems to bring a new wrinkle of an experience.  Some profound, exotic and jubilant while others have been been terrifying, painful and brought us to our knees.

We've had some major events like anaphylactic episodes for Gigi after she was swarmed by tropical ants and her system received more venom than it could handle. She had been attempting to machete a trail down the backside of a mountain to her friend Gaby's house; who knew that the tree trunk that appeared to be black was actually covered in zillions of ants?! 

The crew before they succumbed to the ants.

What else?
The kids changed schools. 

You know those lists that tally the worst stressors like death and divorce? Well, the process leading up to and then executing a school change felt like it should be right up there.  While Blue Valley School was an archetype for 21st Century teaching and learning--- the kids brimming with projects, team work,  iPads, and leveraging the best of the internet and virtual tools; socially/Spanish-wise the kids were languishing. It just didn't work to have only 45 minutes of  Spanish a week and be the only gringo in their classes (an awesome young girl in J's class who is gringa had lived here since she was 3 and we just didn't get that J and Gigi with such little Spanish would remain largely separate from their classmates).

When we heard '30% international population' we just didn't register that this number represented kids from other Central and South American countries. It turned out that it mattered. Not so much likely at a younger age, but by 6th and 8th grade the fact that many of these kiddos had been together since kindergarten and spoke fluent Spanish made it tricky.

Enter The European School. 

As often it does in life at a crossroads, a statistical miracle happened. Just as we were ready to make a change, spots opened for the kids at The European School. Most people grabbed us by the arm, looked us in the eye and said, 'Take the spots. It doesn't happen. The waiting lists are years long. That is a great school.' When we found out European School would offer the kids 4-5 hours of Spanish tutoring a week, we jumped at the chance. 

Whereas Blue Valley is known to be one of the best Science/Math schools in the country, the kids abruptly entered into a different world. The European School is literature, art and music focused in addition to being an International Baccalaureate program. It means that while the science and math are still rigorous, all in all it is a very different experience.

Sculpture on the grounds of The European School

The change in the kids and for the kids was extreme. Back in the States, friends who are teachers talk about 'just-right' books for emerging readers;  I couldn't help but to think European School is a 'just-right' school or the Goldilocks of an institution. What do we love about it?

*The kids read. . .a lot. From African literature for J and Beowulf and Canterbury Tales for Gigi, they are as immersed in books as they were in iPads at Blue Valley. What do we notice? Their world-view is exploding.
*The language instruction. One on one tutoring matters when you are learning a language. Their tutor at European School is not only kind and supportive, she's spending 4-5 hours a week with the kids and it's showing.
Gigi is tackling French. It's not been easy stepping into a class where your classmates have 13 months on you. Her teacher and her principal believe she can do it (so do we) but it hasn't been easy. I've never been prouder to hear she got an F on an exam because just having the courage to take an exam and do oral presentations when you understand nothing is remarkable. For the record, they were amazed she pulled a 32% after only a couple of classes!



*The fun. I have never visited a campus where there is more laughing, visible independence amongst the students,  ease, energy, vibrancy. . .  if I spoke French, I would describe it as "joie de vivre" but since I don't, I'll just say they are getting something right. There are a lot of rules (no nail polish, no devices at school, finish your food at lunch, no food at all from home) so I find it so curious that the kids are so. . . engaged and so confident in simply being themselves.  Maybe it is because of. . .
*The breaks. The kids have multiple 'breaks' (that means soccer games for J and chatting for Gigi as they stroll around the most beautiful campus you can imagine- my father likened it to a Mexican university campus where he once taught.) They have a long lunch to boot. Or is it the
*Art and Music? Tons of it. J has a music class every single day where they sing. J says it gets them riled up just before they are released for their first break. He comes home belting out the craziest tunes from the theme from "The Adams Family" to "Country Roads" to "We Will Rock You" and another Queen goodie "We are the Champions". Yes. He even knows the Carpenters. There are others, but he may kill me once he's old enough to know just how zany these songs are! The class has been a complete retrospective. It's hilarious yet brilliant for non-native English speakers learning to become fluent. Which leads to the. . .
*People. From the students to the teachers, the word 'international' is just too small. The kids have teachers from Switzerland to South Africa. Their friends are from all over (including a good one from Edmonds, Washington if you can believe it!). At a recent 3:3 basketball practice that J attended this was the line-up:

Tico-Mexican
Tico-American
French-South African
Asian-American
African-American-Australian

The European School puts a huge emphasis on globalism from the curriculum, to the grounds, to the art that hangs all over the school. Beginning in 7th grade, the kids choose between French or Mandarin. For most, it is their 3rd language.
*The food. There will definitely be more written about lunch but here it is in a nutshell.
Kids are given the job to serve their peers. It means they get out a bit early to go and set the tables. The kids are assigned to sit in mixed gender table groups. I really think they are having them practice a French dinner party! There is an adult seated at each table where they begin with salad every day followed by a homemade hot lunch. It's not acceptable to not finish your food or talk with food in your mouth. Have we seen a difference at home? All I can say is you better believe it. It's an understatement to say that I LOVE not having to pack lunches!
*The emphasis on public-speaking. For J it is reciting a poem from memory once a week. For Gigi it is the drama class that demands pretty serious amounts of memorization and recitation. I've seen them rise to it and enjoy it. What wasn't to love for Gigi to learn stage combat?? Today we learned that J was chosen to play the lead for the holiday play they'll put on next month. When I asked what we needed to do for a costume he replied, "we will make them." That pretty much sums up the school---let the kids create. Let them fail. Let them suffer. Let them rejoice. Let them be. Let them roam. Let them question. Let them grow.
*The field trips. Both kids went and picked coffee recently. J admitted they did a fair share of pelting the girls to pass the time (Rick and I couldn't help but to laugh and know that it was a great memory for those boys). The idea was that the kids stay connected to the turn of the season, the harvest, the history. J's class took a massive hike one Saturday to prepare for a 2 day trip they will take in the Spring in the mountains. Gigi is scheduled to go on an even longer overnight trip to the Caribbean coast next semester to visit the site that is central to a book they will read. Here's a summary:

La Loca de Gandoca caused a national outcry in Costa Rica when it was published in 1992. It blew the whistle on a secret plot by government officials and private investors to develop the Gandoca-Manzanilla Wildlife Refuge, which is one of the most biologically diverse sites in the world and supposedly protected by the Costa Rican constitution. The novel is the largely autobiographical account of Anacristina Rossis attempt to save the refuge from destruction.


I love that.
I love that J recently read a novel about Ethiopian Jews' migration to Israel. He's now moved on to a novel about Malawi but it hasn't stopped him from asking a lot of questions about Israel. War. Why? Last week European School brought in a man who was cycling around the world. I loved that the presentation prompted J to talk about life goals. Gigi had recently finished writing an essay about "The Last Lecture" and another about Steve Jobs' life, she too was immersed in pondering what is possible.

 I was on campus yesterday and walked by a bulletin board that had pinned to it a beautiful mask in its center. Surrounding it were the words, "Who is that behind your mask? What is your true identity?" It appears European School's curriculum and staff really want to know.

We'll see how it turns out, but so far we love, love, love the impact the school is having on the kids. How couldn't it turn out with banana trees ringing the campus, coffee plants dotting its border, grand trees preserved as centerpieces scattered throughout the campus? As my Dad noted, they seem to do their best to bring nature in. I would observe that European School also does its best to invite kids' identities to come out.

Coffee plants we passed on our way to J's Saturday morning hike.

Baby-O is flourishing.




It's hard to put a finger on why. She said one day it was the weather. . .seriously. She's making jokes with Spanish words but still primarily speaks English. We had a party the other night and a friend asked her in Spanish "Do you understand Spanish?" and she shook her head "no" causing the whole room to erupt in laughter. Her school, Ovo Montessori, has turned out to be sensational. They recently had an international festival (Again with the globalism- they start early.) here is what it was like for Baby-O.

Our littlest girl is happy. She's healthy. She loves stopping at the bakeries and getting little treats. Going to restaurants where the staff know her name and run to get her the little things that she likes. She seems to shine with the intimacy that is rampant here. Yes. She should've been on 'Cheers'. . .

J continues to wow us with his courage on the futbol field. I don't really know how he goes out there with the coaches and the other players yelling instructions and bad words to him in slang. I know he doesn't understand half of what they are saying even when they ask him to do something technical. Even when they're asked to do complicated drills and he just doesn't understand what they want from him, he endures. He watches. He mirrors. He improvises. He just simply does. This, all the while surrounded by kids who have been touching the ball since before they could walk. Put simply, many of them kick butt but J is undeterred. He keeps saying he came here to improve his futbol and that he has.

 He recently had a rough tumble on pavement (a big rain had rendered the field off-limits). His teammates crowded around him touching his back and worriedly looking over at me. The looks of relief when they helped him up to his feet were beyond poignant. 

These were the same boys who could barely look at him, the huge gringo, when he first arrived much less speak to him. Was it really just a short couple of months ago?

Going to futbol on Sunday mornings is always an adventure. Last time, we ran into a snake and a horse.

 

Every day a wrinkle. We try to enjoy them no matter in what form they arrive.

Recently, we spent a day at the beach and as I watched Gigi run in the waves and on the sand, I couldn't believe that exactly a year ago she was so sick. She's had some close calls here with her over-reactive allergic responses, but she's bounced back. Like Baby-O, she's flourishing and we can't put our finger on exactly why but it thrills us to hear her laugh and we just shake our heads at the plotting that she and her friend Gaby have a tendency to engage in. 

We recently had a Guy Fawkes party and Gigi, along with some friends, scared the bleep out of everyone as they went to their cars to leave in the dark of night.

Guy Fawkes is also code for 'Bonfire Night', celebrated in England. Gaby's Mom, Amanda, is a British expat and so to celebrate we had the mandatory bonfire:

and. . .

fireworks. 

We even burned an effigy!

My parents came for a visit. I loved seeing them immerse in Latin culture. It was as if they had lived in Chile yesterday and not 40 years ago. No one could believe my Mom was over 70. Here, people outright ask her how old she is and make a huge deal about how vibrant she looks ("preserved" is a word I heard more than once!). People kept asking, "What is your secret??" and I think they were really hoping for an answer!

Rick is a trooper with his crazy schedule 'commuting' to um, a region so far away from here it's nuts! True to form, he never complains and teaches us every single visit how to make the most out of a day. We miss him when he is away and try to relish the time he is here.

His schedule, like the wrinkles we face here,  have taught us a lot about trying to focus on having a good time, enjoying every moment, and forgetting about minutiae that doesn't really matter. He helps us take the long view. J adores his Dad and he's been unbelievably relaxed, accepting and resilient in the face of Rick's 'commuting' schedule. 

I'm grateful to have a husband who has embraced my wanderlust unconditionally for nearly two decades. 

I'm thankful that when I choked and thought this Costa Rica idea was too crazy, too fast, too uncharted, he booked the tickets and gently asked, 

"How will you live with yourself if you don't?"

Some days over the last four months I didn't know if the sun was setting on my sanity as things seem to fall apart at different turns.

Turns out, all I had to do was remember that the saying, "tomorrow is another day" has been around forever for a reason. In Afrikaans the translation is, "the opportunity will always be there."

 Finding out what is behind the mask

isn't always easy. 

But it is always important.

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UPDATE

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Our street dog Casper is thriving. He gained 6.5 kilos in a week (that is a LOT) after a vet repaired, as best he could, the damage done to him when he was a bait dog. Some monster knocked all four of his canines out with a hammer so he wouldn't hurt what were probably prized pitbulls. He had an abscess so big, they believed it would have killed him before long. It was on its way to sinking into his jawbone. They removed chunks of shattered teeth lodged into his gums and removed the nub of what was left of one of the cracked off canines. The capacity this dog has for loving us and protecting us (he's chased off the literal thief in the night) is astounding considering what he has been through.  

 I think none of us have ever been so close to death as we were when we met Casper 3 months ago. My Dad said we should've named him Lazarus! It's hard not to be grateful when you wake up to see a second chance being played out. I wish he could meet our beloved Boxer back in Washington.

We also found out that he has a lot of Rhodesian Ridgeback to him. They were bred to bait lions. Casper teaches us a lot about fearlessness, he is that to his very core.

We miss you.