When I was 17, I had taken Spanish classes for at least 5 years, but nothing could have prepared me for that summer abroad in Ciudad Cortes, Costa Rica. It was my first time away from home for an extended period of time and I'd never experienced such difficulty in communicating or commuting before. Mostly, I never realized how much language shapes your personality and efficacy.
I was living in a small rural town with sporadic water and electricity which almost made it harder than never not having running water or electricity. The host family I stayed with didn't really seem to care about me, even when I got "calentura," or heat stroke, and fainted for the first time in my life. They seemed to be in it for the money from hosting, which was even more isolating and depressing. I was bitten so badly by mosquitoes that my joints wouldn't bend anymore and I had to go to the "hospital" for cortisone shots where the doctors and staff laughed at "la gringa estupida." I couldn't believe the "zancudos" (mosquitoes) could bite through jeans and thick socks!
The whole 2 months was an extreme culture shock despite the year of training and cultural sensitivity classes we'd taken. I dreamt of home frequently and couldn't sleep because it was so hot and humid, and we didn't have any air conditioning or anything. Every night I had to splay out all my limbs on my cot to try to stay cooler, making sure my hands didn't touch the greased up legs of the cot (done to prevent insects from crawling up it).
My first night there in my bedroom, I was astounded by an enormous cockroach about 3 to 3 1/2 inches on my pillow. I ran to tell my host mother in my broken Spanish and she called her son. He came into my room, looked at the beast of a cockroach, and silently retrieved a huge machete. He whacked the thing in half on my pillow, just leaving it there, and walked out of my room without a word. Welcome to Costa Rica!
I forget what I used to get the cockroach off my pillow, but immediately after that I noticed a strange insect that I've never seen anywhere since. It was on the wall next to the window with its menacing stinger, doing push-ups. I was bewildered and terrified despite trying to remain calm.
The only thing/person who saved me from going insane was my program partner, Amy, who was the only other person in town who spoke any English. We bonded very quickly to say the least. Unfortunately for me, she lived about 2 miles up the bumpy dirt road and my feet were my only means of transport. She and her host family, however, had air conditioning and a car!
A few weeks later while walking through town with Amy and her kind host mother, I saw a dead insect in the road the size of a softball. I pointed it out to them and they didn't believe it was an insect. Upon first glance, it did look like a rotting orange or trash, but it had antennae, wings, and legs! (20 years later, I've traveled to about 25 countries but have never seen the biodiversity and gnarliness of Costa Rica matched.)
During my 2 months in Costa Rica, in addition to endless insect bites, I developed coprophobia- the fear of solid excrement- and could no longer have a bowel movement. I gained 15 pounds, intestinal spasms, and parasites.
But despite all of the extreme hardship, that summer was by far the most important summer I've ever had. It taught me the meaning of gratitude, and gave me a deep appreciation for language and communication. I now have a lifelong compassion for foreigners and people who struggle with English or whatever the primary language is. Ciudad Cortes opened my eyes to how much we have and take for granted here in America, especially our advanced medicine and technology.
I wouldn't trade that experience for anything.
