I’m having my first glass of red wine since I arrived in San
Luis to celebrate the weekend. I live on
an alcohol-free campus, so don’t tell anyone that I have a box of $6 Clos in my
casita.
I’m riding a couple of highs tonight. The weekend began with a last minute decision
to walk down the hill to the community center for Friday afternoon Zumba. The road was rocky and windy, but once
inside, I couldn’t stop smiling. The
large sunny room was full of women, young and middle-aged, following the
enthusiastic lead of a young Tica with chestnut skin, dreads, and a sweet
bright smile. She told me after class that she, as well as other instructors, would be leading the classes in
coming months because she had a baby on the way, as she rubbed her tiny
protruding belly.
I walked back up the hill after class, noting to myself that
just the walk there and back was enough exercise for a day, but happy with my
aching muscles and brain endorphins. A
middle-aged woman from class ran past me on the road with her earplugs in, smiled
and waved; I was amazed at her stamina.
I panted my way back home, showered, then stuffed my belly with food and
hot chocolate, watched Lord of the Rings with friends in the communal casita,
and headed off to bed.
Saturday morning, I had my first interview with a
student. I’m doing a phenomenological
study on how students use their senses to make meaning of their experiences
abroad. I’m exploring the links between
a sensual embodiment of place and adaptation for students abroad. The first interview went great, and I’m
looking forward to more. Afterwards, I
designed an experiential learning workshop for the spring semester
students. The purpose of the workshop is
to raise awareness of value differences across cultures. I finished the agenda and sent it to the
professors. I’m looking forward to
leading it on Wednesday.
Feeling productive, I wondered what to do with the rest of
my Saturday. Not able to settle on one
activity, I did it all. First, I backed
up my computer and closed my eyes for a cat nap. Then, I found a nearby hammock and read
“Women’s Ways of Knowing,” a study about how women develop their self, voice,
and mind, with implications for education for women. I decided I needed to move, so I grabbed the
basketball and went down to shoot a few hoops.
Feeling a bit restless, I walked down to the lower part of campus that I
had yet to explore and found a better, more secluded hammock. I sprawled out in the hammock as the sun
lowered in the sky and read another chapter.
Then, I walked down to the biggest biodigester on campus, which is in
construction. In case you haven’t heard,
a biodigester uses bacteria to break down waste and release methane gas. So, all the “waste” produced by humans (or
animals) on campus could be used to make gas (to fuel the fires in the kitchen
and cook our food) at no cost to us.
Yay, sustainability! Walking back
from the biodigester, I was struck by the view of the mountains from this side
of campus. Typically, I spend a lot of
time shuffling between the casita village, dining hall, library, and rec
center. I hadn’t spent a lot of time on
this, the lower side of campus, and gazing up into the hills, as they rose high
above with the clouds passing overhead and mist falling, was an impactful
experience.
It was an hour until dinner, and I was still feeling a bit
restless. It was a quiet afternoon, so I
decided to go to Perezoso, our open-aired rec center, and do some Hatha yoga
and Japa yoga before dinner. I chose the
view towards the mountains for my sun salutations and was happy that I
did. I had 20 minutes before dinner, so
I called my parents from the wifi at the communal casita. They were having a lazy day in South
Carolina, watching the snow melt and napping the afternoon away. Buster was sitting in Mom’s lap. They were thrilled to hear that I had not
only learned how to milk a cow, but that I was also teaching the tourists how
to milk our cow. “Granddaddy would be
proud! He’d go around poking people in
the chests saying, ‘My granddaughter is teaching people how to milk
cows!!’” (Granddaddy made his living
with a dairy farm in Bush River, South Carolina.)
After dinner, or after hot chocolate, rather, (made from our
cows’ boiled milk), I couldn’t be kept from the community dance class in the
rec center. We could hear the music from
the porch, so Kathryn and I made our way down to watch. The instructor swept me up from my seat and
used me to demonstrate some merengue moves.
“Como se llama?” I asked him.
“Javier,” he replied.
I found Javier! You
see, the last time I made the journey into town, I asked around for an advanced
salsa dancer. I was looking…because no
one here dances salsa. They all dance
cumbia, which is fun, but it doesn’t help me get my salsa fix. The guys on the street said that Javier was
the one. They didn’t have his number,
but they would give me their numbers, and I could call them to get Javier’s
number.
But I didn’t call them.
I meant to, but I didn’t…so….I had found Javier in person at last,
teaching the community dance class on campus.
He was a great lead, fun and energetic.
He invited everyone to go out tonight to Bar Amigos for dancing. I couldn’t go tonight, so I asked him for his
number or some way to keep in touch. He
searched through his bag, but couldn’t find his card. A man standing nearby said that he could give
me Javier’s number! He worked on campus,
so he could give me Javier’s number on Monday!
Ah well, so I still don’t have Javier’s number, but I know
his face, and we’ve had our first dance.
I also met a cool girl from Miami at the class who clearly loves to
dance, and is an amazing dancer, but hasn’t yet caught the salsa bug. Let’s see if we can get her bit.
It’s funny how things unfold. The girl who is from Miami, Iyanna, is in school at
Mt. Holyoke near Springfield, MA, which is where my Dominican friend, who I
dated last spring, is from, who I met in a salsa bar in Northampton, MA, which
I recommended to her to check out when she returns to school in a few
months. My Dominican friend had just
sent me a message yesterday, a warning about a girl who was studying at the
Monteverde Institute and was raped in the beach town of Montezuma. I mentioned the incident to Iyanna, who is
also studying at the Monteverde Institute, and she knew of it and wondered how
I knew. We decided to be extra careful
in the beach towns, and she’s decided to check out the Tuesday night salsa at
the Iron Horse in Northampton.
And so it’s 10:30 now, way past my bedtime. Time to take a flashlight and scan the
corners off my room for tarantulas, look under the bed for snakes, usher out of
my room any lizards or frogs who may have encroached upon my territory, and
kill any bug or spider who may have found its way under my sheets or
pillows. Jamie and Emily come back
tomorrow from their visa trips to Nicaragua.
Louise, the new naturalist from Scotland, arrived today. There’s a lot to look forward to…a party that
we’re planning in Perezoso for next weekend, laying out with Kelly tomorrow at
the farm, teaching another salsa class on Thursday, more $3 boxes of Clos
Cabernet, swimming in the river, more Friday afternoon Zumba, and
always…dancing, dancing, dancing. Good
night, sweet dreams, until next time.
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