So I’m stuck in Ft. Lauderdale airport, without a phone and practically non-existent “free wifi”, I’ve watched the only two movies on my computer (Pulp Fiction and It’s Always Sunny Christmas Special), read the only two books I have (The Help and A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, -and the Jew deep down inside of me is preventing me from buying another one at double the price in the custy shop… sorry if that offends anyone-). Needless to say I am quite bored, and my mind is running rampant sitting here physically and mentally halfway in between my life in Costa Rica and my life in New York.
This morning I said bye to my host mom. I walked through the gate which I had walked through so many times before listening to her yell after me “Se vaya bien” or “tiene su sombrilla?” except this time the only words uttered were muffled by the soft sounds of her crying. I didn’t cry then. I actually felt cold for not crying, and a bit strange because normally I can’t control my sobs. Writing this now, the tears are beginning to well up in my eyes, but I am trying my hardest to not be that disheveled girl crying atop her rucksack in the airport. I am really going to miss mi mama Tica. I truly felt a part of a family and leaving was as difficult as when I had to say goodbye to my family in New York, harder now because I am unsure of the next time I will return. As she says, “Así es la parte más fea” (here is the ugly part.) Throughout my time here, correction, there, I have tried to find the beauty in everything, and almost always was successful, but the beauty in saying goodbyes? I can’t see it.
(Sidenote: the girl next to me if fighting with the hotels/airlines about getting a discounted room tonight and the airline is claiming it’s not their fault because of weather-obviously-, and the hotel won’t honor any discounts for “distressed travelers.” How terrible is your life at this moment that you can label yourself a “distressed traveler” based on the fact you need to spend less than 12 hours in an airport? At any point does human kind stop wanting more? And what personal gain does one ever receive from complaining? Suck it up like everyone else sister.)
Maybe it’s because I have been gone for four and a half months, or maybe it’s because my flight is scheduled to leave here at 7 am and I have a slight suspicion that may be pretty unlikely with the way the East coast has been dealing with snow lately, but I still can’t imagine being back in New York. I’ve become so accustomed to life in Costa Rica, the food, the people, the language; I even began to tolerate “Tico time,” finding myself arriving late and not caring in the least bit. I keep talking to people in Spanish here in the airport on accident, “Disculpe!” If I ever fly out of limbo, I’ll be heading to Atlantic City on Thursday, and I’m afraid of the culture shock I am going to experience. I haven’t even worn anything resembling a nice outfit in almost five months; I don’t think a white-T, ripped leggings, and smelly tennis shoes will fly in the Trop. It’s interesting how the importance of material things develops over time, and how the importance differs in every culture. I hate sounding pretentious but it’s going to be really hard to see these differences staring me in the face. It’s already been so hard to see kids complaining about the most trivial things, like the amount of sauce on their pasta, and adults irately arguing over seat placement on their flight to the Keys. I do understand that this is the society we live in, the society I personally choose to live in, where rescheduled flights without compensation are unacceptable and manicured nails and two hundred dollar jeans are the norm. And I’m not at all saying I don’t own a pair of expensive jeans, or enjoy a nice manicure, but Costa Rica has taught me so much about these things. To appreciate every aspect of my beautiful life. To be grateful everyday for all that I have, the amazing people in my life and the unconditional love that engulfs me. To complain less, or better yet, not at all. That most things are never as bad as they seem, and it’s in fact quite easy to breathe and find a viable solution for every problem. And most importantly to stay positive and smile, in every moment, because looking at our truly privileged lives, it’s hard to find a just reason not to. In the words of a drunk Spaniard at one of the hostels we stayed at in Nicaragua, “I love life, because life loves me.”
