New Orleans / U.S.A.

I have more or less gotten over the first wave of culture shock. This is an interesting city: almost exactly how I pictured it. There is a combination of rich, upper-crust households that line the suburbs with their old architecture, violence-ridden streets and scary places, the abandoned look of some places that were flooded (there are waterline marks still present on some of the buildings), and a generally fun feeling to the town in the old Honky-Tonk part, down where the seafood is served in the old French Quarters area and the markets all are. It is very obvious that New Orleans likes to party - there are musicians playing every night in gigs, and the radio announcers are always on the phone with those swingin' cats. I still haven't gotten used to the people or to the small, everyday things. I have always been able to shut off big cities when I need to: it comes, perhaps, from growing up in one, but I can always create my own mental space. But the people... As afraid as I was of saying the wrong thing in Spanish when I first arrived to Costa Rica, I am now afraid of saying here, in English. I almost feel safer being polite in Spanish to this diverse crowd of people.

As for everyday things like using the toilet and shower ...maybe it is the little things that can lead us to feeling isolated. I am so used to putting the tissues in the trashcan, or peeing outside, or showering with a thin stream of ice cold water (but warming up almost immediately from the humidity), or of being so close to home that I can change immediately out of rain-soaked freezing cold clothes. Strange, to have electricity at the ready, Internet (which I am using right now), hot water that's in "no danger" of running out, expectations to use the toilet (and being discouraged from not using it), everything in disposable containers, walking around wet and freezing, whereas in Costa Rica you look friggen nice, as Marley put it, when you walk outside. My host mother Flor would be shocked if she saw me. Oy. I think that I am overwhelming myself in writing about this. I also think that I am casting this in way too negative a light. It's just culture shock, after all, just me adjusting to a new environment and pining for the old one. Two days ago, we went out for lunch to Cafe Reconcile - I ordered the veggie sides plate with mashed sweet potatoes, mixed seasonal vegetables, and sweet corn. I nearly started crying when the plate arrived. I made sure to eat Jack's friend's leftover jalapeno cornbread, as well as all the complimentary French Bread, not wanting to waste any of it. I felt no connection to my food; I didn't know where it was grown, or even who cooked it. I searched my womb, and I couldn't find it, nothing. But at the same time, I was shocked at how good it felt to eat that warm, vegetable food that made my senses so happy - the squash, sweet potatoes, and corn. But how dare I eat it when I didn't know where it was grown, where it could be grown hundreds of miles away? And the sweet butter, seemed like something out of a dream. As though after being in Costa Rica, I was experiencing what everyone experienced when they tasted the American Dream for the first time. It's not bad and it's not good, it's just very different, and it can be alarming at first once you realize where you are. I just felt very out of place right then.

Jack's family is having a crisis right now: one of his sisters took the car late last night and disappeared. There's more to the story, but it does not feel right to share the details. It has made me realize, though, not to take other peoples' stories, jokes, or lives too lightly. If I get the sense that something might be a personal issue, then I should be cautious about it. This family is so blunt with each other that I thought half the time they were joking. I can see I was wrong. As of right now, I am trying to be polite to everyone and not take any sides - just be supportive during their crisis. It is hard to do when people bash each other so openly - and it is obvious that everyone's hearts are not at peace right now.

But on the happy side, I'll be getting to see my Mississippi relatives in a few hours. Jack is taking me up there when he can find a car. I am thankful to him. He'll get some time away from the situation here, and we can reflect on our experiences in Costa Rica, make sure we're ready to go back to Santa Cruz. He and Demetria are not looking forward to him leaving again. It's been pretty hard on both of them.

Take care,
Yvea