Fast Car

Fast Car seems to be the theme song to the trip so far. I always hear it at the weirdest times. I get those good music tingles across my skin.

This afternoon I write from a fabulously air conditioned internet cafe I discovered across the street from the supermercado. This place certainly isn`t poverty-stricken, but when you really think about it, there are less luxuries than in Ann Arbor. You really do have to think about it though. Everyone walks around here as proud as any Old West Sider or Burns Parkian. This makes the third worldliness difficult to detect. Now, granted, I know that because of the volunteering nature of AFS, only families that have the means accept exchange kids. I know there are places much worse off. It`s just that things that would seem shabby in the US don`t here. There is a harmony in the tattered signs, rubbled sidewalk, gnarled trees and barefoot children. It`s like the way that everyone drives. In the US, any one Tico driver would be arrested, if not killed first in an accident. But because everyone drives like a maniac together, there is a balance in the chaos. This applies to lack of stress, slow pace and cultural vagueness around time as well. Pura Vida, mae.

On the weekdays, I`ve started waking up at 5 with my sister, Katerina, but because I go to school a couple hours later than her, I take a long run around the city. I can feel how out of shape I am, but at home I talked a big mess about how I`d come back all fit, but the rich food here isn`t going to allow me that. Not without a fight anyway. There`s no way I`m going to diet because A.) I love food too much and dieting never works, B.) I want to be polite and accept all the food I`m offered and C.) because food is one of my best friends, and the papas fritas, gallo pinto and carne asada are as comforting like a letter from home. Plus, the run helps me become more familiar with this little town, and the sunrise over the mountians is astounding. Every day, I try to remind myself to never take the scenery for granted, because every day, it feels more and more like home.

Yesterday, I went on a beautiful long bike ride with Lijia and Natalia, two friends from school. We went outside of Neily towards a pool, but a huge thunderstorm suddenly crashed over us. The biggest rainbow I`ve ever seen stretch out of the mountains as the pavement sizzled and flooded. Once back downtown, the people all laughed to see the sopping gringa. I`m trying to be seen in public as much as possible, but I still get those staring looks. I don`t mind, really. I`ve never had reason to be different than the people around me, and for now, it`s kind of fun.

I have been voraciously reading the Autobiography of Malcolm X. I try not to let it take time away from being social, but it`s engrossing. I have a lot of respect for him, but qualms as well. It`s a difficult read for any white "devil", I think. While not everything he says is easy to accept, or even true, it`s understandable once he backs up his opinions with personal anecdotes or history. That is, except for his hypocritical view of women. Using his same justification for calling the white person the devil, the same could implicate the male gender. At any rate, I`m not finished with the book, maybe he reforms these hypocrisies. I only bring it up, because I`ve been thinking about him a lot. Following his example of time spent in jail, I decided today that I was going to take control of my Spanish education and learn the entire English-Spanish dictionary. I`ve finished five out of 340 pages today.

Okay, I`m out of time.

Love to everyone,

Elaine