Two weeks after arrival. (I realize this post is late, but internet is a privilige in CR, not a right. And, I really did write this two weeks ago).

Some things I have learned/noticed thus far:

1) Costa Ricans (and I am going to take a gander here and say Latin Americans in general, and probably most other countries besides the U.S.) save everything. And I mean, everything. My host mom has plastic bags in the cupboard that are at least a year old. My family (of four people not counting myself) shares one towel, and that towel gets changed out once a week. Most of them are threadbare and a frankly, a little gross-looking by now, but that really doesn’t stop my mama tica from using them. In her eyes, a towel that still soaks up a little wet is still a towel, and it gets the job done. This is a way of thinking that I have yet to completely absorb, though once I do (and I really hope that I can) I think a few aspects of my life back in the states will probably have changed forever.
2) Costa Ricans love their families. Every day when my host brother comes home from work, the first thing he does is grasp his fathers hand and hug his mom. Ever day. My host brother is thirty years old. I have another brother that is thirty five; neither are married, so instead they live with their parents and work while the parents are retired. Everything they work for goes to benefit the whole of the family. No matter how much you try to justify it, things just aren’t quite like that at home.
3) Mangoes. . . are my new favorite fruit. I eat one every day at breakfast, and have yet to tire of the amazing ripe-ness that they can achieve sitting out in the ferias of Curridabat.
4) I could actually probably do a whole separate blog on all of the different foods I eat, but I feel like that might get boring. Basically, I have tried a million tasty things that are usually in the category of fried, rice, beans, eggs, and delicious. I think that about sums it up.
5) Time is completely warped here. This could have something to do with the fact that I am simply accustomed to a very different schedule, but for some reason, I wake up at the crack of dawn every morning, and end up going to bed at ten. I feel like my parents, but honestly it is just so hard to stay asleep in the mornings here—by eight in the morning, it feels like the middle of the day, both in terms of the heat and the number of people running along the streets. Hence, I wake up by seven and am mentally exhausted by about four. In these terms, ten is actually impressively late.