Christina Morelli

Reality. Check.

A week ago I boarded a nine hour, two-stop bus ride leaving Tamarindo and heading to my next destination. I was greasy from only taking cold showers, hungry from only eating granola bars, and tired from being up all night swatting away mosquitoes and bugs. My volunteer work was over and the only conclusion about life I had come to was that I was going to move to California. I was terrified to return to New York.

And then the most miraculous thing happened… I walked into air conditioning. I took a hot shower. I ate a handful of almonds and some fresh mango. I sipped a glass of red wine. REAL red wine. (I shudder at the thought of the sour pink wine I was served at our local bar in San Ramon). After I was pampered for a bit, I sat down and took in some tough love.

I was asked questions that I didn’t have an answer to. I was made to feel like an intelligent, successful “grown up.” I was treated as an intellectual equal by two brilliant, warm and wise adults, while being guided in the same gentle manner as a doe-eyed teenager. I felt like my own parents had somehow channeled themselves through these non-biased and compassionate mentors. I listened. And I learned.

I return home in a less than a week, and I finally feel like I’m ready to go back. I have direction and I have a purpose.

Most importantly, I’ve found balance between my harshly realistic outlook on my career and my overly idealistic views on love. I know my worth.

As you all read this I’ll be sitting on a speed boat to Mal Pais to conclude my trip. It will be my last few days to “vacation”- to unwind, take in the scenery, explore the culture, read those books I’ve been saving, meet more people, and get owned by a few more waves. I have a seriously intense road ahead of me and I plan to savor every moment of the serenity, here and now.

But have no fear New York… I’m coming home. Hold on to a few of those majestic fall colors until I return.

Love.

Today’s post is dedicated to love. The love that my family and friends, both new and old, have showered me with in the past month that I was away. If it were not for your love, I may never have found the path that I will be heading down when I return home.

26 days ago I was completely lost. I came to Costa Rica in a state of quiet desperation, hoping that some miracle would find it’s way to me and give me all the answers. And it did. It came in many different forms.

Some mornings it arrived on my iPod on my long journey up to work. Some days it appeared in my inbox in an e-mail from someone who took the time to write me while I was away. Some nights it popped up on my cell phone as a “thinking of you” text.

In other ways it came in the form of tough love. When I considered the idea of uprooting my entire life to start fresh, I was guided by the voices of both strangers and close friends to reconsider my choice. For the first time in awhile, I listened to those voices.

Now I sit on the horizon of an exciting new adventure, one that will change my life and the lives of those I will help when THEY are feeling lost. The Universe has been good to me… She shook me up a bit but then dropped me exactly where I needed to be. I am so excited, so thankful, and so anxious to begin.

I return home to NYC in 10 days, and I can’t wait to give my love right back to the people who have shared it with me along the way.

Until then, know I carry every single one of you with me everywhere I go.

Surf’s Up

After getting past the initial wave of being on my own and making the decision to leave my hostel for a slightly cleaner room (I woke up to a bug on my pillow the following morning… Um, no) I settled in a new spot in Tamarindo and made friends right away. It’s funny how life changes almost instantly when you just tweak the little things that aren’t working. For example, ever since I got to Costa Rica I have been saying that I wanted to learn how to surf. When I walked out into the common area at Hostel Pura Vida, I met two really nice girls who had a lesson scheduled for that exact day, and they invited me to join. Had I not left Bug City and tried someplace new I would have missed out on meeting some great people and the opportunity to try out something I’ve been excited to learn.

I’m sure it will surprise no one that my competitive spirit translates even to individual sports, and surfing is no different. Not only did I stand and ride several times in my first lesson, I was upgraded from the learner’s board to a real one and impressed my instructor with holding my own on a pretty big wave.

This isn’t to say I was a natural… Let me tell you something- surfing is HARD. If you aren’t careful, the ocean will kick your ass. Strong currents and the unpredictable waves of the Pacific led to quite a few injuries my first time out, including a gash to the thigh and what felt like a brief separation of the muscles and bones in my hips and legs. Between bug bites and bruises my legs have never looked hotter.

But that feeling of accomplishment, of conquering a fear and realizing strength, made it all worthwhile. Life is about taking risks, pushing yourself past your limit, trying things outside of your comfort zone. You may not succeed at everything… Believe me, I wiped out more times than I could count. And that’s ok. I learned from it.

After a few fails the first go-round my instructor, Jonathan, gave me some advice. “You know what you’re doing wrong? You’re looking down. Don’t look down.” Each time I hopped on the board and went for it Jonathan shouted the same thing, “Don’t look down!”

And you know what happened as soon as I started looking up? I rode my first wave. (Jonathan also called me by the wrong name the entire lesson, still can’t figure out why, but apparently my surfing persona is a woman named Maria).

Each day that I’m here I encounter a new person or experience that seems to guide me along the path of self-discovery. Sometimes it comes in the form of a reminder of my past, other times it comes as a sign to where I should take my future. While there’s still a lot to figure out and my overactive mind changes every day, one thing is for certain…

I’m no longer looking down.

Here I Go Again…

As you´ve all probably figured out from previous writing, I´m not a huge fan of goodbyes and this morning was no exception.  At 8am I boarded a shuttle to Tamarindo and waved goodbye to Annie, Katie, Tasha, Matt, and Leif, having seen off Tom yesterday.  I felt a little choked up as I took my place by the window, knowing that I was now on my own for the next two weeks, and getting closer to returning home.  The past three weeks of volunteering have opened my eyes to so much, from learning about different cultures to seeing how hard true manual labor can be, and I don´t think I was quite ready to let it end.  I cannot wait to come home just to post the pictures to share with you all of the amazing people I´ve met and work I´ve done… “Your heart will melt.”

To be honest, I also welcomed the daily distraction of working and socializing… it was the break I needed from reality and gave me time to sort out what I really wanted to do when I returned to the States.

I stared out the window for a LONG time today, as the car ride from Monteverde to Tamarindo lasted about four hours.  To be fair, the first hour and a half I sat rather nauseous… the unpaved roads in Costa Rica are a nightmare on the digestive system, but after the first stop we ventured onto some main highways and it was slightly smoother.  A huge smile was brought to my face when we got out at the rest stop and I was greeted by a tree full of toucans and two monkeys!  I saw more wildlife on my way to pee than I did in the whole Monteverde Cloud Forest, but hey, that´s life.

Once we hit the main highway drag the ride got a little smoother, and I was able to focus more on the beautiful scenery whirling past.  The one thing that really strikes me here is the sky… it comes in two dimensions.  The first, flat layer of sky sits like a painting, bright blue hues dusted with light strokes of clouds against the horizon.  The second layer jumps out at you like a 3D movie, huge puffs of white cotton that dangle mid-air, inviting you to come play.  Sometimes, on rainy days, they just sweep right over you like you´re an airplane buzzing through the sky.

At orientation three weeks ago they spoke of “culture shock,” warning us that we were bound to experience it at some point during our projects and living with the families.  I never really felt it until I arrived in Tamarindo this afternoon.  As I stood in my hostel room, the multiple beds and buzzing sound of roommates being replaced by a single bed and a collection of ants and mosquitoes to keep me company, I suddenly felt very alone.  I walked down to the beach and stared out at the Pacific for awhile, and then perched myself in a hammock and laid for about three hours, watching the sky go from blue to grey to pink and eventually, black.

Thoughts of the past few months swirled through my mind, as I focused on my latest decision and where life would go next.  It´s frustrating sometimes to be constantly starting over, feeling like nothing you try seems to stick and the problems you think you are leaving behind find their way of sneaking up on you at your weakest moments.  A friend tonight pointed out to me that sometimes hearts are not meant to heal… that a scar stays with you forever and its how you choose to protect it and cover it up that helps you move on.  I am a firm believer in seeing the best in people, and if nothing else I believe this trip has helped me open my mind and my heart to new possibilities and friendships with people I would have never expected.  It has also brightened my eyes to a huge world that exists outside of New York City, and has me looking to spending more time watching sunsets than the sunrises that I´m used to. 

So here I go again on my own… maybe a change of coasts will bring me closer to home.

The Costa Rican Way

It´s Thursday evening and I´m sitting at the computer at my host family´s home, waiting for the rain to subside before we head out for our last evening as a group in San Ramon.  The past three weeks have made a “little family,” as Annie calls us, out of 6 (now 7, a new volunteer joined us this week) strangers, and it will be sad to break up our home as three of us say goodbye this weekend.  One will be heading home, another is off to a different project, and I´m on my way to see the country for two weeks while the remainder continue to work on our house.

This week we added a roof to the walls and foundation laid, making our house look more like a “home” than ever before.  The work ethic of the Costa Ricans is impressive… these men go morning until night without a single complaint or any visible exhaustion.  The volunteers, while working hard, tend to take a few more breaks during the day, including my personal favorite- the pre-lunch lunch break.  It´s fun to wander through the rooms of the house picturing what they will look like after they´re finished and painted, and I wish I could be here the day Walter, Lindsay and Abigail move in to their “castle” on the hill.  We had a good laugh the other day when we asked one of the workers what Walter´s address would be and he responded (in Spanish), “Walter´s House, 100 KM east of the church, La Paz, San Ramon, Alajuela, Costa Rica.” 

I have a feeling my Christmas card won´t be getting there.  We also don´t know what happens if another Walter moves in to the village, but I guess you cross that path when you come to it.  Easygoing is definitely a good way to describe the Costa Rican way of life.

Yesterday we played a game of soccer (or FOOTBALL, for my British, Danish, and Costa Rican friends), Volunteers vs. Costa Ricans.  Although we ended up losing, 20-16, we´re pretty sure the Ricans cheated throughout most of the game.  I maintained my title in defense, even scoring a goal, despite the fact my legs and arms became a feasting spot for the vicious sand flies this country breeds. The field was muddy, we all took a beating, but it´s a day I will never forget.

Friday I say good bye to the workers and families who I´ve spent each day with for the past three weeks.  One of the saddest goodbyes will be to Sirenita (which translates to “The Little Mermaid”), the little Chihuaha/Jack Russell mix who became my best friend on the site. Every day she comes out to greet me with those big brown eyes that remind me of my childhood dog, Cocoa.  I will take my last morning ride on the Bluebird school bus, an ironic name for my daily journey for those that know the song that haunted me before I left.  And of course, I will say goodbye to my Costa Rican family, who, regardless of our language barrier, gave me a warm place to sleep and a full stomach every day.

After that, it´s on the road again.  Just me, my backpack, a bus, a beach… no set plans, no set schedule, just life as it happens.  It´s the Costa Rican way.

So much more than building a house…

Friday afternoon we boarded a bus from San Ramon to San Jose to begin our journey down to Manuel Antonio for some relaxing beach time after a week of hard work.  The house now has all of it´s walls up, the frames for the windows have been built, and the preparation for the roof is in place, with the only casualties being a few more mosquito bites and a 15lb breeze block cracking on my thigh (don´t worry, I have pics of the bruise for those interested.  It´s epic.)  It is incredible that just 2 weeks ago this spot was a simple piece of land and now it is a house.  We can walk through doorways and peer out where windows will eventually be placed, enjoying the breathtaking view that the family will wake up to every morning. 

On the bus journey down to Manuel Antonio an older Costa Rican woman took a seat next to me.  About 60 years of age, she had kind eyes, weathered skin, and a smile that revealed crooked and missing teeth.  To my surprise, she immediately began attempting to speak English with me.  I found this unusual because unlike Europeans, many of the Costa Rican people are quite comfortable with their native language and speak/understand little English.  The woman proceeded to tell me she lived in New Jersey for a year where she worked at Wendy´s and her daughter worked at ShopRite.  Both she described as SO nice and SO beautiful.  She spoke of her family, her grandchildren, and her house in San Ramon, and she asked me what brought me to Costa Rica.  I told her about the building project and you could see the genuine joy in her eyes and she blessed me and my fellow volunteers, telling me how much she loves Americans, loves English, and loves me.  It was the sweetest thing I´ve encountered since I´ve been here.  The appreciation she had for such basic things in life was sweet and innocent, almost child-like, and reminded me of why I came to Costa Rica in the first place.

There really is a laid back way of life here that is both comforting, settling, and inspiring.  Most nights I´m so exhausted after work I end up showering, eating dinner, writing, and reading.  The two albums I´ve had on repeat quite a bit this week are Sara Bareilles´s latest ¨Kaleidoscope Heart¨(yes, STILL listening and still loving it) and my friend´s band Malpais (in honor of my time in CR).  Both have songs and lyrics that really speak to me right now and I am enjoying getting lost in the words and music on a nightly basis.  My journal has been getting a lot of action as well, and of course my camera is out every day.  The book my friend Justin gave me, ¨The Celestine Prophecy,¨sits on my nightstand and I am loving it so far… such a thought-provoking and well-executed concept.

This past weekend the six remaining volunteers ventured to the beach in the hopes of a weekend of sun, but alas, it has been cloudy and raining.  We did get some sand and ocean time in yesterday, and the hostel where we are staying has lovely hammocks to swing in while overlooking the Pacific, so overall it´s still been a great experience.  I enjoyed my first official Costa Rican ¨casado¨ yesterday, a traditional dish of rice, beans, salad, fried plaintains, and for me, fish, that was a welcome break from the overdose of carbs I typically consume during the week.  Costa Ricans add white rice to any dish the way we would add a piece of bread, and I´ve had quite a few meals that consisted of potatoes and white rice, or pasta a white rice.  I would give a vital organ for a big salad and some mangoes on most nights.

Sitting on the computer at Hostel Vista Serena, I occasionally look up, gaze past the forest of trees and land and into the clouds settling over the Pacific Ocean.  A fresh cup of coffee is beside me, and a light breakfast of bread, butter, and jam waits outside the door.  The hostels here are not only an affordable option for travelers, they also offer a community environment where people who were perfect strangers just a few hours ago can now sit together on a porch and chat about life, work, and future travels.  It´s so easy to make a connection because essentially, you are all there for a similar reason and purpose.  I have found myself intrigued by so many people´s stories and it has given me a new perspective on my own life and what changes I want to make. 

This experience has been both empowering and comforting thus far, opening my eyes to things I have only read about or hear of, and it´s interesting to find myself building and connecting in a community that spans the globe and not just downtown NYC.  The next time I post I will have completed my work as a volunteer and will be working my way down the coast to explore the rest of the country. 

I cannot wait to see who else I meet along the way.

Saying Goodbye.

I’ve never been really good at goodbyes.  I suppose no one is, really, but there are those that manage to put up their walls in those instances and for that I am somewhat jealous.  When I’m leaving, all my walls come crashing down.

This week has been an emotional one, with scrambling to finish up writing projects, packing, going back and forth to NYC every night to see friends, and making my lists to ensure I have everything I need.  Last night was my final night out in the city, tonight I’ll say goodbye to family, and tomorrow night I anxiously await that 3 am car ride to JFK to board JetBlue bright and early Sunday morning.

I can’t believe it’s finally here.

For the first time since I booked the trip, I’ve started to feel nervous.  Butterflies float in and out of my stomach a few times a day as I try to process exactly where I’m going, what I’m doing, and what I hope to take away from it.  Saying goodbye to friends was especially hard, because the reality is I don’t know where I will end up when I return.  I haven’t simply taken a fork in the road, I pretty much found a random path in the woods and just took off running.  It’s a pattern I’ve grown familiar with, but never have I ventured so far as a new country to explore on my own.

Nonetheless, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.  The most important things I’m taking with me are my journal and my camera, both which I plan to use daily.  The main things I’m leaving behind are my computer, Facebook and Twitter.  It’s time for a little technology and social networking detox in my life.  I’m experiencing a strange mixture of feeling separation anxiety while looking forward to spending my time writing, reading, exploring my surroundings, and being a little MIA for a bit.

The next time I write I’ll be sharing my stories from an internet cafe in San Ramon.  I hope you’ll join me there.  

Until then, peace and love.

Adios, NYC.  You will be missed.