Welcome to Monteverde, elevation 1,300 meters, (yes, I'm starting to think in metric) Costa Rica. I've been here for ten days now, and I still can't get over it. I had a moment today, in front of all of my “classmates” and two of my “professors;” I just started laughing. This can't be school – it's too perfect. My backyard is a cloud forest, we go on field trips practically every week, and our “program orientation” involved two volcanoes, a four hour nature hike through a lowlands tropical rain forest, salsa dancing, a boat ride, a jeep ride, and one very restful afternoon in a natural hot springs pool. Across the road from the Monteverde Institute, where I'm taking classes, lies a cheese factory that makes homemade ice cream, and up the road about 100 meters is a yoga studio with classes taught in English.
The yoga teacher? An American ex-pat who has lived in Monteverde for years, but returned to the US for a brief stint to work for the Obama campaign. I haven't met her yet, but I've already fallen in love. Unfotunately for me, she's already married.
What made me break down and laugh, though, is by no means the coolest item on this list, but definitely the most unexpected: every Saturday at noon, there's a pickup game of Ultimate Frisbee at the Friends' School up the road. I don't think I'm ever coming home.
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On that note, welcome to my blog. Some of you read my “strangecrossing” blog entries while I worked for the Obama campaign. Now that I am not an official representative of our new president, I can write publicly, so no more emails. I'll be writing here when I can, as I spend the semester in Costa Rica and then travel south to Peru in June. Thanks for reading!
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The Monteverde Institute sits in front of a small patch of grass and a number of small tropical plants and trees. The one, low-lying, quarter-circle, green building is surrounded by tall evergreens of the tropical variety. (Give me a couple of weeks, and I'll be able to tell you their names.) Close by is the Monteverde Reserve, a private highlands rainforest reserve protected from logging and development for the sake of conservation, education, and scientific research. Up the road is the Quaker settlement of Monte Verde (that's where the Ultimate is), and in the other direction is the town of Santa Elena. Home to a few thousand people, a few bars, a youth hostel, and one “discoteque,” Santa Elena is where I, and most of the other students in my program, live. Nearby are a few other privately owned rain forest reserves, including the Santa Elena Reserve, where we're going on Friday, and one almost as well known as Monteverde: El Bosque Eterno de los Niños, the Eternal Forest of the Children, purchased in the 1980's by a Swedish kindergarten after a bake sale. I guess land was cheaper then.
All this is part of what as known as the Monteverde Zone, which sits just over the continental divide – when I pee in the woods, it ends up in the Pacific Ocean. It will be my home for the next four months, as I study topics of sustainability, development, ecotourism, and ecology with twenty two other students from Goucher and Mt. Holyoke University. I have no cell phone, and internet access can best be described as inconsistent. Everyone rides motorcycles or quads, which is unfortunate because Institute rules prevent me from doing so as well. The walk from my host family's house to the Institute takes about fifty minutes, and my classes start at eight every morning. If you even give one of the multitude of flea-ridden dogs a friendly look it will follow you for kilometers. One small little black dog has adopted our class – whenever groups bigger than five leave the institute grounds, it either follows behind or leads the way, depending on it's mood.
And that's it, so far. I already have a thousand thoughts I want to record here, but I tend to overwhelm even more when I write then when I talk, which is saying something. So check back often, keep reading, and leave comments! It makes me feel like I'm at least a little closer to home.
Translation of the day: Kilovatiohoras = Kilowatt-Hours. One of those things you would NEVER think about translating.
Adios,
~matt
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