Are My Ears Bleeding?

I remember in third grade when we were all given a recorder to play in music class. I suppose it was our introduction to band, which was a required class in fourth grade. I remember playing “Hot Crust Buns” over and over again. Well, I would now like to take this time to apologize to my family, babysitters, friends, dogs, and anyone else that was in my life during third grade and had to listen to me play that abominable instrument.

September 15^th is Costa Rica’s independence day so the high school in my town has been preparing for the celebration that will take place. Not only will the usual drum line perform but there will, apparently, be a recorder performance as well. I was lying in bed Monday night and I heard someone outside my house playing the recorder and after about thirty minutes I was ready to have my ears removed. It only got worse. Francel, my host brother, went outside and when he came back he was in possession of the recorder. He began to practice in the house. I wasn’t aware it was possible to be an awful at playing the recorder, but I am now very aware that it is very possible. Luckily my host mom was home and was clearly having the same thoughts, and she yelled at my host brother to “callate,” which means “shut up.”

Unfortunately, last night my host mother was visiting her mother after dinner and wasn’t there to tell Francel to shut up. Normally I have no problem telling Francel when he is annoying me. We fight like real siblings. However, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him to stop practicing because, God knows, he needs it. Instead I shut myself up in my room and put on an episode of “Grey’s Anatomy” in hopes to escape the piercing sounds coming from Francel’s recorder. He played “Hot Crust Buns” (yep its an international thing) over and over again. I kept removing my headphones to check to see if my ears were bleeding. I felt like pulling my hair out…

Eventually he got tired of practicing and the house was at peace once again.

In other news…

Life is going well here in Pacayitas/Mollejones. This past weekend my good friend, Caitlin, came to visit and experience an infamous Pacayitas Baile (dance). When ever I talk to other volunteers about my town their usual responses fall along the lines of, “ You have people your age in your town?” “You have a bar in your town?” “You have dances in your town?”… Yes I am lucky. I have lots of young people my age in my town and great friends my age. We do have a bar in Pacayitas and it is known to have fun dances every month or two. I was excited for Caitlin to see my town, meet my family, experience a dance, and attend a Sunday soccer game. We had a great time. Caitlin got to meet my friends that she has heard me talk endlessly about. We had a lot of fun at the dance.

Let me break down a Pacayitas Baile for you…

The music starts blaring around 7:30, however, no one ever shows up to the dance until a little before 9. I think this is a mixture of Tico Time (no Tico is ever on time) and being fashionably late. People come in from all the surrounding towns, normally on motorcycles or dirt bikes. Caitlin said she felt like we were in our own “Fast and the Furious” movie. The women come dressed in the tightest clothes and highest heels imaginable. Each man has used about a bottle of cologne and their hair is gelled into a perfect fro hawk. At first everyone stands outside. I am not sure why, but it takes a while for people to enter. Once people begin entering the bar, most of the guys stand along the back wall drinking beer and smoking cigarettes. The girls find tables and chairs and sit in groups. Minus the cigarettes and booze, it is a lot like a sixth grade dance, men on one side of the room and the women on the other. Finally a few guys will approach a table of girls, asking them to dance and breaking the ice for everyone. The DJ starts off with traditional Salsa or Merengue and then it turns into more Reggaatone, hip-hop, and techno. There are disco balls and strobe lights to set the mood. Caitlin and I danced with some of my friends. Then we sat and people watched, occasionally being interrupted by men asking us to dance. I don’t know how we were able to say no to their toxic scents of cologne and hair gel… but we politely declined. We left before the party was over and headed home, exhausted. When your bedtime is usually 8:30 it is hard to stay out past midnight.

It was a great weekend with great friends. I can’t believe I have less than four months left. Time is flying and I can’t quite tell you how that makes me feel. It is definitely bittersweet. Even the thought of having to leave my students and family gets me a little teary eyed. However, I do look forward to being closer to my family, friends, and dogs at home.

Well, I am crossing my fingers that Francel isn’t in the mood to rock out on the recorder tonight. I don’t think my ears can take another note.