asia bird

I’ve been to Costa Rica once before, and loved every minute of it, so I didn’t think I was susceptible to culture shock. Apparently, I was wrong.

Our first week in Samara was discouraging. We didn’t like the food, couldn’t sleep because of the humidity, the bugs were eating us alive, and we felt like we were unwelcome by the local ticos. We’d walk around town and wave and say the customary “buenos días” to ever human we saw. Most of the time we got a few mumbled “buenos días” back, but sometimes people wouldn’t even acknowledge that we’d spoken to them! Also, we kept hearing how dangerous Samara is, and how we have to be extremely, almost overly cautious. They told us stories about being robbed at gun point and about being chased down by robbers. Of course, this is all because of the Columbians living down at the far side of the beach, so, we were told to never walk on the beach at night.

More and more, Kevin and I started spending time at the apartment and feeling like it was the only place we could relax. We even threw around the idea of changing locations and heading to a different place in Costa Rica. We decided to try and stick it out for two weeks, and if we still were unhappy we’d go somewhere else. I’m proud of us for not giving up because as the new week started things started looking up. We realized that we’d been kind of harsh on the local ticos and acknowledged that maybe some people are just grumpy….they don’t even really say hello to each other, so it wasn’t just us! We started getting used to the humility, and started making friends.

On my first day at the Samara Language School they gave us a little booklet about the school, the town, and getting used to life abroad. I thought it was really interesting and realized that we’d been going through culture shock.

It says:

Culture shock is brought on by the anxiety that results from losing all our familiar signs and symbols. These signs or cues include the thousand and one ways in which we orient ourselves to the situation of daily life, when to shake hands and what to say when we meet people, when and how to give tips, how to give orders in a restaurant, when to take statements seriously and when not. These cues may be words, gestures, facial expressions – all customs or norms which we aquire in the course of growing up, and are as much a part of our culture as the languages we speak or the beliefs we accept. When an individual enters a strange new culture, all or most of these familiar cues are removed. No matter how intelligent, broad-minded, or full of goodwill he or she may be, a series of props have been knocked out from under him or her. This is followed by a feeling of frustration and anxiety. All people react to this frustration in much the same ways, but in varying degrees. First, they reject the environment which causes the discomfort. The ways of the host country are bad because they make us feel badly. Another phase is regression. The home environment suddenly assumes tremendous importance. Some other symptoms of culture shock are: excessive concern over cleanliness and the feeling that what is new and strange is ‘dirty’; a feeling of helplessness; irritation over delays and other minor frustrations, out of proportion to the causes; excessive fear of being cheated, robed or injured; great concerns over minor pains.

The booklet, outlines four phases:
The honeymoon phase – I think we felt this when we were in Costa Rica before. We were with a group of friends, and every second was filled with fun and activities.

The hostile phase, the grin and bare it phase, and the effective adjustment phase. I think we are past the hostile phase, and are towards the end of the grin and bare it phase. It feels like we are getting used to being here, and are enjoying ourselves. The bugs seem to have gotten used to us, and we them. The sound of the rain lulls us to sleep, and the humidity really isn’t a problem any more. And the more we immerse ourselves in the community, the more we feel like a part of it (go figure), and find local Ticos that are warm, friendly, and inviting.

All in all, I’d definitely say we experienced some culture shock – which is a shock! :P

In Costa Rica, the little corner markets are called supers. They are basically the equivalent of a 7-11. However, the only real grocery store is about an hour away in Nicoya. You can’t buy much at these supers, even the biggest super in Samara…Super Samara.

Kevin and I were really looking forward living in a tropical paradise, and had visions of ourselves eating all the fresh fruits and vegetables that were sure to abound everywhere. We imagined that we’d be up to our eyeballs in every exotic wonderful fruit known to mankind, grilling up steaks, and chicken and fish every night and tantalizing our taste buds like never before. We just knew that we’d stuff ourselves silly until we rolled around on the ground holding our swollen bellies with big fat smiles on our deliciously satisfied faces. After about two days we realized that this was not to be the case.

Surprisingly the only fruit in the stores that isn’t completely crawling with ants are the pineapples, bananas and apples. There are no vegetables, except maybe potatoes, that don’t look like they’ve been living in the bottom drawer of the fridge, rolling around getting bruised and age spotted and all withered looking.

hmmm…soooo…we’ve pretty much been living on eggs and popcorn. Unless we just can’t take it anymore and go out for some local cuisine. Unfortunately, the local ticos are working with the same problem. Crappy food selection. However, they’ve solved that problem, by deep frying everything. It reminds me of that episode on the Simpsons when Moe turns his bar into a restaurant and everything he serves is deep fried. Even the trays and the silverware etc.

When we finally got a grill, we were so excited to cook our own meat!

We made a trip over to the local carniceria and bought chicken and steak thinking it was going to be the best meat we’d ever eaten. Wrong. It is so tough that Kevin can’t even cut through it, and chewing it is almost as pleasurable as chewing rubber. I think it’s because the cows out here have to use their muscles! Kevin calls it ‘donkey meat’, and after an hour of lighting the grill, cooking the meat (which had been marinating all night) he threw it away because it was so bad.

So, needless to say, we were very unstoked about the food here (especially because it was the opposite in Montezuma where we were in June). But there is a silver lining. We found El Lagarto! I’m not sure if we would have survived another second if we hadn’t found this place. It’s at the furthest end of the beach, and we kept hearing how expensive it was. It was indeed expensive, but well worth it. All the food is cooked on a grill, and they buy their meat from the volcano region wherever that is. So not only is the meat quality meat, but it’s grilled to perfection on an open air grill out side on the beach. The mere site of all that grilled goodness had us salivating before we even sat down at the table. So much so that we both ordered up meat specials. I ordered the plato mixto, which included chicken, pork, and steak and Kevin got the surf and turf. The meal was served on 1 inch thick slabs of tree trunk, which Kevin appropriately responded to by saying ‘it was the manliest meal, he’d ever eaten’.

So, with bellies full, and smiles on our faces we walked home knowing that we could starve all week, as long as we knew we could go to El Lagarto once a week. In the mean time, Kevin decided that the grill will only work for fish, and I found out that we are going to learn to make empanadas tomorrow at school. We think that stewing the meat is the way to go, and just eating apples, bananas, pineapples, and eggs for the rest of the time. I’ll let you know how it goes. In the meantime, I need to go console Kevin who is upstairs in the fetal position cradling his Costco card.

Don’t get me wrong, there are a lot of great things about living here, just not the food…so far!