As Peace Corps volunteers we enter our communities for two years equipped with an entire flash drive full of resources (ideas, pre-made programs, previously used programs, workshops, talks, etc.), most of them tried and true by generations of previous Peace Corps volunteers.

Though many of these programs are excellent resources, and I have used my fair share of them, I have found that one of the more successful, sustainable ways of getting things done is not to look to what you know, but who you know.  That old adage always stands true.

To offer an example, my story goes a little bit like this. I was working with a group of high schoolers in an Art for Peace group.  One of our final projects was a very large community mural. Around the time that we were discussing ways to raise funds for paint, I coincidentally met the director of a children’s art nonprofit in the capital of San José (two hours from my community).  In talking with her about my reasons for being in Costa Rica and my responsibilities, she immediately offered to help out, and more specifically with the mural.  My goals were right in line with hers, and a little collaboration was what we were both looking for.

On location in front of our mural

The non-profit, ASART (Associación Artística para los Niños), donated all the paint for the mural, and rounded up 15 adult volunteers to work with the six youth to spend a day painting the mural on the theme of peace.  To top it all off, they arrived on the day of the mural painting with a national morning news show, Buen Día, to do a report on the collaboration between rural youth and a large city non-profit.  The youth were interviewed and filmed painting, surely something that they had not previously done in their young lives in this rural pueblo.  It was a huge success, and in the end we didn’t have to rummage up funds for paint.

Moral of the story?  Don’t just look at what you know, look at who is around you.  They know a lot more.

I gave her as uncomprehending a stare as I could, and she explained “Ob Sie genug Platz haben!” (if you [formal] have enough room). I understood, mumbled something affirmative, and began to work out the fact that “Geeps?” was “Gibt’s?” a contraction of “Gibt es?” which means “Is there?” – as in enough space. I was pretty proud to have reached that conclusion by the time the bus dropped me off at Sewanstrasse, 15 minutes later.

This kind of thing used to happen to me quite a bit in Chile. Chileans do not dish out crisp little sentences as many Latin Americans do. They lob around crazy mud-pies at full speed, after having changed some endings, remove “s” and “d,” and toss in a bunch of diminutives and slang.

Thus, mas o menos becomes maomeno; quieres is queri; estas is estai; café is cafecito; pescado is pescao; mucho is caleta; fiesta is carrete; perrito is cachorro; cerveza is chela, etc., etc., ad infinitum.

I learned Spanish in Chile, and never studied formally – which essentially means I speak Chileno rather than castellano. There are some words that I learned wrong, like “respuesta” (response). Chileans pronounce this word “repueta” – and that is how I thought it was spelled for a long time. I recently discovered that “paraguas” has an “s” at the end.

Just last week I was advised, to my great consternation, that “denantes” – a word I use quite a bit to mean “before,” or “a minute ago” – exists only in Chile, and is grammatically questionable. As a devoted grammarian, I was concerned: how many other incorrect Chilenismos pollute my Spanish?

A few months ago I met a Mexicana and was blown away by her enunciation, and the relaxed pace of her speech. At first I thought she had slowed down deliberately for my benefit – but it eventually dawned on me that that was simply how she spoke. For a few minutes I was in danger of becoming embittered against the entire nation of Chile for making me suffer. But I couldn’t – I love Chilean Spanish! And I’m incredibly relieved that I can finally (mostly) understand.

Nereida Heller is currently volunteering in Puerto Aisén, Chile with the English Open Doors Program. For more about her experiences, check out her blog.

For more musings on learning another language, check out these posts from other La Vida Idealist bloggers: “How to Learn a Language“; “The Multiple Personalities of You“; “¿Dónde Está El Baño?“; “Help! I’ve Reached the Foreign Language Flatlands!”; “What Your Language Teacher Doesn’t Want You to Know”; “Could You Pick Up Some Milk and a Second Language While You’re Out?”; “Forget Language Teachers…I’ve Got Kids”; and “5 Surprises About International Volunteering: #2 – Language Non-Barriers.”

After having lived in this community over a year now, I am feeling comfortable.  I am learning the pace of this culture and the ins and outs of working in it.  And it is nothing beyond easy.  And so when I found myself filled to the brim with frustration in front of the board of directors, I learned a big lesson.

Long-term international development work is a unique experience.  It’s quite different than just moving to a new city in your own culture to start a job.  Not only do you know no one, but you also don’t know the culture and how they work.  Can they work as a team?  Can they not?  Are they efficient?  Are they organized?  You learn all that by trial and error.  As I have found out, there are many important lessons to learn when beginning to work in another culture.

First, the biggest lesson I have learned, is to not to get too stressed about anything.  Coming from a fast paced culture, we are used to deadlines and efficiency.  Upon my first few times of experiencing extreme inefficiency in my community work here in Costa Rica, I saw that no one else but ME was worried or stressed about it.  I quickly let that go.   It’s just a cultural difference.

Second, know that the pace of life is different.  Life moves slower in Latin America.  In Costa Rica, the official country slogan is pura vida, or pure life, which basically means everything is all right and no worries abound.  Life is slow, simple, lovely, worry-free.  Another one of those cultural differences.

Third and finally, as in any culture, communication is key!  Lack of communication will contribute to frustration and to being what the Costa Ricans call “brava” or bossy/fiery/snappy, oftentimes in inappropriate situations (like in front of a board of directors)!  Also, remember, what may seem as a lack of communication to us, could also just be chalked up to another one of those cultural differences.

But don’t get me wrong, I know that working in another culture can also be extremely rewarding.  It’s these important lessons we learn through cultural differences that make us more well-rounded people, ready to face any challenge that comes our way, in our own culture or in another.

Rebecca Stumpf is currently a Peace Corps volunteer in Copey de Dota, Costa Rica. To read more about her experiences and see more of her photography, check out her website and photography blog. For some delicious recipes, check out her food blog.

Central American culture and people have a unique flair, like the bright yellow church in hurch in San Andres Xecul, Guatemala

While you read this, I should be on a plane back to the States. As this Latin American production wraps up, I’d like to present the Centries, which honor the highlights of my Central American experience (the marketing department’s working on the name).

Best special effects: The Friday mercado in San Francisco, Guatemala. One of the biggest in Central America, it’s a Peter Jackson-scale assault on your senses. There’s every kind of food, animal, clothing item or appliance you would want, along with those you wouldn’t (e.g. dismembered alligator limbs and baby chicks dyed different colors). Bonus for the mysterious disappearance of my wallet.

Best character, drama: Luis, a student in my advanced English class in Costa Rica. He spoke well and brought a great energy. But what I really loved was he always wanted to talk about big concepts. One exchange:

LUIS: “Teacher, what do you think about the future?”

KENT (hopefully): “Umm, you mean the future tense, like will?”

LUIS: “No, our future – the future of people.”

And off the lesson would go.

Best character, comedy or musical: Marea, a friend in Puerto Jimenez, Costa Rica. She’s about 20 years older than me and parties 20 times harder than me. Her fiestas always packed the house, with people dancing on kitchen stools or turning pots into drums. She’d also make a delicious, homemade Bailey’s-like cream drink referred to only as “contraband.”

Best supporting character: Antonio, my 9-year-old homestay hermano in Guatemala. What a great kid. He always wanted to play, be it the Spanish-word game basta or tazas, which are sort of like pogs. He loved overreacting, showing you his homework, and helping me make U.S.-style cookies for my school.

Best villain: The subjunctive mood in Spanish. If you know it, you know why. If you don’t, run.

Most “Central American” moment: So many to pick, but I’ll go with facing the full fury of a Latina’s temper. My female roommate had invited a couple to crash at our house. They stayed in her room, she slept in my room, I slept on my floor. Two coed couples in two rooms did not go over well with our house mom. Before coming down on us, she tore into the guest couple about how they need to wait until they are married. Best line: ¡Eso no es una casa de cita!

Kent Green recently left his position as a teacher with Costa Rican English for Sustainable Tourism, which is looking for volunteers now. To see what he’s up to post-volunteering, check out his blog.

According to my Spanish teacher, Latin America is the best place to learn it: ”La vida aqui es muy duro,” she said. “Entonces necesitamos pensar en un otro vida.”

She was joking, trying to alleviate my frustration and also, I assume, knowing the subjunctive probably existed before Latin America did.

Still, there might be something to this.

Things ain’t easy here. I wrote about this in my last post on Guatemala’s history, and other La Vida Idealist bloggers have as well. Seemingly simple things like utilities frequently fail. Money is short, and there’s often pressure to give as much as you can.

The latter has created a strange conflict within me; I want to give money to people asking for handouts more than ever. But, I’m torn by never being sure about where that’s going. I was hanging out with the director of my school last Saturday, and he gave a few Quetzales to a begging child.  He said sure, he’s not sure she really needs it or will use it for food, but you never truly know so why not err on the side of compassion.

I miss that side of myself, the 8-year-old me that didn’t understand why my parents passed by every person asking for money on a Chicago winter night. I guess I have seen too many scams and have grown up too do-it-yourself American to fully get back to where I was.

How I’ve decided to resolve it is head out to stores and shops more. The reality is that Guatemala is pretty cheap, and so even though it cancels out what I could be saving, I don’t mind heading out for a hot chocolate when I need to check e-mail, rather than heading to my school where Internet is free.

It’s a feeble dream of trickle-down economics. But I hope (and here would be a perfect place for the subjunctive) that somehow, it helps.

Kent Green recently left his post as a teacher with Costa Rican English for Sustainable Tourism, which is looking for volunteers now.

A Guatemalan girl in a traditional Mayan traje peeps in through a door.

One of the best things about Spanish school is that it’s not just about Spanish.

Coming in, I’d envisioned the teacher I currently have, who spends most of our time practicing grammar forms. God knows I need it, but my previous teacher (the school swaps instructors each week, so you can experience different styles) followed a different mold. Our lessons consisted of drawn-out conversations, ostensibly focusing on a language point but not really.

In these talks I learned heaps about the history of Guatemala. And what I learned – man, it’s not pretty.

I had no idea that the country’s civil war consumed possibly 100,000 lives. That there’s a dark history of abuses of indigenous people. That, in large part because of those massive problems, the country’s main economic driver is Guatemalans who’d moved to the States and send money back. Only hearing about these things made me sad.

The good part, then, is seeing how relatively content most Guatemalans seem to be. I asked a driver in Guatemala City if, after the country was battered by tropical storm Agatha, earthquakes, and a giant sinkhole, the attitude in the city was down. He said no, not really; people just went about and did things. My roommate here in Xela had a point on this; she suggested it’s possible Guatemalans have been raised not to expect as much as we do, so they’re more happy with what they have.

It’s not to say Guatemalans don’t want to improve their lot or that they don’t want to root out government corruption. They do. They’ve just been saddled with a lot of baggage to overcome, and they’re not about to have that stop them from enjoying life.

Living here, I’ve continually been stunned by how much has happened in Central American nations, places I’d up til now considered generally insignificant. And, I’ve continually been wowed by the quality of people I’ve met, people I’d up til now never even considered.

Thinking about that boggles my mind. I realize how much more is out there to know about. And how many more teachers I’m gonna need to do it.

Kent most recently left his post as an English teacher in Puerto Jimenez, Costa Rica and is currently traveling. To see what he’s up to, check out his blog or follow him on Twitter.

As it was explained to me, salsa is a dance of submission; the woman has to give up and follow the man. This idea could raise some hackles – and knowing the machismo culture here, that’d be understandable. Just for a few minutes, though, forget it and enjoy the beauty.

And, really, “beauty” is too tame. It’s straight-up hot when done to perfection. It makes the ridiculous undulations that go on in the U.S. seem as sexy as a streak of whale snot. After watching two top-notch dancers go at it for a few minutes, I wanted to make out with one of them, gender optional.

What struck me at one dance club in Xela was how free and fluid the men were (ladies, we know you’ve got elegance). Their moves were truly suave, and they’d fearlessly break away and spin like figure skaters or preen for the crowd.

If a guy in the States pulled this, some would snicker and mutter the British slang word for “cigarette” but mean something else. To dance the way Latinos can, though, makes them 10 times the man I am (never mind helping them land 100 times the girls I do).

The dancing ability here is strong in part because it’s done from a young age. It’s woven into the fabric of the lifestyle, something appropriate at the club, at a wedding, or at Wednesday night in a restaurant.

So, hey, United States: Stop watching the Stars dance, and start doing it yourselves.

Kent most recently left his post as an English teacher in Puerto Jimenez, Costa Rica and is currently traveling. To see what he’s up to, check out his blog or follow him on Twitter.

A group of students studies in the common room at a Spanish school in Costa Rica

Well, I’ve done this all backward.

More than six months after coming to Central America, I’m finally taking a long-term shot at Spanish school. I decided on the school I’m at – Sol Latino in in Quetzaltenango, Guatemala – after hearing good feedback from some travelers I met.

Before this, I spent one week at a school in Costa Rica, then left after I didn’t like it. I’ve also investigated several other schools. It’s difficult to classify what makes a good Spanish school. The variety (Xela alone has a gaggle of ‘em) makes it almost impossible to know what to go for. That being said, here’s a few tips from my experience:

Does the school have certified teachers? Instructors who are solely native speakers are great for conversation. However, they may not be prepared to address different learning styles. They also may have trouble helping a person who learns by the rules of grammar (like me). Actual teachers are more qualified for both.

How does the school decide which teacher you will have? My roommate in Xela goes to a different school than I do. She filled out a questionnaire when applying, and the school used the information to put her with a teacher that seemed suited to her personality. It’s worked out great for her. My school doesn’t have this, and I think it’s an excellent model. My first teacher at Sol Latino was good, but low-energy demeanor was not for me. Obviously, such a test wouldn’t guarantee a good match (online-dating sites, anyone?), but I think it’s a good start.

How much does it cost and how do you pay? The first point is a no-brainer: Can you afford the school? What’s more important is how the school makes you pay. One school in Panama I liked, for example, had prices that went down the more time you spent there. However, it asked you to pay up front. If I didn’t like it, I’d have lost a lot of money. I prefer to pay week by week. That offers the freedom to change if needed.

Sometimes, it all comes down to luck: Hate to end on this point, but it’s true. So much of the experience will depend on factors you can’t control. The teacher you get. If you click with the other students who attend the school. The temperament of your homestay family. The first choice you make in a school will be a risk, no matter what. But, whether you stay for months or bounce after the first week, it will be a learning experience.

And that’s what school’s all about.

Kent most recently left his post as an English teacher in Puerto Jimenez, Costa Rica and is currently traveling. To see what he’s up to, check out his blog or follow him on Twitter.

1. Life goes at a different pace here – slower, calmer. Here, I very rarely feel rushed or stressed or pressed for time. It’s the pura vida mindset that Ticos use to infiltrate their lives and their way of being; it’s that everything-is-okay, no-worries sort of mindset that has really become part of me.

2. Here, we are not responsible for our actions – God is. Everything here is “Si Dios quiere” (If  God Wills.) It’s funny how the answer to everything is, Si Dios quiere to phrases such as: “See you tomorrow”; “Let’s have a meeting next Monday at 4 p.m.”; “I’m flying to Panama tomorrow.”  Si Dios quiere is always the right answer.

3. Hot water is a commodity, so you really grow to appreciate it.

4. I have over a hundred avocados ripening on three trees 50 feet from my back door.

5. The typical greeting when passing in the street is not, hola, but adios, which literally means “to God.”

6. How I can walk down the street and say hi to someone sitting out front of their house, and before I know it I will be inside drinking cafecito and eating bizcocho – mere strangers five minutes earlier.

7. I am getting more physical and mental rest here than ever before, not to mention, probably adding 10 years on to my life.

8. Horseback riding is a common form of transportation.  No one looks twice at the man and his horse trotting down the highway.

9. I love how coffee here brings you to stop and slow down, not grab and go. I love how afternoon cafecito is a time come together and converse. I love how most places don’t have “to-go” cups. I love how coffees are small here. I love how the coffee culture here, where it is grown and cultivated and valued, is the exact opposite of what it is in the United States.

10. I love how here you can spend an entire day on the sofa reading, while the rain tap, tap, taps on the tin roof, for six months, and not feel guilty. I love that.

Thank you, Costa Rica, for being you.

Rebecca Stumpf is currently a Peace Corps volunteer in Copey de Dota, Costa Rica. To read more about her experiences and see more of her photography, check out her website and photography blog. For some delicious recipes, check out her food blog.

A passerby stares as one of Panama City's colorful diablo rojo buses zips by

A rarely heard utterance: “My favorite thing about the city was the buses.”

A Dutch traveler said it to me about Panama City before I left. I inwardly scoffed; she must just think that because they use bikes so much in the Netherlands.

But then I got there, and she’d nailed it. Sorry, Karlijn.

Calling the buses diablos rojos is only partly accurate. Some of these second-hand U.S. school buses are red, sure, but they are also green and purple and pink. They have murals of castles or churches on the front and back. You’ll see paintings of world luminaries ranging from Jesus to Hugo Chavez, with accent designs featuring unicorns playing guitars.

Go inside, and it can be like a dance club or lounge. Samba or reggaeton will pound out of a custom stereo, while red or purple lights set the mood. Streamers are optional but encouraged.

I don’t know if each driver has his own bus customized, a la goalie masks in the NHL, or if they drive whatever bus they get that day. (Drivers aren’t the chatty sort, and it’s tough to find out if a bus is going close to your hostel, let alone delve into its aesthetics and iconography.)

Panama City can stagger the brain of a Latin American traveler. Restaurants touting Lebanese, French, and Thai food can be seen on one city block. Rush-hour traffic jams are choked with luxury cars, and rush hour itself was a concept I’d forgotten. Skyscrapers soar overheard, and where there’s not a skyscraper, there’s probably a crane building one.

In a city that is so developed and modern, it was a relief to see some of the flair and slapdash magic that has given this corner of the world so much of its charm for me.

Kent most recently left his post as an English teacher in Puerto Jimenez, Costa Rica and is currently traveling. To see what he’s up to, check out his blog or follow him on Twitter. For more on transportation in Latin America, check out “Day in the Life: Morning Commute“; “An Adventurous Routine“; “Where to Get Off the Bus?“; “Good Travel Karma“; “Traffic Circle from Hell!” and “All-Female Transport in Mexico.”