It is my pleasure to inform you that your hopes for my well-being here, in Costa Rica, are still fulfilled at the utmost, though I cannot pinpoint or foresee a time when this would not be the case, because, as you know, eternal optimism makes for an arduous time of anything obstinate to tranquility and contentment.
My studies here are varied and interesting, and perhaps now is the time wherein elaboration on their merits is idyllic. Although I learn more in the hours I spend outside of the institute where the classes proper are held, they still make for an entertaining pastime.
Four hours a day, five days a week, I have Spanish class. This consists of myself and up to three other students discussing the previous day in ‘preterito perfecto’ and then playing flash card games or watching movies from Spanish-speaking countries, though, sadly, with English subtitles. Despite the slow-moving and repetitive methods our teachers use, I still manage to learn a few new words each day, even considering all their efforts to the contrary. Coincidentally, it seems that whenever I discover a new word in my studies it shows up at least four and a half times later that day, which I think is rather convenient and encouraging.
One day a week, on Tuesdays, for four hours, I have Biology. Fifty percent of our class days have consisted of field trips to various locations around the country, usually concerning science only laterally, if at all. I still have yet to turn in a paper that was due before we left the United States, but given my suave and charismatic ways, I have extended the deadline accordingly. Of course, I will do it eventually, I need just a smidgen of time to collect my thoughts without so many dazzling activities to choose from.
One day a week, on Wednesdays, for three hours, I have Intercultural Communication. This is yet another class, in which morsels of information manage to be discovered, regardless of the teacher’s labors conversely. Our class discussions on the poorly written textbook exclusively exist for the teacher to expound on long-winded tangents and then insist he will sit on his hands (somehow this is supposed to prevent his interjections) for the remainder of the dialogue.
The real class, on the other hand, is life. Every day that I squander with my Tico friends or family leads me closer to my objective of not-looking-like-a-complete-tourist-when-I-go-outside-my-safe-zone. Perhaps the stress of these situations is the grounds for my malfunction, but I find that in the external world my speech skills devolve to that of a three year old (or myself, when I first arrived). The ten days I have after I finish classes are imminently approaching, and will surely test my limits, because most, if not all, of my English-speaking friends will have returned to the United States, thus leaving me with the only alternative of *gasp* speaking exclusively in Spanish!
Given that there are no comments from my many fans, I can only assume that I have been working diligently and adequately for your tastes, and that my saga is as engaging as it is verbose. However, if this were not the case, surely someone out there would inform me?
I thought so as well.
Have yourself a good week or two, and I shall be back whenever it is convenient for me, perchance with more news.
P.S. I was not actually mugged, as I reported earlier, which should be a given when evaluating most of my outlandish claims; however, in the past week three of my friends were robbed, something I find rather remarkable, as well as vaguely foreboding. Wish me luck in my final morsel of time here, so that I may not fall victim to armed robbers or assailants, and that I may return safely to my beloved home and “real” life (whatever that may entail).
No comments:
Post a Comment