‘Family’ is a significant concept; so significant it that took me about twenty years, more or less, to realize its importance. To accept and love one’s family is a great step on the route to adulthood, and a stride that some would argue is essential in this end. It is with these thoughts in mind that I will now depict those who—perhaps crazy for allowing me to live here in the first place—are nonetheless agreeable and entertaining Ticos that I call ‘my family’.
Xinia (mom): The head of the household without question and my favorite mother ever. In addition, she is also the woman who graces me with her presence at all of my meals (in addition to cooking them) as well as being a substantial catalyst for my apprenticeship to the magnificent Latin language I now consider myself at the ‘Intermediate-Medium’ level of proficiency. I have scolded her constantly for not siring a daughter that I could have married, so that I should have lived in Central America and stay in her house for all time. She is one-and-forty years of age, got married when she was seventeen and seems to enjoy my sense of humor as much as anyone would require, sometimes more. Last night I may have irrevocably insulted her and her religious beliefs by attempting to explain (in jest, obviously) the concept of ‘autotheism’ and how it consists of me worshiping myself... (if I had a nickel for every time I affronted someone unintentionally I would never have to work again, and I could probably pay for some sort of classes about not-being-a-complete-idiot-and-toning-it-down-once-in-a-while, eh?)
Boliviar (dad): My father is relaxed and unobtrusive for the most part, even if he is constantly making light of somber subjects and being scolded by my mother. According to the information sheet I received when I first arrived here, he works as an ‘administrator’. This may be true, but I have never seen him out of the house for more than a few hours at a time, and he usually is home before I am (at around 1:00 PM most days) sleeping or watching television throughout the afternoon. What a neat job! He spiked his hair up into a mini-hawk recently, punches me incessantly, and furthermore attempted to scare a friend and me by wearing a Halloween mask and walking as though he had just ridden a horse for about a thousand miles. Do not be fooled! as this is all to be understood as a cover for his lightning fast kicking speed, with which he almost killed the same friend referenced before. He is four-and-fifty years of age, so if you do the math, you might find, that in Costa Rica that sort of thing apparently is ‘a-okay!’
Alejandro (youngest brother): Little Ale loves Yu-Gi-Oh! cards and being an eight-year old kid in general. In fact, in two days he will no longer have this luxury, for his years will have caught up with him and he shall turn a whopping nine years of age. He loves to play any game I can show him, though sadly I have only the few that are on my iPod and the default Windows Vista FreeCell, Solitaire, and the like. I could almost count on my hands and toes how many words he has actually said directly to me, even given his preference for sitting in my company watching me type or sort my music. I cannot wait to have kids so I can throw them about in a similar manner that I have grown accustomed to do with him.
Leonardo (middle brother): Leo is sixteen and home slightly more than I was at that age, which is not saying much. He supposedly knows how to speak English pretty well, but I have only heard him say “Hi!” and my name... and I am not sure my name counts entirely. Regardless, he is nice when he is around.
Estaban (oldest brother): ‘The Big E’ goes to school for computers, and works when he is not at school. Therefore, he is gone when I wake up in the morning, and does not come home until a few hours after I go to sleep. Of course, I habitually crash at around 8 or 9 o’clock at night, so his feat is not that astounding.
Chispa (family pet): The most schizophrenic little thing I have ever seen, the family dog loves to beg for food at the table. If you feed her, she will love you for at most, five seconds, before relapsing into a ferocious, bloodthirsty, wuss. Being that Chihuahuas are known for this type of behavior, I suppose I cannot blame her... but... c’mon! Really? Also, she is the only dog that I will ever condone dressing up in people clothes, because it is so darn cute and somehow it is okay... but only this one. No more.
Grandma, Luis, and the others: When I first arrived here there was a nice old lady that slept in the computer room and only once said something to me (while I was stretching, she made a motion as if to copy me and then laughed, mumbling Spanish the whole time... obviously I had no idea what she truly said, but I suppose it was a joke or something). She is no longer here, and if the family ever explained her relation it was lost on my complete lack of Spanish-speaking I have since rectified. It is for this reason that I just call her ‘Grandma’. Luis is a cousin of someone (I think) and works at Office Max six days a week, sixteen hours a day. He only comes by for dinner or breakfast—which my mother graciously provides—and then leaves without me ever seeing him go. I have met other family members like aunts and uncles, but they were but droplets in an ocean of stimuli that have since been lost in the expanses of my atrocious memory.
So there they are! Only a few weeks before I come home... but surely the knowledge will be put to good use. Tune in next time when I run out of money and only eat scraps from the table, like Chispa!
Toodles!
