Jane

"Has the aura of Costa Rica dimmed yet?"

So was the question a few days ago to Jane, my colleague at the University, on the occasion of our return from a joint trip to Costa Rica, this the fifth anniversary of my first trip with students to San Ramon.  It has been a few weeks since we returned, but no sooner do we return than the intensity of the semester is upon us, and aura's quickly fade.

We work with people day in and day out, and know them to be colleagues.  So it was with Jane.  I knew she worked as an Academic Adviser for our new Health Services Management program though we never really interacted except the polite passing in hallways. Since we have expanded our study abroad program to include all programs within our college, we were fortunate to have had a few HSM students register for the trip, and Jane was pegged to accompany me to learn more about San Ramon and the opportunities, present and future, for her program and students.

Jane was a colleague, and now is a friend.

For me, returning for a fifth time was like returning to a familiar neighborhood where only a few things have changed, but much remains the same.  There were no heightened expectations - I knew what to expect and what to do.  But for Jane, she was experiencing the city for the first time, and no doubt reacted much the same way I did 5 years ago - with wonder and just a bit of trepidation - for she was without me for the first few days while I attended to a friend's funeral. After 5 years, I forget that early wonder, and just seek out what was different from the last visit - and learn just a bit more Spanish.

As is my custom, I walk a lot when I am there, and Jane was my constant companion on this trip, whether on our 6AM  saunter into the hills, exploring the corners and ravines of the city, exploring the neighborhoods clinging to steep hillsides, mesmerized by the crowded whiteness of the cementario with its above-ground white tiled vaults, taking the cool air, wind and sunshine in stride - literally.  We would walk in the evenings when the "kids" were at work or play, taking in the city lights from a local hilltop near the University before descending into the center of town, taking a cup of ice cream and a bench in the town square.  She tutored me in Spanish on those walks, as she had spent quite some time years ago in Mexico, and the language appeared to recover quickly to her lips. We took in an amazing sunset on a nearby hilltop crowded with locals enjoying the same view, followed a few mornings later by a walk to the same vacant hilltop to see the low, rising sun casting the distant Osa peninsula in a pinkish grey veil, while the wind could have nearly swept us away with its ferocity.  Or skirting the crowds and getting a behind the scenes look at the Palmares Horse Festival.

Unbeknownst to each other, for perhaps this "dirty little secret" must be kept to ourselves, we even took a somewhat ironic, mutual interest in bringing the tub-style dish soap used at the hostel home, laughing at the hilarity of us gringos, scanning the mercado aisles for the desired tubs, gleeful in our practical souvenir.

 Anticipating taking her to Manual Antonio Park on our weekend trip to the beach, I sensed she would be inspired by the monkeys, if only we could find them.  With the confidence of a guide who has traipsed every corner of this park for three years now, we entered the park shortly after it opened, and wound our way to where I was certain the howler monkeys existed - but there were none!  For sure they are on the "other path", for we could hear them in the distance - but the trail cerrado (closed)!  Certain my guiding skills had run out, I suggested we head out around Cathedral Point -  itself an island connected by a narrow beach peninsula.  And then, shortly before completing the loop, eight howler monkeys entertained us as we lay down on the trail, looking up to avoid the certain neck strain their entertainment would cause.  It was pure magic, and no amount of good luck!

Engaged in scholarly research!

Dustin and Melissa Dresser, our program hosts in San Ramon, arranged a separate accommodation  for our weekend use, a block away from the hostel where the students stayed.  At first, I was surprised and a bit suspicious of the location, for the "lobby", in somewhat typical Central American style, was nothing more than a tiny room barely big enough for two small desks and some standing space. With an un-inviting solid steel gate immediately fronting the main sidewalk and the busy, noisy road, the hotel rose unseen above and behind us.  Climbing a circuitous path of steep stairs and narrow overgrown walkways, past a small pool, we were led to what might have otherwise been termed a tree house, a large suite with an expanse of windows, high above the bustling road with a fabulous view of the ocean to the west.  A small balcony mesmerized us, as we watched all manner of wildlife from that deck: a pair of colorful macaws, several toucans, a large iguana in the treetop across the street, motionlessly lounging close to a sloth, with a steady stream of capuchin and even the more rare squirrel monkeys parading through the tree tops.  We had seen all the wildlife imaginable, even the rare red eyed tree frog on a night time jungle tour.

Oh, that balcony!

It was easy to see how this place, the culture, and the experience, both with and without the students had transformed her early frown lines of anticipation with the relaxed "smile wrinkles" of wonder and delight on her face.  No longer a mystery, but an adventure!  And for this veteran, who five years earlier had harbored those same wrinkles of anticipation, it was a delight to witness her engagement with the students, her absorption of the culture, our mutual uncertainty dancing the meringue (though we got one move down - for at least a moment) and her humored tolerance of my singing, poetry and puns (68 as counted by my students, who had a pool going).  We just had a lot of fun!

Oh, the local "sopa"!

And so the question of the aura hung for but a moment the other day, as I could see her mind recalling the adventure with rapt memory.  Oh, those memories must certainly have caused some distraction from her day-to-day activity, for she stopped by my office a few days ago, and somewhat apologetically, handed me a belated card:

Smiling somewhat rapturously she replied: "Yes, I'm still feeling the aura."

I'd say she is!  Pura vida!