La Guacima

Or, the trip to church that lasted 12 hours.

 

Today, I went to La Iglesia Presbiteriana Nueva Guacima with Angelica, Luz and Nahun, a Honduran family who are my neighbors. We left to catch the bus at 7:30 in the morning, and rode it all the way down to downtown San Jose. We then walked to the next bus stop, where we waited until 9 to catch a bus to La Guacima, which is a town about an hour outside of San Jose by bus. We arrived at the church at about 10. It was Father's Day, and they were having a celebration for the fathers in the church.

There was a mission group from Hope Presbyterian Church in Springfield, IL there as well, which was nice because there were other English speakers there. One of the women in the group heard me speaking English and said, "You speak English?!""Yes," I replied, a little confused. I mean, never-have-I-ever been mistaken for a native Spanish speaker. "Oh! Are you from the area?" At this point I must have had a very strange look on my face, because I do not look tica at all - I tower over the women, I have blond-ish hair, I dress like an American (surprise, surprise) and am very clearly white. "No, I'm from Minnesota." At which point she began to pepper me with questions - why was I in Costa Rica, did I speak Spanish, where did I learn my Spanish. . . It was pretty funny, and very strange.

Church was long, but entertaining, and I was able to follow most of the Spanish. If I go again, I will bring a Bible, since all the readings are done in unison and I don't have to understand what I'm reading to pronounce it correctly. Nahun was kind enough to share his Bible with me, and so I can tell you that the Old Testament lesson was about Abraham almost sacrificing Isaac. Perfect for Father's Day, don't you think?
 
The photo on the left shows the sanctuary. Its a very simple, open space with a nice breeze. Next door is a community hall of sorts, with a kitchen, where we all ate a celebratory Father's Day lunch, which was really good. I sat with Angelica, Nahun, and Luz, as well as some of the Americans. 

I expected that after lunch we would head back to San Jose, but instead, we were invited to a birthday party for the pastor's eldest daughter, who was turning 22. So off I went to this birthday party. I knew four people - Angelica, Luz, and Nahun, as well as Victor Hugo, a student at UBL from Peru who had also been at church. They were having a barbeque - Angelica told me it was pretty typical Honduran food.

The pastor's house was on a small granja, or farm. They have several types of fruit trees, including mango and lime, and also grow beans and other vegetables, plus chickens and geese all over the place. Luz told me there were 21 dogs - while I'm not entirely sure I believe here, there were dogs everywhere. Three were "house" dogs, and the rest seemed to be guard dogs. They were chained strategically in a ring around the house and buildings. The granja was very beautiful, all fresh and green. The house itself was very open, with big windows to take advantage of the breezes. It was a lovely place to have a meal. It was, however, super overwhelming for me. Although all the young people, and several of the adults, spoke some English, my Spanish was in general better, so I spent the better part of the day speaking Spanish. It was exhausting, but I felt pretty great that I managed to get myself understood and converse with people.

This last picture is of Luz and me at the granja, sitting in rocking chairs next to each other. She is very sweet, and very patient with me, and we've become great friends. She comes to visit me at the library after school gets out, and "helps" me out with whatever I'm working on. She's wearing a Honduras shirt in honor of the team, who were playing a game that day.