Our Friends

Making friends in a world so different then your own is challenging. In our first English class we taught a couple named Marta and Alvaro. They both work at a large local hotel in Tortuguero. She cleans rooms while he works in the hotel bar and restaurant. They aspire to learn English to do their jobs better and secretly dream of more. They are immigrants to Costa Rica just like Ryan and I. They are from Nicaragua . They have come to Costa Rica to find work and to improve their lives to become better parents. They are the approximately the same age as Ryan and I, 26 and 25, respectively. They have two kids age 6 and 3.

We go to the bar with them sometimes because Marta's mom can watch the kids. Of course, the kids love to be with grandma. Ryan and I are just grateful we have friends who can go out with us. When we go out they don't spend much, they don't have much. We dance, joke and talk. We talk about music, language, and families. We discuss politics in Costa Rica , the US and Nicaragua . Ryan and I very much enjoy our time with them and we feel they enjoy us as well.

Last week Marta invited us over to her house so we could learn where they live. Since they do not have a phone, we need to walk to their house and fine them when we wish to talk. Until this point, we had simply made plans in class and met at the bar.

Seeing where they live and how they live was difficult. More challenging then I imagined it to be. I guessed they didn't have a lot, but they always seemed happy. I figured that's what matters anyway.

The house is surrounded by mud. The house is made of unpainted old wood. The roof is large pieces of tin. We step inside to see three very small rooms. The size of the house is about that of a normal sized hotel room.

The front room has a sink and area where there is food in some baskets. There is no fridge, no stove, and no microwave. There is no table or chairs in the house that I can see.

The second room has a mattress in the corner and little girl's clothing folded by the side, a small TV and really nothing else. All through the house pages from a magazine have been hung like wallpaper. It feels strange to have Penelope Cruz and Prince Charles staring from the walls of this tiny home.

We don't see the back room; Marta says there is a mattress for her mother. I don't imagine there is much else. The house is missing a lot. I don't see a single fan. There are no toys or books for the kids. The one mattress for the family does not have a bed to go with it.

When Ryan and I walk into the house we MUST act as if it is beautiful. Marta is clearly embarrassed and ashamed to be showing it to us, any hint from us that we are used to seeing more will bring her to tears with the realization of what she doesn't have. We do our best. We compliment on a picture of the family on the wall. It is rare and difficult to have a picture of your family. No one has cameras and therefore they don't have pictures. Knowing this, I am grateful that the picture exists to compliment on. I don't look Marta in the eyes for fear she will see in my face the thoughts I can't control.

Marta asks if we want to stay a while. I explain that I have a Tybo exercise class to attend. I am thankful for the excuse to leave, but guilty I have the luxury.

When my parents visited they struggled with not having mirrors in their rooms. It sounds silly until you live without one and realize the difficulty. In reality, I have rarely seen a mirror in any of the houses I have seen. I wonder how it is to grow up without a mirror and without pictures of yourself. How do you decide what you look like? How do you decide what your self-image is?