Can't Fit In, Can't Fit Out

The other night the Earth rumbled and I wasn't sure if it was the ocean, an earthquake, or a thunderstorm.

....Or maybe just my stomach.

This is the first time in my life that I've lived on a beach. Literally, on a beach.

I feel the salt water sift between the palm trees in the day, as I sit on the deck of our lodge. I scoop land crabs out from beneath my bed in the afternoons, whenever I care enough to do so. And the ocean is loud beneath my pillow at night.

Besides for the very, very moldy clothes, the unsightly condition of my mosquito-bitten legs, and mucho, mucho thunderstorms, I am quite happy with this paradise.

But, "paradise" - it's everywhere, you know?

I realized that a few months ago, while traveling through the windy green hills of Costa Rica's central valley. "If you want to view paradise, simply look around a view it," goes the theme song to Willy Wonka, a fine piece of inspiration and perspective for those who care to explore it.

You don't need to come to Costa Rica to discover it. But, you are welcome to do so.

So, my bed shakes and I wake to the rumbling. Sometimes, I love to wake in the middle of the night. Just to listen. Beautiful things happen in the dawn. It's nice to explore these hours when I can. And there I lie, face up in my tiny room, tossing between the ocean waves and the skies thunder.

And I'm reflecting on all that I have learned in these past 2 weeks. How long has it been already?

Some of the things I learned, I didn't consider learning at first. I considered it annoyance - someone picking on me. Something going wrong. Something frustrating.

It is only until later that I reflect on what has caused the disturbance in me. And I understand that anytime there is agitation, it means it's time to shake awake.

I used to force it. (Sometimes, I still fall into this habit). I needed to know why. Why does he say "gringas are not carinosa"? Why won't he call me? How can I get this to work, now?! 

By blood, I'm 0% Latina. I am a mix of Italian, Irish, German -- my genes are some cocktail of European descent. By land, I was raised on the soil of The United States. Mostly New Yorkan, a few years Floridian, some exploring of the lands in between.

I don't know what it counts for, in the eyes of fellow United States-ians, but I have also lived almost 4 years in Central America.

I especially don't know how Central Americans feel about this.

I'm not sure if anyone really cares at all.

I do know that it has affected me in a lot of ways. I cannot rid myself of the genes that shape who I am. It is hard for me to change my Italian-family-pasta-loving, often loud-speaking ways. It has taken me years and years to distinguish between learning how to stand up for myself and learning when to walk away.

I grew up in a household where there was yelling and arguing. I am not sure I want to live this way any long, and it is still something I need to work on changing... However, I appreciate the fact that I was raised to learn how to stand up for myself. That gender did not matter - I could do anything that a man could and I had no fear in this aspect. I also appreciate that my parents taught me that my opinion matters. That sometimes it is okay to get excited about thing that I care about.

And then there is my living abroad that has taught me to slow down, speak sweetly, and listen more carefully. It doesn't mean that I don't battle between being calm in moments of dissonance, and raising my voice a bit to a man I feel is disrespecting me.

But sometimes, I wonder what all this... traveling, living abroad, nomadism... what does it all really mean? Some people think it's cool. Some people are offended. Some people are proud to share and exchange. Some people think we don't belong.

Perspective is everything.

Anyways, it's hard sometimes, for me. The cultural differences. The language barrier.

The past year, almost everyone I speak to in spanish thinks that I am Costa Rican. Or, at least they say so. I don't know if they're telling me the truth.

I suppose that is some sort of compliment to my ability to integrate and rock a heavy accent.

However, sometimes, this is hard for me. I think that because I can convey almost everything I want to say in spanish and also understand it, I think people assume that I am fully comfortable doing so...

Which....

at times, I am....

but, mostly, I am not.

You know when you just can't find that word you are looking for in English? Well, that happens to me almost always in spanish. I have gotten to the point in my language skills where I can communicate fluently...however, my vocabulary hardly expands.

So, I can't always find the exact words I would choose in English. Or the exact tone of voice I would use. Or the eloquence I may be able to find in my first language.

So Costa Ricans will ask me "why so serious?"
....when I don't think I am being serious.

Or, "be a little sweeter, mi amor"
....but I don't want to say 'my love' to someone who is not my boyfriend (because this is new to me).

So, I can't quite fit in.
And I no longer fit out.

I'm not sure which I'd prefer.

To embrace my United States-ian, European-ish, New Yorker ways, or be a little more open to learning "when in Rome"...

I suppose a combination of both is best...
just not easy.

And so, this is the path I have chosen. So I must take the little bumps (plus some big whip lashes) as they come and use it to grow.

So, if it was thunder, an earthquake or the ocean that woke me from my sleep, I cannot tell you.

In the end it doesn't matter. It's all one and the same.

A shake, a rumble, a roar...

I am awake now.

That's what happens after tumultuous times.