By David Leija BearWhen I was in high school I read somewhere that Costa Rica was the greenest country in the world. This always peaked my curiosity as I was a bit doubtful and wanted to see it for myself. Then, when I graduated from college, my friend and I were making moves in hopes of moving to Costa Rica for a year. Everything was going according to plan until I got into some trouble. At that moment, I had to stop dreaming and ‘tighten my belt’ as we say in Spanish and get a ‘real’ job. Needless to say, the dream was deferred and I got back on my grind. Fast-forward several years later, and we finally made it. We arrived in beautiful Costa Rica. I never dreamed however, that I would get there by way of land driving 5,000+ miles to get there.
As you can imagine, I shed a proverbial li’l thug tear on arrival .We were greeted by the warmest, happiest, low-key cutest elderly couple you’ve ever seen. The warmth gleamed from them. I wanted to adopt them as my Costa Rican grandparents. After showering and conversing over some traditional Gallo Pinto, I realized that I didn't recognize their accent. This led to the realization that I’ve only ever met two Costa Ricans, or Ticos in my life, and only one of them was actually from Costa Rica. Five days in the greenest country in the world is all it took to find out why I didn’t know any Costa Ricans, which is to say, why they seemingly never leave the motherland. *** Driving up to the house, I eyeballed the courtyard of the place we were set to stay. I knew that our monster-truck van wasn’t going to fit. Then the front neighbor came out, measured the van and offered to let us park it in his garage. When I say measured, I mean, it literally fit down to the quarter-inch; it took us about half an hour to get it in there. Once we settled in, Mrs. Barrantes, our host, walked in casually with one of the neighbor’s six-month old baby and said that the baby wanted to chill with us. The sense of community was really strong. It gave me hope to see how well all of the neighbors knew each other and got along. We slept just as I imagine that baby slept that night since the night before we had stayed in the van somewhere in the sweltering heat of the Nicaraguan Pacific coast and woke up in pools of our own sweat. I’ll never forget the sound of my cousin waking up in the middle of the night sounding like Marlon Brando in The Godfather because he couldn’t breathe, talking about, “I can’t handle this...”. The next couple of days were spent just talking to people from the community and getting to know the capital. People in Latin America are generally friendly and warm but in Costa Rica, there is just a little something extra. Maybe it was the community we were in, but I definitely felt a genuine air of kindness when speaking to people. What impressed me most was that everyone was ripe with pride to be a Tico in a sense that was as far away from arrogance as possible; I think that this stems from true happiness as Costa Rica was ranked as the best performing country in the New Economics Foundation’s Happy Planet Index. Yes, Costa Rica has been recognized as the happiest place on the planet… twice. The next thing that stands out about Costa rica is that it was the first sovereign nation to abolish its standing army and is still one of few in the world to have done this. While all of this might sound like some type of utopian dream, like any other country, it still has its own problems; you’ve still got to use common sense and street smarts, AKA, don’t go talking up a storm while face-timing your boo in the middle of downtown San José at night. It’s just a bad beat. Now, if you get away from the city that is another story. This country has some of the most beautiful beaches in the world that you can visit and be home in time to watch Sabado Gigante reruns (r.i.p.). As we were driving from Nicaragua to San José, we passed up some beautiful sounding places that due to time constraints we didn’t get to visit initially. One of these places was, Punta Arenas… it just sounded like pure beach bliss in Costa Rica, so on our last day, we finally were able to make a trip to it. When we got there we realized that we'd messed up. With an abundance of beautiful beaches, I mean, literally every freakin’ beach that you go to is its own little paradise and we landed on the forgotten step-child of a beach. We cruised the area for a bit optimistically looking for a good place to kick it but never found it. We continued to another bunk beach in the area with the same luck until we finally bit the bullet and went to the further beach area where the gringos go. It was amazing, even with the gringos...(kidding). We went on a Tuesday and there was hardly anyone there. We literally drove the van onto the sand and kicked back, relaxed, until the sun set on the horizon. It was so amazing that we decided that we had to stay another day and purely visit beaches; we beach hopped for the next two days and each beach was somehow more amazing than the last. Aside from the beautiful people, paradisaical beaches and perfect weather, arriving to Costa Rica for me represented something bigger. Much more than just visiting the greenest place on earth, it was a testament for the bigger things that are to come in our lives. I’m always trying to run before I walk. Whether it be with music, language and who knows, probably love too. Todo a su debido tiempo -everything in due time. I wanted to go to Costa Rica as a fresh graduate, but where might that have gotten me? I might have missed my calling. I thought that when I got in trouble I had closed the door for myself, but I think it was just a sign from above. It was a lesson that I needed to learn, in a time that I needed to learn it. Having that dream deferred was the best thing that ever happened to me because during that time, I learned more than I could have ever imagined. I found my career and true calling that thankfully, was also my passion. So for those of you out there that have had your dream deferred, don’t be discouraged. Know that there is something greater in store... it might just be too big for you in that moment. Always keep the dream alive but hopefully you won’t have to drive 5,000 miles to achieve it. -David By Edgar Bear
After a bloody shootout between the army and the guerillas, the army forced people from their homes and lined them up. They were investigating the youth. They wanted to know if these people were in support of the guerillas.
A friend of mine, Erik and a member of his family were called out. His version of the story is that the army took far too much time with them. The fear of being taken, of being shot dead as others had in previous days and never heard from again was running high. However, the next door neighbor saw what was happening. This neighbor called her husband who happened to be a higher up in the military, and told him of the situation. The husband then gave an order to release the youth. Thankfully, the call came in time because the Nicaraguan Army was known for committing atrocities against its own people where they were often abducted and to this day some have not been found. Nicaragua has a rich history. There is a history of a people who were maltreated by the government for years. It came to be the common folk against those in power. And innocent people like my friend were caught in the middle where some did die for things like simply walking about the city. Yet, thank God, Nicaragua has undergone a tremendous change. No longer does the Somoza dictatorship that was sadly supported by the U.S. government control the country; instead, there is constant growth happening where the country is growing due to its beautiful beaches, food, historical sites, and people. This was our experience in Nicaragua: At the border between Honduras and Nicaragua, a young lady who looked to be a foreigner asked me about the currency exchange rate of the country. I replied, but I also noticed her accent, and asked her where she was from. Maria was Lithuanian and was traveling from country to country by way of hitchhiking. She said she needed to get to another town before it got too late. I was shocked. How could she hitchhike? That’s crazy. And then she asked if we could take her to a place where there was a hostel. As she asked me this, I was quite skeptical. It didn’t matter that she was European; Europeans can also steal and take advantage of people. However, on the other hand, she was traveling in such a way that is unsafe in many areas, and I took it into consideration that she could not overpower us. So, I approached my cousin and he agreed that we could drop her off at a nearby city. So, we did. Note: She was a great person to be around. Sometime later, we arrived in the capital city of Nicaragua: Managua. We stayed with my friend Douglas and his family. Douglas received us with great joy and love. We felt overwhelmingly welcome. He and his wife Diana made sure we were taken care of under all circumstances. They had two kids who were a joy to spend time with. They were incredibly funny; for example, the youngest kid, Jim, who is two year old, when first meeting David said, “Hola, Gringo” (Hi, Gringo). We couldn’t stop laughing. We still don’t know how he knew to say that. After spending a few days with Douglas, come to find out, Douglas used to be an ex-gang member, and not only so, but he used to be the leader of the gang. The stories I heard from Douglas were that his gang often took to the streets to fight not solely with fists but with machetes and oftentimes with guns. Douglas also spent time in prison. This man had lived a hard life. And the reasons that he gave for having acted so violently in his life were because of the environment he grew up in where his family knew war. Yet, Douglas tells me that it is thanks to God that he has changed his life around. He left the gang life and went on to study where he attained a law degree. Interestingly, however, after practicing his profession for some time, he decided to leave it behind in order to serve his community in a Christian organization by the name of Young Life. Douglas works with troubled youth in the area that he lives in which is the not-so-nice part of town. But from what I have seen, after talking to the youth and giving a lesson myself, Douglas has done a great job working with his community. He helped raise leaders in eight barrios where there are more than 50 kids being helped in each barrio. He truly is an inspiration to his community and to the youth that he works with. After spending some days with Douglas and his family, we went to Granada and then San Juan del Sur. Granada has an old Spanish-style look while at the same time it is modern. It is a safe area to walk about and sight-see. There are beautiful buildings all over, and there is a lake nearby that makes the city that much better. And just outside the city, we spent time in the lush green forest where we saw monkeys. One of them, who was about a year old, was quite fond of us and played with us for around an hour. I found this to be amusing and beautiful. San Juan del Sur is a beach town. Here we arrived just in time to see the beautiful sunset. It lit up the sky in an array of colors: purple, pink, blue, white, and those in between. It was inspiring. Then, David had the idea of sitting by the beach and playing our guitar and vihuela (a 5-stringed Mexican instrument that looks like a guitar). As we were playing, a man asked if he could join us. We said it was okay. So, he began to play the guitar, and as soon as he started playing, five of his friends came around to join us. It turns out that he was the guinea pig, he was used as bait so that in all, six people could sing songs with us while on the beach. Regardless, it was a great time. These men sang Nicaraguan songs that pertained to their history and their life. It was unexpected and quite enjoyable. We sang together and we got to know a bit about each other’s lives. Some fought in the war, others traveled by playing music, one of them spoke four languages, and some had lived in the states. Each person there had an interesting life story. This is the same for all people: we each have our stories. We at times want to lump others into certain categories forgetting that there is more to the people than the name given them. We say things like black people are, Mexicans this, white people this, or Asians that. All the while forgetting or not recognizing that we are complex individuals with complex life happenings that shape who we are. Our stories are different. And to take the time to know or to hear these differences according to the individual, brings about knowledge which shapes our own understandings that then hopefully cause us recognize the complexity of the human. And in regards to Nicaragua, we have seen and heard from those who experienced war, who are wealthy, who live in poverty, who enjoy baseball, soccer, education, who love their country, and the list continues. We have seen things we agree with and those that we disagree with. And I find this to be true with all people from the U.S. and other: there are things I have seen in them that I agree with and those I do not agree with; and yet, I attempt to love on them despite my own faults because that is what I am called to do. Some people's names have been changed. -Edgar By David Leija"Don't tell me not to be' scared, I’m in freakin’ Mexico City!!!" -As you might be able to tell by my cousin's concern, even us mås o menos seasoned travelers had our pre-conceived notions about chilangolandia or the Capital city of the Mexican Republic, México D.F. Upon entering, we were greeted with colorful houses on the hills, what seemed like police cars on every corner and of course, lots and lots of traffic. We were very concerned at the time about whether we were even driving lawfully. You see, because the population is at about 21.2 million in the Greater Mexico City area, there are limitations as to who can drive on what day. If the police is anything like the famous Mexico City band, Molotov, describes them, we did not want to cross them.
We made it to our friend Pepe's family's house without incident. His mother and nephews greeted us very warmly, invited us to eat with them and told us all we needed to know about getting around on public transportation. As soon as we could we hopped in the shower as we had slept in our van that night, parked somewhere in Guanajuato. As we walked out the door my friend Pepe's mom, Mrs. Ortiz Garcia, walked us to the bus stop, I was still filled with the thoughts instilled in me about what Mexico City was, so naturally I had my guard up. We hopped on a bus to make our way towards the first stop, the Basilica de Guadalupe. We got on the bus and to my surprise it was not packed and there were no people hanging off of it (I saw that when I drove through as a kid and thought that it was always like that). After a couple of stops a couple of clowns got on and they were actually pretty funny. Towards the end of their act it struck me how they mentioned that they were simply entertaining in order to make an honest buck; can you blame them? As I looked around the bus I was relieved to see that most people actually did help them out. The bus driver finally told us that we had arrived at the Basilica. We got off, walked around, looked and thought, "oh how nice". Thankfully my cousin had the bright idea of googling this place that was 'pretty nice' and it turns out that that was THE BASILICA DE GUADALUPE at the foot of the Cerro de Tepeyac. Just to get an idea of the importance of this place in Mexican as well as Catholic culture, it gets over 20,000,000 visitors a year (9,000,000 in December alone) and it is the second-most visited next only to St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. Honestly, it was something I heard about my whole life but had never really paid much attention. When you walk into the modern basilica where they hold worship services everyday, you can actually see the original cloak that the saint Juan Diego wore when the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe appeared. I didn’t grow up catholic so I’m not super familiar with the story. I’m still not sure since I read about it on wikipedia. I just know that when my dad would say, "se te va a parecer Juan Diego” (Juan Diego is about to have an apparition up in here) it meant I was about to get whooped so I’d better start acting right! I haven’t felt that dumb in a while…such intense history in this place and we almost missed it. Naturally after this, we were pretty ecstatic. We walked outside the gates to head to the bus and metro that would take us downtown. Again, we went with our guard up and not even talking too much so that people might not hear our accent. With help from a police officer, random people on the street, and a bus driver, we finally made it to a place that I’ve always wanted to see for myself, a place that when I would see it on TV I would get goosebumps -El Zocalo or the main square. This has been the main plaza since the Aztec Empire ruled. When we got off the metro it was already dark out but the first thing shining on us was the biggest Mexican flag I’ve ever seen in my life. You look to the right and there is an imposing cathedral that looks like it’s straight off the cover of an Iron Maiden album. Look even further to the right and there’s the national palace where the presidents of the republic traditionally give ‘El Grito de Dolores’ at midnight on the night of September 15 to declare independence. That night everyone gathers in the zocalo as the president waives the flag from the balcony and shouts “… Viva Mexico. Viva Mexico. VIVA MEXICOOO’!!! This is one of the most electrifying moments for me and Mexicans everywhere year after year, probably tantamount to the feeling I imagine one might get when giving birth to their first-born. I get goosebumps every time and even now as I’m writing this. It was dark at this point and contrary to what we’d always heard, we decided to walk around ‘el D.F.’ at night. As we were walking we passed ‘Tacuba’ street and I remembered that one of my favorite bands, Cafe Tacvba had gotten their name from a local cafe there. I looked it up with the quickness and it was just a couple of blocks away. As we walked there I imagined that there would be all types of allusions to the band and that the walls might be filled with memorabilia kind of like the soup nazi’s restaurant is with Seinfeld in New York City. When we got there I was shocked to see that it couldn’t be further from the truth. The cafe has actually been there since 1912 and had its very own identity. It did not look like it wanted to be associated with the band at all -it had no need. We decided to sit down and have a coffee anyway but as soon as we saw the prices, we left as if they were going to charge us for just thinking about it. I’m sure it was worth every peso but this paisa was just a little too broke to be getting fancy with it. We walked around a bit more… actually a lot more. We stumbled upon the best churros rellenos de cajeta we’ve ever tried, we walked past beautiful art museums, sculptures, monuments and plazas. Honestly, I did not feel unsafe for a second once we got to know the city. As we mentioned in previous blogs, every city has its rough spots, you just need to use common sense. We saw several gringos kickin’ it doing their thing seemingly without a worry in the world. As we walked back to the metro and squeezed onto the trains we still had our reservations; we were leaving the safe touristy areas. We actually got a little lost on the way home in what some people might call a ‘sketchy area’ but is really just a working class neighborhood. Again with the help of perfectly kind strangers, we made it home. It was so crazy to me, that something i’ve heard so much about, had actually gotten to me. I had actually believed all the hype about D.F. and ‘chilangos'. I slept that night with a sense of shame. The next day we woke up and Mrs. Ortiz Garcia had made us some bomb pambazos which are tortas or mexican sandwiches where the bread is dipped and fried in red chile guajillo and then filled with chorizo, potato, cheese, cream and who knows what else. It was too good. I ate two. Along with the pambazos we enjoyed some great sobremesa (conversing at the table after the meal) with Mrs. Ortiz Garcia and the family. We found out that the term “Chilango” actually refers to people that moved into Mexico City; People that are from Mexico City are referred to as “Defeños”. That kind of rocked my world a little bit. They told us that and more little bits of great info about the city. They were pretty awesome people. The son-in-law is a marathon runner and is planning on running all the way to Chicago. Not to mention, my friend Pepe, is a successful entrepreneur living in Chicago and all around awesome guy -the type everyone likes. Before they left to work, they gave me a cumbia cd for the road; I was touched. We spent the rest of the day exploring different parts of the city, we saw Diego Rivera’s murals at an expo and kicked it in Frida Kahlo’s neighborhood, Coyoacán. Most importantly, we did two things that were on my bucket list: we went to the world famous Estadio Azteca where my father’s favorite soccer team as well as my own, Club América plays (puro Américaaa). Then we finally went to Ciudad Universitaria in UNAM which is one of my dream schools and what I really wanted to see. UNAM (short for the National Autonomous University of Mexico) is the biggest university in Latin America with about 120,000 students. It was great to finally see it in person. A place full of life there’s so much I could say...catch me on the block so I can tell you about it one day. We did so much in two days, it was incredible. Two weeks is not enough, let alone a couple of days. Everything was so easy to get to, and you were entertained most of the time whether it was on the bus, on the train or on the street. Mexico City has so much hustle. Aside from the beauty of the main squares and its neighborhoods, what makes Mexico City so unique is its people who are luchadores -not in the lucha libre sense, but in the fact that they work hard. They work hard for what they have which, possessions aside, is their culture, their very own swag that is impossible to imitate. I’ve been to many places, but Mexico City is one of if not the most unique and visiting it really affected me. It gave me the feeling and realization that all travelers eventually get and that is to stop going by what you heard; experience it for yourself. -David HondurasBy Edgar BearWe have both read and have been told that we should not go to Honduras because the cops are the worst in Central America, the country has one of the highest murder rates in the world, and because gang activity controls much of the area.
Due to our having read and heard these things, I asked my cousin, “Dave, man, what do you think, should we go to Honduras or should we drive straight to Nicaragua?” Dave shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know man.” David and I were far too close to not visiting Honduras. But we both agreed that it would be silly to drive throughout Latin America and not visit. We felt uneasy, sick, and impatient about not going. So we looked into every possible way of staying a few days in the country. Where will we stay? This was a question that arose because, come to find out, the place that we were supposed to stay in didn’t work out. We were out of ideas. I don’t want to say we were desperate, but we kind of were. We really wanted to get to know this country because not only does Honduras and the people have a bad reputation, but we know many Honduran people in the United States. “Bro, let’s check out Couch Surfing,” said David. I replied that if it was our only option, we should look into it. As we were at the border crossing between El Salvador and Honduras, we still did not have a place to stay. We were on our way to Nicaragua (one has to cross through Honduras to get to Nicaragua).Then, a few minutes after we passed the road to the capital city of Honduras, we received a message from someone from Couch Surfing. They asked us to have dinner with them. We wouldn’t be able to stay at their home, but they said that they would love to hang out. “Dude, let’s go there. We will figure out where to stay once there,” David said. We quickly turned the van around and drove to the capital city in hopes of finding a place to spend the night. “Do you think this is a set up?” David asked. I replied saying that I do not know but that we should lock up our stuff and that we should ask to meet at a location while we stood in a different location in order to see who they were before actually meeting them. We did. When the person arrived, Vanessa, she looked safe. “Yo, let’s go talk to her,” I said. Come to find out, she was just as uneasy about meeting us. Of course she was, she had no idea who we were. But once we met, there was an instant bond. She was an engineer who loves to travel as we do. She was very smart, loving, hardworking, and kind. In her, I saw a lot of goodness and wisdom due to the conversations we had about Hoduras, politics, travel, and school. She took us to eat baleadas, and I have to say, I am far too excited for you, the person who is reading this, to try this food. It is like a burrito, but I dare say better. The kind we had was with a fresh flour tortilla, not the kind served in the U.S. that often tastes like plastic. The tortilla had beans, cheese, sausage, baked bananas, guacamole, and eggs. Delicious. As the night went on, we went to a mirador to get a view of the city of Tegucigalpa. It was breathtaking. We looked upon the mountainous city on a chilly day as the sun went down. I felt at peace, calm, joyous, and grateful for having had the opportunity to visit, to see the great city and people. These are the kinds of moments where I am extremely grateful towards God,where I feel blessed. I am thankful he has given me an opportunity to view His creation in terms of both people and land. Oh, and also, I don’t know if it is because we got along so well, but Vanessa allowed us to stay at her house (in our own room of course). The next day we went to the University with Vanessa and her sister, Johana. Johana was corky, funny, and a smart young lady. She was quick with a joke but at the same time knew much about politics, her surroundings, and about life. As we entered the university, the fresh air of higher education heightened our senses. A people looking to better themselves and their country: doctors, lawyers, engineers, and business men and women. People from all sorts of backgrounds: black, white, and brown coming together for a good cause. This goes against the idea that all Central Americans are uneducated and lazy. By no means. Similar to all countries, there are those who want to better themselves and those who do not. Now, to sum up, I would say Honduras is a beautiful country. And once again, similar to all places, avoid locations with gang activity and crime. But the country has been blessed with beautiful beaches, mountains, people, and food. It baffles me that we were far too close to not visiting. El SalvadorBy Edgar BearMs-13 and 18th street. These are the notorious Salvadorian gangs that have their roots in Los Angeles but a presence in El Salvador. Would we encounter them? Would they assault us? Rob us? What roads are safe? What roads should we avoid? Do they set up road blocks and stop vehicles? These are the sorts of questions that I asked myself and asked others as we spent our time in El Salvador.
The short history is that the Salvadorian gangs were formed in Los Angeles out of the desire to protect themselves from the surrounding gangs. They quickly grew and got involved in criminal activity. Due to their growth and their activities such as theft, trafficking, murder and so on, many were deported to El Salvador and because of that, their presence grew in the country. Now, when one talks of visiting El Salvador, there is a fear of encountering these gangs. IS THE FEAR JUSTIFIED? Yes and no. Yes, there are areas one should not visit because thefts happen, they murder, they abuse, and they extort. Yet, these are things that happen in most if not all countries even the United States: for example, there are parts of Chicago, New York, Los Angeles, Detroit and so on that people avoid out of fear of encountering these sorts of criminals. And race is irrelevant. People of all races commit such crimes. So, when coming to this country, avoid those areas. On the other hand, there are areas where one feels just as safe as if they were in Beverly Hills or Disney Land. David and I walked about the city, the districts, and so on as we spoke to people who were extremely kind and loving. We joked, shared our stories, and ate together. We experienced a great beauty of the people and culture. We saw stunning green mountains. We also went to the beach where we saw the beautiful dark blue waters and where we saw the people go about their daily lives: going out into the ocean catching fish, preparing the fish, and selling it to the local markets. We had a great time. Having said this, during our time in El Salvador, we encountered heroes. Heroes. As cheesy as that sounds, we met local heroes. We spent the night driving around San Salvador with a community of Christians that have been coming together for years to speak with and feed homeless adults, children, prostitutes, transvestites, and rejected gay youth. The night went as follows. It was around 9:30 pm and it was dark in San Salvador. After speaking with the leaders and praying with those involved with the program called Pan con chocolate, they asked us to take our vehicle and follow them. While driving, we entered an area of the city that did not look too safe: there were people thrown on the ground, there was a lot of trash, and uncared for buildings. During one of our stops, it looked like an abandoned warehouse. At the wall of the building, there were homeless people lying on the ground ready to sleep. As we the group arrived, they were extremely happy to see us. These people were way skinny, some had missing teeth, and others survived by picking up trash or they were there because they had fallen deep into their vices. A lady gave them a word from the bible, and a few of us went to speak to some of the homeless people individually. They were known by name. Their life stories were known. After, we handed out drinks and food to the people as we continued our conversations. Then, I saw something that got me thinking even more deeply because I was already moved by the entire situation. I saw these young ladies speaking with a transvestite prostitute. And what I noticed was that they all got along quite well. They knew of each other. They respected each other despite their differences in views and in lifestyle choices. And as Christians, these people loved on their neighbor. Seeing this, the question needs to be asked, what people are we rejecting because they are different? I understand it can be hard to love on certain people, but it is something that God calls us towards. -Edgar Las Pozas de Xilitla |
DavidMuchacho simpatico EdgarEdgar is Christian. He loves soccer, traveling, and meeting new people. Archives
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