grit in my teeth

from pinterest

 Let me paint a picture for you.  I'm not very good at painting, but I'll do my best. 

Crowded buildings, cracked sidewalks, luxury skyscrapers next to tin-roof houses.  Iron fencing topped with barbed wire separates the open doorways from the street.  People cross the road with barely a thought to the vehicles that ride each others' bumpers, trying to get somewhere. The streets winds in and around the city like a puzzle. Grey concrete walls finally give way to grey concrete highway, and then misty green pasture filled with white lanky cows. Vivid green jungle mountains rise up out of the mist, and the sun breaks through the clouds just enough to shed sunbeams over the valley. If you look to your right, eventually you might see the ocean, all grey and blue and green. 

Do you want to hear it? Turn up the volume, and close your eyes.

In the city, you hear the drivers honking at each other, letting them know that you're coming through. Though the sound of the van engine, you can hear rapid-fire Spanish from the locals, blending together into the soundtrack. The taxi's radio goes off as drivers speak to each other; again, in Spanish. Sound gives way into nothing but engine and exhaust and wind. 

This is how it feels. 

Sticky humidity. Instantly, like a slap in the face with a blanket that wasn't done drying. Confusion and slight anxiety, as you try to figure out where to go and who to ask. Just a tinge of uncertainty as you adjust to the life within the city after the sleepiness of the plane. And then wonder, appreciation, and excitement. Hunger to take in as much as possible of the raw beauty of the jungle forest. Anticipation fades into exhaustion; anxiety returns when you realize the stark difference between home in the Midwest and this new culture of Costa Rica. 

It's my first day in Costa Rica, after a six-hour double flight and a three-hour car ride. I feel scared as I cling to my new husband's hand and walk into the airb'n'b that we'll stay at for the first seven days of our three-week honeymoon. "What in the world did I sign up for?" I wonder. "Am I gonna regret that this is our honeymoon?"

I'm not really ready for the next few weeks, but they'll come to me all the same. I'm not very prepared, but I'll adjust as quick as I can. I have no idea how beautiful and freeing and intimate this place can be. 

But just maybe...I'll catch on. 

-Tessa