I read in the paper on Tue that there was a speaker at the university in San Jose 6p Thursday night. It was a Nicaraguan journalist speaking about Power and Politics in Central American Literature. So I decide, what the hey, I havn't battled the traffic gods in a while.
I had a workshop at the school that was suppose to be done at 2. I figured, if I could make the 3p bus I could get there relatively on time. I get done with the workshop at 2:45. I haul ass home, change clothes, and leave. Miraculously I find a cab on the corner as if it were waiting for me. We head to the bus stop and pull in right behind the bus I have to catch. I get my ticket and get in line for the bus. It is nearly full and I am thinking…”If I can’t get on this bus, I may as well not go.” The guy in front of me says “there’s no more room” and squeezes past me to get off the bus. I think I see a spot behind a big guy with an even bigger suitcase. And I got the absolute last spot on the bus. By this time, I am thinking that things have really just worked out in a place where things never work out unless “Díos quiere” (God wants) so, I figure, I am destined to be on this bus.
I get into San José at about 5:30 and traffic is insane. I have to get to the other end of town, so I get off the bus and proceed to walk/run through rush-hour crowds to the other side of the center to get a cab that won’t have to sit in traffic. I catch a cab and get to the lecture about a half-hour late. The room is packed but I am able to get a seat. Then reality set in and I realize that my Spanish is not quite good enough to keep up. Actually, since I was sitting by the door I was privy to a hallway noise which included the audio for the English class which drowned out the soft-speaking author and was super distracting for me to concentrate on Spanish. I also realized that I am at the point where I know enough Spanish that I get the gist of pretty much everything. I also know enough to realize that I don’t know enough to understand the subtleties and imagery of the language, you know, all the “good stuff” that makes learning another language worth the effort. Being an student of literature, I realize that that is pretty much what literature is. Still totally worth it.
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So the reality soaks in, life isn't what we expect it to be, it is what it is. But, the best part of it is that you are learning so much more than you realize, so much of this experience will broaden your views of the world and help you to work from the point of what it is, not what you thought it was. It's a sobering point for all of us. Love, Aunt Deb
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