Virtual Costa Rica: Live yoga from an incredible changemaker in Monteverde

Good morning! As you know, I’m sharing slices of Costa Rican life that you can enjoy from anywhere, along with related causes that urgently need support. So far, this little trip has taken us to turtle-nesting beaches, Volcán Arenal, the Melico Salazar Theater and a Sloth Ironman. Not too shabby.

Today it’s green, lush Monteverde, where you can join yoga instructor Katy VanDusen for a free live yoga class every Monday until further notice at 4:15 Costa Rica time (that’s 6:15 EST, 3:15 Pacific). Not only will you be doing something good for your body and mind, but you’ll be in the presence of a truly inspirational environmental leader whom I’m proud to have met in person. Katy is a longtime Monteverde resident, a community organizer, environmental advocate and promoter of women’s empowerment. She’s a former leader of the Monteverde Friends School and leads CORCLIMA, an outstanding nonprofit that’s making this Costa Rican community a hub for best practices in climate resilience.

Katy is asking, as payment for her free classes, that you do something nice for someone else. However, I invite you to consider supporting CORCLIMA here through Amigos of Costa Rica. (Note that the donation is for CORCLIMA in the comment box.) You can also contribute to a special Emergency Fund set up by the Monteverde Community Foundation at Amigos of Costa Rica to support families during the COVID-19 crisis. And remember that you can browse other ways to give back during the COVID-19 crisis on my dedicated page, including newly updated emergency funds and other efforts, here!

I’m a writer in San José, Costa Rica, on a year-long quest to share daily posts on inspiring people, places and ideas from my adopted home as a kind of tonic during a rough time in the world. Sign up (top right of this page) to receive a little dose of inspiration every weekday in your mailbox; tell a friend; check out past posts; and please connect with me on Instagram or FacebookIf you want to learn more about how to support Costa Rica during the crisis, visit my COVID-19 section, updated regularly – or for ways to enjoy Costa Rica from afar, visit Virtual Costa Rica.

Nighttime explorations

I’m getting today’s post in under the wire – and since night has fallen, I’m using this Daily Boost to say thank you to Chepecletas, which has made nighttime explorations of San José fun and accessible to so many people. Champions of cycling and walking in the crowded capital, the folks at ChepeCletas organize fun “safaris,” many at night, to showcase the city’s history, gastronomy, nightlife and arts. Plus, their social media feeds are full of news, events and cool photos like the one I’m resharing here.

Their next safari is Thursday, Jan. 30. Check it out here – and here’s to showcasing a city too many people dismiss.

I’m a writer in San José, Costa Rica, on a year-long quest to share daily posts on inspiring people, places and ideas from my adopted home as a kind of tonic during a rough time in the world. Sign up (top right of this page) to receive a little dose of inspiration every weekday in your mailbox; tell a friend; check out past posts; and please connect with me on Instagram or Facebook! You can also find me churning out small, square poems on any topic under the sun (here on the site, on Instagram or Twitter). 

‘Be brave, because you are worth it’

One of the unhelpful things people tell parents of young kids is, “Just wait until she’s a teenager!” I always say some version of, “You truly don’t need to remind me. I have been terrified of that since before she was born.”

As a middle-school teacher, I loved my students. I also saw the gap that, necessarily, grows between them and their parents. Now that I have a six-year-old telling me every thought that enters her brain, I’m even more aware of the chasm ahead – especially when I think about teenagers’ mental health and the isolation that can come with that time of life.

All of this is to say that I am already so grateful to Joven Salud, the platform that the international nonprofit TeenSmart International is using to serve more than 50,000 young people throughout Latin America and build dozens upon dozens of public-private partnerships that surround many of those teenagers with in-person attention. They can start with something as simple as reaching out to a trained online coach for support (up to 500 teens do so every week), or build to something as intensive as becoming a volunteer and leading programs for other young people. The online platform can reach young people few other programs can, including migrants and refugees.

Joven Salud recently shared the story of 18-year-old Yareth:

Be brave, because you are worth it.

These are the exact words my TeenSmart coach said to me when I went on JovenSalud.net to seek help. These are the words that began my story of transformation.

Two years ago, when I was sixteen and suffering depression, a classmate told me that cutting myself would make me feel better.

It didn’t.

I felt alone and frightened. Afraid of what I might do. Until the night I decided to reach out to TeenSmart. That was the night my coach encouraged me to share my feelings with my parents and to open my heart to receive their support.

Now, two years later, I have graduated from high school and am applying to medical school. My goal is to help others through my service as a doctor. I want to help my parents and be an inspiration for my younger brother.

I am not sure what would have happened to me if I had not found out about TeenSmart. Perhaps I would have kept taking the advice that my friend gave me and began a life of dangerous behavior. Maybe I would not be here today to deliver my testimony. In my neighborhood, many children leave for school after a long night of listening to their fathers beating their mothers. Teenagers wake up on the streets after drinking all night. Many do not finish school.

Not long ago, a friend committed suicide due to drug abuse. We had grown up together and used to play soccer. I wonder if I could have helped to prevent that by saying, Hola!, and starting a conversation.

Now, as a TeenSmart volunteer, I know I can help other teenagers. These days I share how TeenSmart helped save my life and I use my testimony to encourage others to use their services.

Thank you, Joven Salud, for putting this kind of support available to young people like Yareth. We need to make sure all of our teenagers have this tool in their pockets, especially those who need it most. At a time when some of Central America’s most vulnerable youth are on the move, losing access to the already tenuous services they might have had at their school or in their communities, a tool like Joven Salud and an organization like TeenSmart isn’t just a nice option. It’s vital.

I’m a writer in San José, Costa Rica, on a year-long quest to share daily posts on inspiring people, places and ideas from my adopted home as a kind of tonic during a rough time in the world. Sign up (top right of this page) to receive a little dose of inspiration every weekday in your mailbox; tell a friend; check out past posts; and please connect with me on Instagram or Facebook! You can also find me churning out small, square poems on any topic under the sun (here on the site, on Instagram or Twitter). 

 

 

The overlooked mental health of migrants – and a wellness tip for all

In what I think of as both of my countries, the United States and Costa Rica, waves of migrants and refugees fleeing violence and oppression have dominated plenty of headlines in recent years. However, the impact of migration on mental health is generally not at the forefront, at least not for adults. Since I’m an immigrant myself, this topic is close to my heart, not despite the privileged way I migrated but because of it: the fact that I immigrated voluntarily with every economic, linguistic and cultural advantage, but experienced loneliness and homesickness nonetheless, makes me particularly keen to know more about how the migrants and refugees pouring over borders are coping.

I know lots of Daily Boost readers are in the same camp, so this seemed like a natural place to start when exploring mental health this month. Obviously, it’s incumbent upon the countries that receive migrants and the public and private entities that serve them to provide medical care for serious mental health issues, but I was also curious how organizations are dealing with the earlier steps – providing general support and alleviating sadness. To learn more this, I called Margarita Herdocia.

Margarita Herdocia (second from left) with HUG fellows. Via FB/Ticos y Nicas

Margarita is an extraordinary leader in business and philanthropy whose life story could take up this whole post, but who, among many other efforts, is the president of the Asociación Ticos y Nicas Somos Hermanos, which helps fight xenophobia and support migrants to Costa Rica. Passionate about the violence taking place in her native Nicaragua and the need to help young refugees here continue their university education, she has spearheaded the Humanitarian University Grant (HUG) Program and to fund the continuing education of more than 21 young Nicaraguan refugees.

Thanks to donations from many supporters, the group keeps growing so that these bright young Nicaraguans don’t miss their chance to continue learning. The way Margarita sees it, it’s a huge opportunity not just for Nicaragua’s future, but also for Costa Rica as the host for these brilliant young people – and having met some of the scholarship recipients, I fully agree.

Here’s what she had to say about ways she seeks to support the mental health of her students, and how these practices can apply to all of us:

Mental health is something that, despite everything we talk about these days, is so taboo, and people are really stressed out. In particular, migrating is really stressful, and it’s something that’s usually not looked at. Migrants are seen as people who need jobs, and that’s mostly what is thought about: their Social Security coverage, do they have permits or are they working illegally. They are not thought of as people who really need mental health support.

At the HUG Program, we hold monthly meetings with the students, support-group style. I lead the support groups personally. We have total confidentiality and rules about how we can hear people as they communicate their needs, their distress, their life story, their current mental and emotional state. HUG students have become a social support network for each other… these young people stop being lonely migrants, and they know that they are not alone… You can’t overestimate the importance of belonging for a young person.

The HUG scholars also get exposed to different events with leaders of Costa Rica, whether they are social leaders, business leaders – we even take them to concerts and different types of events. They go from feeling irrelevant to, “Oh my goodness. Life is not only sad. Life is not only difficult. There are also connections, and these people I’m meeting have a big name, but they are also human beings.” That’s also character building. It’s what we call building social capital.

A key component that I think can help anybody – emotionally, spiritually, mentally – is that part of the deal of getting this HUG scholarship is that they must volunteer with one of the charity organizations that we support. These HUG scholars, young people, have to serve and help, whether it’s in an old people’s infirmary or having dinner with girls from orphanages that we sometimes take out, or visiting them in the orphanages – so they have an immediate switch from, “I’m a victim, I’m a migrant, I’m poor, I’m new in a new country” to all of a sudden, “I am a helper. I am the one who provides happiness. I am the one who gives emotional support.”

It is by giving emotional support that you actually strengthen your own, and that is huge. It’s not only something that can be done for students, but something that all of us have to do. The moment we stay inside our heads, thinking “Oh, poor me,” it’s just a downward spiral. The minute you step out of your mind and go serve another, you go from victim to helper, and that’s a huge leap in self-esteem.

That’s a prescription I recommend for everybody, whether you’re a migrant or not. Try, on a regular basis, to get out of yourself and go serve others. Then you’ll see how all problems take a different perspective, and it also becomes a mental health insurance and protection that is enormous. To me, that is the biggest anti-depressant: to go and help and serve others.

To learn more about the HUG program or the Asociación Ticos y Nicas and how to sponsor a HUG scholar, visit their website and Amigos of Costa Rica affiliate page. Read more about my January focus on mental health here.

I’m a writer in San José, Costa Rica, on a year-long quest to share daily posts on inspiring people, places and ideas from my adopted home as a kind of tonic during a rough time in the world. Sign up (top right of this page) to receive a little dose of inspiration every weekday in your mailbox; tell a friend; check out past posts; and please connect with me on Instagram or Facebook! You can also find me churning out small, square poems on any topic under the sun (here on the site, on Instagram or Twitter). 

 

Day 68: A glass of ruby-red refreshment

Today’s the first time in 68 days that I haven’t managed to get a Boost out in the morning… it’s been quite a week. Fortunately, the day has 24 hours.

One simple habit I’ve really gotten into this year is drinking unsweetened jamaica, which is iced hibiscus tea. As I’ve noted, I sometimes have a hard time getting myself to drink hot tea, but I could drink agua de jamaica all day. It can prevent hypertension; lower blood pressure and blood sugar levels; and even, so I’ve read, help address pain from menstrual cramps. Best of all, the

The reason it took me so long to become a jamaica converts that when you’re served this popular drink in a soda, or restaurant, it’s often heavily sweetened, and somehow the flavor just never appealed to me. But when my doctor told me to watch my blood pressure earlier this year and I first prepared the drink at home (just steeping dried hibiscus petals in hot water and then icing, as with any tea), I discovered that unsweetened version is delightfully tart, kind of like cranberry juice. I would imagine that you could make a delightful vodka-jamaica cocktail, but I am wandering off topic for Wellness Wednesday.

Plus, its deep red color is just gorgeous, like a jewel, and bright and festive at this time of year.

So on a day so stressful that you don’t write your morning Boost until 6 pm, try a glass of cold hibiscus tea and see if it unspools your knots the way it does mine.

I’m a writer in San José, Costa Rica, on a year-long quest to share daily posts on inspiring people, places and ideas from my adopted home as a kind of tonic during a rough time in the world. Sign up (top right of this page) to receive a little dose of inspiration every weekday in your mailbox; tell a friend; check out past posts; and please connect with me on Instagram or Facebook! You can also find me churning out small, square poems on any topic under the sun (here on the site, on Instagram or Twitter). 

Day 48: All the world needs now is pinto

It’s a scientific fact: you can’t have a really bad day if you start it with gallo pinto.

I’ve had some bad days during which I’ve eaten a casado or a chifrijo or even delicious fresh fruit. But there’s something about magic about Costa Rica’s national breakfast dish. I ate it pretty much ever morning when I was an intern at La Nación and the lucky recipient of doña Hannia’s formidable cooking skills at my homestay, and that was just maybe the best summer of my life. Now, I eat it just rarely enough that it always feels special: I’m out of town, or it’s one of those mornings when my husband declares, “I’m going to make pinto.”

You need leftover rice. Many people over the years have explained to me that it is a Cardinal Sin to make fresh rice and then put it straight into pinto, because it’s not firm enough and won’t be able to absorb the flavors without getting mushy. You also need black beans, onion, sweet peppers, salt, pepper, cumin and, unless you hate it, culantro.

And Salsa Lizano. It really isn’t true that ticos “put it on everything,” but you definitely need it for pinto, both in the dish and then on hand in case it needs a little more on the plate. (Anyone have a favorite recipe? I looked but honestly got overwhelmed. There are a lot of techniques out there.)

You can fry gallo pinto in lots of fat, cover it in natilla and surround it with bacon or other heavy foods, but pinto itself is perfectly light and nutritious, so it does belong on a Wellness Wednesday. As we enter the season of a slightly slower pace and more festive feel, I’m going to aim to eat pinto just a bit more often. It’s almost the time of year when we get to ease up on our mornings just a touch, sip that coffee a little longer, and look forward to a day that has already been blessed by the best breakfast on the planet.

I’m a writer in San José, Costa Rica, on a year-long quest to share daily posts on inspiring people, places and ideas from my adopted home as a kind of tonic during a rough time in the world. Sign up (top right of this page) to receive a little dose of inspiration every weekday in your mailbox; tell a friend; check out past posts; and please connect with me on Instagram or Facebook! You can also find me churning out small, square poems on any topic under the sun (here on the site, on Instagram or Twitter). 

Day 46: The angels hang out at the back of the pack

The writer Annie Lamott describes being skillful at something as being “fast” at it. The thing Lamott is fastest at is putting words together; the same is true for me. The thing I am slowest at is, well, being fast. Ever since I plodded around the soccer field as a high school goalie, I have been exploring the world at a glacial pace. Fifteen miles a week. Two. Thirty. Over the past few years, my running declined to almost nothing at all, but sooner or later I always find myself lacing up my shoes and heading out the door.

I’ve come to realize that if you can find something you’re not good at, but keep finding yourself doing nonetheless, that’s when you should really lean in. That’s what I did over the past eight months. In March, during a period of particularly high stress, I developed an ankle injury so bad that I couldn’t even make it down a supermarket aisle without support. I took to the pool until I could finally run for one minute on a treadmill – a major victory. I kept at it, and yesterday I ran my first half-marathon in more than 15 years.

Boy, was it tough. Here’s what I learned about the hidden benefits of doing something you’re bad at, and doing it with all your might: I learned that only when you are way out of your league, desperate to give up, sucking wind and totally vulnerable – only then are you raw and open enough to notice the angels around you.

Yes, that’s right. I said angels. And if you know me, my use of that word will tell you something about just how tired I was only a third of the way through yesterday’s race.

First, some context: when I first moved to San José, races were meant for Real Runners, meaning that it was hard to find anything under a 10K, and the fields tended to be pretty intimidating. Today, there is a growing diversity of races and you’ll see a lot more runners-in-process, so to speak – but the half-marathon cutoff is still only three hours, and I arrived at the race carrying the phone, charger, snacks and water I would need to finish the distance at a local park by myself if I fell too far behind and ended up lost in a southern San José suburb.

It sure looked like things would go that way, until I was suddenly swept up in a sea of blue. It was a running club from a nearby neighborhood accompanying one of their own in her first-ever half-marathon attempt. One person in particular fell into step with me and announced he would stick with me until the bitter end. This was Marcos, although everyone along the course called him Tío. He was a wiry, gray-haired runner who could probably have run the race in under two hours, but he wasn’t here to do that. He was just out to stretch his legs on a Sunday, show support for his teammate, and keep some poor sadsack from curling up in the fetal position at the side of a busy road.

Only those who have run races they really weren’t ready for and know that sinking feeling of hitting, say, the seven-mile mark and knowing you still have six to go, or the anxiety of expecting any step to be the one that makes your ankle buckle under you, will know just how much it meant to me to be caught up in this jovial group of runners when I had expected to spend the race alone. Other slow, struggling runners came in and out of our orbit, slowing to a walk or finding new energy, sometimes even sharing snippets of their stories. A member of the running club drove along the race course and stopped every couple of miles to take two ice-cold sponges from a cooler and drench us with freezing water, which felt like a welcome shot of adrenaline to the heart. That guy’s wife jumped out of the car at one point when we were traveling through a particularly sketchy area of San José, a neighborhood where drunks were still stumbling out of bars after a long night-turned-morning. She did something I hope no one ever does to me in that neighborhood to me: said “Quick, eat this,” and then shoved something into my mouth. It was a giant sports gummy. “You need sugar,” she said, and then she was gone.

Most of all, it was Tío who saved me. He was such a gentle presence trotting next to me, mile after mile. If I found the energy to say something, he was an appreciative audience; otherwise, we ran in silence. On a downhill, he’d say, “Let’s recover. Let’s shake it out. Let’s loosen up.” On an uphill, he’d say, “Come on, Katherine. We can do it. We’ll make it. Nearly there now.” My chin quivered at one point when I noticed how he always maneuvered himself in between me and any cars on the road, just as my dad used to do on a sidewalk. His steady stream of calmly uttered platitudes also reminded me of my dad. In fact, he escorted me through the race just as Pops would have, if Pops had been a seasoned marathoner. Maybe my brain was a little deprived of oxygen, or maybe there was something loopy in that sports gummy after all, but it was hard not to feel that I had been provided with some kind of divine intervention.

At one point, at a water station, a hopeful race volunteer said to our trailing group, “Are you the last ones?”

“Yes,” said Tío, “but the last shall be first.” I swear a choir burst into song nearby. Or maybe it was just the karaoke machine from the bar across the way.

When you suck at something, but you keep on doing, lean in. Lean way in. When you suck, when you’re last, when you’re out of shape or out of tune or way, way out of your league but you just keep going, that’s when people will help you. The angels hang out at the back of the pack. There, among the slow and struggling, you’ll remember the best possible outcome for any human endeavor. That’s to begin something alone, and to end it in unexpected company – overcome by the kindness of a person who at the starting line was nothing but a stranger.

(Today’s Daily Boost is dedicated to Corramos, the Rio Azul running club.)

I’m a writer in San José, Costa Rica, on a year-long quest to share daily posts on inspiring people, places and ideas from my adopted home as a kind of tonic during a rough time in the world. Sign up (top right of this page) to receive a little dose of inspiration every weekday in your mailbox; tell a friend; check out past posts; and please connect with me on Instagram or Facebook! You can also find me churning out small, square poems on any topic under the sun (here on the site, on Instagram or Twitter). 

 

 

Day 43: The curse of multitasking

A hummingbird at rest in Costa Rica

Costa Rica is one big invitation to stop multitasking, but San José is all about it. This is partly because of all the traffic. How are you not going to distract yourself with your phone while on a bus for two hours or sitting motionless in a car?

Yesterday I announced triumphantly to my husband that I had written 3,500 words of my novel on the way home. He looked appropriately alarmed. I explained I had just turned on voice-to-text and narrated aloud, producing such sentences as “She miss being and not T cozies” but capturing a huge chunk of action nonetheless.

Somehow this morning, while thoroughly distracted, I stumbled on this six-year-old piece by a young mother that says it all. I never had a moment of panic the way she did, but I think most parents today have experienced that panic in smaller ways, which is why her piece resonated so much: it’s the panic of that sudden return to the self, the kid tugging on your sleeve, the “Why am I even doing this right now?” mini-epiphany that fades away the next time technology beckons. We think that something needs to be done now, and it doesn’t. Our kids, who are always now, get less of us as a result.

I don’t think that’s always so bad. It’s fine for kids to be ignored sometimes: it balances out some of our weird helicopter-parenting era and gives them some time and space to create cool things. Sometimes, when I’m busy and my daughter wails, “I’m bored!” I even smile to myself, knowing that with luck, this declaration means that thirty seconds later I’ll find her immersed in an amazing game of her own creation. Only we, the parents, know the difference – the difference between insisting on five more minutes to finish writing something that really matters to me, and half-listening to her story because I’m dealing with some work email that no one even expects me to answer til the morning.

Has anyone out there, reading this, found ways to become one-taskers more often? I have a very pretty Phone Box that I need to dust off and start to use again, but I’d love to hear other ideas. Most of all, I hope to listen a bit more to the rest of Costa Rica, the land that lies outside these city limits, full of places that call to all of us to do only one thing at a time.

I’m a writer in San José, Costa Rica, on a year-long quest to share daily posts on inspiring people, places and ideas from my adopted home as a kind of tonic during a rough time in the world. Sign up (top right of this page) to receive a little dose of inspiration every weekday in your mailbox; tell a friend; check out past posts; and please connect with me on Instagram or Facebook! You can also find me churning out small, square poems on any topic under the sun (here on the site, on Instagram or Twitter). 

 

Day 29: Is there a park calling your name?

Can you name the Costa Rican park where I took this photo? Do you have a favorite – national, city, private? Dog park (man, I know a nice one in Eastport, Maine)? Random-corner-that-isn’t-technically-a-park-but-makes-you-happy? I’ve been collecting parks in Costa Rica for 15 years, and there are few habits that have done more for my mental health than those escapes, no matter how short.

If you can, wherever you are today, drop by a park and take a break. Because sometimes, #travelthursday is just that simple.

I’m a writer in San José, Costa Rica, on a year-long quest to share daily posts on inspiring people, places and ideas from my adopted home as a kind of tonic during a rough time in the world. Sign up (top right of this page) to receive a little dose of inspiration every weekday in your mailbox; tell a friend; check out past posts; and please connect with me on Instagram or Facebook! You can also find me churning out small, square poems on any topic under the sun (here on the site, on Instagram or Twitter). 

 

 

Day 23: The toad water of your dreams

If I had to choose one food to take to a desert island, it’d be an avocado. If I had to choose one to replace half of my medicine cabinet, it’d probably be ginger. Hot, cold, candied, pickled, grated or trying unsuccessfully to blend in at the edges of a jam or sauce – I’ve seen time and time again how ginger can cut through a woolly throat, clear everything out and just generally do you all kinds of good.

That’s why I’m obsessed with agua de sapo, a drink I love at any time of the year but that comes to my mind particularly in October, for two reasons. One is that this is one of the most beautiful times of year in Costa Rica’s Caribbean, the region that has created much of Costa Rica’s most delicious food, including this drink. And another is that the heavy rains in other parts of the country mean that you find yourself reaching for the ginger. A potent mix of ginger, lemon and tapa dulce, or unrefined whole cane sugar, a good agua de sapo should widen your eyes a little bit with that first spicy sip.

I’ve never made it at home, and no, I was not sufficiently organized to try it out before writing this post – you’ve probably realized this by now, but I generally need to write myself into doing things, which is why this project exists – but I will do it and report back. I found a few different recipes online including the news that most people cook it to dissolve the sugar, while others just whack it all in a blender, but the one that made the most sense to me is the one below. It makes a massive amount, but I have a feeling that frozen cubes of agua de sapo would be delightful to have on hand – to cool down a Moscow mule or a ginger beer or ginger ale, or added to a smoothie or juice where you would use ginger.

Have you made agua de sapo? Does thinking about Costa Rican Caribbean food make you drool? Let me know.

Here’s the recipe from Cocina Costarricense:

1 gallon of water
1 tapa de dulce (apparently this can be found as “panela” in other countries – and I would think you should be able to substitute brown sugar. I’m not sure how much loose sugar you’d want to add, but I assume less is more, as you can always add more sugar to the warm mixture at the end.
250 g fresh ginger
1 cup freshly squeezed lime juice

Peel, chop and crush the ginger; chop the tapa de dulce into chunks. Add both to 1 liter of water and boil until the sugar is completely dissolved. Cool and strain, then add the lime juice and serve iced.

I’m a writer in San José, Costa Rica, on a year-long quest to share daily posts on inspiring people, places and ideas from my adopted home as a kind of tonic during a rough time in the world. Sign up (top right of this page) to receive a little dose of inspiration every weekday in your mailbox; tell a friend; check out past posts; and please connect with me on Instagram or Facebook! You can also find me churning out small, square poems on any topic under the sun (here on the site, on Instagram or Twitter).