Border Hoppin' and Discovering Gems

Even if you don’t believe in anything, going to Costa Rica is bound to make you think about who or what created such awesomeness.  The beauty of Costa Rica, the natural diversity, the lushness of the green plants---it’s sure to leave you thinking…

But of course, nothing comes that easily. So before I tell you all the amazing things about Costa Rica, let me recap the journey for you. If you ever thought US customs was a big deal, check out the immigration process in Central America. Lol. Ain’t nothing like it.

In true spirit of a semi-backpacker/semi-nomad/semi-adventureseeker (I do not yet own the official backpacker bookbag, lol), we decided to bus it. Okay, okay. It was wayyyy cheaper. Consider crossing borders in Central America for a mere $80 versus $400.00. You would be on that bus too. Anyway, the Tica bus left Panama City’s Gran Terminal at 11:00pm and was set to arrive in San Jose, Costa Rica at 2:00pm the next day. Indeed it was a long journey, but well worth it. I mean, it is all about the experience, right?

At 6:44 am, we arrived at ‘La Frontera.’

We were asked to get off of the bus and enter a sketchy room. I imagine that this sketchy room was the Panamanian side’s immigration office. They brought in a dog that perused the bags. Then a man pointed at all of the foreigners in the room and asked for our passports. I realized later that he had a paper with certain names circled. Yet, how he figured out just who to point to even with that list is still a mystery to me. Maybe, he was just that damn good?

After we were cleared for whatever foreigners need to be cleared for, we proceeded to another line.  Here we were asked to show our tickets and they took a picture of us with webcams.  I even had to take my scarf off my head. Oh well.

It's always exciting to make it across any border!

Then we walked the rest of the way to Costa Rica. Got you! Lol, we were at the border, so just one foot over and we were in Costa Rica.  We stood in line again, this time at the immigration office on the Costa Rican side. 

Somewhere around 9 o’clock (still don’t know whose time it was), we got back on the bus and pulled off. Then we were stopped by police officer or immigration official. I am realizing that you are never really sure who is who around these parts. You just comply.  The good thing about this guy was that when I handed him my passport, he actually pronounced my name right. If you want to see me smile, say my name…and say it right :) 

As we began driving again, I found myself staring out of the window and being grateful once again for the opportunity to see so much, with so little. Each time I see a new place, I am re-inspired to keep making strides in my life and to be a step closer to whatever my purpose is on this earth. For me, this isn’t just about acquiring stamps in my passport. I’ll admit, that part makes me happy too. But the real thing for me is truly finding myself and actualizing my dreams along the way. Through all of this traveling, I am moved, I am inspired, and I am driven to work even harder, to touch people. 

Our ultimate destination during this trip was to a town on the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica called Puerto Viejo. A gem it is indeed! Puerto Viejo is a funky little, hippie, rasta, backpacker and everything- in-between-kinda beach town. That meant lots of fresh fruit smoothies, which we all became addicted to by the end of the trip! Lots of expats from different countries including Spain, the United States, Canada, just to name a few. I loved the place. I fit right in with the easy-going people and the reggae tunes blasting from cars, bars, and shops. The reggae vibe just matched with the flair of the town and the tropical vibe. It’s the kinda town where everyone knows everyone and their story. I will always remember at least three of the characters I met here. The Nicaraguan rasta, a costa Rican rasta, and a man from Jamaica, who looked at me and told me straight up that he liked my African vibe. He was a truth speaker. Each of these three people gave me something to think about. My conversation with the rasta from Costa Rica was full of things that will come up time and time again in this blog. The joys of travelling the world: you meet people who, no matter how far away your lands, share the same ideas and thoughts and even passions as you.  You pick up bits and pieces. 

Fresh caribbean food from a local spot called Soda Isma

the glow comes with the territory ;)

kisses from a caribbean town in central america!

peace on the beach

chocolate and green...my faves!

limon's flag has colors similar to the flag of Sierra Leone :)

As Puerto Viejo is located in the province of Limon, it was only right that we pay a visit to the city where most of the afro-descendants reside. They came from Jamaica and other Caribbean countries to build a railroad.  Fortunately, we actually made it there in time for the Carnaval de Limon. It was a blessing to be there in the flesh and experience the pride that people feel on that day. I even noticed some dances that seemed distinctively similar to African 

tribal dances. The city, the people, the experience---nothing short of interesting. I hope to go back there some time next year and have an even richer experience. Check out some of the pictures from carnaval. 

african princesses

the finer things in life: writing on the beach

All in all, 'twas a wonderful trip with two spontaneous sistagirls and all in the name of a Central American Caribbean adventure. 

This weekend I look forward to exploring a bit of Panama. Stay tuned for the San Blas Islands experience with the Kuna Indians of Panama. And remember---don’t take off your seatbelt cuz there’s always an adventure awaiting you here on Bee’s Backseat!

The 'La Negra' Experience: Part 1

Well, I am L-I-V-E in Panama and who would have thought, that my being black would actually be a thing? I imagined that, since there are obviously people here of African descent, my presence would go almost unnoticed---not.

Lol. A task as simple as walking to the go grocery store for me is met with hollering matches between construction workers, taxi drivers, and quite frankly almost any guy that’s on the street. Yeah, I know what you are thinking---I’m an international showstopper...jk.  But this show stoppin’ deserves analysis. Here, I am called 'La Negra,' which literally means the black girl/woman, black and feminine. Sometimes I get 'morena,' which is brown girl. To-may-to, to-mah-to.

I will say that I was prepared for the 'la negra' experience because it happened to me in Spain and my host mom explained to me that it was a term of endearment. Call it what you want, but I still have some reservations about the deeper meaning of being objectified by your skin color AND womanhood. But, I am in another country and I have always despised when people complain about a country they are visiting. I will live this experience and use it to my advantage by writing about it.

On two separate occasions, I have felt extremely uncomfortable with taxi drivers because one kept purring over how beautiful my skin was and the other kept explaining how much he loved my skin color. The last one even went as far as rubbing his head on my arm…errr?

Yes, people will say that it’s normal here for women of afro-descent to be referred to as ‘negra’ or even ‘morena.’ Yet, I find it peculiar that I have to be referred to as ‘la negra.’ Yes, in the Spanish language they often refer to people as exactly what they are in a sweet (?) way. They might call a cute, chubby little girl, ‘gordita’ or a cute, black little girl, ‘negrita.’ They even call the people from East Asian countries here, ‘chino,’ #straightlikethat. But even in a place where there are others who look juuuuuust like me, my skin is still made to be something exotic.  Something tells me that there is more to this. I have a couple of theories; we will delve into them later on in the journey.

All this to say that, while I expected that my seemingly African looks would stand out a bit from time to time, I didn’t expect the rave reviews that I am receiving from men and women alike. With the men, it is as though I am a forbidden fruit. Or rather, the forbidden race, whether they look like me or lighter. With the women, I can't exactly read all of them, but I have noticed a sense of disapproval/ridicule based on their facial expressions/body language. I am just assuming that it may because of the way I wear my hair, (haven’t seen anyone with natural hair here) or wrap my head when I don’t feel like engaging in a war entitled Hair vs. Comb. One day as I enjoyed my Saturday ritual of ceviche de langostinos* at the Mercado de Mariscos*, a woman asked me why I didn’t perm my hair...that my hairstyle must be an "estilo africano*." She really meant no harm, I guess. The way I look, the way I dress [some days], my style, jewelry, and even that dramatic (but natural) walk that people love to hate... it screams culture...it screams...black...it screams Africa...and I am beginning to think that some folks here, just aren’t ready to open up their ears and hear my silent audio. We shall see…

This topic is one that we will revisit at various times throughout the journey, as I am sure that it will come up pretty often. So don’t worry. Race, culture, travel, and perception--- it’s only right. 

*Ceviche made with Jumbo Shrimp or Prawns

*Seafood Market

*African Style

Up next: Hopping the border to Costa Rica...buckle your seat belts. Yes, it's the law, even here on Bee's Backseat :) Stay tuned for the Carnaval experience!

Kickin’ off the Journey

Just the other day as I sat in the teacher’s lounge at my school, I found myself expressing how excited I was for the new class that was starting on the following Monday.  The school where I work offers a TEFL Certification course every couple of months (TEFL=Teaching English as a Foreign Language). Another teacher asked how I could possibly be that excited for a group of people that were just starting a certification course.  He didn’t understand HOW in the world my sentiments about the start of this course could be sincere. Of course, I couldn’t believe that he didn’t believe me! But then, I took a step back and thought to myself. Why in fact had I been so excited about this class? Then it dawned on me: TEFL symbolizes the beginning of a journey. For so many people, the TEFL course is a major step towards accomplishing a dream, that may seem so small to others. The opportunity to travel the world and work as a teacher of a foreign language, sounds pretty cool and exciting to me. Granted, I also had to realize that some TEFL teachers aren’t necessarily teaching because they want to travel, see the world and teach people, but rather because of circumstances. Sort of like a lot of people have to do certain things not out of passion or love, but out of lack of opportunity, choice, etc. Point taken.

Yet still, TEFL has deep meaning for me. The fact that I am actually doing this means that I had a dream, and even though it took years to get it crackin’, I am finally livin’ it.

Let me tell you all a little about how my longing for this TEFL lifestyle started. Let’s make it fun! I’ll do a timeline. Timelines seems to be in now, huh? #shoutout to Mark Zuckerberg, who constantly makes millions of people around the world do what he wants us to do. Lol. So here it is. 

2008: Studied abroad in Spain for a short stint during the summer. I met a lot of teachers there at the local bar/club that we frequented. They were from all over the world. I remember meeting a guy from Ivory Coast who was teaching French. He was happy, relaxed, teaching and traveling. I promised myself that I would do the same one day. I enjoyed every bit of Spain. I enjoyed walking to school and stopping at the bakery shop to satisfy my sweet tooth. I enjoyed tasting new foods, sans the Morcilla (blood pudding). But most of all, I enjoyed discovering the unknown. Everything was new to me. I had officially been bitten by the travel bug. A bite that has long-lasting effects.

2009: I applied to an internship at the State Department to work in DC or somewhere abroad. I researched study abroad options in South Africa.  I thought it would be awesome to study politics at a university in South Africa. I would either spend the spring semester 2010 interning in DC or studying in South Africa.

My junior year of college started in the fall.  I had the best college circle, yet I found myself in an unhappy place. I was unhappy with my surroundings for many reasons. I loved my college life, but was ready to be away from campus. I tried to figure out a way to leave.  Then the perfect opportunity presented itself…and what a surprise it was.

Remember the State Department internship that I had applied for during the summer? Yes, that one. Well, not only did I forget that I applied for it. But I also forgot that I indicated that I would be willing to work at an internship overseas.

Needless to say, when I opened the acceptance letter and it said Georgetown, I thought to myself, “Why is Georgetown, capitalized?” Duhhhh Bintu…not Georgetown in Washington D.C., but Georgetown, Guyana. As in South America. Yes, I knew where that was before I left. My escape route had been planned. I would spend my spring semester living and interning abroad. Yes!

2010: Guyana! The place will always have a special place in my heart. For so many reasons. Even obvious ones :) Guyana was the place where I really let down my black girl hair.  I say that in a literal and figurative sense. Allow me to explain. I went there with top of the line Remy human hair. Y’all know what I mean; I was not getting my weave wet. I didn’t know how to flat iron my weave then. Still don’t. But weave days are over for me. Anyway, somehow, my host mom convinced me to go on a trip to Marshalls Falls with a technical crew that had been visiting.  I went along despite my real lack of interest. I have always been terrified of any sort of outdoorsy/physical activity. I had told myself that these things were not for me and that I couldn’t do stuff like that. Anyway, I went. We took a sketchy boat across a major river. Then got on another small boat. Hiked to a beautiful waterfall. After all that, I was still stuck on not getting my weave wet.  While all the other people went under the waterfall’s massage I stood to the side. Then something came over me; here I was in a place that I would probably never visit again in my life, and I was thinking of missing out on the full natural experience because of two packs of hair that didn’t really belong to me? I was moved by that thought. I dashed into the water. I felt renewed. I felt accomplished. I felt ready to do more and see more. I had let my black girl hair down. Things haven’t been the same since.

I graduated from Towson University this year!

Skip to 2012: Landed back in Guyana. Lol. I forgot to tell you all that I drank the black water in 2010. They say that if you drink the black water you are sure to come back. Make your own judgement on what brought me back--- the black water or a particular black man? ;)

After a much-needed short vacation, I returned home and tried to get back in the groove of working my two jobs. The whole thing was getting old. I guess the fact that I was overworking myself helped me realize that I needed to take a step back and think about what it was that I was supposed to be doing. I had always kept the advisor at the TEFL Institute’s phone number. I would use it and sign up for the class for real this time.

I started the class in February and felt really good. As I completed the course in April, I began my practicum in April/May. I got my certificate just after returning from a wild getaway with my girlfriends in my favorite US city, Miami! 

August 5^th, 2012: I moved to Panama City, Panama. I actually did it. I FREAKIN’ DID IT!

This has been a long journey for me. Well, let me rephrase that. It took a long time for the journey to start.

And so, it is October; I am two months into living and working in Panama. It all happened very quickly. I arrived on a Sunday, interviewed at two schools on Tuesday. Started teaching on that Wednesday. Moved into a cute little spot with some Colombian and Panamanian girls on a Friday. Talk about BLESSED.

So far, so good. I am learning and growing as a language teacher. I walk to the grocery store. I speak Spanish as much as possible. And spanglish too. But most of all, I am l-i-v-i-n-g. 

I can't wait to share my experience as "La Negra". Stay tuned. It's a free ride: Bee's Backseat.

The New Way to Travel: Bee's Backseat

Welcome to Bee’s Backseat. Simply because whenever I am taking in some of the world’s most beautiful sights, I always think of how much I would love to share the experience.  Secondly, the backseat metaphor connotates that I am the driver, and in control of my own experience. I have finally reached a point in my life where I can safely say that I am creating my own adventure. Finally, have you ever ridden in the backseat of a car or a taxi, and had a different perspective on the road? You see different things than if you were the driver. You have a chance to think about different things. You can hear, see, and learn so much just from taking the backseat. You can even BEE inspired. So let’s do it. I am taking you on my adventure…I promise to make it worth your while by exploring various topics as they come up during my travels. Come on, what do you have to lose? ...It’s Bee’s Backseat. Ready?