I’ve become acutely aware of my Americanism. As Brian Souders, the UMBC study abroad advisor explains, “We are not a shy, retiring people.” Instead, we travel in packs, flash cameras like paparazzi, laugh out loud, slam car doors, and randomly break out into eighties dance moves. (Ok, so maybe the last one is just my friends, but you get the point.) Somos los gringos! Such antics are a blast, but I find myself at times playing the wallflower because such actions feel culturally insensitive.

On Election Day, this past Sunday, after the voting booths had closed down, there was a live concert in the central park of Atenas, the small town where I reside. Performers included a Christian rock group, a traditional Latin group clad in white cowboy hats with matching boots, and an alternative rock band. All three acts were charming. Although, it was kinda strange when the lead singer of the rock band romantically belted out Incubus’ “Drive” in English. The laid-back, festive atmosphere gave me a great chance to people watch. My classmates and I contrast considerably with Las Latinas. The Costa Ricans dress to a T. In general, they wear sultry make-up, sweet perfume, skintight pants, and their accessories match (meaning cute pink pumps need a cute pink belt and cute pink earrings). In contrast, we wear Tevas style sandals and backpacks with our cute little halter tops and jeans. In terms of style, their clothes is tighter (Sioban terms it “camel-toe tight”) but we show more skin. But I think the real key to blending in is to not wear a backpack and to shower more often. (Note to self: Buy a bag that blends in.)

Back to the concert…it was really nice having community members of all ages gathered together for a mellow concert. There were grandmothers holding grandkids and blowing raspberries as well as young couples embracing each other and kissing softly. After the live music ended, I went to get ice cream, and then came back to find about 25 of my fellow students in the center of the park dancing wildly in a large circle. Yoshi beckoned for me to join them but I could not because it looked like they were in a fishbowl. Encircling the boisterous dancers were families of Ticos watching with amusement. I love to dance but I knew if I joined them I would feel too awkward. I’m trying not to stick out but I can’t even order ice cream without giving away that I’m not a native Spanish speaker.

I can handle the basic start of a conversation but once it progresses beyond the “Hello, how are you?” I find myself completely tongue-tied. Political debates are now stressful not because of content but because of language. By the way, the election has been very dramatic because a candidate needs 40% of the vote to win and two candidates have over 40%. Because the margin between the two candidates is so small we won’t know the results for two weeks until the recount is finished. The candidates are Oscar Arias from the Liberacion Nacional and Ottón Salís from the PAC. Oscar Arias, from the green and white party, is a former president who won the Nobel Peace Prize for bringing peace to Latin America. Ottón Salís, from the red and yellow party, differs from Arias in that he opposes CAFTA. CAFTA is the Central American Free Trade Agreement. Other than Costa Rica, all of the Central American countries have already signed. Free trade is a misnomer because US and European farmers are heavily subsidized yet under CAFTA the Latin American Countries are not allowed tariffs or subsidies. Double standards. Costa Rica is in a tough situation because they have to either choose an economy dependent upon tourism or CAFTA. Everyone waits in suspense for the election results.

Another item of suspense is the opening of a dance club in town called “La Mancha.” It opens on Valentine’s Day but they let us in for a test night. We were hanging out at Don Yayo’s the local bar when we saw the lights on across the street and decided to check it out. Yes, gasp! Tammy went to a bar! For those who don’t know me I am a proud straight edge. I figure it goes with the whole environmentalist package. Why work so hard to ensure clean water to drink, air to breathe, and organic food to eat, and then pollute your body with cigarettes, alcohol, and drugs. I endeavor to avoid hypocrisy when possible. But I figured I might as well experience the culture.

All the buildings here are open to the air and stray dogs wander around everywhere knocking over trash cans and eating whatever scraps they can. Unlike in America where children run gleefully to any dog they see, children here are trained to hiss at the dogs to keep them away. I was amazed to watch these potentially ringworm infested mutts stroll through the bar without anyone caring. The Ticos drink casually and watch futbol (pronounced football but actually is soccer). My friends are there to “get wasted.” This irritates me because they are reinforcing stereotypes and because I have so much respect for each of them as leaders at their respective Universities. At this point I hadn’t figured out how to get money yet so practically everyone who saw me not drinking thought it was a financial issue and generously offered to treat me to a free drink. I turned down Tequila and sugar cane shots after seeing people’s faces when they downed them. I did consent to try a couple sips of a Piña-Colada because it was made with fresh, local pineapple; it was actually tasty.

After everyone had drank their fill we trekked across the street to La Mancha. I had fun dancing there, but I still had this feeling of being in a fishbowl. When it got to be 11:00 PM I started to get really tired (because I have been consistently waking at 5:00 AM). I called a Taxi with my fancy GSM world phone. Leaving the crowd, gave a tall, thin Tico the chance to try some “machismo” out on me. He started out with the perfect pick up line of asking me if I wanted someone to tutor me in Spanish. I was very happy to practice with a native speaker. After a bit of chit chat he asked me if I had a novio (boyfriend). I told him, “Si.” Then he slid his hands up onto my hips and told me he could be my novio for the months I spend in Costa Rica. Ha! My glare was enough for him to let go and try to recover his pride by saying it was just un chiste (a joke). This sketchball tried to hit on practically all of the American students because Americans are stereotyped as being easy.