C A R T A G O

Spent this past weekend in San Jose with my host family. Having downtime to spend with them is a nice change of pace in comparison to the constant traveling we were doing for a wile. Spent saturday with my girlfriends at an art festival in downtown and exploring the second hand stores. Sundays are the one day a week that my parents don't have to go to work at their business, so my host mom asked me if I'd like to spend the day with her.
She took me to a near by town called Cartago, which was actually the original capital of Costa Rica. Here we visited the ruins of a church that the people attempted to build many times, but was constantly being destroyed by earthquakes. The people finally gave up, and built the church in another spot. The ruins were incredible, tall, mysterious, and would be almost eerie if it weren't for the absolutely beautiful gardens and fountains that decorated the inside. Kids were running around laughing, the sun was shinning, and the sky was a magical color of blue. I felt small in the shadow of the ancient walls.
The next place we visited in Cartago was the Basilica. This was not just some church. For one, it was huge. And covered in statues of angels, marble white and painted beautifully. It was elegant and classic. Around the back hundreds of people were waiting in line with plastic water bottles shaped like the "virgin negrita." This church is the home of the negro virgin, which is something a little different in the Catholic religion. What the people were doing though was waiting to fill their bottles with holy water from the basilica. It was enchanting to witness their devotion. The inside of the Basilica was like something out of a movie. Elegant statues in every corner, high arching ceilings of stained wood, thousands of sets, a 10 foot golden cross up front, flowers, paintings, and a beautiful tile floor. I was humbled by it's beauty.
My host mom had made arroz con leche the night before and we ate some out of plastic cups in the park and she explained to me how once every year, on August 1st, milliones of people walk from their homes to the basilica to show the saints their devotion. My family has walked a few years in a row, and she told me from out house it takes 4-5 hours, however people walk from San Carlos, Guanacaste, places all over the country. Some people walk 2 or 3 weeks, leaving in July so they make it to the basilica in time. My mom explained to me how it's a safe and beautiful event, because the streets are closed to cars and all the police men patrol the path. She even said there are vendors that sell drinks and snacks along the way, and sometimes people willing to give you a foot massage, just to keep you motivated.
After our arroz con leche in the sunshine, we made our way back to San Jose. I spent the evening with my mom making arepas, a type of pancake from columbia. We talked about various things, and she promised me that if I ever found myself in Costa Rica again I always had a place to stay with them.
As my time here in Costa Rica is slowly approaching it's end, I'm realizing that the things that meant the most to me were not the nights I spent at the bars with my friends, they weren't the zip line tours or the days spent laying on a beach. As fabulous as all of these things were, the things that really touched my heart were the connections I made with my family here. The auga dulce my host mom makes for me when I'm cold, the cookies she sneaks in my backpack, the phone calls just to check in and make sure I'm okay. I feel so incredibly blessed to be welcomed and ultimatley included in this family. I can't help but tear up when I think about the goodbyes in the not so distant future.
All I can do is enjoy this time that I have now, and do my best to express my gratitude for the unconditional kindness I was blessed with these 4 months.