by Christina Ramirez

I’ve started writing about my experiences as a "new" housewife in rural Costa Rica (I'd been a working mom in CA and NJ for 5 years). 

Cultural Lesson #1 — The Pulperia (town store) 

As a young woman of light skin, green eyes, and brownish hair (sometimes called "macha" or "guera"), I remember many times that I briskly walked down the Costa Rican streets, staring at the ground, or focusing my attention on the task at hand—getting to where I was going. This is a habit I've had since my high school years in Southern California, when I was this timid freshman girl, lost in a sea of 2,000+ faces.  In downtown San Jose or even in San Pedro, where I was studying when I was single, this habit saved me from being too bothered by all the "piropos" (those one-liners that some men use as a woman walks by).

However, my life has majorly changed since: I'm married, I'm always with at least one of my kids, and I'm living in a rural town where the entire population is somewhere in the ballpark of 3,000 to 4,000 residents total (well, maybe more counting the Nicas). So when my tico husband commented on my cold attitude, I was open to how I could change this behavior.  Even though I've considered myself shy (it’s those high school years that do it to you) I knew that for the past 10 years I'd been working on being a more friendly person.  A couple of weeks after we moved in, I asked him what to do.  Our conversation went something like this. (Now remember, even though this is a different context, this is the same guy as in Fred's fishing experience.)

Me (in Spanish): I don't understand what I'm doing wrong.

Him: I know.

Me: I try to be nice, but I don't understand.

Him: I know.

Me: (In English) What should I do? (Finally I ask a question instead of beating around the bush, and my wonderful husband, even though rough around the edges, gives me an honest answer.)

Him: You walk into the pulperia, ignore the people there standing around and rush in to buy whatever and rush out. These are people, not dogs (that's not as harsh as it sounds; there is always a dog or two lying around at the entrance to the store).

If the people outside the pulperia were men, I didn't want to acknowledge them because of my prior experiences in the city, and if they were women, I waited for them to say something first, because I didn't really know them. Well, I've been observing more, and almost 100% of the time, ticos walk in and nod their head to anybody present, knowing them or not, and greet them with "Buenos dias," "Buenas," or "Buenas tardes."

In Wal-mart they have employees at the door to greet you when you walk in, and it kinda makes you feel good (even though I noticed that half the people in Southern California ignore it and treat the nice greeter as a threat—a sad observation). My dad always says hi to these greeters at the door and, for that matter, to anyone he passes by, but he was brought up in the Midwest, so maybe this nice habit of treating people just skipped this generation.  I know I'm gonna work hard to make this new custom a habit every place I go, and I definitely will work hard to make sure this nice habit doesn't skip the next generation. What do you think? — Christina

next Gringa in the Midst story

This article is one of a series on life in the campo, or country living in Costa Rica, as my wife and I experienced it on our visits and after moving to Costa Rica. When visiting Costa Rica, we used to stay with our then-manager's family. He is Costa Rican, and Christina is his wife. We are Fred and Amy Morgan, originally from the US, and we bought a dairy farm in Costa Rica to plant trees in its pastures, then later caught a dream of turning all the land we can to permanently protected, sustainably maintained forest once the plantation trees have been harvested for profit. To read more about Finca Leola S.A. and how you can also invest in trees and at the same time help with reforestation, go to Own Trees with Us.

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