From the feelings of a casual vacationer to the powerful reactions of a new expat, the term “culture shock” explains away our experiences of cultural rejection and eventual assimilation, turning them into theory and process. But can an academic explanation of a very human experience really describe our feelings? As an anthropologist, I’m trained to say “yes,” but as an expatriate myself, I wonder.

There are four basic phases of culture shock. The first is called Euphoria, a.k.a. The Honeymoon Phase. As new arrivals or tourists, we are full of enough hope and excitement to cloud our vision and make cultural differences seem unimportant, even fun. However, after a few days or weeks, we move into the second phase, Irritation and Hostility. This stage is actually what many people refer to as culture shock - homesickness and frustration enter our daily lives, we get angry over little things, and experience depression. This second stage is usually the “make or break” stage, when expats either adjust to their new country or decide to go home.

If we safely make it through, we arrive at the Gradual Adjustment phase, where we begin to adapt to our surroundings and function normally in our new culture. We make efforts to fit in, to actively accept new things, and appreciate the differences of our new culture. Finally, after months or years in stage three, we graduate to the final phase, Adaptation. We are bi-cultural, able to function in both our native and adopted cultures without a problem. We have a strong command of our new language, and many of our old habits are replaced by new, one culture seamlessly folding into the other.

At least, that’s the theory. In real life, culture shock is a much more personal, individual experience. My euphoric phase was marked by an appreciation of the mountains that surrounded me, an amusement at the crazy drivers, and a sense of awe that I was finally here. By phase two, I still appreciated the mountains, but those crazy drivers were assholes, and my only wish was to be able to curse well enough in Spanish to give them a piece of my mind the next time one blew threw a red light as I crossed the street. There was no dulling sense of awe or wonderment anymore, I no longer woke up in the mornings congratulating myself, “You live in Costa Rica!” I was often frustrated by being stereotyped as a gringa, spoken to in English, and ripped off at every opportunity. If I had been just a little less mature, I would have stomped my feet and hurled myself to the ground for a good, cathartic temper tantrum. Every day.

For several months, I grappled with being a minority for the first time in my life. I wondered if the bus driver had given me incorrect change on purpose. I secretly raged at strangers who spoke to me in English, even though I spoke perfectly passable Spanish. I was angry. I wanted to know where all the nice ticos had gone. I wanted sales people to leave me alone, instead of breathing down my neck. I wanted people to just say “no” instead of “puede ser,” show me brutal honestly instead of feeding me white lies. But then, slowly enough to not warrant my own notice, the “want want WANT!!! turned into a gentle acceptance of my surroundings. All things tico started to make sense, without my consciously making sense of them.

Phase three is a happy place - I’m comfortable and calm, learning something new everyday. Like a child, I learn through observation, mimicking my tico friends in everything they do. Instead of using a finger or head nod, I see them use their lips to point out a location, and then I practice doing the same. They say “mae” every other word, and like a parrot, I say it, too. I’m learning how to time the traffic, and I cross streets without [much] fear. When it’s necessary, I know how to stop most errant drivers dead in their tracks with a few well-chosen palabrotas (bad words) and an icy stare. And about those mountains… they are still forever beautiful.

In many ways, I’ve already hit the fourth phase of culture shock, adaptation. But I don’t want to. Like in love, I don’t want my relationship with Costa Rica to ever feel stale. I never want to be so perfectly adapted that I take my surroundings for granted. It’s a vicious cycle - Costa Rica is not my native home, and so if I ever grew “used to” being here, I would never achieve cultural fluency. The day that I accept my Spanish as “good enough” will be the day that I stop improving my accent and vocabulary. If I ever stop questioning exactly when I should snap my fingers in disbelief or place them all together to indicate that something is full, I will always be on the dusty outskirts of tico culture. Without questioning and wondering about everything around me, I will never be able to discover all the amazing nuances of my new home and language.

May I never grow complacent and merely accepting of unique gestures, rolling mountains, artistic churches, perfectly laid stone fences, incredible forests, and linguistic idiosyncracies. Because to me, phase four — Adaptation — is apathy. It’s the acceptance of everything around you to the point of feeling so comfortable that no further effort is needed. But my love affair with Costa Rica is special, enduring, and for that reason, I hope to never adapt.

Two blogging buddies recently wrote that no one knows them completely. I know this feeling too well - to want to share everything with someone, yet know that you can’t is painful, torturous even.

My divorce left me relieved and happy with my newfound freedom, but it also left me broken. What had been a hopelessly romantic girl had given way to a slightly jaded woman, and it was evident. Ripping my heart off of my sleeve, I stashed it away in a soundproof vault and began to believe in things like “the only person that will ever look out for me is me” and “no one ever loves someone just as she is.” It never occured to me that this could be my heart’s defenses clicking into place; instead, I thought that I had finally discovered a Universal Truth.

I think there’s a process that every recently-single person goes through: First, there’s anger and rage toward the person you no longer love, and a spiteful satisfaction that you don’t have to tolerate his presence anymore. Then you graduate to the insecure phase, wondering how much of the breakup is your fault, and eventually convincing yourself that you are completely unlovable and will never walk hand-in-hand again. During these first phases, there is much introspection and self-discovery, and it can be excruciating. But when we allow ourselves to deal with our inner demons, we emerge as happier, healthier individuals. We move into the final stage of self-acceptance where we’ve come to terms with our past and are willing to move into the future, ready to love and be loved.

Those first two stages were hard for me, tossing me around like a kayak that had been carried into the Bermuda Triangle by a tidal wave, only to be welcomed to that maritime hell by a class-5 hurricane. But after confronting and dealing with each one of my fears, I knew that I would love again. And I was certain that our love would be perfect enough to make Aurora, Cinderella, Ariel, and all the rest of them absolutely green with jealousy.

I was single for 28 months before I met the last man I will ever love. For the first few weeks, I showed him my wildly confident, slightly flirtatious side. I was so convincing that I think I scared him a bit. But on the inside, I was terrified, and had no idea what I was doing. But with a good dose of humor and a generous serving of patience, we made it through the awkward first encounters and became a couple.

So then I thought, “finally! now is when it gets easy!” Wrong again. Opening up to Fabi — letting him into the confines of my soul — was anything but easy. Because when we finally let someone in, we give him the ability to hurt us. As I whispered my secrets and ground him a copy of the key to my heart, I felt vulnerable and fragile. And that is the opposite of easy.

But fear is no excuse to hold back. If we never risk, we never gain. And that it is why we must do the very thing that stands to lose us the most: open up and give of ourselves. With baby steps, I began to confide in Fabi and tell him my past, show him dreams, and share confidences. And with each little test I gave him, he proved that he was worthy. And knowing that was worth far more than 28 lonesome months.

My relationship would not work for everyone, but for me, it is the best union that will ever exist. With confidence that he will always love and accept me, I can share my laundry list of fears, mistakes, insecurities, and sins. I know that he will not always agree with me, but that his love will never waver and our relationship will strengthen, not weaken, from our complete, naked honesty. And this is why, someday, Fabi will know everything that there is to know about me.

Sharing yourself with someone will never be easy. In fact, I think it’s the most risky and frightening thing that we can ever do. But if you start small and open yourself up like a flower in bloom, you’ll find that this leap of faith is the best one you’ll ever make.

They say that 30-50% of expatriates in Costa Rica move back home within a year. Who are those unknown Experts? I don’t know, but it’s the statistic that gets thrown around the local expat community. For most, there is but one reason. We hear it, we fear it, we wait for it: the culture shock beast that beats up when we’re already down and shows no mercy to its prey. We face a foreign language spoken far too rapidly to be made up of individual words, a culture where our North American patience just barely outweighs tico impatience, and roads that have potholes large enough to swallow a small car. It’s a long, uphill battle and while there’s no shame in going home — cultural assimilation can be a difficult mountain to climb — those of us who make it to the summit are treated to an incredible view.

Culture shock, and its ensuing frustrations, is a right of passage and a growing experience. In exchange for living in a country as beautiful and varied as Costa Rica, we have to adapt and relearn how life works. Of course, every expat takes a different journey, but when we come out on the readjusted end of the tunnel, we are changed. And our reaction to this change is a likely indicator of our staying power in Costa Rica.

I truly believe that everyone, regardless of location or situation, is constantly learning life’s gentle lessons. But living here puts us on an accelerated path, and we decide which streets to take. When presented with the clash between old and new, each expat will in turn recreate himself, fine-tuning a mixture of what we grew up loving and what we are now learning to love.

Fourteen months into my move and several huecos in the road later, I have finally given myself up to this country. For over a year, its culture has tugged on my heartstrings and urged me to step out of my shell. Gone are the days when I worried about the Joneses’ latest acquisitions or dreamed of a home with a separate wing for visiting family. In their place, simplicity and gratitude have taken root: my one bedroom loft apartment is not small, but rather “easy to clean”; a sixteen-hour bus ride is well worth the savings of a few hundred dollars in airfare; a soul is washed clean by a breathtaking view and a gulp of mountain air.

I don’t want to oversimplify my fears and frustrations, so I admit that everyday is an effort. On the bad days, I just want to put my head in a pillow and scream until I lose my voice. On the really bad days, the only thing to assuage my feelings is a good stomp around the city, letting the world feel my wrath. But on the good days — most days — I continue in this self-exploration, challenging myself to build a better Erin. I feel so lucky to be here, cultivating the culture of Me. And now, more than ever, I feel like a true gringuitica.

13 Comments

• On March 3, 2008 at 2:20 pm, elle. wrote:

  building a better me.... i love the title. i totally feel like we're on the same page, but maybe that's because you visited me last weekend!

• On March 3, 2008 at 2:22 pm, Oscar wrote:

  Potholes? What potholes?! x)

  You ARE a true "gringuitica" and a very fine friend to boot.

• On March 4, 2008 at 12:43 am, Simon wrote:

  Lovely writing, perfect photograph.

• On March 4, 2008 at 6:48 am, Danielle Barkhouse wrote:

  Erin, that was very nicely said. As an expat in India, if there's one thing I understand--it's culture shock. I truly believe it takes at least a year, maybe even more, to adjust to living in a developing country or a country that is not as developed as your own. I do understand why people give up and return "home." The life of an expat is not for everyone. I'm looking forward to reading more about your adventures in Costa Rica.

  Kind regards,

  Danielle Barkhouse

  www.expatarc.com

• On March 4, 2008 at 1:47 pm, Fabi wrote:

  Yes, I agree with all your feelings! Now you are a real gringuitica.... keeping the best of 2 worlds in your life!

  Really nice post!!! :D

• On March 5, 2008 at 10:16 am, Mary wrote:

  Wow Erin,

  What an inspiring post, and love the photo! I stumbled on your blog while researching information on Costa Rica as I had started following a blog called Costa Rica HQ and wanted to find out more about the country. It has been interesting reading various blogs and reading about peoples different experiences with living in Costa Rica. I plan to initally visit the country, but am not ruling out the possibility of living there some day. I have lived in other countries and initially would have found it a complete culture shock but as time went by, I began to embrace my new culture, stopped making comparisons to where I had come from, and only then did I truly start to enjoy the experience. Many of my friends gave up and went home but now have regrets that they didn't stay on. Experiencing new cultures is an awesome thing and one can learn so much and each new experience develops us more as a person. I loved your comment on simplicity and gratitude. I have reached this in my life. There was a time when I too would have worried about the Joneses' but now I focus on me, making myself a better person, and experiencing true happiness. Looking forward to more of your adventures Erin.

• On March 5, 2008 at 6:17 pm, Amelia Hart wrote:

  Thank you for the raw openness with which you expressed yourself. I moved from Miami to Connecticut and felt an extreme culture shock. I ended up moving back to Florida six years later and I am truly changed. I actually miss Connecticut, even after thinking I never would. Your writing is fresh and inspiring. I've been reading about this guy who just moved their not to long ago. His blog is called Costa Rica HQ. He speaks of the beauty of CT and the challenges to, but not to the extent that you do. Thanks again and I look forward to more of your writing.

• On March 6, 2008 at 8:16 am, Saratica wrote:

  Beautifully put. Hear, hear! I just started going to the gym every morning with my new friend, Barbara, who has been hear since she was 11 (so 39 years). She was saying that, as an expat growing up here, you learn not to attach to people until they are here for a few years. Too many people come and go to get attached, heartbreak waiting to happen. Makes it hard to "bond" here in the first two years, no one will really commit to being your friend. But now that we are past that, we understand...

• On March 6, 2008 at 8:18 am, Saratica wrote:

  Me again. I've switched to Yahoo from Google and can't find a way to subscribe via rss feed via anything but google... am I doing something wrong? when I click the rss feed button, I only have google as an option...

• On March 6, 2008 at 7:39 pm, Rick Carlson wrote:

  i just love your pictures, Costa Rica seems like a wonderful place, except for the potholes of course. I have been researching my move here and ran into another blog with some interesting stories at Costa Rica HQ that has been helpful.

  I liked what Fabi said, to keep the best of two worlds in your life.

  Great post.

  Rick

• On March 8, 2008 at 11:29 am, Erin wrote:

  @elle: I think talking things out helped me clarify my thoughts.

  @Oscar: There was this great story I once heard from a friend about learning what a Costa Rican hueco was: She & her friend were in a taxi and the driver had said that a hueco was coming up. They didn't know what that meant, so they asked. The driver thought that it would be a perfect learning opportunity, so he proceeded to hit every, single pothole and yell out HUECO!! each time, just so that they'd really get it into their heads. Safe to say that my friend will never forget. :)

  @Simon: Thank you!

  @Danielle: Thanks for stopping by! I would imagine that a move to India would be even more jarring and adjustment-inducing than a move to CR, so I definitely look forward to reading more of your adventures.

  @Fabi: That's the idea... we'll create our own culture, a mix of our favorites.

  @Mary: I am so glad to finally be into this phase of simplicity/gratitude - it's such a nicer place to be. It's nice to know that I'm not alone in felling this way, either! And since you've embraced this as well and can let go of some "amenities," then I'd say you'll do well here in CR. Give it a try -- a long visit -- and see what you think.

  @Amelia: Thank you very much, I'm glad you enjoyed my post. I understand completely where you're coming from: when I was 18, I moved from suburban Philadelphia to rural Virginia - just about as big a change as I can imagine!

  @Saratica: When I first arrived, I made friends with many gringos... I felt we had a lot in common, dealing with the same feelings. Unfortunately, most of their stays here were brief, and I had to say goodbye to my newfound friends. I now insulate myself and try to make friends that have "staying power." With regards to your feed issues: I think this site may help.

  @Rick: Thank you! I have trouble properly incorporating photos into my posts, so I'm working on that. Good luck on your research & subsequent move and please hang around if you'd like!

• On March 9, 2008 at 4:36 pm, Scott S wrote:

  I have begun to find fascination in the number Americans that now live in Costa Rica. I must have read a dozen blogs about that in the last two days.

  Two that I specifically recall are Costa Rica HQ and one called yo-yoinparadise. They are both by Americans that moved to Costa Rica.

  They are all passionate advocates of how great a place Costa Rica is to live.

  Is there a large American population there now? Do many live together and are there "American" areas? Is there an expat community or communities? Are there any expat organizations in Costa Rica that keeps everyone together?

  Scott S.

• On March 9, 2008 at 6:14 pm, Erin wrote:

  Scott: Are you thinking about making a move, or just interested in what it was like for those that have? As far as I know, there are quite a few US expats here, though I can't give an exact number. As for keeping track of them all, some make themselves present in the blogosphere, in various expat groups, or through the American Embassy, and others prefer to just slip away into the Costa Rica ether.

  To all of you, thank you for your time and comments. I took a look at Costa Rica HQ, and I'm just curious how you found your way to me from there? I didn't see a link, so curiosity is getting the best of me.

After living in rural Virginia for 18 months, San José can feel like a sprawling metropolis - within just minutes of my front gate, there are several universities, restaurants of all varieties, museums, malls, and a whole lot more. Almost anything I want is at my fingertips, and as much as I enjoy this, living in a city can be overwhelming.

Street noise haunts my dreams, and the local motorcycles like to wake me up every night on their 1 a.m. jaunts. Pollution from the city’s huge bus fleet and myriad drivers invades my lungs and irritates my eyes. During rush hour, it takes 30 minutes to cover a distance of a kilometer or two. This comes part and parcel with the city life, but every once in awhile, a girl needs a break.

On top of city frustrations, the past few weeks have been busy and exceedingly stressful for both Fabi and I, and we were in need of a getaway. But with too much work and no vacation time in sight, we weren’t able to take off for the hills of Turrialba or the beaches of Manuel Antonio. And as nice as it is to hole up in the house, crawl under the covers, and refuse to let the outside world in, that plan of attack just wasn’t going to massage away the stress.

So instead of wallowing in the doldrums of irritability, we opted to be tourists in our own town. Rifling through my Costa Rica guidebooks, I crossed out all the museums we’d been to, parks we’d picnicked, and opted for something new. What we found was so tranquil, so beautiful, that I almost don’t want to mention it. We plan to return many times and my biggest fear will be to find our secret paradise teeming with people, just like the dirty streets of San José.

Lucky for me, my blog readership isn’t large enough to make such a dent, and since a guidebook hasn’t ruined this urban Shangri-La, I figure I’m safe to tell you. The Spirogyra Butterfly Garden is secreted away into a section of Goicoechea (Guadalupe) best known for its loud music and party scene. Just blocks from El Pueblo, the gardens are so quiet and peaceful that we could almost forget that we were in the heart of the city. And as I meandered through the gardens, zooming in on every butterfly I could find (and there were many), I felt some of my pent-up stress begin to dissolve. By the time we had finished the garden’s beautiful Contemplation Path loop, I was convinced that we’d fallen down the rabbit hole into our own version of Burnett’s secret garden.

The rest of the weekend was spent on other stress-relieving activities, like visiting the Parque Zoologico Simón Bolívar, which has greatly improved its conditions over the last few years, walking the streets of Barrio Amon and the pedestrian-only paths of downtown, enjoying iced tea at a tiny café, and wandering the sidestreet maze of our own part of town. It was more activity than we’d had in awhile, and yet we both felt more relaxed and refreshed than we had in a long time. It was the perfect weekend, just what we needed, and we’ve vowed to do it all again (at new locations) this weekend. And while it may seem odd to declare this at 24, I think I’ve finally discovered what weekends are for.

5 Comments

• On January 26, 2008 at 7:02 pm, fabi wrote:

  Yes baby.. we can re-discover the city and have fun!!!

  Let see what happen the next days.... more secrets and surprises will appear!!! :)

  Fabi

• On January 27, 2008 at 8:03 am, josue wrote:

  wow that butterfly garden looks awesome!. glad to hear you guys are having fun. we are too. and, you still have to come to the hills of turri :p

  love u bye

• On January 30, 2008 at 9:35 am, Teri wrote:

  Sometimes I wake up and say, what if this was my last day here, what would I do?

  It's nice to get familiar with your surroundings and enjoy being here now.

  Teri in Hermosa/Jaco

• On February 29, 2008 at 12:46 pm, darwin o. wrote:

  For those of us who have to settle for the hustle and bustle of everyday life in the urban jungle here in the states, it would be nice, even if it was just for a day, to see what it is like to be in an acutal jungle. Erin, you are SO lucky to have such a huge backyard!

• On March 3, 2008 at 1:58 pm, Erin wrote:

  Fabi: I know that being a tourist in your own city is a little silly, but our little weekend adventures are what keep me sane!

  Josue: They're incredible - I'm definitely dragging you & Lisa when you get back.

  Teri: That's a great philosophy! Unfortunately for me, there are so many things I have yet to do in CR that my hypothetical last day would probably be spent microplanning what to do!

  darwin: Thank you. I know I'm lucky, but like people everywhere, I tend to take my own backyard for granted... I hope that my explorations will continue and that I will always appreciate what I have.

I know that milestones carry far too much significance for me, but that knowledge never stops me from caring. Last Sunday was no different, as I “celebrated” my one year anniversary of arriving in Costa Rica.

Individual days seem to have passed slowly enough, but last January 6th merely feels like a distant yesterday. I distinctly remember the smell in the air, the [relative] heat, and the jittery excitement that coursed through my body that day. My first views of the Central Valley and its beautiful mountains are gloriously haze-free in my mind’s eye. I can still feel the terror of speeding along my first Costa Rican road in 7 years, with a taxista who seemed afraid of nothing at all. And seeing my apartment with my own two eyes, instead of through the photos I had poured over for months, is a moment that I will never forget. Indeed, the details of that day are as clear to me now as they were when I woke up on January 7th, 2007.

But no matter how well I remember that day, no matter how close it seems to me, I cannot deny the changes that a full year has brought. I came back to Costa Rica not knowing how long I would stay, having little idea of what awaited me, and very unsure of my Spanish, my self-sufficience, and even myself. Though I doubt that anyone ever knows herself entirely, I can state with certainty that I am much more self-aware than I once was.

There are few things that would test my character more than moving to a new country, throwing myself into a foreign language, and jumping head-first into a different culture. In many ways, my background in anthropology and Spanish helped my adjustment, but they also created a sense of false confidence. Though I was likely more prepared than many who make the move, every moment in my new home taught me something new. Most of these lessons were novel and exciting, grounds for funny stories I would tell in the future, but some truly tested my patience and fortitude.

On the lighter side, I now know how to make worm-free cas juice, I can effectively remove a tarantula from my home with only a Tupperware container and a few sobs of fear, I know to automatically translate a tico’s “puede ser” as a polite synonym for “no,” and I can throw a coherent, quite effective tantrum in Spanish. But I know also the frustration of being on the receiving end of prejudice - how it feels to be taken advantage of, charged gringo prices, hated for something my president did, and outright ignored because of an ugly stereotype.

A lesson I’m currently learning is how to not let this affect me. Racism, hate, and prejudice exist the world around and letting these attitudes hurt me only gives them momentum. On a good day, I remember this. On a bad day, my Spanish tantrum skills come in handy. As with everything else that I’ve learned here, this lesson is having its ups and downs, its struggles and victories. This one will take awhile, and in the meantime I do what I can to have power over my own situation.

Despite the downs, in actuality, I feel more tica than gringa now. Of course, there are things about me that will likely always remain gringo, but everyday I feel a slightly weaker tie to my U.S. roots. Spanish rolls off my tongue almost as easily as English, and some say my accent is hardly noticeable (though I don’t believe them). I toast my tortillas on the stovetop and I think it’s funny when tourists eat gallo pinto for anything other than breakfast. I think cumbia music is awesome and the way that ticos dance it is far better than the traditional Columbian style. Throwing toilet paper in the toilet is weird, though there’s nothing strange about washing my dishes in cold water.

I used to doubt that I’d adjust enough to feel truly comfortable in my tico surroundings, but with 367 days under my belt, I know that I’m well on my way. In fact, in perhaps the biggest indication of my shifting identity, whenever the mercury dips below 23 degrees, I get so cold that I swear my toes are going to fall off.

9 Comments

• On January 8, 2008 at 1:15 pm, Saratica wrote:

  Nice to hear from you again, gringuiTICA! Wish my Spanish were as good, but you are younger. I'm going with that...

• On January 8, 2008 at 1:24 pm, Fabi wrote:

  Hi my dear Gringuitica!!!

  Happy aniversary... is incredible how the time flies, right....

  Se q para vos ha sido dificil adapatarte e una nueva cultura, pero creo q lo has hecho muy bien!! Con el tiempo aprenderás muchas cosas mas y de esa manera te sentirás mas ha gusto en lo q es tu nueva casa... Costa Rica!!

  Congratulations again... your dreams may come true in this crazy but beautifull place on earth!!

  with love,

  Fabi

• On January 9, 2008 at 9:56 am, Fabi wrote:

  ah.. your spanish is great!!! tu acento casi no se nota.... beleive me!!

• On January 9, 2008 at 11:33 am, Nadine wrote:

  It sounds as though you're settling in quite nicely, and you're a much more intrepid person than I will ever be. Loving the culture where you live probably has a bit to do with it as well! Congrats on a beautiful life and loving where you are!

• On January 14, 2008 at 6:54 pm, elle. wrote:

  hey laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaady. i miss you so much. congratulations on your anniversary.

• On January 14, 2008 at 8:55 pm, Jesse wrote:

  I thought I had culture shock once but it turned out to be food poisoning. Where's the whole "I hate this country" thing that my anthro profs said would happen? Three months must be long enough to know a place well enough to really hate it.

• On January 31, 2008 at 5:54 am, Doug wrote:

  Congratz.

  I've been full time here almost two years.

  Aint going nowhere.

  Jesse.

  People who can't :teach

  People who can : Do

  Nuff said !

• On March 2, 2008 at 1:36 pm, Jonathan wrote:

  Saludos me encanta leer tu blog, aunque no paso muy a menudo dejando un comment pero me agradó mucho este post y de verdad que me impulsó a dejar el comentario.

  Me reí bastante con lo del "puede ser"

  Feliz Aniversario jeje.

• On March 3, 2008 at 2:04 pm, Erin wrote:

  Saratica: I know, shame on me for posting so infrequently... unlike someone else who is actually attentive. ;-)

  Fabi: Thanks, but you know that I won't be satisfied until there's no trace of an accent!

  Nadine: Thank you so much, this certainly is an amazing place to live.

  elle.: Thanks chica, and it's your anniversary, too (more or less)!

  Jesse: I've actually felt my fair share of culture shock... discrimination and the like has given me a good wallop over the head. But it was certainly nothing like what I was taught to watch out for, you're right!

  Doug: Thanks, I look forward to being able to say the same.

  Jonathan: Muchísimas gracias, me alegro que le guste tanto. Y eso de "puede ser" es definitivo... la vida es mucho más simple si alguien mantiene en mente esa traducción! ;-)