The first step in accomplishing my To Do list is to know where things are happening. Here's a map with a few locations that I'll be sure to check out--feel free to zoom in and out to explore landmarks. There's a video of Playa Tamarindo when you pan over to the western coast of the country...the water looks so gorgeous. The videographer acknowledges that there the beach is becoming more commercialized and touristy, but says over and over how pretty and tranquil it is. There's also some video of Universidad Nacional students, probably not unlike the kids I'll be taking classes with when I'm directly enrolled in the university.


View Mapping my To Do list in a larger map

A year ago, I actually won something in a raffle. It was a copy of "Let's Go: Costa Rica On A Budget"...

...at the time, I had no intention of doing my study abroad Heredia, Costa Rica. But life's a funny thing, isn't it?

Reasons to go to Costa Rica

1. To learn spanish. Un día quiero ser bilingüe. Si puedo hablar español, tendré— por lo menos— uno habilidad práctica cuando graduaré con un titulo de periodismo...
   
   
   
2. Parque Nacional Corcovado is the "most biologically intense place on earth." -National Geographic
   
   
   
3. "Costa Ricans report the highest life satisfaction in the world and have the second-highest average life expectancy of the new world (second to Canada)," New Economics Foundation said in a statement. -CNN
   
   
   
   
4. You can (with a short drive) see a Caribbean sunrise on the same day as a Pacific sunset.
   

Costa Rica To Do List

• Camp in the rainforest(?)
  
• Haggle on La Calle de Artesanía.
  
• See an active volcano.
  
• Come back with advanced conversational Spanish/Make fwends at school who will put up with me trying to speak Spanish.
  
• Visit Nicoya Peninsula. Spend a day on the beach.
  
• Authentic gallo pico.
  
• Zipline in the jungle.
  
• Be early to something for once. Actually, tico time will help me with this one, I won't actually have to change my habits at all..yesss
  

Places to climb : )

View Rock Gyms in the DC area in a larger map

drawing with light

Recently in multimedia production class (for which I am making this blog), we have been talking about photography, and the use of still images with audio stories. It's my favorite stuff; I love visual media. I got the photography bug when I was 16, and enrolled at my local community college to use their darkroom. There is just something romantic about film. I spent the summer trying to break my record time for the first step in developing: getting the film reel out of the canister with a can opener, loading it onto that plastic holder, all while in a locked closet with the lights off, of course. There was a lot of fumbling in the dark at that age.

I would be a photojournalist if I could make it work financially. I mean, if I could find a job and secure benefits doing it. Can you imagine what universal health coverage would do for people trying to do freelance photojournalism? Oy. My fingers are crossed.

I was adopted as an unofficial intern at a photo studio I had cold called while living with my dad this past summer. The owner and head photographer, Dave, taught me all sorts of stuff, from studio light setup to interacting with the people he was photographing. I was completely taken aback by his kindness--he even gave me his camera to shoot a few poses for a client. Then I remembered that I was in the midwest after 12 years on the eastern shore, where it's...every-man-for-himself, you could say.

So when I went on an alt break this December to study the democracy movement in Burma, I went with the intention of practicing photojournalism. To give it a shot with what knowledge I had, under the restricted schedule of the trip. I'd like to put up a slide show of photos on here...but I'm having issues uploading the photos into a slideshow gadget. The photo folder that I've synced with Picasa doesn't allow Blogger access to the folder for some sharing reason or another. Suggestions on how to fix this? But for now, I'll embed just one photo in this post. This little girl is the daughter of Burmese migrant workers, and is luckily in school in Thailand. Many children in border towns like Mae Sot are trained to "get the money" as early as they can speak. She was quiet for a moment, before flouncing back to a table in her single room school house.


Agape School. Mae Sot, Thailand. Photo by Brianna Townsend. January 2010.

She stood up suddenly from the squat-on drill I had set up on a panel mat. I thought she was confused about what she was supposed to do, so I explained again, "Here, a squat-on is the way we get our feet up on the low bar to jump to the higher one." But she wasn't paying attention. Instead, she looked down at me (I was kneeling by the mini low bar) and asked abruptly, "Are you Jewish?"
I smiled.
"Nope!"
"Are you Catholic?"
"Noo ma'am."
Her little face was framed by staticky pieces of hair that had escaped from the confines of her hair elastic--a common affliction from crashing onto the mat at the handstand drill. The blatant confusion on her face because of my answer was the same expression that I remembered from my classmates when I was her age. "What are you?" they always wanted to know.

I always mumbled that I wasn't anything.

At my Christian day care--a program my parents picked because it was the closest to home-- I was made to bow my head and pray before eating the canned green beans and potato rolls they served. I was told to put my hands like this and say, "amen" when grace was finished.
I looked at this little gymnast in front of me. I am her teacher. The sudden reversal of dominance, of security, was startling. No one has asked me for years what religion I follow--and even longer in the past was it phrased, "What are you?" I realized just how much I've changed as a person...sometimes it seems like certain fears and insecurities have never gone away. But I was happy she asked; happy for the opportunity to expose her to a thought she'd never thought of before. I was about to respond with a politically correct statement about how there are a bunch of religions to practice, and how some people don't practice one at all--but her expression changed into understanding:

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "Are you African-American??"

And then I was laughing so hard that I thought tears were coming.