Hooping for Unity
My journey began when a meek, excited, and anxious version of myself first arrived in Costa Rica.
I found myself alone amidst a world of Spanish speakers, feeling completely unprepared. My lifelong hope of living in an immersion environment with a Spanish-speaking family had finally been
realized, yet I never anticipated that I would unearth such a sense of personal inadequacy. Having
only two semesters of Spanish under my belt, my scope was limited to basic commands and
greetings; which, as I discovered were hardly the substance of any real conversation. Each day as
I struggled to find the words needed to interact, an internal sense of incompetence mounted.
As we approached the house for the first
time, I remember thinking that everything
felt unlike all that I was used to. The roads
were strange, the cars, the people, the
language, the houses and even the smells
were different. My host family’s home was
surrounded by metal bars painted sea foam
green which extended from the ground to
the roof. The floor was tiled to create a patio
area. My host dad opened the gate to park
the car within. The family car was parked on
one half of the patio, while chairs and
benches provided a comfortable spot to
relax on the other half. This patio
overlooked a coffee field that spread vibrant
green life over rolling hills for as far as the
eye could see. I found solace in the
beautiful landscape and a powerful sense of
belonging. I didn’t know it at the time, but
that patio space became a very important
part of my experience abroad.
That first day was marked by many uncomfortable “semi-conversations “. My family was forever
smiling and patient as I embarrassedly failed to interpret their simple sentences and tripped over
even the most basic Spanish words. Almost immediately, I was introduced to all of our neighbors,
or family members—they were one in the same. Each house on our street was that of an aunt,
uncle, or grandmother. All the family members greeted me with a barrage of questions, to which I
could only reply with anxious laughing and smiles. The only semblance of relief arose when I was
introduced to my young primas (girl cousins). I came to find that on my street lived eight little girls
between the ages of three and thirteen. They filed into our house with the appearance of shy little
girls excited beyond measure to meet someone they found interesting. Their smiling faces and
excitement to meet me dissolved much of my discomfort, even though we could only communicate
rudimentarily.
As the evening wore on, I went into my bedroom and started to unpack my suitcase. I longed to go
to bed in order to escape Spanish for the night, even though it was still fairly early. My suitcase was
filled with many important items—medicine, toiletries, clothing—however, I was fortunate enough to
have packed one item that ended up opening a new door. As soon as I saw it, I had an idea that
renewed my spirits so I grabbed the item and went back outside. I rounded up all of my primas and
we headed to the patio. I then introduced them to the world of hula-hooping. Their reactions were
unexpectedly enthusiastic. As we stood outside giggling and shouting, my mom, dad, aunts and
uncles came to see what was going on. They all ended up joining in on the fun, too! My primas and
I played with the hula-hoop for hours, well into the dark of night.
What grew out of that event became a routine that shaped my
entire experience in Costa Rica. Each night, my primas would
come over after dinner to play with the hula-hoop all the while
trying to communicate with me in Spanish. We spent countless
hours on that patio together. I found that by interacting with
these children, my Spanish was improving rapidly. I felt
comfortable making mistakes around the girls and they
genuinely enjoyed being able to teach me something. I
discovered a beautiful exchange. As I showed them new tricks
with the hula-hoop, they taught me new words and phrases. Our
time spent together unlocked a new world for me as I
rediscovered joy in approaching life from the perspective of a
child. I enjoyed many, many nights with the girls filled with
laughter and games.
Gradually, my initial feeling of inadequacy subsided completely. My Spanish improved to the point
that towards the end of the trip I was able to have meaningful and interesting conversations with
my host family and my professors. Without the girls, I have no doubt that this would not have been
possible. For this they are my lifelong friends. I will never be able to show them enough gratitude
for the friendship, confidence and the lessons that they taught me during my stay in Costa Rica.
As the last week of living with my
host family approached, I was
completely heart-broken to leave
the wonderful family that had done
so much for me. The girls had
become talented hula-hoopers and
I didn’t want to leave them without
the ability to continue practicing. I
realized what I had to do for my
special, special primas before I left.
The next day, after talking to my
host mother, we set out for the
ferretería (hardware store) to
purchase supplies. That evening I
spent a great deal of time crafting
hula-hoops of varying sizes,
complete with brightly colored
taping, for each individual prima.
The morning of my departure,
the whole family came over to
wish me farewell. Our
goodbyes were bittersweet
amongst tears and hugs. I
presented the hula-hoops to my
primas, whose eyes lit up with
delight through the tears as
they received their very own.
We spent a few minutes
sharing a last hooping session,
each prima ecstatic to handle
her own hoop. My primas even
told me they hoped to start a
small business making and
selling hula-hoops in their town.
I look forward to visiting all of my newfound loved ones in Costa Rica someday. I can’t wait to hulahoop with my primas again and learn some new tricks from them next time around. My heart swells
as I recall my days spent sharing my love for hooping and getting so much in return. Through
hooping, I found unity with the town, my Costa Rican family, and the Spanish language.