Turning 21 Abroad

On October 14, 2015, I turned 21. In the United States, turning 21 is treated as some sort of rite of passage into adulthood, celebrated by the legality of consuming alcohol, often times ending in a severe hangover the next morning. In Colorado, the same intent goes with weed. In Costa Rica, those rites of passage have already been completed at age 18. When I told others that I would be turning 21 during my time abroad in Costa Rica, people were excited, citing how lucky I was and how cool that would be. I didn't think much of those comments, until my birthday actually happened.

My birthday present to myself:
lunch from the local soda.

For those that know me well, I'm not a huge birthday celebrator. When I was younger, I used to plan halloween-themed parties with piñatas. As I grew older, I felt like I had fewer and fewer real friends, and less and less reason to celebrate. My methods of celebrating transformed, from crazy costume party sleepovers to movies and dinners with close friends. When I started college, I would go out to dinner with friends and continue the rest of my day as normal. I've never been super big about celebrating birthdays. So, as you can imagine, when I would picture what my 21st birthday celebration would be like, I pictured a small dinner with friends, enjoying a drink with dinner. This is way different than how most celebrate their 21st birthday: going to bars or clubs and getting wasted. Bars and clubs can be chill sometimes, but they're really not my scene. I'd rather go on a night hike, or stay in and watch a movie, or go to a festival of some sort. When I imagined my 21st birthday, I did not picture how my birthday was actually celebrated here. And for me, I have mixed feelings about it.

What happens when your roommate is
a cosmetologist and it's your birthday

Those lights tell it all

Back to those comments. I shouldn't have felt like my 21st birthday was not that great. After all, I was lucky to be celebrating my 21st birthday in a foreign country often thought of as "tropical paradise." It was cool that I would not be celebrating my birthday in the United States. It is true that I have fallen in love with the country that is Costa Rica and that it has many beautiful, rich cultures that I've been able to explore. I'm so thankful for this opportunity that I have been able to access. But for me, what makes my birthday special is when I get to celebrate it with the other special people in my life: my best friends and my pets. My two best friends are back in Colorado, as are my two cats. I envisioned celebrating my "rite of passage" into adulthood with my them, enjoying a drink with dinner at a restaurant and then catching a movie, or taking a stroll in the parks. I didn't get to do that. Instead, I ended up at a reggae bar with my housemates that I've only known for a couple of weeks with an endless stream of drinks expected to be drunk. I am grateful to my housemates for their enthusiasm in celebrating my birthday and taking me out. I appreciate everything they've done for me. And my feelings are all me and have nothing to do with them. Their celebration was great and I really am thankful that they went out of their way to host it for me. But that celebration, that place, that's just not me. That scene, that type of celebration, is great for many people, but just not for me. And I'm okay with that.

My birthday wasn't all full of mixed feelings, though. I was pleasantly surprised by a nice gesture from my Spanish professor. After learning that it was my birthday, she instructed the other students to sing happy birthday to me in Spanish. (I did not tell her; she found out from a classmate who I was friends with on Facebook.) Also, after returning from our daily 30 minute break (our classes are four hours long, so...), she presented me with a delicious looking dessert. Based on the taste and layers of the dessert, I believe it to have been dulce de leche. She gave me a hug and wished me a happy birthday once again. It was so nice! I've had many great teachers and professors in my life, but I really have not lucked out when it came to Spanish teachers or professors. I've had such bad experiences with those particular individuals that I stopped taking Spanish classes once my requirement was met and as a result, missed out on the opportunity to potentially pursue a Spanish major or minor and study this language I've fallen in love with over the years more in depth. I missed out on the opportunity to seek out study abroad programs in other Latin American countries because I didn't have enough formal Spanish to qualify. It was a personal choice, though. And I'm happy where I've ended up. She's the first Spanish instructor that I've had in a long time that I actually get along with and whose class I actually feel excited to go to. If I had to pick a best part of my day, it would be that thoughtful gift.