Guilt Trip

I wrote this one week ago on a friends computer, am just now posting it:

Yesterday afternoon I moved out of my host family’s home and into a nice hostal.  Since I decided to leave that day and left during the day, I was unable to tell my host parents I was moving out.  I was able to tell the daughter and the nanny. I tried to leave money with them to pay for the one week I stayed in their home and for the breakfasts they always supplied.  Both the daughter and the nanny said not to leave any money, and recommended I go to the hospital where the mother was working so I can inform her of my move.  

Well, I first needed to take a taxi with my belongings to my new residence, settle in, and eat dinner before the restaurants closed.  So I decided to go to her house later in the evening to inform her (and to get the shampoo and soap I left at her home). When I arrived back at the home, at 9 pm, she nor her husband were home yet.  So I hung out with the daughter and the blind son until she arrived.  Around 9:30, I saw her walking down the street with two other men.  When I realized these men were coming inside the house with her I thought to myself I definitely shouldn’t break the news to her with them here and I probably wont get the opportunity to tell her, but she’ll probably realize I’m gone when she wakes me up for breakfast in the morning.  

I decided I should stay and be polite and try to break through our language barrier.  The gentlemen she came with were doctors from San Cristobal Island visiting Santa Cruz in hopes of improving some medical aspects on the island.  They were very nice, and I was able to have a good conversation in Spanish with one of them.  But as each minute of us talking passed, I thought I’ll never get to tell my host mom my news.  Finally, I decided I should just leave and tell her in the morning at work.  When I announced I was leaving, the gentlemen said they should go too.  So now I was stuck- do I stay or do I go?  I let the men leave before me and tried to not be awkward with my host family.  For here I was hanging out in their living room at 10:00 at night- something I didn’t do in the past week.  And so with a rat running along a rafter behind my host mom, and rat droppings laying next to me on the sofa, I broke the news.  First saying I wanted to live closer to my friends and secondly saying I didn’t like the rats.  She was so understanding! She knew my friends lived on the other side of town, which takes between 20 to 40 minutes to walk to where I usually spend time with them.  Regarding the rats, she explained to me that they are just a part of the life in her neighborhood.  Apparently there is a volcano behind her house (which explains all the lava rock); the rats like to live amongst the lava rocks.  She continued to explain the rats are indigenous to the island, are not angry, and wont hurt us.  This explanation helped me to feel a little better about living with the rats, but made me feel worse for moving out on her! 

After dropping the news, I thought it would be polite if I stayed a little longer and helped Maria, the daughter, with her English.  After I asked her several questions, it was her turn to ask me questions.  The first question she asked me was ‘When is your birthday?”  I responded my birthday was 2 days ago- the 21^st of November.  Oh My! The mom and daughter couldn’t believe I didn’t tell them it was my birthday.  They insisted they have a celebration for me.  They kept throwing days out that were good for me to celebrate.  But I already have plans for the entire week and am not sure when they can throw me a party.  I might have a b-day party with my old host family a week after I moved out of their house.  They were so enthusiastic about having a fiesta for me, I started to feel more quilty for having just told them I’m moving out.

When it was time for me to leave, I told her I needed to pay her for my stay but she refused. I was under the impression that I was living there for $150 a month- information told to me through a lady in my volunteer organization.  I had $50 in my hand to give her; I ended up having to leave it on a table because she insisted my stay in her home was free.  Then, to make me feel more terrible, she insisted I take a papaya with me as a going away gift.  After giving her and her daughter hugs goodbye and letting them know I will come back to visit, her daughter walked me down the street to make sure I got in a cab safely. 

So here I am, the spoiled little princess, that left a free room and board living with a very nice family (and with rats), to paying $84 a week for a nice clean room (but still have a cold shower J ).