A lot of people-mostly mamas- wonder why I've decided to leave everything behind to live in a country that doesn't speak our language and where we will clearly be outsiders. 

About 15 years ago, I decided to spend a summer studying and traveling alone in Costa Rica.  I remember the first night being totally overwhelmed by the situation I had put myself into when I got off of the plane in San Jose and everything I needed to know about even getting out of the airport was written mostly in Spanish.  I was met by a person from the school I would be attending who scooted me through the airport and the streets of Heredia to a tiny home with an iron fence guarding its entrance.  My Mama Tica met me at the door of my first homestay with the warmest smile.  She spoke no English and up to that point, I  thought I knew enough Spanish to get by.  She led me to my humble room that had been clearly arranged with love and care and bid me good night.  I cried a little that night-wondering what I had done.

From that next morning on, although I was clearly an outsider, I was granted compassion, patience and generosity.  I stumbled through Salsa dancing-and on a lot of Tican toes-at the local bars in the  towns I lived in, enjoyed eating all sorts of food I would never have dreamed existed and enjoyed being included in the daily community games of futbol in the towns' church squares.  Gradually, I began to speak the language with the very patient people I met in every grocery store, bank and restaurant who beamed back at me while I conjugated verbs all over them.

At one point, I found myself in an emergency room in Monteverde trying to explain an illness I needed medication for.  Nobody spoke English.  Alone and sick, I struggled to explain through my broken Spanish and gestures why I was there.  There was an empathy in the doctors' and nurses' eyes that I can still feel the warmth of.  I knew I was safe.

Yesterday, Ecuador called on the phone.  The sister-in-law of one of the teachers from the school my children will be attending had arranged to come to that teacher's home and speak English with me on the telephone.  I had already gathered most of the things we spoke about from emails and Facebook messages I had exchanged with her over the past weeks but...At the end of the conversation, Gabriella said, "Alyssum, we are so happy and excited that you and your children are coming to Ecuador."  She went on to say that the director of the school, Moises, the teacher, Gladys and her husband-who are opening their home to us while we buscando (search) for a suitable apartment next week, and Gabriella will be meeting us at the airport in Quito.

My children and I will be outsiders in Ecuador, and through this experience they will learn humor, patience, humility, empathy and generosity. They will learn to go without all of the comforts of our home here and accept the gifts of hospitality the families of our school's community have donated to our new home.  They will sit in a classroom confused and overwhelmed and be met by children and teachers who will quietly come beside them and beam at  Olivia and Jack as they learn so much more than how to speak a new language. 

We are going to Ecuador to learn about being an outsider-and through that- learn what others need in order to know that they belong.