A bright white girl amid so much green

I slid my sandals on, my feet welcoming the familiar and worn feel, the sand between the soles and cool tile floor making a noise that reminded me of sandpaper. The sun was shining, for once, and there was a green glow to everything; it was hazy. I bounded down the porch stairs, toward the road, passing the endless line of leaf-cutter ants. I had laughed when I first saw them carrying little bits of leaves, creatively cut and perfect for miniature scrapbooks; they were the first real evidence that I was somewhere exotic.
The fútbol field across the street was soggy after 10 days of unmerciful rain, rain so unrelenting it started to feel like we were part of some biblical parody. Only days prior, amid the cheering and family atmosphere, had we witnessed police officers beat a local man, hog-tie and throw him into the back of a pick-up truck for starting a fight on the sidelines. The truck had sped off, leaving nothing but splattered mud, it being too wet to leave the dramatic dust cloud the scene deserved. Despite the poachers carrying machetes and roaming the beaches at night, the fútbol field beating was the only violence I witnessed.
I continued down the dirt road and past the pulpería where a pack of dogs laid out front on a daily basis, none of them resembling each other at all. One of them lifted up their heavy head in curiosity, whether it was because I could have food or I was a bright white girl amid so much green, I’m not sure. The pack silently voted a wiry dog to be my designated follower and he trotted behind me at a distance for the rest of the way.
I journeyed farther down the road, closer to town with every step. The road was pitted and weathered, in a way that told the wayfarer that this is all the road had ever been and ever will be. A mountain dominated the horizon line, hovering over the precious fields and beaches like a protective grandfather. It was just me and the stray dog on a pitted dirt road, the landscape so beautiful it felt like I had walked in on some exclusive moment nature was having.
As I continued walking, houses started reappearing along the road, tin and obscure objects nailed to the sides, bright blue tarps breaking up walls of metal. These structures were housing families in Costa Rica but wouldn’t be fit enough to house lawn mowers back home. My companion had tumbled away with the town strays so I approached the internet café solo, my excitement rising at the thought of writing home…