The lure of yachting is not only the travel opportunities, but also the monetary rewards gained from countless hours on the job. As a result, many yacht crew have the ability to combine their adventurous spirits with some money in the pocket, which often leads to interesting and rewarding stories. Here is mine.

Last summer, I completed my first stew job aboard M/Y Princess Sarah, a 142-foot Richmond, and decided to put my hard-earned money toward a lifelong ambition: teaching English in a developing country. I applied for a voluntary position in Costa Rica through an organization called Aliarse and after a two-week training course, I was well on my way to realizing my dream.

The first thing that struck me in Costa Rica was the attitude of the locals. Most responses in Costa Rica include the term pura vida, which is pure life in Spanish. Anything from “have a good day” to “your house is on fire” is likely to be followed by pura vida. This may be a contributing factor to The New Economics Foundation rating Costa Rica as “the happiest nation in the world” in 2009.

After a long and mountainous journey that included a bus and a ferry ride, I stopped in Montezuma, a small, hippie-like town on the Guanacaste Peninsula. On arrival I met my host family, a young couple who lived high up at a tree-top zip-lining operation in the jungle. My hospitable host, Kimberly, considered my travel-worn appearance and immediately invited me for an evening of outdoor karaoke with her friends. They embraced me with tequila and the only English song they could find on their karaoke repertoire. All eyes were on the blonde English-speaking arrival as I sang into the damp air and soaked up my new home. I knew I had arrived.

It took two weeks of nagging the local town council to organize a gathering of potential students. We finally met on the second story of an open-air restaurant. Chinese lanterns were the source of light and a strong ocean breeze filled the space. There were about 30 foreign faces staring at me, looking for answers, and all I could think was “I can't speak a word of Spanish.” Luckily, I've always had the ability to hide my anxiety and that was as good a time as ever to put my self-protective abilities to use. Through one-on-one conversations I established that the overall grasp on English was basic, but relatively manageable.

Classes eventually took off and we fell into an evening routine. As any teacher would know, some classes are easier than others due to varying levels of enthusiasm. My favorite class seemed to grow in size by the lesson. It included Javier, the blue-eyed, peace-loving Rastafarian; Laura, the sweet and intelligent homebody; Jose, the town juggler; and Armando, an elderly gentleman who prided himself in his Indian heritage. It was a smorgasbord of characters and as time went by I learned to love them all. We faced many hardships -- from failing electricity to a lack of transportation for the “teacha” to a locked classroom door -- but through it all my students kept coming back for more. When the rain came bucketing down, turning the Montezuma's roads into virtual mudslides, my students still miraculously appeared, and when I had no means of transportation to our classes, they eagerly raised funds for my taxi ride.

Three months into my contract, just as I was starting to get into the swing of things, an official-looking truck pulled into the driveway outside my room. Out stepped Marinez, who informed me that more than 80 students -- all demanding my services -- were waiting for me in Montezuma's neighboring town. Word had spread and before there was time to protest, I was carted off to sparse and dusty Santa Theresa. The real rustic teaching experience was about to begin.

As we approached the Santa Theresa “classroom” I noticed that it was in fact a large outdoor shed and that 80 intimidating students were indeed awaiting me. I was really nervous. Through the chaos we managed to arrange a schedule and I soon realized that I would spend the remaining three months in Costa Rica gallivanting on the rocky roads between Montezuma and Santa Theresa to meet a significantly increased number of students. I was moved to a slightly less glamorous house in Santa Theresa, which proved to be a beneficial step in improving my Spanish. My new host, Rosa, and her family could not utter a word of English, but they adequately demonstrated the art of subsistence farming through a collection of early-rising roosters and organically grown fruits.

My newly acquired students were more of a challenge compared to the jubilant Montezuma bunch. Many felt self-conscious about practicing English in front of their peers, so I had to broaden my curriculum in creative ways. A real issue was the lighting at night. The make-shift white board was lit by a single bulb, which simply did not cut it for students constantly straining their eyes to see the board. I found myself in a constant battle with the local authorities to provide the bare essentials and in the end, with two weeks left on my contract; we were finally moved to a regular classroom.

Through it all I realized how hungry my students were to learn English and this knowledge always kept me motivated. After all, the purpose of volunteering was to serve my students. It was never going to be as convenient as life in America, but the Costa Rican way of life is beautiful in its own way.

During my farewell week I was flourished with letters of thanks and appreciation. Many of my students wrote “I love you” and little souvenirs were eagerly handed to me to ensure that I would not forget them. The local town baker made a large cake that said “Thank's Good Luck” and many classes orchestrated parties that saw us snacking on everything from beans to chicken to rice pudding. I was filled with gratitude and after reading a note from the local council that said, “You really made a difference to these people's lives,” I knew I had achieved my goal.

Costa Rica seeped into my veins. There were parts that I loved and parts that saddened me. I saw the less glamorous side of small town living in what many people see merely as a tropical paradise. Many local teenage girls were pregnant, while the fathers of their unborn children prowled around town in search of the next tourist. Many husbands had mistresses and many families were broken.

But for all of its trials, I loved teaching English in Costa Rica. My students introduced me to the warm, humorous, playful and caring nature of Costa Ricans and more importantly they taught me that the simple acquisition of a hammock may be the answer to all the worries in the world.

Costa Rican English for Sustainable Tourism (CREST) is a government initiative aimed at improving the economic competitiveness of Costa Rica by enhancing the level of English proficiency among professionals in the tourism sector. English-speaking volunteers are welcomed from all around the world to participate for six-month sessions. After a two-week orientation course volunteers are placed in rural communities throughout Costa Rica. Food and board are provided. To find out more, visit www.aliarse.org

About the Author

Franki Black