The Road Never Traveled: What We've Received By Living In Costa Rica

The Road Never Traveled.

Three years ago when we moved to Costa Rica, I wouldn't have guessed that one of the side effects I would value most for myself and for our three kids is the constant shot in the arm of facing the unknown. It's never an easy feeling but it's quite impossible to avoid when you are forced to face it on a daily dosage.

"On today’s journey to the future you don’t have a choice between the road less traveled and the road more traveled. No one has been where you are going. No one has experienced the future you will experience. The only choice you have is the road never traveled." HB Gelatt 

It's great when it looks like this:

or this:

and I'd be lying if I didn't say that we've learned not to put things off that we want to do or see and that means getting out and about.

But sometimes, it looks like this:

In your bed or in your room. Twice in one night. This recently happened when we were traveling with Swedish friends we met 20 years ago backpacking around the world. 

My friend's reaction (brave as hell and honest at the same time about how much it terrified her) got me thinking about what's happened to our kids over the last three years and how it adds up.

Persistence. Living abroad delivers you a lot of obstacles. There's not a lot of room for giving up on a daily or hourly basis. The obstacles start looking more like chance events or something to move through, around, under, or over. Because time has a quality of finiteness (How much longer will we be here? That's a real question.) taking action or inaction is easy to spot. 

Flexibility. You have to become really adaptable. There's a lot of 'unfolding' that happens and things that just can't or won't be rushed. One of my Swedish friend's said he would go crazy living here when we attempted to buy him a chip for his phone. The sitcom-esque experience that took place in the shop was just another day on my end but drove him nuts when he viewed the interaction through the lens of Scandinavian efficiency and customer service. I'm not saying for a second ineffieciency should be to a model to follow or that I don't get driven absolutely crazy sometimes, but I have found that it's easier to be mindful of my reaction because it's in my face all the time. 

Risk-taking. There's a lot more shifting of this behavior into the 'necessary' category. There's just no way around it. There was a recent article that was titled, 'The Odds are Better than you Think' that talks about the human habit of over-estimating the probability of something going wrong. And how we underestimate our ability to handle the consequences of risk. Or that pesky way that we tend to exaggerate the consequences of what will happen when things go wrong. . .

Adversity has the effect of eliciting talents which in prosperous circumstances would have lain dormant.

-Horace

In a nutshell, there's just a hell of a lot of chances for things to go wrong, and they do. And to doubt ourselves, and to have to jump anyway. I'm convinced that one of the reasons that people love to visit Costa Rica so much is the ubiquitous zip-lining. The Swedes tell me it's the first thing that pops up in a search about the country. Sure, the beaches and sloths are exhilarating to experience, but it's nothing like facing yourself and coming out whole. Every time (and it's often) I see the kids do it I am grateful for taking the sabbatical plunge which turned into becoming an expatriate family.

20 years ago we met 'The Swedes' on the deck of an Indoneasian ship. We would go on to miraculously meet up again in Hong Kong on a street corner (these were the days before cell phones so that our plan worked felt like a miracle). We went on to travel through China together, meet in Sweden and later in France. We love them in a way that is profound. Together, we experienced serendipity and the wonder that is possible when you travel. Now our collective children are the ones playing hours of card games, fording rivers, and surmising what makes a place phenomenal or 'meh'. 

When we talked about pursuing the plan we hatched 20 years ago to motorcycle the Silk Road once the kids have left the roost, the kids first reaction was, "But we want to come too!" 

The roads we've traveled with 'The Swedes' are precisely the ones I would never ever give up, they've been amongst the most meaningful, exhilarating and fun of my life. 

It's January 2015. How long have you been thinking about traveling or taking a family sabbatical? 

Don't let the fact that there's no bridge slow you down. 

Shopping, parking, and cooking in Costa Rica. Taking it all in.

There is little anonymity when you shop at Mom and Pop outfits. It's a magical thing to experience forgetting your wallet and have the news received with a shrug of the shoulders and the appearance of a worn, leather book into which your total is pencilled. I feel at that moment like I am in a brown version of Little House on the Prairie.

I'm touched every single time I shop at a certain small grocery and the owner gives me a gift. It's always the same routine: as I'm finishing checking out, he gives a small wave to his assistant and mutters something unintelligible and she appears with an assortment of goodies to add to my things. Last time it was the limes and bananas pictured below. 

Presents from a local grocer.

              I've tried to find a constellation of small shops and frequent them with the equality a parent tries to impart to their children. My second butcher, Cali, has proudly shown me pictures of his boys, given me recipes and yesterday asked if I'd like him to get me some rabbit. He saves chorizo for me and hands out pearls of wisdom like it's another cut of meat. My favorite so far was when I asked him how he would prepare a meat I was buying and he replied with a stone serious face, "con amor, paciencia y ganas" or "with patience, love and desire". 

Cali, the butcher.

                 You can't park anonymously here. There's a whole career as a 'parking man'. At nearly every curbside, market, shopping center and restaurant, appears a man in a blaze orange or neon yellow vest.  As you move in to park, they flap their hand wildly to signal that your vehicle's rear is sticking out  and by God, improve the parking job! Or, he's stopping traffic and guiding you out and along your way. Of course, you're expected to drop some colones their way and at first I felt this gringa attitude of "I can do it myself!" followed by a sigh as I begrudgingly gave them some coins. 

Now? I have a dream of taking pictures of every single one who helps me and I look forward to the interaction never guessing what hilarity or profundity will ensue. These fellows are nearly living caricatures for how much personality they contain. They shout things like 'dale reina'! "Come on queen!" or "Muneca le van a pegar", "Doll, they are going to hit you."

This gentleman caught me looking at a newspaper clipping pasted on a nondescript wall and shared with me that it housed the work of an amazing potter and went on to describe the work as a museum curator might. Funny enough, a couple of days later we had to print off a paper for Gigi and he stood there next to the car watching her type frantically into the computer as J played an app on his school iPad and Baby-O blared music from my phone.
We must've seemed like we had landed from a different planet.

I want to collect the things they say like Halloween candy. Once, after I'd settled the kids in the car with our market loot, I went back for a string of bananas. When I approached the car, Gigi's eyes were like saucers and she was shrunken into her seat. As I paid the coins to a scrawny fellow we see every Sunday wearing a blaze orange vest, I noticed a smudge of blood near his mouth and think nothing of it. As we pulled away, Gigi told me in horror that he and another attendant had been screaming at one another until finally, the other smacked him across the face. In desperation, she cried, "Mom! I think they were fighting about us!" I cackled to see the same pair hugging a couple of days later at another intersection.

Even at the mall, shopping is a pretty personal experience. We have a beloved yogurt shop we visit at the mall, Moyo (it's 100% Bulgarian yogurt and you can choose fresh tropical fruits to smother over top. Decadent and fantastic! Moyo was started by a female Mexican entrepreneur;  if you come visit, you can bet you will try this great yogurt with flavors like lychee and cas.). We have come to know nearly all their staff and they carefully wait for each child to place their order and nod encouragingly before closing the sale with a "buen provecho"! (bon appetit)

Costa Rican Cas fruit. Photo captured from Cupotico, where you can read about the plethora of Costa Rican fruits.

I'm honored and touched beyond words how a fellow soccer school family has not allowed me to be anonymous in our new pueblo. Each Sunday, they have patiently told me where to buy a rice cooker where I won't get ripped off, how to reach  the police, and how to give my address, "a la par del supermercado la Gloria", "next to the supermarket la Gloria".  This last weekend, when I told of a confusing visit to the auto mechanic, the dad Francisco very politely asked if he could look at the car. Francisco lifted the hood and proceeded to check every fluid. He knelt on the ground and examined the brake pads and looked under the car. When I told them I was having trouble finding a barbecue, he promptly offered to drive me to a store in the next town over to find one. They apologetically explained, "we are out of season". 

I had to laugh considering it's a perfect 73 every single day or warmer!

Francisco teasing Baby-O that he was going to steal what hair the doll had.  Couldn't they be twins?!

 Speaking of hair, mohawks are huge here. No self-respecting boy leaves the house without hair gel. These dudes groom. Below you might be able to spot three different lengths of mohawks. J ended up playing a double-header this weekend one with his own age group, the other with the 14+ team. A scout came to watch and invited him to play on a select team. He scored in both games. I love this picture that Gigi took right after he scored, the boys all jumped on him and were yelling a cacophony of things that I, nor J could make sense of. You can see how happy his mates are, the opposing team? Not so much!

Following a goal by J and a dog pile, the team moves on. People on the sidelines joke, "your son doesn't stick out or anything!" The boys on either side of him are 11 too.

Wait until I tell you about our landlady who arrived from their horse ranch in Nicaragua. Her life is like one big screenplay.  The kids were riveted. I loved it when she declared with a glass of wine in one hand and grand gestures in the other, "You don't have to feel inadequate or afraid if you don't understand something." She grew up all over the world and was living in Monaco by the time she was in her early 20's. I can't wait to share more.

Francesca leading Baby-O in an impromptu riding lesson telling her to breathe deeply and feel calm.

Francesca's methods appear to be right on target.

The neat thing is that mind-boggling stories like hers abound. On Friday we will visit expats who live very close and have kids Gigi and J's age. When I inquired about their background (the dad is Argentine and the mom is British) this is what we got, "The children were born when we were in Trinidad, from there we were in Chile for 3 1/2 years followed by 3 years in Bangladesh, 2 years in Venezuela and we have now been in Costa Rica for 2 school years." 

Wow.

We miss you and the familiar things from home. We are still living in a state of numbness as stories and experiences pummel us at every turn.

Just a bit of pummeling. . .

I know it's not easy for the kids to try to connect with people and overcome the language barrier. There is a deep solitude being new. They overwhelm me every day with their bravery and fortitude. Drop them a line and tell them what you think about what they are doing.

It's all new to us.

** I finally opened a Facebook account. When the kids' schools announced that when (!) there's another earthquake, that's where we will learn if they're ok I figured it was time.
Hope to see you there.

You know you're in Costa Rica when. . .

So we definitely know we're living in Costa Rica when

Photo by Jean Christophe Prunet

 we have to wipe toxic frog residue from Casper's (the rescue dog) mouth right before he throws up. . . I've since gone on to fish a frog out of the pool and tonight nearly stepped on one as I stepped out the door to change the laundry.  I had to break it to Baby-O that although a good idea in theory, the razor-thin smashed one she found on our road, was not a good addition to our 'bug board'.

Photo by Ucumari

Green parrots wake you up every morning. Their shriek is not altogether pleasant but seeing neon green birds swoop,  swarm and glide into the same tree (outside our bedroom) every morning never ceases to feel at once annoying and exotic!





The moth's here are bigger than my hand. We had been tracking a gigantic moth; one so big, each of us had been startled at different times thinking it a small animal of some sort.  So we were sad to find it sucked into the refrigerator filter this morning.  :( Gigi was the brave soul who did the extraction.
We are definitely more connected to nature here love it or not.  We love it.

Take a look at that spear this bug is packing!
Every day brings a new  insect.

Ok, I'm trying to blend the following admission into the tropical fauna so skim over the following 'you know you're in Costa Rica when'. . .

You have to hike away from your car and call a tow truck because the ruts are just too scary and your hands are shaking too hard to hold the wheel.

But before the tow truck (finally) arrives,  a  Costa Rican contractor in a giant and gleaming Montero decides he needs to take a look and declares it, "nothing serious" while informing me that "everyone does it all the time."

 "In fact," he declared, "just last week I had to rope my car to a tree to keep from sliding off the road." Comforting. No more shortcuts. No more unpaved roads.

Then the 'tow truck' arrives only to be an ancient old-school jeep, no matter.

You're happy when he drops to the ground after the 'extraction'
(I felt not unlike the moth in the refrigerator filter) and declares with a grin, "You're fine. You're not leaking any oil or fluids." At this point, I'm ready to drop to my knees or roll into the flora.

 Note to self: NEVER follow iPhone GPS in a Central American country and believe a gray line equates to a road.
I felt better when he told me that he had pulled multiple people up from the same stretch of road. . . one last week.


An ironic thing about this idiotic episode, is that I vividly remember reading a book about an expat in Costa Rica  right before we left and snickering knowingly when she admitted that while taking a shortcut to get a pizza,  they had had to chain themselves to the side of a mountain 'road' as their vehicle teetered on two wheels and very nearly flipped off.  I didn't know whether to feel better or in more foolish company when a kind Brit Will, driving a massive Landrover, stopped by and reported that the week before he had rolled it completely over on. . .that same stretch of land.






On a more memorable note (I hope!) you know you're in Costa Rica when all three of your kids suit up in khakis and a polo to head off to school.  One of the things I like about being here is seeing the swarm of navy-uniformed kids moving around the streets and parks. I must be getting old.

Baby-O in her 'mini-forme' and Bobby--- the dog she describes to everyone as, 'the sausage'.



You meet a group of fascinating expatriates working in Costa Rica for companies from Intel to Proctor and Gamble and the kids. . . play cards. Later, they would be joined by a pack of about seven expat boys and outdo the adults in laughter and hollering.

Everyone we've met has been incredibly kind, gracious and welcoming.

One of the things I've always loved about traveling is running into the craziest things  around any corner. Below see the menagerie that came to check me out as I turned around in their very urban 'driveway'- I felt like Pippi Long stocking might follow at any moment. 

You know you're trying not to worry that your 13 year old is going away for the weekend to another province with all of her grade for a field trip. Stay tuned and pray for our girl that it all goes well.*


* I dropped her off at school this morning at 6:30, she was as exuberant as the mess of kids that were gathered. Along the way she told me that she loved working with Bunsen burners. Yesterday in science class they had been told to separate a mixture of sand and salt and had been given water, a bunsen burner and something else I can't remember. The thing I like about their school, Blue Valley, is that they often aren't given the answers or even clues; the point is for the kids to figure it out. Yes their group blasted the heat up all the way and yes there were flames. Gigi's account? "It was awesome."

J was as thrilled to dissect muscles and tendons on a chicken. The kids seem to have as much fun recording their work with the iPads as doing it. It'll be interesting to see how the school, students and teachers' pull it all together.

Missing you all.

Moving abroad: the first take from the 11 and 13 year olds

An 11 year old's take:

There’s no real best thing and no real worst thing about being here. It just gets better over time and the bad things just get better. 

'Bobby' who defected from the groundskeeper extraordinaire, Jose. 

"Casado" or "meal of the day" at a local restaurant. Sets you back $5

Costa Rica is really developed. I thought it was going to be like Nicaragua since they are so close: it’s crazy. It’s way different from the US in distances and people. In the states, places are way apart but it’s identical. There are the same stores, maturity of the land, things. In Costa Rica,  there are places that are exactly like the US so  you really have to search for the real Costa Rica. 

  



It’s really Tico (what Costa Ricans' call themselves) when it’s down to earth and not gadgets and technology---- too many unnecessary things. 

The Tico stores sell just what you need and that’s it. In the US there is a ton of stuff to buy. There are the things you need, and then 500,00 things that they are trying to focus you on  instead of the real things you actually need. In the Tico stores, they sell just a few things that you’re looking for.  Like I walk down to a little store literally right outside where we live- 10 steps away from the gate at most. You find only the necessary things in this store. This morning I bought one stick of butter and two cartons of milk for $5.50. 

I would say that people here are focused on life. In the real life in the US, it seems focused on making money, especially in music and movies. Here, it seems like it’s just enough to be happy or maybe even a little less. 

Dona Ceci along with her husband & brother. She is the seamstress who hemmed the kids' school pants at 7:30 pm for $6. When we stopped by to pick up the second pair of pants she invited us in for cake and dancing.

On our way to Dona Ceci's to pick up the pants.

It is really different academically so far. They kids learn in a different way- they try to do really well. They push themselves. They expect more of themselves- without the teacher pushing, but from within. It’s fun. 

(*The kids definitely are studying. So far, we notice that they have had to take a lot more quizzes, tests, and produce a lot more projects. The students' received iPads through an alumni facilitated donation last week and I notice that the virtual textbooks/assignments seems to allow them the access, organization, and content to go deeper. It's too early to tell too much but I am really interested to see how it shapes or detracts from their learning.)

In soccer here they think outside of the box. They take chances. They really actually play. They don’t care if they win. They don’t care about pass completion they-- they run on instinct, not a plan. 

Last Monday, a coach from the school invited me to play after school. I was shocked and crazed when I realized that most of the students were high schoolers playing with middle schoolers. What I learned was that age doesn’t really matter. A player is a player and that’s final. It felt like we were all equal. 

It’s been different to see what old men’s happiness is.

In the US, older men watch sports and in Costa Rica, they play the sport. We’ve passed numerous fields with old men with pot bellies playing soccer. They love it. They are just playing to play.

J facing off with a silver-haired dude who could move the ball. (Too bad on the graffiti- I'd say it's not a norm at all, just popped up in this shot.)

A brief check in with the 13 year old:

 All the girls I’ve met at school are really accepting, nice and helpful. So the hardest thing for me has been remembering their names. There’s a Marisol, Maricris, Maripaz, and Maripaula, Paula, Paola, Patricia, Manuela, Claudia, Daniela and Ximena, Luisana, Renata and. . .!

Something that has been different is the emphasis on where you want your life to go and what you want to do. For example, on our computerized group student planner, you can pick a quote but you can also select how you like to learn (eg visually, hands on, or listening) and what career goal you have. When you select a category like from ‘Reading’, ‘Nature’, ‘Computers’, ‘Law and Order’, ‘Science’, ‘Social Studies’, ‘Math’, ‘Helping People’, ‘Sports’, out pops a list of career like actuary, physicist, electrical engineer, statistician, surveyor, financial analyst, landscape architect, chemist, environmental scientist and so on.

It’s made me think about what I want to do.
________________________________

We are growing and changing as each day passes. Having Casper the rescue dog fatten before our eyes and become affectionate and confident is a reminder of how maleable we are as beings.  We will be updating with more frequency now that we have a full week of school under our belt.

Great to hear from you. Thinking about all of you and hoping you are having great summer days.

Moving to Costa Rica. . .finding a school, a car, a house and a dog

This was the view that awaited us our first morning in Costa Rica. What I thought was the hum of traffic in the distance was in fact, the sound of rushing water flowing at the bottom of the canyon. The small hotel sits perched atop the canyon housing Steve and Rita, one of those competent, uber-connected couples that are full of useful counsel and never obtrusive. I'm all for auspicious beginnings and staying at Casa Bella Rita provided us with a hearty one.

The fact that they have three incredibly charismatic rescue dogs named Tin Tin, Ratatouille, and Topo ("speed-bump" in Spanish) didn't hurt. The kids were in heaven.

Tin Tin, the man

Ratatouille better known as "Rata" who resembled a rat. . .

It would be through Rita that we eventually (we had planned on 4 days and stayed for 10. . .) found our house and car.   Neither are what we had planned on, both are working out beyond expectation.

View from our new home

It would be a lie to say that the first weeks were easy.

"A lot of waiting" said J of the first days as duly noted in this candid shot (I wish it were posed!)

The car we'd planned to buy and pick up our second day evaporated. We couldn't find a house (turns out there's tons of unfurnished places but not so many furnished houses). At one point, as we drove up and down roads looking for a place to live, Gigi shouted out 'Se Alquila!' (it means 'For Rent' in Spanish) so we promptly U-turned only to find what at best might be described as a shack. Isabel shrugged her shoulders and said, "you asked for 'se alquila' and you got 'se alquila'". The kids later took to chanting 'Se Alquila' as a rap of sorts as Rick and I tried not to lose our minds.

When doubt creeped in as if to ask "why exactly are we doing this"?  Answers whispered in from all directions. Finding a young woman, Oona, who bakes Gigi the most delicious custom baked goods- she specializes in Gluten-free, Artificial and Preservative-free products. . .

Picking up Gluten-Free, Agave brownies & cookies

Visiting the Toucan Rescue Ranch where the kids had a chance to visit with monkeys, sloths and owls- all rescued and sheltered by Leslie and her husband.

Izzy, found chained up as a baby, living a second chapter

Baby-O so proud to have run to the car and gotten bananas to share with Izzy, the monkey.

 Shopping at the Sunday market.

More on this later. . .our purchases from the market pictured below. . .cost $24. We joked that the ten ears of corn and two papaya would have totaled that back home.

One huge change was the kids' school- the school we'd chosen turned out to be a fabulous place to learn English and not miss a beat back in the US. After some hand-wringing we all decided that wasn't why we had moved to Costa Rica. More to follow but after extensive exams and more waiting we learned the kids had been accepted at Blue Valley School.

Taking a tour at Blue Valley School

The kids started on Friday and by Friday night Gigi was already out with a pack of girls until late. J came home ecstatic because he would be dissecting a chicken in his science unit. So far so good. The math is terrifyingly advanced (for me!). Even with Gigi having taken 7th grade Algebra she's working. The materials are clear and the kids seem excited by the challenge. Today, they received iPads that a young alumni secured for the school. J was studying Dickinson poetry today and last night Gigi interviewed me for an auto-biography she is to write. She's reading The Color of Water for English class. The kids will receive intensive Spanish tutoring and are expected to get up to speed in the next six months. J reported that he read his fiction book during social studies today (with the teacher's blessing) because he couldn't make heads nor tails of the lesson. Here goes the great experiment. . .

The last major thing to check off of our list was finding Baby-O a preschool. Today, I found it. More to follow but suffice it to say, that it was pretty shocking to see the plethora of quality early childhood education options. Montessori became popular in Costa Rica in the 1920's and the legacy is strong. 

Finally, we adopted a rescue dog today---his nickname is "Bones" because he's so skinny. The shelter named him Gaspar which we changed to Casper given his waistline. It's incredible to see emotional terrain develop before your eyes. Even though he resembles a 7 month old pup by weight, he's probably around 3 years old.

We don't know yet how it will all turn out but so far so good. 

We miss everyone to bits. Come hear the roosters crow as soon as you can.