COSTA RICA DIARIES v1 n1
GTFO
24 October, 2023: It’s a beautiful and peaceful Tuesday afternoon on Hilton Head Island. Sadly, perhaps one of the few places on earth right now that could be so described, and it is not lost on me that I am fortunate to be in such a place. I write from the outdoor bar here, having packed up this morning for an early evening flight from the little airport down the street.
I like this little airport, and I go to great lengths to use it precisely because it is tiny and down the street, even though it often results in having to endure oddly circuitous routes in order to get to where I am going. Tonight, for example, I will have to sleep somewhere in Charlotte in order to eventually get to my destination. Whatever. I fly first class, have drivers and space out. It’s worth it for a neurotic person.
This time around I’m going to Costa Rica. Guanacaste province, to be more specific, which is on the northern Pacific coast of what is undeniably the most sanguine nation in our hemisphere. I know this and I haven’t even been there yet. (They don’t even have a military, you guys, having disbanded it in 1948. How they do not need one considering where they sit is beyond me). Anyway, I grew up on the Pacific Ocean and whether one finds oneself experiencing it from the coast of California, Mexico, Costa Rica, whatever…the Pacific Ocean is the best ocean. If you disagree you suck. And when my feet are in the Pacific, I am home. I am, then, going home.
Note: It seems to be a universal rule that when writing about Costa Rica one must, preferably sooner than later in the body of the text, invoke their national mantra: pura vida, so there you go. Invoked. I’m off to get me some pura vida. Whatever.
It’s more than just a working vacation for me. It’s redemption.
See, I’ve been on this digital nomad kick since I moved to Hilton Head late last year. Partly because I have discovered that no one cares where I actually physically am as long as I am there— on the calls, responsive to the emails and so forth — and partly because I am feeling my age and realizing that now or never is actually a thing. And, ok, also partly because Hilton Head, in all her beauty, is skull-numbingly boring.
My wanderlust has resulted in an interesting year. Following a rocky personal moment in February, a friend who happened to be living and working in a wonderful coastal town in southern Mexico told me to drop everything and come down. And I did (don’t ever offhandedly challenge me to join you anywhere doing anything because I will likely show up tomorrow). As some of you read in my since-deleted over-sharing dispatches from the scene, I had a whale of a time until two months or so in when I tripped and fell, broke my shoulder, and all hell broke loose. Two surgeries in two countries and a summer full of physical therapy and doctor visits later, I am determined to slay the Mexico dragon, step away from the shitshow going on in my country and beyond at the moment, and have an exotic and enlightening experience that actually ends well. A boy can dream.
I am actually being a bit facetious about the redemption thing. It’s not really about that. Like everyone with a soul I have wanted to see Costa Rica with my own eyes for many years. I am a wildlife geek to the maximum, and all I really want in the world right now is to sleep to the sound of gentle waves, make friends with a monkey or two and talk to a Toucan. To live and to learn on a higher level than I am finding here at the moment in South Carolina, USA — live in the wonder of nature and balance at a time where such things seem so sidetracked and learn about this humble and extraordinary place where they seem to have an awful lot figured out. I wont stay (at least for this round) as long as I did in Mexico because I have a Thanksgiving commitment in the US, but I’ll do my best to make whatever I have to share worth your while.
So there we are. Stay tuned if you want to hear about my pura vida adventure or just want to see pictures of monkeys. Adios and wheels up!