I am a runner.

This Week in Costa Rica

It’s a lot easier to define what we are not than examine who we are.  Until today I proudly declared that I am not a runner.  Somewhere in the first third of a 10K race at Boston Scientific in Alejuela, Costa Rica I had to refresh some of my characteristics.  With Alpina Water and Powerade banners marking the course, runners dressed in such fluorescent garb as to resemble what I can only guess were supposed to be pylons, and emergency services standing by, I embarked on the first few trots of what would soon unfold as simply remarkable.  The question that crossed my mind was, “can a country be a reasonable catalyst for change?”  There’s a saying in Costa Rica among the expat community that foreigners here are either running toward or from something.  I like to think the former in my case, but I do see a great number of folks making the leap as a reason to jump-start change in their lives. 

Costa Rica has all the ingredients in place to allow one to become introspective, health-conscious, and develop a greater sense of patience and tolerance.  I can only speak for myself, but one year ago I quit smoking, lost about 25 pounds, and am now a radio host blogging about running 10K races.  I’ve started meditating, yoga, I speak Spanish, and have developed some of the deepest relationships I’ve ever known.  I smile more, I listen better, and I feel a greater sense that I am connected to something bigger than me and that what I do matters.  Now, this may simply be the literary dribbling of 37-year-old in the throes of divorce, or I’m still on the runners high and full of fresh fruit.  But I feel there’s something more to this. 

I do not advocate moving to another country just to get healthy or ‘find yourself’.  There’s a great tale of a guru who is sitting in his favorite spot in the center of a small village.  A man comes up to him, introduces himself and explains that he’s just moved to this village.  He asks, “What’s this place like?”  The guru responds, “What was it like where you are from?”  The man replies, “It was awful!  The people were rude, the crime was horrific, and there was corruption and hatred everywhere.  I hated it!  That’s why I moved!  So, what’s this place like?”  The guru quietly answers, “Well, funny that you say that.  The people here are rude, there is terrible crime, and there is corruption and hatred everywhere.”  Saddened and defeated the man shrugged and moved on.  Later that day a lovely young woman came by the guru and passed a gentle smile.  She said, “Hello.  My name is Assaya and I’m new in town.  What’s it like here?”  The guru replied, “Well, what was it like where you are from?”  She said, “Oh, it was wonderful!  People were so friendly, everyone knew each other, there were lots of activities to do, and I really felt like I belonged.”  The guru smiled and said, “It’s exactly like that here too.  Welcome.” 

The notion that you take your community and your experience with you is no secret.  Change the way you look at your home and your home will change.  Change the way you look at yourself, and you will change too.  Before I moved to Costa Rica I knew that it would be perfect.  Not because I did a lot of research.  Not because I’d heard from so many expats that this was a magical paradise.  Because I brought with me the perfection that we all seek.  It took some running, some introspection, and a little bit of patience to learn that Iam a runner and this was my first race of many- moreover it is never crowded along the extra mile.

TWiCR 019: May 21, 2012

This Week in Costa Rica

On this week’s edition of This Week in Costa Rica, Lisle Head and Corey Coates have welcomed Adam Silverstein for hour one.  Adam is an expat entrepreneur and proprietor of Le Loft and the newly opened Eat restaurant in Jaco, Costa Rica.  Hour two brings conversations ranging from the new rentista status, Sports Books and Call Centers in Costa Rica, Corey’s making the big step to buying a car, and a whole bunch more.  Be sure to tune in LIVE every Monday from 4pm- 6pm EST or download the archives and take the show on the road with you!  Have a great week, and Pura Vida! 

 

 Hour 2 is available here.  

TWiCR 018: May 14, 2012

This Week in Costa Rica

Lisle and Corey spend hour #1 chatting with Brad Sanson, a semi-retired Canadian whose been developing high-rise condos in Jaco for over 15 years.   Lisle fielded a call from a listener in Sacramento, California thinking about making the move to Costa Rica, housing prices in San Jose, renouncing your citizenship, obesity in Costa Rica, and much more.  Be sure to tune in LIVE every Monday afternoon from 4pm – 6pm EST or download the archives from theOverseas Radio Network for FREE!

 

  Hour 2 is available here.   

TWiCR 017: May 7, 2012

This Week in Costa Rica

 This week Corey and Lisle bring ESL teacher Andrew Woodbury into studio to share his experiences not only teaching English in Costa Rica, but being a Canadian having lived here in Pura Vida for 2 years.  The panel covered everything from the language barrier to dating, current events, living and working in Costa Rica and much more.  Be sure to download the archive of the show if you missed the live broadcast this week, and send us an email if you have any follow up or topics you’d like to hear covered in future episodes.

 

 Hour 2 is available here.

Then there’s Monday

This Week in Costa Rica 

For me, the pitter-patter of raindrops on leaves is one of the most soothing parts of my day – depending.  When you consider that I’ve chosen to live in a tropical rainforest, it should come as a surprise to few that celebrating the rain, and all it entails, is a healthy part of living a balanced, realistic lifestyle in Costa Rica.  I say ‘realistic’ as there are a select few who term the rainy season as “winter”.  That word carries connotations of a bleak, grey time where one must hunker down into their fortress and hide from the dark, cold spell cast upon the land for seemingly endless month after month.  I, for one, choose to see that the natural beauty and scenery that I enjoy every day is nourished by this daily watering and made green and lush such that you can actually smell the gratitude of a jungle thirsting for this gift. 

As a Canadian, winter is bred into me.  My very DNA seems to anticipate seasonal change and craves the variety that comes with it.  The rainy season here does not quite fit the bill as defined by such distinct seasons as the four enjoyed in my home province of southwestern Ontario.  However, I’ll take what I can get and the daily dose of rain for 8 months will suit just fine.  Frozen blasts of wind, ‘snotcicles”, scraping your windshield, shoveling your walk twice a day, sliding your car into the ditch, breaking your ass on a slippery sidewalk – these were only the tip of the iceberg.  I do miss these, as annoying as they sound.  Costa Rica’s rainy season provides similar nuisances, but with a twist.  Saying earlier that the rain is a soothing part of my day depends on where I am, or moreover where I’m heading, to define the parameters within which I consider it pleasant.  A gentle sprinkling on a Sunday afternoon just kissing your head as you arrive at your doorstep, laden with groceries from the local market, is a Norman Rockwellesque moments painted with smiles and fain panic.  We and giggle as we enter our homes to change our shirts and put on a cup of hot tea, setting the stage for the rain on the roof to lull us into a lazy afternoon nap.  Pretty, no? 

Then there’s Monday.  You wake up early and put on your work duds.  You head out to the office or to visit a client, umbrella in tow.  Your morning is productive, you’re in the zone, and the sun beams down upon you with its approving warmth.  Be not mistaken, though.  That warm light in which the nation basks is simply heating the ground and setting the stage for the 1pm show – and you’re in it.  One or two drops turn into millions in a matter of seconds.  The bus stop (if there is one) provides little shelter, and no matter how sturdy and glorious that umbrella felt when tested under the fluorescent lights of the local Wal-Mart it will give you no protection from the splash-up of the rain hitting the ground so hard that it bounces onto your freshly pressed pants.  When the bus arrives there is that window of time where you need to fish through your pocket for change, balance your umbrella, and hold your bag, somehow stepping into the overcrowded tin can.  The next skill is to somehow lower your shield as you enter the bus without being hit by the enemy fire falling from the sky.  You pass your fare, twist and shake the rainstick, wipe your brow, and grease up to go elbow to elbow with your fellow soaked compatriots.  It’s standing room only at this time of day as you hear the steel tube cutting its way through lake-sized puddles, windows steamed opaque, breath of the passengers somehow hotter than you recall, only to eventually pull your string and signal that this is my stop.  The doors swing open and you gaze down to find the driver has indeed stopped beside a racing pool of water over which you must leap, or dive into.  Choosing to leap and open your umbrella at the same time, hoping the door doesn’t close on you midway, you stick your landing and cringe as you speed to the alcove or lobby of your destination.  Funny how when you arrive and utter “que feo” to anyone in earshot that you don’t realize you are a few decibels louder than need be as the pounding of the rain has dampened your hearing and raised voice to compensate.  Upon entering the client’s office you discover that the air conditioning has been blasting all day like an arctic front aimed at your wet back.  The squeaking sound of your waterlogged shoes, the shirt coldly sticking to your torso, the dirty bottoms of your once clean pants, and general malaise that now has settled across your brow is provided little comfort in line for the hand dryer in the men’s room.  Let’s hope there’s coffee.

It’s always a tradeoff.  They key is timing.  Though many of us cannot avoid when we need to travel, careful planning and coordination of your day can mean the difference between using the rain to mask tears or sorrow, or of joy.  I’m feeling sleepy.  Perhaps I’ll take a nap.