When my wife Tabatha and I decided to move out of the United States a year ago, we first thought about Canada. We thought about the weather there. It would be cold, and there would probably be lots of snow. Then we thought about Canada’s official languages: English and French. I took French in high school, but you know what happens to the language we learn in high school after so many years of never needing to use it.

When I moved to Easton PA in 2016, I noticed there were many Spanish speakers in the city. That inspired me to start learning Spanish. So I downloaded Duolingo and played around on it off and on for a few years. About a year prior to our decision to move, I felt inspired to get more serious about learning Spanish, so I started using Rosetta Stone.

I didn’t want to move someplace where I would have to start learning another language. I wanted to use the Spanish I had learned, and neither Tabatha nor I wanted anything more to do with the cold and snow. We wanted someplace warm where I could speak Spanish.

Tabatha had been ill for a long time. She needed to retire early. The pandemic helped her a great deal because she was able to work from home for a while. Soon, everyone was forced back into the office, but that environment was too stressful for her. All around her, people were working well past their retirement ages for fear of not having enough money or health insurance benefits to live well in retirement. Tabatha decided that she wasn’t going to destroy her health for fear of not having enough.

Tabatha knew that she would need to continue working part-time and that I would need to work nearly full-time in order for us to make ends meet. Before she retired, Tabatha set herself up with meaningful part-time work as a grant writer for the local homeless shelter. I had been working a part-time job. After Tabatha retired, we realized that even though we had a small mortgage and no other debt, the cost of health insurance, utilities, and home maintenance could quickly deplete our savings unless we continued working – most likely well into our old age.

However, in order to obtain affordable (government-subsidized) health insurance, our income couldn’t exceed a certain threshold. If our income exceeded it, we would have to pay back the subsidy in full. We seriously doubted we would be able to live off the limited income necessary to avoid having to pay back thousands of dollars in taxes. Our income wasn’t enough to pay for health insurance coverage without a subsidy. With a subsidy, our allowable income wouldn’t be enough for us to survive.

We felt stuck. Suddenly, we were inspired to think outside-the-box. Most Americans never think about the fact that there might be better places to live than in America. We hear so much talk about “the American dream” – people coming to America in search of a better life. Our “American dream” turned out to be leaving America. We decided on a place where we could live well enough on Tabatha’s pension alone, and by working a little on the side, travel and play.

Costa Rica was the place, but working a little on the side would be problematic. We would seek residency through Tabatha’s pension, but as “pensionados,” we are not allowed to get a Costa Rican job. Tabatha has been lucky enough to be able to continue working remotely as a grant writer for the homeless shelter. But what work would I be able to do?

Anyone in Costa Rica is allowed to work for themselves. I am a minister and a teacher. Would I be able to continue working as a minister in Costa Rica? Costa Rica is mostly Catholic and therefore fairly conservative. That’s definitely not me, so I didn’t count on finding many ministry opportunities. However, I could see myself having plenty of teaching opportunities, especially if I moved into the realm of TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language).

About four months prior to our move, I got onto TEFL.org and started training to become a TEFL instructor. I took the general 120-hour TEFL training course. After that, I took a 40-hour Teaching English Online course since I knew I wanted to teach online. I started thinking about the competitiveness of the TEFL instructor market. There are many TEFL instructors out there. I may have almost 30 years of teaching experience, but I don’t have any TEFL experience.

How was I going to leverage the experience I do have to market myself? I was advised to find my TEFL-teaching niche. Do I want to teach kids? No. Do I want be a pronunciation expert? No. Do I want to teach Business English? No. Do I want to focus on a specific nationality? Perhaps. It may be beneficial to teach Central American students since I would be living in Central America and learning Spanish. Do I want to teach proficiency test preparation?

BAM! There’s my niche! I had been teaching GED test preparation for as long as I’ve been a teacher. I know how to prepare people for testing, and I love helping people pass whatever test they need to pass to move onto bigger and better things. A month after we arrived in Costa Rica, I took a 40-hour Exam Preparation course, and I started figuring out how to market myself as a TEFL Exam Preparation instructor.

Acorn Test Prep was born. I created a website and a Facebook page. I’ve written some blogs, made and shared some posts, made a video and Facebook reel, and shared my expertise on an IELTS test prep group and on Quora. I’ve spent money on advertisements on both Facebook and Quora. I’ve grown my Facebook page to 23 followers, and I have had a bunch of people contact me who are interested in my business.

I have yet to earn a single dollar as a TEFL Test Prep instructor. 😊 It’s okay. I know it takes time to built a business especially in a competitive market. I’m optimistic. I believe that with continued work marketing myself, I will eventually start attracting students. You all can help me out by liking and following my Facebook page and sharing my website with anyone you think might need at TEFL instructor.

Stay tuned …

My promised next post was supposed to be “Moving to Costa Rica: Figuring Out Work.” Since we’re still figuring out work, that post will have to wait. For this post, I’ve decided to come clean. I’ve been posting all good stuff about our move to Costa Rica, but the truth is it hasn’t been all good.

Believe me.

When we first got here, the weather was perfect. The temperature was always between the mid-sixties and low eighties. Now, it’s not-so-perfect. The end of the dry season brings higher temperatures, and the beginning of the rainy season brings higher humidity. The intersection has resulted in the middle of the day being unbearably hot and humid. That’s how we discovered the brilliance of “la siesta.” It’s just too dang sweltering to do anything but nap.

It’s peaceful here, but that doesn’t mean it’s quiet. The neighbor behind us has a chicken coop. I thought that roosters crow only at sunrise. Nope, they crow whenever they feel like it even if it’s 3 AM. They are just like barking dogs. Speaking of barking dogs, one of our neighbors has a yippy little dog that yips incessantly. It yips at every little sound. It starts yipping when it hears the little squeak the gate makes when I open it to take Jackson for a walk.

So far, I’ve resisted the urge to yell, “Oh shut up, will you?”

Trash is picked up every night, but recycling is picked up only once per month. Sadly, bags that are left out for trash are often thrown out into the middle of the street, torn open, and inspected for anything useful. Once we found our recycling bag torn open and its contents scattered about in a nearby park. Many of the Ticos are very poor, and this is how they survive, but it makes a disgusting mess. To deal with this issue, we hired someone to pick up our recycling and take it to the recycling center every couple of weeks. We take only a small bag of trash out every night, and if our street is a mess, I go out with a broom and bucket and clean it up.

There are often homeless people napping on the sidewalks, and when we go downtown, we are panhandled most of the time. In the grocery store, women have asked us to buy them a few necessities, and on the street, we are often asked for coins. Yesterday, one guy was pretty persistent. I don’t think he knew any English except for “One dollar!” So, I gave him one dollar (a 500-colone coin). The locals see dollar signs when they see Americans and Europeans, and they aren’t wrong. Tabatha and I aren’t rich, but compared to what many Ticos have – we are. We don’t mind helping people out, but being frequently panhandled can be a bit unsettling.

We were delighted with the supersized avocados, but not so delighted with the supersized rats. One rat decided to mosey into our house through our front gate while we were eating lunch. We swear, it looked right at Tabatha as if to say, “Hola! Que hay de comer?” (Hello! What’s to eat?). First, we screamed like a couple of frightened children. Then, we chased it around the house. It left droppings everywhere. The poor thing was obviously terrified. We trapped it in the bathroom and enlisted the help of our neighbor Mayela. She arrived with her specialist equipment for rat elimination: a broom. Unfortunately, she couldn’t save us. The rat was hiding inside a hole it dug in the wall.

I deduced that it was far better to let the rat come out of hiding and find its way out of the house. I didn’t want it to starve to death inside our wall because then we’d have to deal with the distinctive aroma known as “rotting rat carcass.” First, I created a barrier so that the only way the rat could go was out. Then I opened the bathroom door and waited. Eventually the rat came out, but when I saw it, I gasped. That spooked it, so it ran back into hiding. It came back out a few minutes later, and I held my breath while it scampered around, eventually discovering the way out.

It didn’t take long- thank goodness.

Speaking of our neighbor Mayela, she is a gem. We love her. She is like our “mom away from home.” But just like a next-door mom, she can be a bit intrusive. She regularly rings our doorbell, or stands at our gate yelling, “¡Upe!” (Yoo-hoo!). It causes quite a commotion because the dog starts crazy barking and bolting to the gate. It’s quite disruptive when we’re in the middle of an online Spanish lesson, or talking to someone on WhatsApp, or in the bathroom. To deal with this issue, Tabatha and I devised an ingenious plan. We created a “Do not Disturb” sign (post image). We explained to Mayela that when this sign is on the door, we are working, so we can’t come to the door. We plan to use this sign not only when working, but also whenever we want some privacy.

Two days after we got here, a water main break disrupted the water supply for the entire city for a couple of days, and the water supply is sometimes cut off for maintenance. The electricity blips off and back on regularly, so the electric company occasionally turns off the electricity in sectors for a couple of hours to prevent brownouts. We’ve learned to invest in a surge protector with battery backup. And the plumbing in our house? Not-so-good. We’ve had a major sewage back-up into our shower. It was so gross. We’ve learned to use the smallest amount of toilet paper necessary and to use drain cleaner monthly to avoid clogs.

The truth is that no matter where you go, a city is a city and people are people and life is life. The problems we may hope to escape in one place often show up in the new place, and/or we may end up with new problems to replace the old ones. To live here more happily and healthily, we’ve needed to make some attitude adjustments and lifestyle changes.

That’s not easy, and we’re just getting started.

Do we regret moving to Costa Rica? No, we don’t regret it. To be happy anywhere is a choice and that choice often involves hard work. We have chosen to be happy here, and we will do the hard work that requires.

Six months ago, when we were back in the States thinking about our move to Costa Rica, we knew we would be faced with language challenges. Tabatha had been studying Spanish for only a couple of months, and although I had been studying for a couple of years, I was still only a beginner. There was no way for us to know what it would be like.

It didn’t take long for us to find out. From the moment we stepped out of the plane, Spanish was everywhere.

We read all kinds of reassurances online about how we didn’t have to worry about not knowing how to speak Spanish because you can always just use Google Translate. Google Translate is great! It quickly became our best friend. It helps us translate signs, grocery store labels, ingredients, and product descriptions. It helps us figure out how to ask for what we want or need, and if our pronunciation is so bad that we get confused looks, it will even speak for us.

I found that to be very useful one day when I asked a grocery store clerk where I could find yeast. The Spanish word for yeast is “levadura.” It’s pronounced leh-vah-doo-rah. Now, I thought that’s how I pronounced it, but apparently I pronounced it “lav-ah-dor-ah.” The clerk was quite confused. You see, “lavadora” is the Spanish word for a washing machine. He might have thought, “Why the heck is she looking for a washing machine in a grocery store?”

I have found another Spanish word that can get you misunderstood if you fail to pronounce it precisely. The word for hair is “cabello,” pronounced “kah-bay-yoh.” It’s very easy to mistakenly pronounce it “kah-bye-yoh.” You might think you’re asking the hairdresser to wash your hair, but what you’re really asking her to do is wash your horse (caballo).

Google Translate also has this wonderful feature called “Conversation” that can automatically translate between two people. Theoretically, that is. If you’ve ever heard a native Spanish speaker, you know that they seem to speak very fast. That’s because the words flow into each other, making it difficult to pick out the individual words unless you have a trained ear. You can ask the person, “Por favor, hable más despacio” (speak more slowly please), but I’ve found that most can’t because it’s just not natural for them. Google’s “ear” may be better trained than mine, but it is still no match for my next-door neighbor’s or the handyman’s thoroughbred pace.

Google also does not translate local slang accurately, so the translation doesn’t always make sense. For example, in Costa Rica, there’s the saying, “¡Que torta!” It means, “What a mess!” A Costa Rican “torta” is like an omelet or a quiche – a mess of ingredients thrown together and then cooked. Google translates “¡Que torta!” as “What a cake!” According to my Costa Rican Spanish teacher, the word for cake is “queque,” which Google translates as “what what.” Another Costa Rican saying is “¡Que chicha!” This is an expression of anger that often follows an unexpected and unwelcome surprise. Google translates that as “What a girl!”

“¡Que torta!”

We read all kinds of reassurances online about how we don’t have to worry about not knowing how to speak Spanish because many Costa Ricans speak English, and they will often switch from Spanish to English if it appears you are struggling to understand. We’ve been here over a month, and I can count the number of times that has happened on the fingers of one hand. It has happened most often with key service providers such as doctors, lawyers, and bankers. I learned not to bother asking the guy behind the meat counter “¿Habla usted inglés?” (Do you speak English?). No, I’ve learned how to say, “Quisiera un kilo de carne molida por favor” (I’d like a kilo of ground beef please).

There are more bilinguals in tourist areas, but we are not living on the beach. We are living in the Central Valley in the city of San Ramón. Here, it seems, most people don’t speak English even though Costa Ricans learn English in school. I learned French in school. Guess how much French I remember today? The other day, my neighbor introduced her eleven-year-old “nieto” to me. When I looked confused, the kid said, “grandson.”

Yes, Costa Ricans learn English in school, but just like with the French I learned, if you don’t use it, you lose it. Some do remember a little bit of English from school, and they like to use it. Occasionally, we say “Buenos días” to someone on the street, and we get a “Good morning!” in response. And sometimes, we get a “thank you” in response. We can’t help but grin. We all love to hear our own language – even if it isn’t quite right.

I guess we can’t hide it. We are obviously English-speaking gringos. But we are living in a Spanish-speaking country now, so I feel it is my responsibility to learn how to speak the language. The Spanish phrase that comes out of my mouth most frequently is an apology: “Lo siento. Mi español no es muy bueno” (I’m sorry. My Spanish isn’t very good).

There are many other English-speakers who live here, some for many years, who haven’t bothered to learn Spanish. I don’t blame them. It takes a ton of time and hard work. I believe that not knowing the language puts you at a serious disadvantage, and I’m not willing to accept living that way. Admittedly, the choice to learn was easy for me because I’m a language geek. Tabatha isn’t, but she has become fascinated by the structure of the Spanish langue.

When I first got here, I was afraid to try to communicate in Spanish. When listening, I was so focused on translating the words that I would miss the obvious meaning from the context and the person’s body language. Tabatha was much better at this because she didn’t even try to translate the words. When speaking, I was too afraid of making mistakes: using the wrong part of speech or conjugating a verb incorrectly.

I was too focused on vocabulary and grammar. Yes, being a language geek was getting in my way. I’m now finding that I can speak Spanish better than I think. Many people have said, “Habla usted español muy bien” (You speak Spanish very well). Of course, taking Spanish classes four days a week for the past month has helped a lot! There are times when I feel great – like “Yeah, I can do this! Look at me! I’m speaking Spanish!”

Still there are also plenty of times when I fall flat on my face. I feel dumb – a lot. Many times, all I can say at the end of a conversation is, “Gracias por su paciencia” (Thank you for your patience).

People are people wherever you go. Some are more patient than others, but I’d have to say most people here are patient and really appreciate people’s attempts to speak their language. I think my fears of their impatience and intolerance are mostly in my head. It takes a lot longer to communicate here. Perhaps I’m projecting my own impatience and intolerance onto them. Yes, I’m the one who is impatient and too hard on myself.

Truly, I have never experienced anything more humbling.

Stay tuned for my next blog post: Figuring Out Work

We arrived in Costa Rica on March 21, 2023 early in the morning on a beautiful day and began our new lives in a country we have never visited – not even once. We anticipated that we would experience a culture different from that of the United States, but we couldn’t have imagined what it would be like. Now that we have been here for over three weeks, we are beginning to get a taste of culture shock . In some ways it has been bitter and in other ways sweet.

I will start with the bitter. First of all, in Costa Rica, the traffic is horrible. We chose not to drive in Costa Rica, and we are so glad we made that choice. We hired drivers for two trips from San Ramón to San José and back, and both times, the hour-long drive took more than two hours. On the second trip, the driver attempted to avoid the traffic by taking death-defying cliff-hanging back roads that made us seriously doubt if we would survive. The reward for our near heart failure was that we got to see some fantastic views. We certainly didn’t get to San Ramón any faster.

Second, I thought the sidewalks in Easton, PA were bad. Not compared to the sidewalks in San Ramón. You need to pay attention when walking, or you could easily step into one of many holes, trip over a sudden rise or fall in the sidewalk, or fall into the deep drainage ditches (our poor dog has done that a few times). Just today, while walking downtown, I looked over the edge of the sidewalk, and there must have been a four-foot drop onto the street. I felt like I was walking along a cliff with no railing. In Easton, I saw people with disabilities riding around in powered wheelchairs or scooters all the time. I haven’t seen anyone doing that here. They would have to be loco.

Why are Costa Rica’s roads and sidewalks so bad? Because they don’t prioritize infrastructure issues. They expect people to be aware of traffic and infrastructure issues, take responsibility, and act like rational adults. Costa Rica spends most of its money on three things: education, social services, and healthcare. Knowing this, I can forgive the horrible traffic and horrendous sidewalks.

Now for the sweet. The park is always full of people of all ages enjoying recreational activities, whether they are working out with the provided fitness equipment, walking or running around the field, playing on the playground, or playing a game on the basketball court or soccer field. Their faces are all brimming with sheer pleasure and relaxing enjoyment. Whenever I saw the few people in U.S. parks engaging in recreational activities, they didn’t appear to be enjoying it so much. They appear to be trying get fit for some big event or engaging in serious competition. That kind of pressure doesn’t seem to exist in Costa Rica. Apparently, it isn’t necessary. Costa Ricans are generally healthy and fit.

Some of the conveniences I enjoyed in the U.S. are non-existent here. I wanted to buy a mop with a disposable head – like a Swiffer. No such thing here. The way you mop in Costa Rica is by clipping a rag to the end of a pole. You wring it out by hand, and if you want it clean, you have to rinse it out or wash it. Why do I consider that sweet? In the U.S. there are many products that make life more convenient, but we don’t think its impact on the environment. For example, when we were living in the U.S., we were using a Brita pitcher, and we had over two dozen filters that we needed to recycle. Unfortunately, the company had dissolved their recycling program, so all those filters sadly ended up going in the trash. Many U.S. companies refuse to take responsibility for recycling the products they sell, and the environment suffers. The Costa Ricans don’t sacrifice the environment for convenience.

The sweetest thing of all is that in Costa Rica, you get treated like a real person who matters. More than once, I received a hug and kiss on the cheek simply for introducing myself. The sincere hospitality and generosity of our neighbors has also been a shock. We are foreigners, but we are treated like friends. Our neighbor has brought us wonderful tortillas and custards and complete plates of food. When there was a water main break, they took care of us, taking us in their car to the water truck and giving us containers so that we could collect water for ourselves. In the U.S., foreigners are treated with cold indifference at best.

In the U.S., when people meet for business purposes, they immediately get down to business. In Costa Rica, before business is conducted, people talk to each other. They actually take the time to check in on each other’s wellbeing and to get to know each other. When they say, “Cómo está usted?” (How are you?), they genuinely want to know how you are. There is about ten minutes of chatting before they actually get down to business. This has been extremely enlightening for me. I didn’t realize this before, but the message we Americans send in getting right down to business is this: “I don’t care who you are. I care only about what you can do for me.”

In America, the focus is on business. In Costa Rica, the focus is on relationships: relationships between people and the relationship between the people and the earth. In America, it’s all about money. In Costa Rica, it’s all about community.

That may be why Costa Ricans are among the happiest people on earth, and we are very happy to be living among them.

Stay tuned for my next post: Language Shock

We have finally arrived, and we’re settling in. The worst part is over: sixteen days on the road from the closing on our home in Easton, PA to the day we flew into San Jose, Costa Rica. Throughout those sixteen days, we posted pictures and stories on Facebook documenting our journey, We looked so happy, right?

Well … to be perfectly honest, I had more than one emotional meltdown. At times, the small part of me that was scared to death overwhelmed me completely, and I ended up sobbing. The worst episode was the night before we flew. I hadn’t flown in an airplane since I was seventeen years old. It wasn’t the flight that scared me; it was the airport. There were too many unknowns. How would we get from the rental car return to the airport? It looked like it was a least a half-mile walk on the map. Could we get an Uber or taxi at 5 AM? Would anyone be there at that hour to help us figure it out? In my head were visions of us lugging two carry-ones and two suitcases each the entire distance and missing our flight. My head couldn’t accept my heart’s reassurances that said, “Just wait until you get there. You’ll figure it out.”

Of course, I didn’t have to figure anything out because the airport already had it all figured out. There was a skytrain that transported people to the airport from the rental car return. There were plenty of people around to help and signs everywhere. The airport wasn’t nearly as complicated as my fearful self imagined. We boarded our plan on time, and I thoroughly enjoyed the flight – especially the glorious sights from the airplane window.

The part of me that is fearful is an expert at taking the unknown, spinning a catastrophe, and then giving me crappy advice as to how to avoid it. There was no reason to feel so fearful. So much of this journey has worked out beautifully. Certainly, there have been challenges, like cockroaches in our hotel room and a lost phone, but there have also been surprises, like the wonderful recreation park near our new home and the NFL Network included with our cable TV.

The biggest challenge is the fact that English is a foreign language here, and I don’t know Spanish very well. Everything is in Spanish, and not everything is translated into English for people like me. I now have tremendous respect for native Spanish-speakers who were brave enough to relocate to the United States without knowing how to speak English. I am experiencing first-hand how difficult it is to be in another country and not know the language. Even though our new home is not located in an English-friendly tourist area, the Costa Ricans are so patient and helpful and kind as I struggle to speak Spanish. They genuinely appreciate the fact that I am trying to speak their language. I know that most Americans are not that way toward those in their country who do not speak English.

The next biggest challenge is the currency, which is also like another language. I love their money: it is as colorful as their country. The Costa Rican currency is the colone. Larger businesses might take American dollars and credit cards, but local small business typically take only colones. When they tell me how much I need to pay, I must look shocked and confused. “Dos mil trescientos veintisiete colones, por favor” (two thousand three-hundred twenty-seven colones please). Eh? All that for a few groceries?

That’s actually only a little more than four dollars.

But there is some real sticker shock. We wanted to buy a small microwave in Walmart. It was $176.00 for one that costs about $60.00 in the States. Familiar American products are very expensive. Foreign products are much cheaper, but … well … foreign. Figuring out what things are and how to use them isn’t easy because product names, descriptions, ingredients, and instructions are all in Spanish. And some products have proven very difficult to find – like decaf coffee. I’m seriously wondering if decaf coffee is a sacrilege in this country.

It’s been great to have a fresh vegetable vendor right next door to us – a very nice young woman named Janneth. She sells tomatoes, bananas, onions, cabbage, carrots, cucumbers, and different kinds of squashes that we’ve never seen before in our lives. We don’t have to go far to stock up on veggies, and it’s very cheap. And our next-door neighbors, Magella and Andres, were very happy to sell us a really cool couch. We were lucky enough find someone bilingual to translate for us in order to do business with them.

Our new home doesn’t have a hot water heater. That’s right, no hot water. The coldest water is cool and the hottest is lukewarm. Now, at first this really upset us because we thought to ourselves, “Oh God. No hot showers.” But we figured out that we can take hot showers through an ingenious invention – electrical wires around the shower pipe that heats the water. Now, seeing electrical wires in a shower is very disconcerting to those not used to seeing something like that. For that reason, this contraption is affectionately known as “the gringo killer.”

All I have to say is, in the words of Dorothy, “We are not in Kansas anymore.” It has been only five days since we arrived, and we have found that our greatest survival tactic when it comes to settling in is PATIENCE. It is taking so much longer to accomplish the simplest things, which is aggravating every impatient molecule in my American body. I am finding that I can relax and enjoy myself much more when I focus not on the destination, but on the journey.

Stay tuned for the next update: Moving to Costa Rica: Culture Shock.

On March 6th, we said good-bye to our home in Easton, PA, loaded up our rented Chrysler Pacifica, and began our journey south to Miami, from where we will fly out of the U.S. and into Costa Rica to start a new life. It was surreal. Nothing could have prepared us for the emotional moments of walking out our front door for the last time and saying “adiós” to family and friends and the city we loved.

The small part of me, that voice up in my head, keeps saying to me, “This is crazy. Who do you think you are moving to another country? How dare you!” We all have this small part that detests the unknown. Tabatha and I have boldly stepped into the unknown. We are on the road, making our way toward a new home in a new country – both of which we’ve only seen in pictures. Oh Lord, please don’t let it be run-down and cockroach-infested like our last hotel room.

The most challenging part about it all is trusting the people we hired. The small self has serious trust issues. Yet here we are trusting people we’ve never met face-to-face. This is challenging every trust molecule in my body. But we can’t make this move without their help, so we have no choice but to trust them to do their job.

I often consider myself an anxious person with trust issues, and I feel guilty for not trusting God enough. Maybe I have much less of an issue with trust than I give myself credit for because here I am going through this monumental move, despite what my small self has to say about it – despite how it feels. Maybe I really do trust God.

I was surprised that I didn’t feel sad or scared at all leaving it all behind. Instead, I felt deeply grateful. I found myself saying silently to it all, “Thanks for the wonderful memories.” I’m ending a wonderful old chapter of my life and starting another wonderful new chapter, perhaps even more wonderful than the last.

There is a bigger part of me that is thoroughly enjoying this adventure – loving every minute of letting go and anticipating what’s in store. This bigger part – who we really are – loves the unknown and the surprises that occur as life unfolds. When we identify with this part, we can relax and enjoy life instead of trying to control it, which is mission impossible – the perfect recipe for misery.

Everyone should do something boldly outside their comfort zone at least once in their life. I may feel a bit exhausted, but at the same time, I’ve honestly never felt so free and so alive.

Stay tuned: We are flying to Costa Rica next week to begin our new life.

Moving to Costa Rica … what a glorious dream! Warm weather, lush green scenery, toucans and monkeys, friendly people, and a slower pace of life. Before we made the decision to move to Costa Rica, life was mundanely simple: eat, sleep, work, play. After we made the decision to move to Costa Rica … mayhem!

It felt like we suddenly became the ring masters of a three-ring circus with the extreme stress of keeping all the wild animals at bay. In Ring #1 was the Logistics Lion, an unpredictable critter that clawed us on a couple of occasions. In Ring #2 was the Shipping Beast, staring us down hungrily. But they were tame compared to what was in Ring #3: the Residency Raptor, waiting patiently for an opportunity to pounce on us and eat us alive.

Alright, maybe I’m exaggerating (a little), but seriously … I’ve found the process of relocating to another country to be very stressful. I’m already an anxious kind of person, and this has triggered every anxious molecule in my body and tested just how much I really trust God. It’s difficult to relocate on one’s own, especially when you’ve never done anything remotely like it in your entire life. We hired help, but there were still many things we had to manage ourselves.

First was figuring out how to get rid of stuff. We had to decide what stuff we couldn’t live without, set it aside for packing, and get rid of the rest. I didn’t realize how much unused stuff we had until I had to figure out how to get rid of it. And you know what happens when you start sorting through things.

“Memories … light the corners of my mind … misty water-colored memories … of the way we were.”

Sorry … Barbara Streisand suddenly starting singing in my head.

It was an emotional rollercoaster ride. Some memories were happy ones, and some were sad, but I discovered something wonderful when sorting through it all: the fact that no one is going to know me in Costa Rica. I can go there and be whoever I want to be, and no one will say, “Hey, you’ve changed, and I don’t like it.” The only one who knows me is my wife, and at our wedding, we vowed to “love each new version of one another.” So, she’s stuck with me.

That was a very pleasant discovery along with many other pleasures that came with the pain of getting rid of stuff. We stopped living in clutter. We realized that we could happily survive with far less stuff. But best of all, we made our neighbors very happy by selling stuff cheap on Facebook Marketplace. We sold our portable dishwasher for $100, and the woman who came to our door to pick it up was absolutely ecstatic. She almost forgot to pay us in her zeal to get that thing out our door and into her kitchen ASAP. We also posted lots of free stuff on Facebook’s “Buy Nothing,” and we got a card from a neighbor thanking us for our generosity. It’s true: “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”

Then there was selling the house. The day the house hit the market, we were bombarded with requests for showings. We could barely keep them all straight. One realtor showed up, and were still getting dressed. Another relator locked us out of our own house! The parade in and out of our house was insane. We had 30 showings in four days. We couldn’t just get in the car and go somewhere because we had our dog, Jackson. We didn’t want to leave our poor little anxious boy in his crate all alone with groups of people coming in and going out. At one point during a showing, we were standing outside with the dog in the cold rain, and we all ended up piling into the car to get warm and dry off.

On the first day of showings, we accidentally ran into a lovely couple checking out our back yard. Actually, Jackson ran up to them, and we ran after Jackson. They said, “You have a lovely home.” We really liked them (so did Jackson apparently), and we said a little prayer that they would put in an offer.

We had nine offers. It turned out that theirs was the first and the best. We were overjoyed. We didn’t want to sell to any investors, who would make our home an exorbitant $2000 per month rental, contributing to the problem of unaffordable housing in this community (and everywhere). We wanted it to be a home for someone. We were proud to sell our home to this local interracial couple who wants to start a family here. God had answered our prayer.

There’s also finding a place to live in Costa Rica. It’s a truly unnerving feeling selling your house before you even know where you’re going to be living … in a foreign country no less! We had to trust our relocation specialist to find us a place. After the first week, she said to us, “We’re having an unusually difficult time finding available rentals in your preferred location.” Our hearts sank (and skipped a couple beats). We started checking out other locations, but I said a little prayer asking God to help her find the perfect place for us in our preferred location.

Two days later, she found a rental in our chosen location that has everything we want for the most part. But there was an added bonus: It’s a tico-style home. The people who live in Costa Rica are called ticos, so we’re going to be living in true Costa-Rican style! We didn’t want to live in Costa Rica and feel like we were still living in the U.S. If we saw a Walmart in a neighborhood, we were like, “Oh no, we don’t want to live there!” There are many Americans who move to Costa Rica and want all the comforts of their American lifestyle. Not us. We want to leave our American lifestyle behind in America, and when in Costa Rica, live like the Costa Ricans. God answered our prayers again!

And finally there’s getting residency. Oh my, what a complicated beast that is! There are a lot of documents to get together like birth certificates, marriage license, copies of passports, and FBI fingerprint checks. All documents have to be apostilled, and some documents needed to be notarized before being apostilled.

Do you know what an apostille is? I had no clue. It sounded like French to me. When I first heard the word, I imagined it to be the name of Napoleon Bonaparte’s war headquarters. The Apostille! But no, it’s how a state or country certifies the validity of its own documents for other countries. The process can take a while, and the documents can’t be older than six months when we apply for residency. So, timing is crucial.

The most unnerving part was entrusting our documents to our elected officials to get them apostilled. After all the time and energy and expense we went through to get the documents ready for apostille, I was very reluctant to hand them over. These days, I don’t have much confidence in any politician to get any job done any time soon. But I handed them over, and I prayed to God that they wouldn’t get ignored or lost or forgotten buried under a pile of papers on someone’s desk.

This week, we finally received all our apostilled documents back. God answered our prayers once again. God is still faithful – even to me of little faith. We are so grateful to have this opportunity to live in Costa Rica. Not everyone has this opportunity, but we do because of my wife’s pension. She didn’t make much money working for the government, but she enjoyed serving her community. A new life in a beautiful country is the reward for her service, and I get the pleasure of tagging along.

Stay tuned for the next post in early March … Moving to Costa Rica: On the Road.