There's something so rejuvenating and refreshing about travelling outside of the US. I'm not talking here about travelling to some resort in Cancun, or the Bahamas, or even up to Niagara Falls. But really getting away from the familiarity of our country and all of it's conveniences.
When we left the US for Costa Rica (after, literally, years of hopeful planning) I was a mess of mixed feelings. Excitement to explore and experience a new environment was at the top of the list. But these feelings we very closely followed by anxiety and fear of the unknown. After all, it had been 10 years since my last trip outside of the US borders, and that was to Grand Cayman for a week of SCUBA diving - hardly a stretch out of my cultural-comfort-zone.
The first day of travel to and within CR certainly fulfilled all of my anxious worries. The slow, winding mountain roads, rain, darkness, near-death-experiences on narrow bridges (see my earlier entry)... But on Day #2, when we awoke at daybreak, I had entered a new world. The torrential rainfall had been replaced by blue skies with billowy, white clouds. At 5:15am (daybreak when you're at 9 degrees N latitude), I opened all the doors and windows of our home and discovered beauty. It was pleasantly cool, yet at the same time warm. There was no need for a sweater, and the kids were more than ready to take a plunge in the pool. We cut up a plate of fresh, tropical fruit and brewed a pot of the best coffee I have ever tasted. And then we sat on our deck and looked out to the world below and beyond. And it was breathtaking.
At the same time, as we settled into our house, I realized the differences between this new, temporary home and the one to which we've become accustomed in Columbus. Screens have very little practical value in Costa Rica and because of this, they are not on many of the window. This allows the world to come into you. Our house was inhabited by many geckos who frequently reminded us of their presence through a magnificent chirping sound. At night hundreds of June bugs would dance around our lights, frequently finding themselves disoriented and plummeting to the floor. In the morning I swept all of these fallen soldiers into a dustpan and deposited them into our yard. I am sure that during the early hours of the following evening they revived themselves to repeat the process. There were many other bugs as well - moths the size of small birds and many strange flying insects wiht rather ominous looks. Surprisingly, there were very few mosquitoes (thank GOD!)
In the town we adjusted to the chaos and unfamiliarity. There were signs everywhere on the storefronts. Confusing, almost-handmade, and fairly well-concealed signs. We had been given directions to the "SuperMas" grocery store and circled the town three times before realizing we had passed it (three times.) Parking was chaotic as well,. Assistance was provided by a local, donning a neon vest, who randomly waved directions as Dave pulled into an open spot. He also waited patiently outside the car to receive payment for his services.
We had to buy milk off the shelf rather than from the fridge. There was no butter, only "butter" - a strange, golden, oily concoction. But it did the trick and worked for the week. We had to throw toilet paper in the trash can, an adjustment Zoey never made. Down the hill from our house there were roosters. Many roosters. I was always under the impression that roosters only crowed at dawn. These roosters enjoyed talking to one another about every hour throughout the night. They were more like coo-coo-roosters.
Every day when we drove to Manuel Antonio National Park we were greeted at the entrance by very official-looking men wanting to stop our cars and give us directions. On the first day we stopped and listed to their schpiel about how we needed to get a tour guide to give us the "ultimate experience" with a guarantee of seeing 99% of the animals possible. We quickly learned to decline these offers and by Day #3, Dave was able to confidently roll down the car window and say, "Hey, we've been here before and we know where we're going to park." (In Spanish, too!)
And then there was the guy on the beach who was selling COOL COCONUT WUATER (see picture.)
I'm not complaining.
I enjoyed all of these differences (except the "butter".) There were too many things about Costa Rica to love. We just couldn't get our undies in a bundle over a couple of inconvenient differences. The kids didn't complain once about any of the adjustments. To work around the bug's schedule, we went to bed every night by 8:30, and woke at 5:15 - it was glorious! We adjusted our plans and schedules to accommodate the differences we encountered.
And, now that I'm home, I am excited for another opportunity to do it again. I don't intend to wait 10 years before I put myself in such a state of unknown. The anxiety this provoked was a good anxiety. I had to overcome a very real and tangible fear about how we would do.
And we survived.
The first day we got back to the US, when Zoey went to use the bathroom, she came out and said, "Mommy, I accidentally threw the toilet paper into the trashcan." If we'd only stayed there an extra day, she would have probably figured it out!
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