Ok, so I realize Costa Rica is not an island, but it sure feels like it. I live in a bubble here and am quite happy about that. Before transplanting, I was living in Los Angeles. The hectic, fast-paced lifestyle invigorated me in the beginning. Over time, I found myself teaching all over the county, driving for hours each day. But the hustle was necessary, and good. The hustle began to take its toll on my sanity.
Manifesting this move brought me much joy and gratitude. I live in a bed and breakfast on the beach and trade my skills for room and board. Generally I wake up with the dawn, at first light. Around 5:30 am every morning, a massive flock of parakeets makes its way in from the mountains for the day. At dusk, they return for the evening. They bring with them this sound of cackling and chirping. There is no denying the time, they make their presence known.
I walk the path from my room on the property to the practice space, or yoga rancho, which is a solid, smooth, concrete slab that rests under a canopy of palm leaves. My view is the roaring ocean, dark sand, palm trees, birds. It is warm, humid, and I like it. When the tide is high, I can feel it’s power. I can always hear it, a sound that brings me peace. A breeze meets me in this place regularly as if to say good morning as I salute the sun ascending to my left and return my gratitude for this time in my life. I have traded in restlessness for restfulness.
I grew up on the Mississippi Gulf Coast and was blessed with spectacular views of the water and sky. When I left home in search of more opportunity, I landed in Houston for a decade. Concrete Jungle. I moved to Los Angeles and experienced the best climate, however, the beach was a drive and the sunset often seemed so far away. Although I loved much of the beauty of LA, I found myself regularly #chasingsunsets. There are only two times a day that one can view the magnificence of the sun safely: early sunrise and late in the evening as it descends. I wanted that unobstructed view, needed it. I know that the whole of the sky is an alluring canvas with its incredible pinks, oranges, and shades of blue, but I could not help feeling disappointed. I did not want to be ungrateful, but the red sun that I could stare at on its way through the horizon is my holy grail, and it had been eluding me for almost two decades now.
When I arrived at my new home in Esterillos Este, Costa Rica, I could not believe my eyes. I lived on the beach, literal sand out our front gate. The powerful waves were so beautiful and reverberated a healing vibration through my soul much like the resonance of a gong. And the sun... it set over the water for most of the year and was the biggest round, red ball of glorious light I have ever seen. I am captivated by it every night. Even when I'm working in the restaurant, I count myself so blessed because my view is the same: waves crashing, sun setting. It's magical.
Having spent a lot of my childhood at the beach, I have experienced being pummeled by waves. Getting knocked down and dragged under has always scared me, but not stopped me; though it has made me cautious. I feel the power, the danger.
But there is something about this beach, this water. From the first moment I stepped into it, I made it my friend. I'm safe, and here to heal.
Our surf instructor is a native and grew up on this beach. I love watching him watch the waves. He knows something I don’t. It is in him to understand the tide, the turnover, the speed and the frequency. His brother and friends help out as needed with lessons and are equally in touch. They all seem to have the same spirit. Those that live the surf get it.
I want to learn. Here I am in waters that I respect; with people that I trust. Trust is such an important thing. I have so much confidence in these instructors. I see the care they put into those who come to them. I see the time they give. They don’t punch a clock, they serve. They work with each person as long as needed.
During my first lesson I learned the basics of how to pop up, and how to situate myself on the board. The technique came to me pretty easily and we were quickly in the water. Navigating the waves on the way out was fun, however, had I been alone, it would have been disaster. He kept saying, these waves are not for beginners. Oh, ok. He literally had to hold my legs in place a couple times and put his weight into the back of my board to lift me over. We watched the waves. He knows exactly which ones to put me into, and which ones to avoid. He tells me when to paddle, and when to pop up. Then he pushes me. Shit, that's fast. I'm not ready! I need a minute. Umm, Connie, you are missing the point if you wait too long. But I need to be comfortable! And careful. Always careful. My fears are surfacing.
This feeling, this fear, reminds me of when I was 14 and went to stay with my aunt for a week in Colorado. She wanted to take me snow skiing. I was very excited! They give all newbies a lesson on a little hill. I did pretty good, I guess, until I fell and the ski pole smacked me hard on my lip. I wore a swollen boulder on my mouth for the rest of the day. But I carried on.
When it was time for our first run, I was grateful to hear there was a bunny slope. They had showed me how to ski like a pro, but thank god they taught me how to ski like a novice. Didn’t matter though. I still felt like I was moving too quickly, and that scared the shit out of me. I had to fall to stop my momentum. I fell, on purpose, many times because of the fear of the speed. Getting back up, however, was not easy. My aunt had to keep assisting me. She couldn’t even enjoy her own ski because I kept falling and needing help to get up. Really? I mean, ridiculous. I didn’t realize this then, but I had never learned to just let go and have fun. I only now understand breathing into the fear and letting it pass. That’s actually how I learned to enjoy roller coasters. I closed my eyes for a long time at first. Then, once I was comfortable and familiar with the feeling, I started opening my eyes.
Here on these waves though, I can’t close my eyes, nor do I want to. I have been dreaming of this experience for a long time. I don’t even care that I’m falling off. I’m doing this thing, and, I am surprising myself. However, I could feel it besting me. Oh hell no.
I trusted myself, and I trusted my training. I kept pushing, and I had a blast.
For my second lesson, the waves were smaller, gratefully. I popped up onto the board much more quickly, and was up every single time. So much fun. We only surfed at high tide and this day that meant I was out later in the day than before. That also meant that I got to watch the setting sun from my board out in the open ocean water. The joy of that moment was immense. The gratitude and awe over God's gift was almost too much to bear. Even though it was getting dark, and I had to get to work, I had caught the bug. One more wave, just one more wave. One more good one to take me home.
My third lesson was trickier, the tide strong. My instructor was up to his neck in water, but he was ok with that. He wanted to push me harder. Can’t we just stick to the smaller waves for a little longer? Nope, apparently not. It’s all a learning process. I was on my board with more confidence by now, determined to make the most of the time he was so graciously sharing with me. It’s still a little surreal. I did well, though I’m still not ready to go it alone. Soon though I hope to ride along beside them.
I am living a good life, Pura Vida. Not that there aren’t challenges, believe me there are. The humidity and bugs threatened to drive me crazy for the first couple weeks. I left the South and my beloved family to escape this madness. Then I plopped myself right down in the middle of it! Ha. But guess what? I kept being grateful for all of it. And now, I’m even starting to become one with the bugs. And by bugs, I mean roaches. Ugh. No way. Yes, it’s happening. Even with the mosquitoes I am recognizing a symbiosis. I get this view, this life; and they get my blood. I guess I’ll take that for now.
I am also thankful that the staff here doesn’t speak much English (except for the owners who are American). Though frustrating at times because I want to understand, I am happy to be forced into listening and learning. I wanted to immerse myself in culture and language, and here I am doing just that. It often becomes this crazy, fun game of charades, complete with sound effects; pshk pskh, tck tck tck, bzhzh, and so on. It’s like the game $25,000 Pyramid from my childhood. We throw out words hoping that something makes sense and an aha moment of understanding will arrive. Confused looks are a regular occurrence, as well as laughter caused by the silliness.
In the evening just before dusk a loud scratchy caw can be heard in the sky. This is one of my favorite things. If I catch it in time and run to the right clearing, I can see two majestic, bright red and blue Macaws flying low overhead. That sight fills me with a sense of wonder. To go from only seeing them in a zoo or random pet store, to seeing them in their element, in their evening migration, is just… wow. That’s how I feel. Just wow, in awe.
The iguanas underfoot give another sense of peculiarity to me. Sometimes I don’t see them at all. Other days, I almost step on them. I even looked up from my yoga mat one day to see a big guy making his way across my practice space to get to the neighboring yard. Not sure why he chose to cross so closely to me. We eyeballed each other the whole way just to be safe. I didn’t realize they were so good under water until a cat chased one into the pool. He hung out at the bottom of the deep end for the better part of an hour. I learn something new every day.
I have a friend here who I watched literally scale a palm tree with bare hands and feet to get to the coconuts on top. He pulled them down with his hands and dropped them to the ground. He then smashed them into the tree and drank them. Pretty sure I’ve seen that on National Geographic channel. This time, it happened right before my eyes.
I just keep being amazed by the people here. Simple things, but each brings joy to my heart.
I remember last year at the new year wondering where I would be for NYE 2016 and how awesome it would be to ring in a new year in a different country. I spent this 2016 on this beautiful beach, which happens to be the longest in Costa Rica. I walked the beach and watched fireworks bursting on both ends. Reds, yellows, greens lighting the sky in quiet explosion. Soft sand under my feet, waves crashing their melody, the sounds of parties celebrating another turn, another chance at starting over. And like so many other experiences I’ve had here that I’ve only witnessed on TV or in magazines, I watched as locals released wish lanterns into the night sky, floating away with a soft glow, carrying with them the hopes and dreams of their creator. Pura Vida.
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