What a difference a few days and change of scenery can make.
We’ve discovered paradise.
It comes in the form of a tiny A-framed cabin, with gleaming dark wood floors and thatched palm roof, situated in the midst of a colourful forest with the lulling sound of the Caribbean Sea crashing against the sand. Monkeys swing through the trees overhead and blue crabs cover the ground like a blanket of skittering shells that retreat to their holes at the sound of footsteps.
Alby Lodge, Cahuita
A four-hour drive through the misty green mountains in Costa Rica has taken us from urban misadventure to heaven on earth; Cahuita, an off-the-beaten bath tourist village at the edge of of a national park teeming with monkeys who hang above the canopies of trees dangling over the beach.
We’ve left behind — at least for a weekend — the chaotic streets of Heredia, the inland Central Valley province where we live, where a gunfight ensued outside our front door just days ago.
So many people assumed when we told them we were moving to Costa Rica that we would be living surfside, enjoying daily romps in the sand and sun.
But we decided before we arrived that we would live in the Central Valley, a mountainous yet lush area of the country where temperatures never climb above 25 C and never fall below 20 C.
There are all the amenities that exist back home; major supermarkets, relatively reliable Internet service, schools for our kids and efficient public transportation that enables us to get around easily without a car. Plus, we wanted an authentic experience; to live like the locals, many of whom have never even visited this beautiful place we’re at right now.
We also figured that living at the beach would get old after a while, and prevent us from making friends with anyone other than other expats who operate tour companies, hotels and like.
But as we sit here, amidst the buzz of the jungle under an almost full moon, sipping on an Imperial and swinging in a hammock, we wonder whether our year would be better spent sea-side.
This is the pura vida sold in the travel brochures.
Pristine beaches. Quiet nights. No TV. And no gates or razor wire.
For the first time in weeks we ventured outdoors after dark, walking the streets with ease and enjoying the gentle evening breeze coming off the water.
Of course, there was the white-haired crazy man screaming unintelligible words down as he weaved down the middle of the main street past the restaurant where we ate dinner. And an either drunk or high shirtless local who stopped in the middle of the street to sway to the reggae music pulsing from a bar.
But hey, what’s a funky little town without its resident crazies?
Life is decidedly more laid back here than what we’re used to, both in the Central Valley and back home in Calgary.
We came here to slow down yet most of our last two months have been the opposite.
First it was rushing around looking at houses, then trying to find our way around and after that looking for schools for our two small kids, one of whom was supposed to this fall start kindergarten back home.
Changing our lifestyle has proved much more difficult that we expected; it’s been like breaking a New Year’s resolution before the clock strikes midnight.
Well, for now we’ll enjoy the next two days of absolute bliss without worrying about the long drive home to Santo Domingo and back to our routines, which now includes a private school for the kids.
There’s another nine months to go and plenty of time for beach vacations to break up the monotony of another ordinary urban life, albeit one a lot more colourful.
Beating the boom 