It is really hard to sleep late in Costa Rica. Around 5 am the light is shining through the window. I have always been an early riser so I don’t mind it. Most every morning, I wake while it is dark and walk up to my cousin Nikki’s place. Then we both walk to the bottom of the mountain, touch the main road, and then walk back up. Over time this has gotten much easier. When I first started, it felt like I needed a break or my heart would explode. Now I am just breathing pretty heavy at the end.
Many times on this blog I’ve mentioned my grandpa that lives in Costa Rica. As a child, he was kind of a hero to me. A larger-than-life figure and seemed like an older version of Crocodile Dundee with a little Indiana Jones mixed in. He was physically fit into his nineties and sharp enough to beat anyone at chess (unless you played him after his bedtime). The house he lives in is on a little slice of paradise with breathtaking views and nature all around. He whiles his day away coming up with inventions and reading.
The last week was really emotional for my little family unit. Delilah and I would look at each other constantly and comment on how weird things were or even “What the heck are we doing?” I’m sure most people already have a place to move into when they sell their house.
After thirteen years of slowly remodeling our house, we have finally moved to the phase where we sell it. It was never our plan to stay in this house that long yet here we are. Like Moses wandering the wilderness, we have now gazed upon the promised land.
My wife used to work for American Airlines and we would always fly standby. Since we were flying cheap to free we were expected to dress nice, behave, and generally not rock the boat. No problem.
However, we would always comment to each other on the poor customer service but assumed the staff acted the way they did since we were flying free and perhaps they had issues in the past with employees’ friends and family.
In 2015, I had the good pleasure to take a long-term stay at my grandparents’ place in Costa Rica. They live high in the mountains and there is a steep winding road to get up to their place. The scenery is beautiful and I would walk down the hill to the road and then back up every morning.
The air is amazing in the mountains, but the emission controls in the country are not. When I would pass a car coming up the road, I would choke on the fumes until they were long gone.
Last week, I wrote about choosing to leave my job in search of a soul-nourishing sabbatical. This week, I will tell you something that I find to be an odd by-product steaming from that decision.
When I was a teenager, a girlfriend told me about some people who every few years would sell everything they owned and go travel the world. I thought the idea was so absurd. Having to start over with everything, what kind of job would hire you with all the gaps in your resume. It didn’t seem like a good way to live, not setting down roots.
Recently, we were having a get-together with some family at our house. The adults were talking in the dining room while the kids played in one of the bedrooms. Then my son walks into the dining room, wearing one of my shirts, a pair of my shoes, and some sunglasses. Then he proceeded to make this weird voice pretending to be me.
For those that didn’t just stumble across my blog, there is a good chance you are on my newsletter. (Oh wait, shameless plug, if you aren’t on my newsletter, subscribe here!) On the subscribe page, and in my newsletter on several occasions, I mention if you wish to unsubscribe, you may do so at any time and with no hard feelings on my end.
I still stand by this statement but it was put to the test.