After The Fall

When I was 21 years old, after graduating from college, my boyfriend Corey and I traveled for three months. We visited Costa Rica, Guatemala, Peru, Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos.

During our time in Nha Trang, Vietnam we decided to rent a motorcycle one day and explore the Palace of Emperor Bảo Đại as a day trip from our beachside hostel. Growing up, my dad had always ridden motorcycles and I can remember going on one ride as a young girl and being terrified. I didn't know until this day in Nha Trang that my boyfriend could drive a motorcycle. We'd been together for three years and motorcycles had never been part of our life in Santa Barbara. But rent one we did.

We drove along the coast, breathing in the smell of fermenting fish. Nha Trang is a major production center for fish sauce, an ingredient as important to Vietnamese cuisine as salt is to the Western world. In order to produce fish sauce, hundreds of barrels are filled with fish and left to sit in the tropical sun as the fish dries out and the liquid drips from the carcasses. You can imagine the odor as you pass through this production site.

We drove through the rotting fish and made our way to Bảo Đại's Palace, toured the site and started back for our hostel. We had to stop and get gas before returning the moto and there was a little roadside stand selling gasoline in plastic bottles close to where we were staying. It started to rain as we drove and just as we turned to stop at the gasoline stand, the bike spun out and we fell over.

In hindsight, the accident wasn't anywhere nearly as bad as it could have been, but my leg did get stuck under the bike with the tire still spinning and the result was a very nasty case of road rash. Seeing as we were in a small fishing village, didn't have great skills communicating in Vietnamese, and had no idea where a clinic or pharmacy was, I walked back to the hostel while  Corey returned the bike and to I set to handling my injury.

My 21-year-old way of dealing with the rocks and debris now burned into my flesh was to take a Vicodin that we had brought with us, open a bottle of wine, and get into the shower with some tweezers to remove as many stones, pebbles, and dirt as I could. Afterward, I slapped some gauze on it and called it a day.

My wound healed just fine and our trip went on unaffected except for me swearing that I would never ride on the back of a motorcycle again.

And I didn't for 11 years.

Years later, I moved to Costa Rica when I was 28, new boyfriend, new trip, new experience, but still, I refused to ride on the back of a motorcycle. I swore them off completely, terrified to get back on one of those metal beasts.

Seeing as motorcycles are a convenient and affordable way to get around small, beachside communities, it was no surprise that many of my friends in Puerto Viejo had them. After a couple years of getting up the nerve and some encouragement for a couple trusted friends, I decided to get on the back of a moto again and that started a chain reaction.

The more I rode on the back of other's motos, the more I wanted to drive one myself. My fear turned into curiosity, which turned into determination. It didn't happen quickly. In fact, it took almost two years of riding infrequently on the back of other's motos for me to get up the courage to ask my friend Stacey to teach me how to ride her moto.

After three lessons and a lot of confidence coming from her end, I was riding her moto and determined to buy my own.

Thirteen years after falling off a motorcycle in Vietnam, I bought my own Suzuki 125cc here in Costa Rica.

Today, I rode that motorcycle into town to put an offer down for a house that I want to buy. This is a sentence that I never thought I would say, ever in my life.

Sometimes when we fall down, it can take a very, very, very long time to get back up. Months, years, decades can pass before we finally are able to face those fears that take hold of us. Sometimes we don't even realize at the moment just what kind of ripple effect those falls can have on us. Seemingly small events can paralyze us from acting in areas of our life without fully understanding the connections between what happened and what we are afraid will happen.

But this is life. Trying something new, falling down, and eventually, when we find the strength, find the courage, find the support, WE GET BACK UP.

We may not spring back up into action. The older we get the more timid we become, having been hurt, again and again, having been let down by life, by others, by ourselves, we can become hardened, overly cautious, convinced that the next fall will be more painful than the last, and that we might not recover from it.

But as long as we are still alive, we must get back up. When a toddler is learning to walk and inevitably falls, we don't focus on the fall, we focus on the successful steps taken before the fall, and the next steps that will surely come. As adults, the falls seem to take more of our attention and those baby steps that we take, every day, do not get the credit they deserve. Our recoveries from our falls are small works in progress, day by day. Asking for help, crying, making mistakes, these are all steps to getting back up, and they are all important.

I have a very dear friend here in Costa Rica who consistently reminds me to praise myself and each other for our small victories and for that reminder I am eternally grateful. For each day that we decide to get up, out of bed, and face our fears, no matter how silly or insignificant they may seem to others, we are choosing to live in love, not in fear. We are choosing to get back up, no matter how many times we fall down.

I have fallen a lot over the years. And the falls are never graceful. But each time I get back up with a new scar that marks my attempt at living a full life, I am reminded of the times I have succeeded, of the moments when things have gone right, worked out, and ended up so beautiful that I am motivated to continue on with this wild ride.

I don't know if this offer on the house that I want will go through. It might not. I might be crushed, disappointed, and unhappy with the result. But what I do know, is that if I fall down after taking this chance, I will most certainly get back up again.

Puerto Viejo, How I Love Thee

I gazed out the window as the plane began it's descent into Juan Santamaria International Airport in Alajuela, just outside the capitol, San Jose. Even though this was the biggest metropolitan area of the country, it was so green and lush. From every angle there were hills covered with trees, framing the Central American excuse for a big city. Memories of family vacations to Hawaii surfaced and I knew I was going to like this place. Getting off the plane and out of the airport the air was so thick and heavy, like a blanket draped over your shoulders, which produced an almost instant layer of sweat, making me stare in wonder at the taxi and shuttle drivers clothed in button up shirts and long pants. The chaos of cries from every direction was overwhelming. "Taxi! Taxi! You need taxi?!". No, I did not need a taxi as I was part of a volunteer group and our shuttle arrangements to take us to our hostel were already set. I liked this place. I liked the thick air, the pushy taxi drivers, the chaotic small airport.

That was my first impression of Costa Rica. I came here when I was 18 on a volunteer program with International Student Volunteers. One month in Costa Rica, which included a two week home-stay in a small community in the Alajuela Province, followed by a two week eco tour of the country, starting on the Pacific side and ending on the Caribbean. I was captivated by everything I saw and I knew within minutes of my arrival that I would end up living in this funky little country. The long bus rides through mountainous forests, stopping for snakes in the road, monkeys in the trees above, passing through small communities with nothing more than a soda as the center of entertainment, arriving at beaches that made you think you'd fallen into a postcard. I drank it all in and I couldn't quench my thirst. After that one month, I returned home and the only thing on my mind was how and when I could get back to Costa Rica. For the next ten years it was all I talked about. Everyone who knew me knew how obsessed I was with this place that some had heard of, since their cousin or their aunt had been there for their honeymoon or on vacation a few years ago.

And so, over the next decade I returned to Costa Rica every few years, falling more and more in love. The gallo pinto, the guaro, the Imperial, the friendly disposition of Costa Ricans, the lush vegetation everywhere you looked, the laid back vibe, the wildness of it all, I feel more and more deeply in love with each visit. Every time I returned I would go to a part of the country I had been before, like Arenal or Monteverde or Tortuguero, and I would also visit a new place. It wasn't until my fourth visit that I discovered what is now my home, Puerto Viejo.

To be honest, I didn't really like Puerto Viejo the first time I came here. The place we stayed was run down and some bummy surfers who were staying there as well stole our food out of the communal kitchen. The vibe was a bit aggressive and the town didn't seem to have much to offer if you didn't plan on surfing your days away. So, after a few nights we headed down to the end of the road, Manzanillo. Much quieter and much more removed, we found Manzanillo to be to our liking. We made friends with a guy who was building a hostel and the plan was hatched that if we moved down we could stay with him and help run the place. So set in motion the events of the next 4 years of my life.

We'll fast forward a bit, past the story of our attempted drive to Costa Rica and our homeless stint on the beaches of Mexico, that's for another time, but in the end we landed in Puerto Viejo and all of my dreams came true. I had accomplished the largest life goal that I had set out for myself thus far. I was finally living in my happy place. I was worried that when I got here, reality would get the better of me and I would realize that this place wasn't as great as I had made it out to be for all these years, that the vacation would be over and in the end this place would be just like any other place, stagnant, boring, fake. But, thankfully, after one year of living here, I find that I am still in love, with not just this country, but Puerto Viejo specifically. I've been with my boyfriend for 5 years, I've had my dogs for 7 years, and I've been in love with Costa Rica for 11 years, so this is the longest relationship I've ever had, and I'm proud to say it's still a healthy one (minus all the guaro).

For the sake of the Buzzfeed and Facebook generation, I would like to list the reasons why I love Puerto Viejo. I will use bullet points because I think it makes it easier for people who like to skim ahead and they also give off the air of importance.

• Great Weather Year Round Sure there are days and weeks of torrential rain, but for the most part, you can live without ever wearing anything other than shorts and a tank top. It's always warm, if not down right hot, which makes every day a beach day, a great day for languidly lounging in a hammock, walking dogs, and drinking cold beer. Flip flops are the only shoes you'll ever need and you don't need to worry about whether or not you need to bring a jacket when you go out for the night.

• Street Food is Abundant and Cheap I'm a sucker for street food; from pad thai on the streets of Bangkok to bacon wrapped hot dogs in the Mission, I love buying food from street vendors and sampling some of the finest local cuisine for the most affordable price. Here in Puerto Viejo we are blessed with pattys, meat sticks (more eloquently known throughout the world as kabobs), empanadas, fried chicken, and my personal favorite taco chinos, or simply put, egg rolls. There are even more options as well, usually being carried around by some traveling gypsy Argentinians, but I'm not sure what to call most of these items. All I know is that for one or two dollars you can have your hands on some awesome piece of food and you don't even have to get off your bike to complete the transaction.

• You Can Bike Everywhere When we first moved here, we lived in what I like to call The Jungle Mansion. It was far from town and we had to drive most places, especially at night since the 3 kilometer road through the jungle wasn't exactly easy to navigate on a bike. But, once we moved to town we entered the world of beach cruisers and I have never looked back. I love biking everywhere, to work, to go grocery shopping, to go to dinner, or meet up with friends, biking makes me feel like a kid again. Riding bikes has got to be the most enjoyable way to commute ever, and I think everyone in the world would be much happier if we all just rode bikes more often.

• The Absence of Parking Tickets and Smart Phones My biggest grievance with "civilized" society is the smart phone and second to that is the infamous street sweeping ticket. Aside from fresh off the boat tourists at my bar asking for the wifi password, you don't see many smart phones down here. A lot of the locals have them, but they don't dominate social settings as they do in California. When you spend time with your friends, you're not constantly interrupted by Facebook notifications, text messages, or Instagram updates. It's nice being in the company of your peers and actually having conversations. The other absence I am incredibly found of in Puerto Viejo is the parking ticket. Tickets from street sweeping, expired meters,and expired registration do not exist here and this makes me profoundly happy. Trying to remember that you can't park your car in front of your house or apartment on the 2nd and 4th Thursday and the 1st and 3rd Wednesday is something that I hope to never experience ever again. Whenever a bat flies into my head, or a giant spider turns up in my bathroom, I just remind myself that it's been over year since one of those stupid little Interceptors has placed a $72 ticket on my dash right as I'm running outside to move my car.

• Monkeys and Sloths, Oh My! I'm sorry, but there is really nothing cooler in life than waking up, rolling over in your bed and seeing a sloth, silently and stealthily passing by your bedroom window. And how about troops of monkeys playing in the trees above you while you work at a beach bar? Sorry, but my life is cool, probably cooler than yours.

• Characters, Everywhere You Look This place is bizarre and as such, it is filled with many bizarre people. From the locals who have grown up in this removed and slightly isolated corner of the world, to the foreigners who have flocked here for a variety of reasons like retirement, entrepreneurship, or avoiding felony charges back home, everyone down here is a little weird, myself included. People here are different and I like to think of this place as the Island of Misfit Toys, although it is a not an island, even though lots of people who vacation here still sometimes think it is. I love it, traveling salesmen that offer up pillows and back scratchers, wizards, old surfers who got lost in the waves, musicians, bar and restaurant owners, everyone here has a different story, and each one is just as interesting as the next. There is no end to the entertainment that can come from striking up a conversation with a random person at the bar or at the bus stop. It's like constantly living in one of those comedic movies that tells vignettes of different characters and then has all of the stories intersect at different times. 

• Endless Hours of Free Entertainment Aside from talking to the myriad of characters in town, this place can also offer up endless hours of free activities and entertainment. Spending the day at the beach, walking through the jungle, or exploring what's further down the road costs nothing and no matter how many times you visit the same place, there is always something new to see. Butterflies, iguanas, monkeys, sloths, birds, caterpillars, snakes, frogs, and horses are plentiful and you never know what you will encounter just off the main road if you venture in a ways. For a little bit of money you can buy a bike and take yourself on countless expeditions, exploring new paths. The rivers are always changing, as is the ocean itself and you can bear witness to new waterways and shorelines every day. Fruit grows freely and as you explore you can dine on some of nature's finest offerings, all without ever spending a penny. Maybe I didn't know where to go back home, but I never felt like there was so much to do without costing anything. I think the freedom this place offers is what is so appealing to so many of us freaks and miscreants. Wandering in the quiet beauty of a place like this, you can truly let your mind go and be open to any inspiration that comes your way.

 I know this place is not for everyone, and I'm happy about that. If we all loved it to the same degree, it would be overcrowded and overrun with people from everywhere flocking to Puerto Viejo and then it would lose its charm. I know that I may outgrow this place, I may change and evolve and this place may no longer suit me, my wants, dreams, or desires. As with all relationships, change is inevitable. And I'm OK with that. I love this place for what it is right now, and for who I am while I'm here. I'm content knowing that I made it, and that it was, in the end, what I wanted it to be, and so much more. More and more I think of this place as Never Never Land, the place where we come to never grow up, to stay young, to live as if we have no cares in the world. Maybe one day we'll have to leave, have to grow up, have to get "real" about life and responsibilities, and street sweeping tickets. Maybe one day I'll decide that riding a bike is silly and something that only kids should do, that laying on the beach is a waste of time, and that watching monkeys play in the trees isn't that cool. But, somehow I doubt that very much.

So, if you need me, or you want to find me and you're not quite sure how to get here, to Never Never Land, just follow the second star to the right, and I'll be here, falling deeper and deeper in love with my life.

"The second star to the right, shines in the night for you

To tell you that the dreams you plan, really can come true

The second star to the right, shines with a light so rare

And if it's Never Land you need

It's light will lead you there"

Lost In Puerto Viejo

You can see how easy it is to get lost here. There are less than 20 streets.

Well, you may be relieved to hear, that even in 2013, with Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pintrest, Gmail, Smartphones and Iphones, and whatever other technological advances you can think of, there are still places in this world where you can unplug. It is still possible to disconnect, leave it all behind, forget your cares and worries, and for a short time, listen to the waves crash on the shore, watch monkeys play in the tress, and drink coconuts and beer till your heart's content. Now, there is plenty of debate as to whether or not checking out from the fast-speed, modern world is healthy. Some people might argue that this is a sign of depression. By not partcipating in the social media world, you are distancing yourself from your friends and family. That your lack of interest in social elements is a sign that you are mentally unstable. I'm no expert on the subject of how much interneting is "normal" or "healthy", but I will tell you one thing, it has been great getting lost in Puerto Viejo.

We've been living in Costa Rica for three months now. We left Oakland over four months ago, and while I

The view of our front porch.

was worried I might be homesick by this point, quite the opposite is true. I feel as though I've only just skimmed the surface of what this place has to offer. And during this time, I checked out of "real life", or whatever you want to call the norms of the first world. I haven't been on Facebook much, I stopped using my smartphone, which only acted like a mini computer, and I rarely have checked my email. I have been working, at a new bar since the last time I wrote. I am now an employee at Tasty Waves, a great little surf bar, owned and operated for the past two years by a guy from Huntington Beach, California. It's a small, close-knit staff, good food, closer to home than the previous job, so I can bike there (when it's not raining), and it's where Jahsiah and I had been spending most of time and money anyways, so it's working out perfectly. Monday night is Movie Night, Tuesday night there is live music, followed by an awesome party, and on Thursdays, there is a weekly Trivia Game, which we have yet to win. It's a bar where, you guessed it, everyone knows your name.

In addition to that, Jahsiah and I are helping to form a Community Garden Project. Touching on our past experiences working in the non-profit world, we are building a grassroots movement to help ensure that there are no families in the area that are without fresh food. The project is just in the early stages, but it's nice to be involved in something that serves other people and puts us more in touch with the folks that actually live here, rather than just vacation here.

That being said, after Easter, we officially reached slow season in the Caribbean. The crowds have died down and most times, Puerto Viejo looks like a ghost town. Lots of hostels, bars, and restaurants, with their lights on but nary a patron in sight. This will be a challenging time financially, as business is slow, but a great time to get to know the real Puerto Viejo, calm in the absence of Ticos on vacation, Northerners escaping the cold, and Spring Breakers looking for a non-stop party.

We've had a few other events take place in the past few months. Our first visitor came to stay with us. Jahsiah's friend from New York was in town, just for a few days, to catch some surf and check out the area. At the end of his trip, we said goodbye, not just to him, but also to our travel mate, Timmy. He headed back to California, which allowed the reality of us living here, to sink in. On our trip, it felt like just a trip, a time to see Mexico and Central America, with the goal of living in Costa Rica. But since Timmy was never planning on staying, his departure marked the moment when Jahsian and I realized, "Oh shit, we really do live here!". So, we've been getting used to this jungle house with just us and the dogs here. We've had bats galoure in the house lately, and every morning, there are several humming birds that fly in and out of the windows, look us in the eye, say good morning, and then as quickly as they appeared, they leave again. We still hear the monkeys every morning, and usually right before it starts to rain.

We make bread to sell at Caribbeans, a local coffee and chocolate shop (convinently located next door to

Liz and Jahsiah's Herb and Cheese Focaccia.

Tasty Waves), we walk the dogs around the property and sometimes take them to the beach so LaDainian can attack the waves. Life keeps on going, much like it did in Oakland, but the surroundings are obviously quite different. The pace of life is slow here. And I got what I wanted, more trees than people, more face to face conversations, less texting and Facebooking, no time cards to punch, no touch screen POS systems to track your sales, and if you ever don't have enough money at the end of the night, well that's OK, you can always come back tomorrow and pay your tab.

So, for me, it's been easy to unplug. And while I feel a little guilty about not staying up on my social media game, I have to say, it's been nice being lost in space and time. Existing in a realm where neighbors watch out for each other, owners of businesses are still working along side their employees, and bathing suits count as proper work attire.

Smile, you're in the Caribbean.

And now, some pictures of mushrooms and where we live.

For scale. Everything is bigger down here.

After the rain.

The road to our house.

Wild Oyster Mushrooms.

Where we walk dogs.