COSTA RICA ADVENTURES XVII

A New Language, a New Life

The Gateway to La Pura Vida

When I first arrived in Costa Rica to become a permanent resident, I stayed for a while in a gringa friend’s cabina not far from town. My household goods had been loaded into a shipping container and were on their way from Washington state to Uvita, a beach town about 30 minutes drive away from San Isidro de El General.

My immediate needs were few and simple — fresh produce from the feria and a few staples and supplies from the local Walmart, where, so far, I’ve not seen anyone wearing pajamas or displaying their overfed butt cracks.

I had landed in this country with ten huge bags containing items that I couldn’t ship but would need right away or that I wouldn’t be able to replace once I got here. My tiny cabina was the perfect size for a two-month sojourn, but those bags were enormous, filled with things I definitely did not need until I moved into a more permanent abode.

Although in pleasant surroundings, it was a confusing and unsettled time, not knowing where I was going to live, whether to rent or buy, worried about mold and insects invading my belongings in Uvita, and tired of tripping over luggage on those midnight bathroom visits. For these reasons, I decided to rent a 20’ storage unit high and dry on a hill within visiting distance. For this, I needed two hefty padlocks — one for the front access and one for the rear.

A Hardware Failure

Hmmm… padlocks. Where do I find padlocks? I was directed to the neighborhood ferreteria (hardware store), where the tiny shop’s single-aisle was bordered floor-to-ceiling with the bits and pieces everyone eventually needs in order to go on living.

Being the clever girl that I am, I had looked up the word for “padlock” in the Spanish dictionary and practiced over and over: “Hola! Como está? Muy bien, gracias. Mucha lluvia hoy, no? Necesito dos candados, por favor.”

Whether you remember anything about your high school Spanish or you’ve never spoken a word of it before, carve this into your cerebellum:

No conversation in Costa Rica ever begins without first saying hello and asking how everyone is. How are you? I’m fine, thanks. A lot of rain today!

So, proud and confident that I could make myself understood, I greeted the shop clerk and, instead of dos candados, I asked for dos casados, which, translated, means “two weddings.”

The entire tienda erupted into gales of laughter, myself included. Nothing could be funnier to Ticos than the idea of needing a piece of hardware to secure a “wedlock.”

It could have been embarrassing, but instead, my bastardized attempt was greeted with hilarity, respect, and understanding — all at the same time. I felt welcomed and appreciated for even trying. Meanwhile, the laughter continued as I walked out to my car, candados in hand, waving, smiling, and immersed in la pura vida.

Spanglish Won’t Cut It

Speaking of embarrassment, local gringa and jazz singer Susan tells the story about speaking just enough Spanish to get herself into serious trouble. Because so many words are very similar in Spanish and English, she maintains that if you’re stuck for a word in Spanish, just add “ado” or “mente” to the end of the English word, which might get you close enough to be understood.

After a gig where she had to sing with a sore throat, as an apology to her audience for her scratchy voice that evening, she croaked, “Estoy muy embarazada!”

Translation: “I am very pregnant!”

Learn a little Spanish.

Before you come to Costa Rica, it’s essential to learn how to say a few common phrases, to be able to introduce yourself, to count, and to understand the local currency. You can download a free translator to your phone for emergencies. There are several downloadable currency converters available for free, also. Grab one you like. You’ll need it.

Duolingo, Kwiziq, Babbel, and Pimsleur are but a few online language-learning options available online, the first one being completely free.

Once you’re here, there are dozens of options for studying Spanish to fluency, some in-person classes and some online.

Although there are plenty of ex-pats in Costa Rica to talk to, and more are arriving daily, the joy of living in this country cannot be fully experienced without the ability to communicate with the locals, especially with one’s neighbors (vecinos).

My neighbors were intensely curious about me once I’d moved into the neighborhood. They slowed down and stared with intense curiosity, whether driving or walking by. Who is that gringa woman? Is she alone? Does she have a dog? Does she drive a car?

My casita is on a steep dirt road in the country, with grazing cows on one side and a small coffee plantation on the other. There’s a bus stop at the bottom of the hill along the main road (also unpaved), so the pedestrian traffic past my house peaks early mornings and late afternoons.

Whenever I’m outdoors and can be seen by passers-by, they always smile and wave, whether in a vehicle, on foot, or on a horse. When a friendly Tico smiles at you, it’s as if a warm light shines out from within them.

And then they start talking.

One delightful Tica passerby has explained to me several times that yoga classes are held in town every Tuesday and Thursday at 8:00 AM and that she rides the bus to get there.

With Ticos, one must not only translate into English, but one has to sort out what they’re really saying. She was asking me to join her yoga class and drive us both there so she would no longer have to take the long bus ride into San Isidro. I understood this by the way she kept staring at my car parked next to the house.

Then there’s the handsome Tico up the hill who drove his shiny, new, bright red car down the hill to visit me one day, unannounced. (I really should remember to wear a bra when I’m working outdoors, in case of drop-bys like this.) I think his name is Manuel, and he was especially interested to learn whether any men were living with me or if I had a big dog. At first, I thought he wanted to find out if I were vulnerable, unprotected. But over time, I’ve begun to wonder if he’s just flirting with me. He clearly wants me to know how many properties, cattle, fruit trees, and fancy cars he owns.

This could be an excellent reason to learn more Spanish!

And my favorite of all, so far, is the skinny, ancient Tico on the skinniest, oldest blond horse I’ve ever seen. Laden with stuffed plastic bags of all colors and sizes, this old steed carries its emaciated Tico and his daily collections up that steep hill every afternoon. One day, my favorite caballero rode up to the gate and asked permission to take away some soil that someone had dumped in a roadside pile across from my house. Oh, and do I have any spare bags he could use? And a shovel, perhaps?

Now, every day I get a huge warm smile and that inner Tico light shining towards me as he and his trusty mare plod up and down that dusty hill.

This is what is meant by Pura Vida.

These are the things I would have missed had I not understood a minimal amount of Spanish. Minimal. When someone would ask me if I could speak the lingo, my answer was, “Si, yo hablo dos o tres palabras.” Yes, I speak two or three words. It was true at the time and not a lot better now, but thank the gods for four years of Spanish in high school. I remember almost none of it now, but they say it’s all in there and will resurface over time.

Meanwhile, I enrolled in a six-week intensive course with the goal of becoming comfortably conversational, if not fluent, by year’s end.

Regardless, I will continue to make mistakes, sometimes hilarious, sometimes making me want to leap into a roadside ravine. We all do. But Ticos are gentle and kind. They don’t expect us to speak their language, but they deeply appreciate it when we make even the slightest effort.

I want to become immersed in La Pura Vida. Learning Spanish is the gateway.

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