Our flight leaves around 3pm today, and we are packed. This is probably the first trip Lyon and I have prepared for where we didn’t stay up until 2am packing only to wake up at 4am for an early morning flight. We’ve had so much help—my mom plays with Jojo while we think about what to pack, and she cooks delicious dinners in the evenings, such a luxury. And twice this week my cousin, Mary Stewart, took Jojo for half a day, so she got to go swimming, bake cookies, and be with family rather than following us around asking, “Now are we going to Costa Rica?”
We are each bringing one suitcase and a backpack, and I have an extra shoulder bag. Lyon wanted to bring a guitar, but he’s settling for his ukelele (The ukelele that went nearly 1,000 miles strapped to the back of his bicycle on our West Coast cycling trip eight years ago).
Luckily Jojo likes tiny things: beads, hair ties, stickers, poker chips — and all her favorite dolls are miniature. All the toys she’s bringing fit into her Spider-Man backpack, including two palm-sized books.
I wanted to write one last time before getting there because I’ll never be in this limbo world again. What, exactly, will it be like? We know it’s touristy, but will it be too touristy? We know it’s small, but is it walkable small? We know it’s the rainy season, but does the sun always comes out after a good rain like they say?
Jojo’s daycare is bilingual, which means she’ll get more English from her teachers at school than she does now (at her current school teachers speak 100% Spanish). The difference, however, will be that among the expat kids speaking all kinds of languages (lots of German and Hebrew from what I can tell), will be little Ticos speaking Spanish. I’m gambling that having friends her age who speak Spanish will count for a lot. But what do I know?
Tonight we sleep in a hotel in San Jose. Tomorrow a shuttle picks us up at 8am and takes to a ferry, we cross the Nicoya Gulf, then take another shuttle to Santa Teresa. There’s no address, we’re just supposed to tell the driver the name of the coworking space, and tell him it’s across the street from the hardware store. I get the sense that the isolation of the beach town, towards the southern point of the Nicoya Peninsula, is both what makes it desirable to the foreigners flocking there (like us), and also what helps to keep growth in check.
I’ll leave you with a message from the ferry page that Nicoyapeninsula.com keeps:
Be prepared that the roads on the Southern Nicoya Peninsula (Province of Puntarenas) are the worst in all of Costa Rica. Even short distances can take a long time.