Travel with Conscience

Thank you Wanderlust, Thank You Costa Rica
Lydia Dean

Sometime before my youngest child was two, I started going out of my mind feeling strangled with the daily routine. I longed to have days with no agenda, no concrete roads, Target, Teletubbies, errands, phone calls, or unrecognizable vegetables in cellophane. I ached to be out of my element. A child born to an immigrant scientist, none of these feelings were uncommon to me. I came into this world pre-wired for exploration. Wanderlust had been a longtime companion of mine and followed me into motherhood, haunted me as I tried to feel satisfied with mother toddler playdates and trips to the park. Strange looks would come over the faces of our friends and family when I brought up the idea of traveling to foreign places with the children– you can’t take the children there, they might get sick! How many times my poor husband suffered through my bi-annual pleas to sell the house and move to the mountain hills of some far away country. Better yet, what about making a tour around the world for a year? Finally, after lengthy discussions, he agreed to spend a summer in Costa Rica. I think he knew that going would be far better than a summer with me in a restless state, a rather unbearable experience, I must admit.

John and I had already taken two trips to Costa Rica and these jaunts had been enough to intoxify me, to leave me wanting and needing more of Costa Rica’s unique magic. Admiring the dusty red roads, lush jungle, rolling hills, rugged empty coastline, cloud forests, and towering palms, I couldn’t help but feel comfortably small against such greatness. From the start I was swept away by the country’s beauty, where green seemed greener than anywhere else, and where at every turn you were faced with the most vibrant colors of bougainvillea. In Costa Rica, coffee plants cover the mountains; cows, chickens, and dogs own the roads; grass is still cut by hand with a machete, and luscious pineapple, mangoes, papaya, and banana plants blanket the landscape. The people are incredibly warm-hearted and profoundly proud of their country’s natural beauty. In sum, the spirit of Costa Rica is absolutely unmistakable.

So we returned, this time for six weeks. In tow were my children Nicholas 4, and Emma 2, each carrying small backpacks stuffed with a few favorite belongings and my husband who so willingly packed up his computer to test the limits of the virtual office. Together we set off to learn about this special place in hopes that some of it might permanently ingrain itself in our over-planned, much too busy lives.

I woke up on the first morning in Costa Rica with sunshine streaming through the windows. I walked out onto our balcony and took in the stunning views of the Central Valley. The air was cool and sweet and I could hear precious little voices of children on their way to school. My senses just exploded. I felt alive again. We traveled northwest to Tamarindo, a remote yet popular surfer destination on the Pacific coast. Just as if out of my dream, there were only dirt roads, empty tropical beaches, and a noticeable lack of footwear. We rented a small house across from the beach nestled in exotic growth. The soothing echo of waves crashed in the distance and the howler monkeys frequented the tree on our front porch.

John worked diligently, just as he would have at home, hooking himself up to the business world with various cords and adapters. Somehow planted in this most remote place he remained focused, completely fixated on the projects before him. He had several frustrating days where he couldn’t “tap in” – passwords denied, and phone lines down. Apart of me felt bad, responsible for putting him through the frustration but I knew that we all needed something that was there, deeply needed it.

As much as I hate to admit it, at first I was a little intimidated at the prospect of having all day with the children for weeks on end without our normal line-up of toys, neighborhood friends, libraries, and playgrounds with which to occupy ourselves but in a short amount of time the pace of Costa Rica forced me to just relax and let the day go where it was going to go. Incredibly, I started to observe in the children seeds of play that either weren’t present at home, buried under distractions, or I hadn’t had the time to notice. Nick lost himself in a world of King Cole for days, singing, and acting, and Emma toddled around chasing whatever poor creature might be moving in her line of sight.

Most of our days blended blissfully together, with time passing effortlessly on the beach or exploring the wonders of strange looking insects and lizards. We ate meals at simple open-air restaurants exuding rich aromas of roasting chicken, beans, and fried plantains. We took pleasure in the simplest of activities.

Long hours were spent walking over muddy potholed roads into town for groceries. We cuddled on the worn fouton and listened to the afternoon rain on the roof. We read the same 5 children’s books, the only ones we brought with us, over and over making up silly endings and reeling with laughter. A local girl taught us how to wave a banana just right to get the monkeys to eat out of our hands. And we took leisurely horse rides into the rainforests, through hidden villages and pastures. Emma wore the same T-shirt the whole time we were away, and Nicholas just a pair of swim trunks and his cowboy boots. My hairdryer and make-up stayed neatly packed away in my case. A wrap and a tank top were all I bothered with. At night we fell asleep to songs of the jungle singing so loudly, an entirely new world revealing itself upon our virgin ears. Slowly I began to feel a part of myself emerging, a part that was just a little simpler, a little more pure, perhaps even satisfied.

I got itchy to explore further so we packed up and headed to Manuel Antonio, a verdant, hilly coastal area also home to a national park known for its diverse collection of flora and fauna and rainforest wildlife. We rented a house high on the hill with sweeping views of the Pacific. It was mid-June, still the low season so the area was quiet and peacefully free of tourists. I took jogs down to the beach and was almost always greeted with the sweet chirps of the squirrel and white-faced monkeys and if I was lucky, a glimpse a three-toed sloth.

One of the most magical days during this trip was one Saturday morning when John and I took off from the Quepos dock on a jetski. We climbed on and immediately sped off into the vast open space. I looked back upon beautiful Costa Rica, all signs of human life fading away in the distance, the green of the mountains taking over and the clouds meandering in and out of the tops of the hills. I was so free yet so connected. The wave swells were huge and we flew effortlessly over each one, catching air, smacking down, moving forward fast, strong. I could feel the power of the sea and earth underneath us, complete liberation from all that tied us down. Pulled in close, my arms held tight around John’s waist, I could smell his sweet brown skin, feel the strength of his beautiful lean body and I couldn’t remember the last time he felt this good. Had our lives become so detached at home that I had forgotten how pure it could be to simply hold him? The two of us together and the ocean danced the waves in concert. I loved my husband at this moment more than I ever thought possible. Somewhere out there our paths crossed, we became one, floating, flying freely. I shut my eyes and let myself melt into him, salt water splashing hard into my face.

I will forever associate this summer in Costa Rica with a morning yoga class I took in the jungle. It was there that I began to understand silence in a way I hadn’t before. It was real silence—stillness. This signifies the essence of our Costa Rican experience. Weeks full of heavy breaths and stretches that forced my mind and energies to venture in directions uncharted. Over the course of our stay in this colorful, spirited and peaceful country I felt as though I was truly appreciating just how grand and incredible this earth is. My life slowed enough that I could hear, smell and feel its richness. What a majestic gift she is.

Never would I have imagined that I would return home having experienced more than I had originally hoped for. Somewhere deep in the jungle mud or the ocean breeze, or the smile of a Costa Rican face, I for one brief second felt my place in the world and any restlessness came to a complete standstill. I have never in my lifetime soaked in so much goodness, from the magnificent surroundings, to the overwhelming beauty of my growing children, to the sumptuous ocean that laid bare such raw tender emotion for the man I am blessed to sleep next to every night.

Thank you wanderlust, thank you Costa Rica.