I moved to Costa Rica toward the end of the rainy season, which means it has rained a couple hours each day. One morning in Tortuguero, a tiny village and national park in the Limón Province known for massive amounts of nesting turtles, it rained and rained and rained. It rained so hard we canceled our canal ride in the morning (the area is only accessible by boat). Instead, we loitered around the hotel lodge and took photos of a night crested heron who was sheltering nearby. My mom, who was traveling with me at the time, and I struck up a conversation with two people from San José while we watched the rain come down. They were incredibly friendly and welcoming and the conversation was easy and enjoyable despite some language barriers. (One spoke only Spanish and I am hardly bilingual.)
When the rain didn’t let up, we donned our raincoats and umbrellas and took a stroll. We walked among dripping trees and tropical flowers pregnant with rain along a trail to the angry Caribbean that crashed against the black sand of the playa. The rain softened and the gray-white clouds roiled like ballet dancers above the foamy sea. A dense white mist rolled in from both horizons to greet itself where we stood.
Costa Ricans, or Ticos, are among the most amazing people on earth. I discovered this in my new friends that morning. We had such a great time getting to know each other, playing with the language, and bantering back and forth. The two I met that day will be friends for life… and they are not atypical for Ticos. So welcoming, so open, so helpful, so patient, so caring, so intelligent, and bursting at the seams with passion for life. Just the tall drink of water I needed to refresh me and make me want to embrace life again.
A little rain in my old town in Tennessee would have had everyone griping and muttering and hunkering down. A little rain in Costa Rica blossomed a lifelong friendship.
Pura vida. I’ve found it.
