Update: The North Country

My friend for the day in front of Arenal

It is 530am in San Jose, the sun has kissed the hills surrounding the city and the vendors are opening their gates to the morning commuters. I am sitting in the bus terminal with an empanada in my hand (so cheap and so good) waiting for the driver to open the doors for us heading to La Fortuna. After about an hour or so and we have left the outer limits of the capitol and I see a sign that says “El norte, nuestra tierra” (The north is our land) and as we climb higher into the mountains I see sprawls of coffee hills and cow pastures. Towns turn smaller and smaller, into communities with no more than a grocery/mini mart while houses come harder to spot, with more shacks, sheds, and cows than anything else.

The air has been filled with a relaxing breeze as we escape from the urban capital. The farther we get away, the more friendly honks and exchanges I see. I counted 10 honks and hellos from our bus driver in one little town we drove past, a great contrast from the honks I heard in San Jose; one coming every second you held up traffic or in the way. Here and in Guanacaste as well, honks are used as a friendly call, with two short beeps I could hear ‘hey! Goodmorning, hope life is going well’.

More rolling hills and farms and we were in La Fortuna, at the base of volcano Arenal, one of most active in Central America. I was not impressed with what could be a very cool and hip town, La Fortuna was a complete tourist hotspot with dozens of ‘souvenir’ shops and expensive hotel/resorts. So I was thankful to get the transport to my hostel quickly, I already had enough of the crowded streets and merchant shops this trip. Essence Arenal was the name of the hostel I was to stay at, and once we arrived I took a deep breath and was in heaven. On the opposite side of the volcano and perched on a hill overlooking the conical volcano and its gigantic lake, this place was a real escape. The owner, Kelly, was a really helpful guy, making sure every person had every detail perfected for their stay. I stayed in a tent/room that had a cement floor and a double sized bed. I immediately took several shots of the mostly clear day and started on a hike. Up and up I went. Past a little Tico community and over another lookout with tourists riding some horses while others grazed some grass on the hill (the horses that is). There I met up with my friend for the day; a beagle with a hanging tongue and a deep cut on his side. We continued on the horse trail and into a forest filled with huge butterflies and an array of sounds coming from the bush. For several miles we hiked until we ran into a farm that contained enough no trespassing signs to turn away the dog. But I knew a great view was around the corner so I scrambled under the barb wire and took a look. It was getting cloudy but I could see edges of valleys cutting into each other and streams popping out of their hills. I later learned on a clear day one can see to Lake Nicaragua and the surrounding volcanoes.

The next day I went for a hike with two Swiss women and two Frenchmen up Cerro Chato, a dormant volcano next door to Arenal. The lagoon in the volcanoes’ crater was worth the trip and the spring river (100 degrees F) was a perfect end. But our driver to and from the activities that day may have been the highlight. A bright and full bellied man, Eduardo was more than happy to talk about his people and his views on happiness. “Here we have no problems, life is simple because of it, we are happy” he tells me. “We live in a beautiful place, with volcanoes, rivers and lots of beauty to see”. I ask him what he thinks about San Jose to the south. “People are crazy there, they honk and push to move faster, here we are slow and honk to be happy.” I smile.

“Eduardo, I have spent some time in Guanacaste and on the coast and I have heard the same things about happiness there.”

“Yes, I can see there are similarities, but not quite the same. I think we are a little more introverted with our thoughts here and have a lot of religious/spiritual ties to the land. But in both places, problems are few compared to other places.”

Too soon my time near the volcano is over and I headed to Monteverde and the cloud forest reserves. I take a boat ride with a couple of New Yorkers I have befriended and meet a socal college grad on the ride to the other side of the lake. A laid back dude named Robert who has been traveling the country for nearly two months. The ride from the lake to Monteverde was filled with gravel, bumpy, steep roads that criss-crossed the country side, dipping through little towns and coffee country.

The town of Monteverde is what I thought La Fortuna would be; not too big, a lot of local art and color, and cheap places to stay. I got a $6 dorm room run by a couple of Texans and hit the streets. As I walked out of town and towards a small art community down the road I felt this to be a more spiritual place than my other travels in Costa Rica. I ate at a great soda in the back of an art co-op that was running on a wood fire kitchen. Just down the road there was a dairy plantation (with great ice cream) and more art studios. I hiked on back roads and saw unique houses that reminded me of the west coast; surrounded by trees and plants, small but with loads of character. When I got back to the hostel I was notified by Judy that things back in Potrero were not going smoothly. Thus I went on an adventure to get an international calling card that no one in town knew how to use, but the five people I asked were all very nice, and eventually the guy working the hostel knew you had to hit 1 before everything else.

 After our chat, I ran into Robert whom I met on the boat and we grabbed something to eat. We ended up sitting outside and talking for nearly two hours. As a fellow young traveler we talked about the different parts of Costa Rica, places to stay, and a lot of happiness. First he was skeptical about deeming Costa Rica the happiness country, but after a good exchange we agreed on the relativeness of it all. “How can we really assess happiness?” he asked. “Well, that’s a good question isn’t it?” we both laughed. “But that’s half of book, what can qualify as a substantial measurement to something that varies so much between each person?” I answered. “Exactly man. Just a few days ago I saw some kids riding bikes meant for me and you, I mean they weren’t were trying to sit on seat, they barely fit on the crossbar.” He paused “and if you think about it, if an American kid had a bike that was that big, they wouldn’t even try to ride it, they would complain and get a bike that fit them.”

“You know what’s one underlying thing I have noticed here, the happiest people I have talked to,” I paused “they aren’t striving for anything more than they have, in a sense they are only eating what’s on their plate.”

“Exactly man.”

The next morning I packed up my bag and went for a hike in the Santa Ana cloud forest reserve. A beautiful early morning turned into a rain forest worthy downpour. I had to sneak under a tree to get temporary relief. I thought ‘why did I come all the way here to go on a Washington hike?’ but as I saw centipedes and tropical birds heading for cover my question was answered. Although the rain did not halt, I got a good view of a misty cloud forest from a tower and was surrounded with an aura of mystery in the air.

“But even here, the influence of tourism was unmistakable. The only Tico’s I saw were the construction workers building a new area for reception. The majority of hikers went with a tour guide equipped with a telescope, a shovel and planned stopping points to talk about the flora and fauna. “ I am on the bus heading west with Matt, a native of Austin, Texas who just got accepted into law school while traveling around Central America. “It’s everywhere.” He says “you can tell some people are really getting tired of it, some have even told me.” The owner of the hostel in San Jose mentioned the animosity some hold for tourists here. “I mean think about it” he continues “how would you feel if your town was based on people coming in from another culture and stomping around, changing businesses and restaurants to cater towards them?” Growing up in a small town that would have summer day tourists come, I could relate.  “But” I said, “People adapt. It’s in our DNA, just look at the thriving economy that has come to meet it here. I certainly wouldn’t like it but, but I wouldn’t let it control my life, especially in such a beautiful place.”

This thought brought me back to another talk earlier that day. As I walked around the town waiting for the bus, I decided to see another side of town, and found myself in a tourist shop that look very typical to the many I have seen in Costa Rica. Right before I decide to make my way out, the owner, a young Tico with his son, approached me. “Hablas espanol?” he asks. “A veces” (at times) I respond, they get a chuckle out of that. He tells me his name is Alberto and he is trying to learn English online. We talk about the challenges of learning a new language and about his son and their future in Monteverde. When he asks me what I’m doing in Costa Rica, his eyes light up and I ask “estas feliz?”

He tells me he is very happy. Why? “En Monteverde, hay no problemas y vida es tranquila.” (There are no problems in Monteverde and life is relaxed, easy.). Then his friend walks in, Juan. “This guy is researching happiness in Costa Rica” Alberto says. “No way! Hey man, I’m happy, you want to know why?” I like the sound of this. “In this area of Costa Rica, happiness depends on three things” he held out his closed palm, “physical, one, mental, two, spiritual, three”. Nearly an hour later we have touched on religion, spirituality, the self, and of course, happiness. My Spanish got an ego boost in the last couple of hours, although I’m mostly just listening. Juan grew up in a religious, catholic, household like many other TIco’s he tells me. “Then one day, I decided you should decide for yourself if you want to be religious. So I stopped going to church.” He continued “then I really thought about it and saw I needed god in my life, and that we all need god. We all need someone to talk to, during the good and the bad, and every night I talk with him.” In Costa Rica they often refer to Jesus as El or simply, him. So I ask him “how do you know everyone has to know god?” “Well, how do you know yourself then?” He asks “Where do you start? Who do you ask?” “Myself” I say and point at my chest.
“Who?”

“Me”

“Who?”

“Me. How can I know anybody else if I don’t know myself first?” I decided to elaborate a little more, pushing my Spanish. “If I can ask myself the hard questions, I can be happy for simply being alive and taking on problems by myself.”

“Ok then” he says “that’s great”

Happiness really is relative, the more I travel the country the more I can see that. Now I sit poolside in Potrero. Just a couple of days ago there was a crisis here and the house sitters were asked to leave. Trust is important, I see again. The sun has poked its head out the last couple of days and I have fully accepted the relaxed Tico lifestyle; lounging in the pool and ocean, writing and being simply happy. But I can’t stop thinking about the mystery of traveling. It is great to have both; times to wake up with the rest of the day open to any adventure and others to process and reflect. I am fascinated by the contrasts I see in the different parts of a country no bigger than West Virginia. What do the other parts I have not trekked hold? What about the Carribean? Are they happy there, and why? A topic with this much breadth needs to be walked from many shoes, talked by many voices.

Update: San Jose

Street Mural in downtown San Jose

“Less talk, more action”, bold letters read across a young Tico’s shirt I pass by. Regardless if he knows what it says (It’s in English), the slogan fits San Jose. A hustling and bustling city if I have ever been to one. The downtown area is as crowded as The Big Apple yet as active as a farmers market. People selling, yelling and getting all riled up. Guitarists and street artist call for your attention as you step over piles of burned DVD’s and kids toys.

It’s 9am and I have been on a bus for a little more than 5 hours. The contrast between Guanacaste and this new beast is overwhelming. All my senses are on overload; cab drivers yelling at me, sweet smells mix with city grum and I am surrounded by cement and a wash of bright colors from the tiny shops. No inch of this place is without a business; souvenirs, knick nacks, and bakeries seem to be the most common forms I see.  It’s very likely that my first few minutes in Jan Jose were spent with my jaw hanging trying to grasp the jungle I had entered.

The next thing I realized were the street signs, or lack thereof. My hostel was across the city, and although I knew the general direction and had the street it was on, it was to no avail. I saw two or three signs on the sides of buildings but that was it. As I wandered this strange new place, I ran across a fruit market. Just on a side street next to an abandoned railroad station, this was the image I had of a street market in Costa Rica. Block followed by block there were literally hundreds of vendors selling the ordinary array of fruits to those selling things I couldn’t even imagine how to eat. There was a sweet smell in the air swirling the juices, herbs and vegetables that were on either side of me. After asking for directions and finding them less helpful than wandering, I grabbed a taxi and thought, ‘maybe there is more to this high pace city than my initial reaction’. My hostel was not too far from downtown but far enough that I would be able to sleep without horns and airbrakes blasting the windows.

As I got myself settled I got in a conversation with the owner of the hostel; an American who had a weeklong trip planned in Costa Rica that turned into a two year adventure that sees no end. But his view of happiness here is sharp and to the point. “Bullshit” was his immediate response when I mentioned Tico’s being the happiest people on earth. He believed they are too wrapped up in their imagine, animosity towards Americans, and falling government. I couldn’t help but think this was more of the atmosphere in the city. This made me realize happiness here does not come in one form, one size or one shape. From this point on I turned my senses to see what differences I could feel, hear and see from my travels.

The next few days I walked over a dozen miles around the city, visiting all types of markets, museum’s and restaurants. I talked with waitresses, clerks and travelers. I observed the behavior of the locals and the businessmen showing their pinstripe suits. I heard the screams of joy from the young Tico’s running after pigeons in the plaza de cultura and smelled the spices in the mercado central. What does this city signify for Costa Rica? It stretches out and holds nearly a third of the country’s population and thus many resources that cannot be found other places. Do you need a cell phone fixed? A part for your bike, or air conditioner? How about a new movie release you want to catch in theaters? San Jose offers these things that many Americans can find within 10 or 15 minutes of driving. Their “mega supermarkets” are no bigger than Albertsons and only a fraction of Costco or Walmart that can be found even in small towns in the US.

This is the place to be if you want to be “somebody”.  It was obvious the people here held a different attitude about style and image. I could count the number of people (aside from myself) that wore shorts and a t-shirt and although I did not see any Guicci or Dolce and Cabana, many stores were trying to replicate high style. A more cosmopolitan atmosphere than I was expecting, I stuck out even more by wearing casual clothes.
Furthermore, it seemed people here needed to be somewhere. Not only a location they were traveling to but in the position of power that viewed themselves. I could feel their energy filled with pursuit and desire. Men and women alike walked with an air that sought something more, as if they were reaching to take another step past those around them. But still I could see the older generation holding onto a different work ethic; do what you can, socialize and relax.

So in San Jose I saw a great mixing. In a culture known for a laxed attitude there is a vast number climbing the ladder for success. Image conscious young strut their stuff on the streets and in the clubs as if they were fashionista’s in LA. Still some have not changed, as the older population hangs onto more of a small town vibe. As more and more Tico’s move towards the San Jose area this trend may grow and turn San Jose into even more of a metropolitan.

But happiness must be found here right? Yes, but it has many more sublevels than in Guanacaste. Juan, a Tico about my age told me depending on what you are looking for you can find a social group in San Jose. Be it the businessmen or the hipsters, a way to connect with likeminded have more roots showing here than other parts of the country. Yet the simplicity that the country is known for has been drowned out by the churning of a growing city, in the thralls of an urbanizing country.

Update: Potrero/Guanacaste area

Just another bike ride in Playa Potrero


I take a step to avoid a string of atv's passing a narrow, dark red clay road, my leg is swallowed in mud. This is the second time on my walk today that i have almost lost my foot in the thick, musculus road that was flooded by heavy thunderstorms during the last few days.

But today is sunny and I have taken the opportunity to walk the beach, think about my time here, and go to 

the bank before I leave for the capitol of San Jose in the morning. Playa Potrero too, has been hit hard by the recent storms, making the walk along the beach almost impossible with the sea of newly acquired beach wood, assorted trash, and flooded creeks that now resemble neck high rivers.

Yet this is a slice of paradise. The central, "gold coast" of the pacific is littered with anywhere from white to black picturesque beaches and rugged peninsulas separating the bays like shallow spaces between fingertips.

In this area of Guanacaste, prices and advertisements are point directly towards wealthy (relative to the locals) travelers looking for an escape from their current lives. 

But this is not that season, and many businesses are empty, with a few Tico's sitting at the bar or taking a stroll to the bus stop or local market. The people that I have met, and the things that I have seen so far have been great context to the readings and thoughts I have had for this place.

"Tranquilo" lifestyle spills over into many aspects of life here. At any time of the day you can see a family at the beach, men taking a break in the shade with a local beer or banana, and creatures of many shapes and sizes calling out for something no one really knows. The Tico's I have talked to call themselves lazy with a touch of pride, noting that they have little stress and a good life. Almost everyone holds the view that life in Costa Rica better than their "crazy" northern neighbors of Nicaragua and the disparity that covers much of Panama to the south.

Carlos, my tourismo taxi driver told me he doesn't know if the people here are happiest, but he knows they are happy with what they have. As I took in my first sights of the country I was surprised by the number of shacks, tiny towns/villages and number of people walking around. It was as if the country is their house; they may not have any insulation in their walls but their community provided the warmth they need.

The vibe I'm picking up here so far is not outlandish happiness but satisfaction with the current life, not striving for anything more than what they have and thus happy with what they need.

But Jennifer Dalton, a local real estate agent, tells me that this may not be a current view of the younger population on the rise in Guanacaste. She describes a age group that is seeking materialistic items, shiny things, and alot of money. She pointed out that the age gap of marriages is growing to a uncomfortable gap, with local very young women (many under 21) tying the knot with much older, wealthy men from America and other imported countries.

As I get ready to leave I wonder what the capital and beyond holds in terms of attitude towards life and the happiness the inhabitants posses.

Trust and theft

Parque Nacional, San Jose

It’s my first day in the capital of Costa Rica, San Jose. A sprawling city that contains 1/3 of the country’s population in its urban palm. After hours of bus rides, street wandering and being utterly lost I make my way to the hostel I’ll be staying at for the next few nights. Soon after dropping of my bags I head to the San Pedro mall to grab some food.

This mall is almost too much. Four stories with a shape of a tic tac toe board, I can barely hear myself think with everything going on. There is a live concert in the main lobby and every store and restaurant has a different song blasting. I can see six different cell phone stores from where I am standing, with a plate of food in my hand and absolutely nowhere to sit in the two stories of tables. I walk and walk and walk, not a single seat open. I am rushed by workers from WENDY’S with certificates and hear cries from the Copa America futbol game playing on all the TV’s. Suddenly, a guy wearing shorts, black boots, a golf shirt and a quicksilver hat approaches me and frantically asks, “Are you American?”

Trust. Without it, humans would be lost. More often than we imagine, we trust our very lives with others. Every time we step into a car, plane or boat.  When we cross the street during a red light or when we step into a doctors office. Any of these situations can be greatly affected by our fellow human beings, and by doing these acts we place a great amount of trust into them. Furthermore, relationships crumble without this trait. A child unquestionably trusts their parents while a baby has no choice in the matter. A marriage cannot be strong and stable without the mutual feeling and I certainly wouldn’t fall backwards onto someone I didn’t think trustworthy.

It is in times when this trust is tested that we make great judgments of character. For someone you can trust will always be needed, always called for in times of need.

“Yeah, could you tell?” I laughed as returned my focus onto my food; nothing could drag me from my hunger. “Great, finally! I’m going to stick to you like a fly on sugar” he says. I laugh again “if you can find me a seat I’ll let you hang around”. We  turn the corner and a man gets up. “HEY, are you done? Can we sit here?” He blurts out. The poor man obviously doesn’t speak any English and gets up with a weird glance and walks away. This guy has to be American. I dive into my food, my first meal since the night before. He tells me his name is Randy. “Look I got the damn thing tattooed on my arm!” He shows me his right arm, ‘well I guess he won’t forget’ I think.

“Man this place is nuts, I’ve been walking around all day and haven’t got anyone to talk to until you”

“I can imagine, I got so lost trying to find my hostel, San Jose is overwhelming”  I respond.

“You won’t believe what happened to me man, I’m still getting a grip on it” I can hear the stress in his voice.

I look up from my sandwich as he wipes the sweat off his brow.
“I got mugged last night, lost everything; my money, passport, everything. The only thing I have left is my plane ticket home, this thing is my holy grail!”

He’s got my attention. Walking around lost got me feeling a bit stressed earlier and would hate to be feeling that way for any extended period of time, nonetheless without all my belongings and not knowing any Spanish. “The worst part is I can’t get into the embassy or anything until I get my passport and paperwork on Monday”, it’s Friday night.

I can see where this conversation is going; this guy needs my help, and probably some money. So I divert the conversation to find out more my fellow American. He has a Italian-American accent, and as he tells me he is a butcher in Florida, he shows me the scars across his fingers and hands. We talk about Costa Rica, his recent divorce and my plans to help research an upcoming book about the country and happiness. “Man that’s great, when I was your age I was a working in the meat section at Albertsons.” But look where you are now I tell him. “I got lucky, I tell you. Met a jew and after we got married she gave me the money to start my own shop and restaurant, I paid her back within 5 years. Now I live in Baton Roca, ever heard of it?” No. “Real expensive, I mean if you drive a shitty car in my neighborhood, you get pulled over” He laughs. He tells me he needs some money to last him until Monday. “I already have a hostel picked out and the money will be here on Monday, I just need to hold off until then, can you help me out?”. Possibly, let’s keep talking I tell him. So we talk about the difference between the US and here, his love for fishing and his plans for his trip. “I’m renting out a boat in Playa Flamingo and staying at the Westin, you have to come out and go on the boat with me.” He says. “No way! I’m staying in playa Potrero, not even a mile away” I say excitedly, fishing on the ocean is on my mind. But I keep the conversation going and he tells me more about his divorce and gives me his email, business number and cell phone number. When I glance down at my watch I see it has been over an hour and his story has held up to every word. More than that I see he looks desperate, a feeling I can relate to with my short encounter with helplessness in San Jose.

“Alright, let’s go upstairs to the ATM.” People looking for a spot to sit are staring at us like hyenas on the hunt. “Thank you so much you are really saving me here, you like prime rib? I’ll send you some every Christmas, I swear.” I laugh and tell him prime rib is okay by me. As we walk up the stairs and across the mall to the ATM I notice how he cuts people off without a glance and speaks very loud English, definitely American. I withdraw $150 and we sit at a yogurt stand overlooking the mall. I keep a little for myself and I give him the rest. We talk some more and make sure we have the right info for contact. He thanks me a few more times  and heads off, calling my name as he walks down the stairs. I sit a while longer feeling good about helping someone that was in need, never wanting to be in that position without some help.

Well that happened a week ago. Now that my trip is over I look up his info. His address shows up on Google Maps and his phone number works but no one answers. So I look up his name some more, Randy P, look it up on Google if you like. The first link makes my heart stop. His real name is Randy G and he has a violent history of sexual assault, false imprisonment and robbery. He goes by an alias that he told me. I look on another site, I can’t believe what I’m reading,  I’ve been hustled. Almost word to word others recall his story of a traveler in Costa Rica that had been mugged and needed a little money. They call him a smooth talker and cite his tattoo on his right arm. Some lost $50, others over $200. I sunk into the couch and anger and deceit filled my mind. How could he do that? He knew I was a student short on money. All the details, the passion, the accent, everything was a part of his show. The best liar I have ever met, this man tricked me and used my good intentions against me.

Trust. Something we all rely on daily. How can we ever trust someone completely? What happens when we are betrayed on this aspect of human relationships? I trusted this man by his word and his stories, as I others have trusted me when I tell them I lost my student ID or my movie ticket.  Without trust there is no love, without trust you cannot know yourself. Trust is a big risk, a risk required for joy and a risk that can end in shatters. But as an athlete risk their bodies for their passion, I risk trust in the love of others. If I decide to not trust others, I cannot trust myself. I will not trust every single person, as for all the good souls out and about there are the dark ones too. But that is a risk I am willing to take, to form relationships that require trust and give others the respect that comes with it. Because without real relationships and real trust, how will I ever grow? How will I ever live fully? There are lessons for every action, some require pain, and others do not. This was an experience I will not forget. I could never look someone in the eyes and lie to them for an hour and take their money. But not everyone knows themselves, not everyone believes in trust. 

Race with no end

Have you watched any television lately? If you did, it can be sure that you saw a message or advertisement expressing the idea of something better. Something that you need and must seek after. Something you must pursue.
I am afraid that this message has carried over and into a literal meaning for happiness. If happiness is pursued, then something is being lost. Once it is objectified, a layer of gloss spreads across the idea in your thoughts. Your idea of happiness is now finite, focused on the goal itself and stripped of its freedom.
I have read over and over again that happiness is not affected after a certain income line. Thus the importance of material items is not the hear all say all. The comforts they bring cannot be denied, but the desires they cause are not always just. Many advertisements carry the message of pursuit, such things as jeans, cars and fame call to us at great lengths. If you only had the 20XX BMW/Porsche/Infinity, you could cruise the coastline and be on top of the world. But once that car/item is obtained, that happiness now relies on you. The pursuit is over and you are now on flat ground. It is up to you were you take that feeling you sought. Is it going to keep moving, or lay dormant, confused on what to do?
Direction. Something we all have found helpful in one way or another, the car is dependent on the directions you give it. So imagine that dream machine, it is struck unless you give it a direction to travel, your input is directly correlated with where it goes.
Yet this is where pursuit is useful. If you know how far you can push yourself, drive and determination are equally as important as direction. The use of your work can have great outcomes if you have meaning throughout the process, letting you create meaning once you have what you were chasing. Giving the bike in the picture the chance of creating equal or more happiness than the cars many of us pursue.

Staring at waves

If you have been lucking enough to see the shore,
a ocean so vast you can only see a slice,
contemplate what lies beyond,
then you have seen its waves,
constant as a summers wind
they breath in and out,
every day,
every night.

The time we spend here is filled with change,
no day the same,
no moment exactly recreated
like a wave crashing against the shore
we have no choice in face of change,
it is with us whether we sit at the shore
or get carried in its wake

It is easy to find ourselves within the wave
trying to find a way out,
barely getting to the surface before the next crashes upon us
frustration is never far behind,
as life may seem to be built upon these struggles.

But we have a gift,
with great power
the mind can take us out of the chaos.
Let us sit at the shore,
observe
watch the cause of change,
see the causes we have brought,
and those that come with the tide

From here we are no longer in a struggle but in appreciation
with the sand under our feet,
we know how far we can venture in
feel at peace with each wave that comes to our feet,
and see the power we can call our ally.

A New Time

Solo Yo: my adventure in Costa Rica

Over the past year I have seen my dream grow. I decided I wanted to study happiness this year that the University of Washington. I was told it was unlikely since it is a unstudied topic at the school and many didn't respond to my email. But David Barash took my passion as a good thing and told me he would give me a "fishing license"; for me to do what I wanted without his guidance. I read a lot of books. I also gave a talk on meaning, happiness, and their practical uses at the Undergraduate Research Symposium at my campus earlier this year. It was  a great experience and showed me a passion I didn't know I had.
But bigger than that was what WE are undertaking now. His wife, and now my second adviser, Dr. Judith Lipton recently bought a house in Potrero, Costa Rica. It turns out Costa Rica has been recently deemed the happiness country in the world by several websites/survey compilations. This inspired them to attempt a book on the subject of happiness, in Costa Rica, as a paradigm in modern society and beyond.
Now I find myself in their house, occupying the basement with two Ticos (what Costa Ricans refer to themselves as) with 7 weeks at my disposal. I've been here for a few days and been able to enjoy a couple amazing sunsets (see picture above from two nights ago) and a complete rain day as I found myself choosing the wrong time to go for a long walk. Since I am essentially alone, with the language barrier affecting this deeply (I can understand a decent amount of Spanish, but my speaking still are past broken), I have taken this opportunity to write.
I will be talking about my adventures and such as writing is a way of talking to someone as well as getting my thoughts off my sleeve. Any life thoughts and the like will also be finding their way here as usual.
I'm excited to start traveling this weekend when I go to San Jose!