Quite some time ago, before my ADHD coach website was an ADHD coach website, I wrote about the process we went through to move to Costa Rica from the US. I got maybe halfway through the journey before I stopped, mainly because I got bored telling the story. I mean, here I was talking about this whole process that I was about a year removed from; it seemed less exciting when I was sitting at the bank or grocery shopping every day like anyone else.

Then, I tried to start a second blog dedicated only to travel and my time in Costa Rica as a Black woman. For one, that started feeling like a lot, and for another, I had no interest in only talking about that forever and ever amen.

But from time to time, I do love talking about my life here. Especially when anniversaries come up.

August 14th will mark two years since my family and I packed up eight bags and a cat carrier and came down here with no plan to live in the United States again, and if I’m honest, I haven’t second-guessed my choice once.

That said, I do think that there are some things that others need to know before moving here, and I’m putting this out there just in case anyone stumbles on me and really, really wants to know what it’s like to live in Costa Rica. I haven’t been here horribly long, but I think I know some things (marking this down as a possibly epithet for my tombstone). So let’s get into it:

Costa Rican Spanish is a whole ‘nother animal

My husband and I studied Spanish diligently for over a year before we came down, using Duolingo, Olly Richards, Busuu, and a host of other things we stumbled upon. It became an obsession that we shared, like any healthy couple does.

And then we got to Costa Rica and found out that we had a whole new problem, because that just wasn’t really enough.

It’s super American, when you think about it, to just assume that all other countries are the same everywhere. The United States will giggle about the dialects dotted throughout English all the time, but the moment they have to think about other languages, it’s just assumed that Spanish is Spanish, French is French, and so on.

The truth is, every Latin American country, as well as any country connected by a common language, is going to have different ways of referring to things, same as you might call it a “sub” while another will call it a “hoagie.”

You’ll find this out when you ask about belts, for example, pointing and mentioning el cinturon, only to be stared at like you’ve lost your damn mind because only car seatbelts are cinturones, and in fact, the one you use to hold your pants up is a faja. It takes time to adjust, and there will be a lot of giggling at your expense, but you get used to it.

I still remember getting my hackles up the day we arrived because, after apologizing to a guy for how long we were taking to find our stuff, he responded with “tranquila.”

Did this bitch just tell me to calm down? I wasn’t even upset. I’m ’bout to be now, though. C’mere, children, hold Mommy’s earrings.

Then I found out that this is the Tico way of saying “no worries.” Oh.

So you’ll have some learning to do, outside of the learning you’ve hopefully already done. Get ready to do all that learning at lightning speed, too, because Tico Spanish is fast. Just so’s you know.

Chill out, or die.

OK, that’s a little dramatic. You most likely won’t die. Probably. But you will be miserable as hell if you don’t learn to roll with unexpected punches, because for whatever reason, Costa Rica is a land of suprises.

Sometimes, these surprises are lovely. Nothing makes me squeal happily quite as much as going for a shower and seeing a Motmot chilling on the tree directly next to me.

Somewhere, there’s one of these who’s seen me naked.

But other times…man, you’re just gonna find that something about the tropical climate, mixed with a still-developing infrastructure, mixed with some sort of bizarre universal hoo-doo is going to result in times where you feel like you’ve been riding a very chaotic roller coaster. I don’t have time to get into it now, but I learned this especially when I went on a road trip that involved the internet being completely out in a whole city, me getting carsick for the first time in my life, a racoon punching through my ceiling, and my father-in-law impaling his arm on a spike.

I can’t emphasize this part enough: if you’re a person who thrives on everything being in predetermined, easy-to-follow order; if you love efficiency and ease; if miscommunications make you break out in hives, YOU DO NOT WANT TO LIVE HERE.

Or, if you do, you definitely want to learn to relax.

You’ll make reservations and people will sometimes forget to put them in correctly. If you forget to pay the power bill, you won’t be told; you’ll just realize your lights don’t work. “Right now” can mean “ASAP” or “Thursday.” Appointments can run 15-20 minutes behind some days if you’re lucky. One time, my husband parked somewhere he shouldn’t have without knowing, and they just gave him a ticket and TOOK OUR CAR’S PLATES without explanation. And through all of this, if you don’t know how to shrug it off and say “I can handle this,” you will be really, really miserable.

When you first visit, they’ll say pura vida to you a lot, and it’ll sound like they’re saying “every day is a party,” but what they’re actually telling you is “life is madness here so like, chill man. Or die of a stress-induced heart attack. Whichevs.”

Costa Rica is Expensive Compared to the Rest of Latin America

I think a lot of people tend to build obsessions with moving here because they think they’ll be able to spend $50 on a beachfront condo, and that’s just…not true.

SOME things are definitely cheaper: fresh produce is often cheaper. For someone from the US, medical costs are generally about 50% of what you’d spend in the states. Most private schools are incredibly cheap (save for a couple here that ask for about 30k a year but we don’t talk about those) and quite good.

But most things are much more than you’d pay for them in, say, Panama or Mexico: housing, cars, regular groceries…all of that is going to run you much more.

Also, I miss peaches a lot. And smoked salmon. There are definitely foods I want to smother myself in when I visit my US family, so sometimes it sucks to pay that much for food and to be unable to get foods you’re really in the mood for.

Everyone here snuggles tarantulas and uses scorpions as pillows every night.

Right after my bowl of giant beetles, I’m tucked in by a super-poisonous spider while my scorpion-pillow stings me in the face over and over.

See how ridiculous that sounds? C’mon, people.

I can’t tell how many of my friends will tell me about people who won’t come visit “because of the bugs.” My own father, a New York-born dude who others have described as “intimidating,” asks me about how many spiders are in my house every time we talk.

We have house spiders in some corners, but only because we choose to let them stay in exchange for their ritual slaughter of the real problem down here: mosquitoes. And not even massive mosquitoes, either; just regular, run-of-the-mill mosquitoes who don’t understand how very much we hate them.

Have we seen tarantulas and scorpions? Sure. We even saw a tarantula hawk once for a few seconds. It was a few seconds because it flew into our house and literally everyone in the house scattered when it appeared. It sounded like a tiny helicopter. I feel no shame.

Imagine this, but alive.

But overall, we’re not covered in bugs. We don’t have them hanging out in our kitchens and living rooms. We don’t walk them on leashes. They generally have no interest in entering the same room as us ever, so they generally don’t.

While we’re at it, we live in houses, we don’t all live at the beach, we have wi-fi and electricity, and pay for things with money.

Maybe you giggled at this, but I can’t tell you how many people I’ve talked to who apparently think I’m living in a mud hut on the beach, paying for things with coconuts.

This house is here. So like…chill.

Some people love living on the beach, but it wasn’t for us because we wanted less humidity, less foot traffic, and yes, less bugs. Wi-fi is available at practically every establishment, and many neighborhoods have fiber internet. A country that isn’t the US and is also filled with brown people is entirely capable of existing outside of a jungle.

And no, I didn’t assume half of this before I moved here. It’s been very weird seeing how many people do.

And finally…this was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

This isn’t a place for everyone. I know at least one person I can say that explicitly for right now, even. But I belong here. It only took me three days of running boring errands to realize that I was happy to do these things as long as I did them here.

No matter where you live, that’s the important question: are you okay here despite the struggles? Are you comfortable here even after a frustrating day? Remember that, if you’re able to move to another country, you have a chance so many others don’t and there’s no point in squandering that on a place you can’t stand.

People here are incredibly friendly and welcoming for the most part, the nature is like nothing else, and the amount of sunshine is amazing. I wouldn’t trade this place for anywhere else, warts and all.

But if you disagree, that’s cool. Here’s hoping you find the place for you. I’m pulling for you.