Fast Walking in the Land of Pura Vida
I now live in Costa Rica.
Pinch me.
Nearly three months after moving here, this reality is not entirely real yet. While there are still many unknowns - like the best way to get places, how to create a balanced diet when you’re not cooking in your own kitchen, or how introverts manage to recharge in 24/7 communal cultures - one thing I do know for sure is that I signed up for an adventure, which is exactly what I am getting. I can already attest that this new chapter of my life includes heart pumping adrenaline, magical wonder, and beautiful vistas that come with things like an early morning hike in the jungle, interesting cultural observations and celebrations such as El día de la Independencia de Costa Rica and a Tico family birthday party, and unpredictable turns and less desirable hiccups like technology failure and being ill-prepared for rain on any given day. I’ve seen glimmers of all of this – just within my first few months.
You might remember: as we rounded the corner to 2022, I wrote about my early Spanish language learning journey and how everyday tiny habits shape change. Using the app Duolingo, and later a language tutor in Colombia, South America, I established a basic understanding. My next step on the journey to fluency: full immersion. For me, this means moving to a Spanish-speaking country, living with local people, and taking every opportunity to listen, write, speak, and read in Spanish. In short, moving to Costa Rica is the latest development in this journey. These early days have been humbling and make me reflect on cultural immersion, navigating the world in a non-native language, and being “the other”. Of important note: as someone who’s white, I recognize that I still hold immense privilege regardless of where I am in the world. My purpose in writing about this topic is not to overlook that point - but rather to reflect on what it’s like not being a part of the dominant culture and therefore recognize new dimensions of myself that otherwise can go unnoticed and unchecked.
El día de la Independecia de Costa Rica - September 15
What happens when we make assumptions
Language learning is a deeply humbling experience. As a native English speaker in the U.S. I take for granted what it means to speak the primary language of the country that I live in. Not knowing the native language where you live can be an incredibly isolating experience. Not having the words to be able to express yourself is both challenging and frustrating. In Costa Rica, I benefit from being at a language school where many people are fluent in English (in addition to Spanish and Portuguese). However, this doesn’t change the fact that trying to navigate conversations in other settings right now can be painful. I fear, are Costa Ricans questioning my intelligence as I struggle to shape sentences? I know that I don’t always use grammatically correct sentences. The timing of my speech is often slow because I’m thinking of the words I want to say, and how to string together a comprehensive sentence. I can attest that I did not understand the extent of this truth until being in this position trying to navigate even simple social interactions.
Naturally, this makes me think about personal interactions I’ve had with non-native English speakers at home, especially people who are just learning English. Was I patient and kind, or abrupt and dismissive? There are also many sweeping judgements and stereotypes about immigrants in the U.S. For one, in many instances we’ve made speaking English an indicator of intelligence. In a recent NPR Throughline podcast titled, Silicon Island, they tell the story about a Taiwanese entrepreneur named Miin Wu who once lived and worked in the U.S. With a burning desire to build his own semiconductor factory, he was confronted with glass ceilings when raising capital and being a non-white, non-native English speaker, and immigrant. These factors led him to believe that he would never be a CEO in the U.S. Therefore, he decided to move back to Taiwan to pursue his dreams. It’s here he started Macronix, a semiconductor manufacturer for Nintendo games, currently valued at $55 billion. So, what is my point? This is a complex story of economics, venture capital, and cultural identity. And language played a role here, illustrating the limitations of dated and fixed mindsets about who can play what role and who can be successful. I’d venture to say that the U.S. missed the opportunity to cultivate the tenacity and capability of Wu’s brilliant mind, and clearly also missed out on the economic benefits from his success. Not to mention that in the wake of covid-19 global health crisis, the U.S. realized the detrimental impact of relying on overseas manufacturing to produce things like personal protective equipment, and yes, semiconductor chips that power cars, gaming equipment, and many other electronics. Now in 2022 we are just starting to build semiconductor factories on U.S. soil which will take years to operationalize. Wu was ahead of his time and U.S. venture capitalists were behind the times, not taking Wu seriously.
This story also makes me reflect on the fact that regardless of how many other languages people like Miin Wu may know, the level of education in their native country, or a multitude of factors, immigrants face the obstacle of consistently being viewed as second class citizens. The irony here is that when people from the United States* travel or live abroad, there often isn’t the same expectation of us as foreigners. Because English is widely known around the world, and is often the language of business, we are given the pass. Simply put, there isn’t even the same expectation that we should attempt to know a foreign language yet we have the nerve to criticize people who are venturing to try and learn English.
During my first weeks in Costa Rica, I enjoyed a drink with a local Costa Rican (Tico) to socialize and practice my Spanish. Local tour guides connected me to their other local friends in my area. I went to a Tico family member's birthday party. And I’ve been invited to join my Tico host family on an upcoming weekend family excursion. It makes me think about when the last time was that I purposefully engaged a non-Native English speaker with care, intention, and patience. In my brief experience, people here are genuinely interested in getting to know me and spending time together. It’s here that we create connections and cultivate awareness about what it's like to be part of another cultural identity and truly understand how multi-dimensional we all are.
Volcán Poás, Alajuela Province
Walking with a long stride
I am beginning to see my North American qualities more clearly against my new Costa Rican backdrop. Living with a Tico family, I am becoming aware of the dynamics and qualities that are present in intergenerational households. Family life is the way of life here. Three generations living under the same roof is both beautiful and challenging to my U.S. sensibilities. I come from an environment where I live alone and therefore having space and privacy is a given. Similarly, there are also boundaries around what is mine, yours, and ours. Here, living quarters are smaller, privacy isn’t the same, and everything is shared. This is a shining example of communal living at its best.
I also know that I come to Costa Rica with North American tendencies like tenacity and ambition which, if left unchecked, have a tendency to create a certain tunnel vision. I want to learn Spanish. I’d like to adventure, climb mountains, bike ride, build community, and build a business. While I believe these things are possible, they are also happening against a backdrop that emphasizes spending quality time. Here there is a different sense of time. Spending time with family members - cooking food, having a beer, talking - are a strong emphasis. This is where the magic of community and care happens. Work is just one part of life; spending quality time is the cultural epicenter. As a related aside, I also catch myself walking briskly and with a long stride. In some ways this is an effect of being tall. In other ways, I believe this is a characteristic of my North American sense of time and well-programmed rush to do more.
People here in Costa Rica often use the word tranquilo to describe their weekend or state of being. This word, which literally translates to tranquil, calm, and quiet and is often said with an equally chill delivery, or tone. This common phrase is counter cultural and a reminder to do just that - chill. Equally as prevalent is the phrase pura vida! Literally translated as pure or simple life, the phrase can take on different meanings depending on the context. It’s a common response that relays sentiments such as, I’m doing well, life is good, and you’re welcome. Again, another daily reminder to embrace a different state of being.
Evolving Ideas
There will no doubt be additional evolutions of thoughts and experiences here in the weeks and months to come. For now, in these early days, my simple focus and motto has been: pay attention. In this new context, I am beginning to witness and pay attention to my own unconscious biases, cultural patterns, and habits, and apply the humility that is necessary to really experience different cultural perspectives.
What happens when we pause, temporarily suspend judgment, and consider there are a multitude of ways to live?
Cañón de la Ventolera (Escazu, Costa Rica)
A glipse of the joy that comes with things like dancing with mascardas while dancing to the playful music of the cimarronas at a family birthday party.
*People living in Central and South America are also part of the Americas. This has been underscored for me here in Costa Rica. I largely talk about myself as ‘from the U.S.’ I am challenging myself to embrace a non-U.S. centric perspective and language.