In The Middle Of It

This morning at 8:00 A.M. a rental car company pulled up at Casa Del Ray, my new home here in Nosara to drop off a car so I could pick Dan up at the airport at eleven. I have been here almost one month on my own and the anticipation of seeing Dan and “feeling” Dan was killing me. Driving from Nosara is no simple feat. The roads are horrendous to say the least. The recent rains have been the worst in Guanacaste history with levels far beyond the norm and breaking many records. Robin, who owns an amazing café and makes the best homemade ice cream and sorbets in town, told me that these rains were going to have a major impact on the survival of the people living here because the crops cannot root in the saturated ground. There is going to be a famine here, she said. I witnessed first hand the result of the rains as I drove out of Nosara on my way to Liberia, an estimated two and one half hour drive away. The roads were muddy, washed out, and I had to navigate through at least four wayward rivers to get through. To be honest, I felt like a badass and fantasized about my driving prowess-a NASCAR future maybe?-it was like skiing moguls with a car. When I arrived at the airport Dan’s plane had just landed. I told him I had hired a driver to pick him up, not wanting him to know that I would be the one waiting there. I saw him coming through customs and watched him look all around at the waiting drivers, but he did not see me! I had to pull him out of the gauntlet of taxi drivers waiting to snag a needy tourist shouting “Me Esposo is here!” and dragging him into the parking lot where our rental car awaited. A sweet reunion. I drove, showing off my mad skills and after stopping for lunch at a cliff side soda (café), we landed in Nosara with plenty of time for re-acquaintance and napping before my gig at La Luna. At La Luna, the beautiful seaside restaurant, the atmosphere was very quiet after the full moon party held here the night before. With just a few tables of patrons, we played our music, Dan sitting in on a mellow sounding hand drum, adding a nice rhythm to the music. A lot of the songs I sang seemed to bring me to tears; Bonnie Raitts, Come to Me, The Beatles, Let it Be, I don’t even know what else, all I know is I had a serious problem keeping it together. Why all this emotion? When we got home we fixed plates of food prepared by La Luna’s staff and sat by the pool under a sky full of stars, afterwards swimming and sitting in the Jacuzzi. It’s late, we’re tired and questions can wait. Dan has put on some beautiful Costa Rican guitar music for me to listen to and he is now sleeping soundly in our bed. I know he needs it. The Gecko who lives behind the tapestries in this apartment is telling me to go to bed too.

Stepping Into the Void

Last night I had the pleasure of singing at Il Basillico, a restaurant in Esperanza, just outside of Nosara not far from the Nosara Yoga Institute. I was invited to join an Argentinean guitarist named Juan by the restaurants owner, Chandi, a young Costa Rican man from a family of restaurant people who own Giardino Tropical and Il Basillico. They have mastered the art of wood fired pizza and turn out the most amazing food in the most unpretentious of environments like paper thin Beef Carpaccio, house–made foccacia with marinated shrimp, mussels and calamari, huge plates of spaghetti and green salads with vine-ripe tomatoes, basil and perfectly toasted hunks of fresh baked bread. I agreed to sing that night for thirty dollars, red wine and food. Apparently Juan had done a great job spreading the word about the “happening” at Il Basillico that night and had invited other musicians, Carl, massage therapist, surfer and drummer from Florida and Schlomo, owner of the local organic market, to sit in on percussion and guitar. Never having played with any of them before and never singing half of the selections that evening, it was quite a free for all, but amazingly fun with moments of surprisingly good music. The funny thing about it is I had no anxiety, no second thoughts about performing, no second guessing my decision to say, “I’ll be there!”, something that happens to me a lot at home, especially when I find myself before a performance with little preparation and rehearsal and afterwards having had little or no fun. So there I was last night in front of at least a hundred people, a lot of them familiar, playing with musicians I never played with before and hardly knew, performing songs I didn’t know much less rehearse, having a blast. This morning at Zen Café, the conversation centered on “stepping into the void”. Mike, the husband of one of the yogis in training, (they graduated tonight!), told me that they were pretty sure they were going to relocate from Atlanta to Nosara. We talked about that feeling of “not knowing” regarding the future for his young family and the amount of faith it takes to make a move like that especially with young children and for me the mystery of my day to day life here with all this "space" and how difficult it is to take that first step. Later when I returned to my new nest, I received a message from Shelly, an old friend from high school who was keeping up with my posts. She herself was contemplating this very thing “embracing the unknown with strength and determination”- especially at a cross roads. She wisely stated “It can’t just happen wishing and praying if you don’t take the steps”. Taking the steps, even baby steps will get you where you want to go and if your not sure exactly where that is, step anyway. I spent the rest of the afternoon listening to the rain while I practiced the guitar and sang new songs.

Me Jane, You Tarzan

Yesterday I moved into my “final resting place” here in Nosara, Casa Del Ray. It is a fully equipped one bedroom efficiency beneath a large vacation rental home on a piece of lush jungle property overlooking the ocean. (By the way, it’s for sale) I have hot water, wi-fi, doors that close and even access to a washer and dryer. The infinity pool, Jacuzzi, outdoor kitchen and numerous outdoor showers are also available for me to use. There is a care taker on the premises daily in case I need anything and housekeeping service once a week. This is a far cry from my recent role as “Jane of the Jungle”. When I was a little girl my dad would gather all of his girls together on Friday night, there were five of us, to watch Johnny Weissmuller in “Tarzan”. My Dad an avid swimmer, ex boxer and totally fit man identified with Weissmuller who was a champion athlete and five time Olympic gold medalist before turning to acting and he enjoyed the jungle drama, feats of strength and power and subtle romance between Tarzan and Jane, just as much if not more than we young girls did. I loved it. I imagined what it would be like to live with Tarzan in the trees and I romanticized about the “wildness” of it all, swinging from the tree tops on vines to perfectly appointed platform tree houses, bathing in waterfalls, Tarzan’s body. The night would always end with my dad, demonstrating his strength to his five girls waiting in anticipation for him to carry us all at once, up the stairs and to bed, all of us laughing and hanging on to anything we could for dear life. For now, I’ll leave the swinging on the vines to the Howler Monkeys here and trade the waterfall for a hot shower, grateful that I finally have a place to rest my head that has four walls, a roof and no need for mosquito netting. And Tarzan? He’ll be flying in on Saturday from playing two concerts in West Palm Beach tonight and tomorrow.

Too Many Choices, Too Much Stuff

The Zen Café is the perfect place to hide away when it is raining and it has been raining everyday here now for as long as I can remember. There is usually a short window of sunshine each morning, but by 10:00 am the sky is cloud covered with rain alternating between a light mist and a torrential downpour. I am on my third umbrella since I arrived here in Nosara- I don’t even use an umbrella at home- and this current umbrella suffered a mishap last night causing the handle to break off in the middle. It still works, just a little awkward holding the skinny metal pole with no handle and a little frightening when there is lightning because I feel like a walking lighting rod. Yesterday at Zen, while the rain came down in sheets, between cups of coffee, matte, organic smoothies and tea, the conversation danced from alligators eating a horse crossing the river yesterday, the music of Fishbone and English Beat, life in the U.S., men who are a wreck and need a vision quest, to the most common topic of my trip thus far discussed by locals, travelers and aspiring locals alike- how life is hard in the U.S. because we have too many choices and too much stuff. I understand about the stuff. The older I get the more I crave the serene feeling of a minimalist environment. I think our home on the Outer Banks of North Carolina reflects this sentiment with just the right amount of furnishings, art and plenty of “surfaces”, but our garage is a complete contrast to the space above-it is packed full of stuff. I don’t even know what half of it is. Travelin’ light. I’ve met a lot of people who are completely ready to shed the skin of their lives in the United States and Canada- their jobs, big houses, cars, stuff. Mary, a Naturopath and therapist making the transition to full time living in Nosara, told me she will make less money, but she will have what she needs- nothing more, but maybe less at times. And what I’m hearing from some of the people that I’ve met here who are struggling with less, especially now in the challenging rainy season with little tourism, is that the struggle is what makes them feel alive. I get a sense of what that feels like. Having to walk everywhere, not having the convenience of hot water or a washer and dryer or even more luxurious items like the internet and a real grocery store has made me slow down and really think about what I’m doing, like making sure I hang my hand washed socks in the sun when it comes out! Choices are minimal and I can see how that can be appealing. It does seem easier. At home where to go for dinner is a tough choice. Here, most people can’t afford to go out and so they cook simple meals at home, beans, rice, fish and plantains. There is no movie theater; I’m the only live music in town, no ethnic restaurants, no library, and no bookstore. Not to mention the lack of services we take for granted at home like emergency medical care and animal clinics. Being a Libra, I think I am more apt to want a balance of sorts, an unencumbered life with not so much stuff so I can be free to move around without having to worry about it and at the same time have the kind of life that does afford choice- what to eat, music to listen to, theater, culture, books- these things are important to me and knowing that these choices exist for me in my life back home makes me feel very grateful. When I come home I plan on bringing some of the “simplicity” of this rustic living to my daily life there, I’ll walk/ride my bike more, eat simply, conserve, appreciate the richness of a life with choices and yes-surf.

When The Path Does Not Reveal Itself

One of my nicknames is Miss Results. It states the obvious-I’m the kind of person who is results oriented, tackling events, programs or projects with gusto, most of the time sure of what the outcomes will be even before I arrive there and if an idea for a project or something I start working on looks like it may not meet it’s goals, it doesn’t happen. I tried my best organizing my life like a project-making sure my children were well educated, home schooling them in elementary school when the schools didn’t meet their needs and private schools for Lucy, when she was having difficulties in high school. I researched the best camps, planned diverse adventures mapping everything out to make sure nothing was missed. My relationship with Dan didn’t necessarily receive the same attention, but to me the outcomes were clear; this is a solid marriage and nothing would change that. I was so stubborn in this belief that when things started changing with Dan, an affair was the last thing I would’ve guessed, I actually would’ve bet on it. When the realization hit me, I found myself in unfamiliar territory, in shock and scared to death. I tackled this dilemma like I do everything-devouring all the knowledge available in books, web-sites, counselors and therapists-after all, I’m Miss Results, I can fix this. I was battling blind and it took its toll on me physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. For the first time in my life I couldn’t solve this problem. I was lost. What do you do when the path does not reveal itself and you don’t know where to go? When I was looking for the path through the jungle on Sunday, I watched a runner ahead of me leap with agility in to the green. I watched, then followed and then eventually found the path on my own. Dealing with an affair is a unique experience. First of all, most people do want to hear about it much less talk about it and most therapists, although well meaning, have never experienced an affair. It wasn’t until I found someone, Anne Bercht, founder of Beyond Affairs Network, who had not only gone through the experience, but had come out on the other side with her marriage not only intact, but better, that I could see a tiny glimmer of light. I could relate to this. This was the path I wanted to take, so I followed her. Affairs are not so different from other crises of the self and according to statistics; a lot of us are experiencing them. Finding someone to talk to who can shed light on, empathize and really listen, understand and reassure you of the “normalcy” of what you are going through, regardless of what the situation is like seeing your location on the GPS screen after being lost for so long. It’s a relief. It is not a guarantee, however that the path will lead to your desired destination. One of the most valuable lessons I learned from my recent experience is that it really did not have anything to do with me. Anne says, “My husbands affair had nothing to do with me, if it did, I would’ve made sure it never happened!” We can’t control the actions of the people in our lives that we live and work with, but finding someone who has walked the path that you desire certainly helps us on our journey.

Indecision 2010

I woke up yesterday to rain. Feeling a little groggy from my late night Saturday, I moved slowly through my morning routine. As I was looking around I noticed that my flip-flops were missing. This might not seem like a big deal, but they are my only pair and there is no way to replace them here due to the size of my feet-11. I realized I must have left them at La Luna where I was singing the night before. I also realized that if I wanted to retrieve them I would have to go soon because I could only get there during low tide. Having only boots as my other footwear option, I donned my Dingos and hit the trail. Walking to La Luna is always an adventure. By road it is about three miles, but the beach and jungle path will get you there in 20 minutes. I attracted some funny looks, walking the beach in my boots without a horse, I just smiled, “Buena Dias!” At the very north end of the beach is a rocky point. The jungle spreads out to meet the sand and the shoreline is nothing but scraggy roots, piles of weathered wood and sand. At low tide you can climb all around the rocks and apparently the fishing is really good there. During high tide the rocks are completely covered with the water right up to the edge of the jungle. I approached the end of the beach as the tide was beginning to rise, but had plenty of time. I did have to leap over a small river and splashed down in ankle deep water. It really didn’t matter because the rain was coming down harder and I was pretty wet. The path does not reveal itself and if you don’t know where to go, it’s really hard to find. I saw a runner ahead of me jump the river and disappear into the trees. I fixed my eyes on where he entered and headed that way. Aha, I know this way, it’s definitely shorter than the path I had been taking which took me all around the Hotel De Nosara, the abandoned Middle Eastern style castle perched on the top of the point. This path goes right in front of the hotel and leaves you on the dirt road to “Downtown Pelada”. La Luna is a stones throw from the end of the path and I arrived to see two tables overlooking the sea, both seated with friends of mine looking like they were fresh out of the surf and enjoying what appeared to be frozen tropical fruit drinks while watching the rain come down. Gerardo, La Luna’s manager held out my flip flops, thank the lord, and gave me a bottle of water. I visited with my friends and then not wanting to get caught in too much high water, decided to walk the road home. Pelada is adjacent to Guiones and apparently has some pretty good property deals. There is a market-Pancho’s, a coffee house with internet, Olga’s right on the beach that serves tipico food where you can sit and watch the fishing boats come in and a few other businesses. It’s pretty rustic and if you don’t need much and don’t mind being away from most of the “action” Pelada is a good place to finds deals. Soaking wet by this point I trudged through the little business district saying, ”hola” to locals with their arms full of groceries, huddled under umbrellas, just off the bus from town. On the main road it wasn’t long before Bill my guitarist pulled up coincidentally, I jumped in and headed home. The rain kept getting heavier and heavier with lightning and thunder joining in. I noticed my mood getting heavier as well and decided a nap was in order. Hours later, I had a hard time getting out of my comfy nest under the netting with the storm still raging outside, but I had to sing tonight, even though I knew with the rain we may be cancelled. Wearing my flip flops I splashed trough puddles and mud to arrive at Casa Tucan only to find that we were indeed rained out. Waking this morning to more rain, my mood still heavy, I went to a Pilate’s class, my first and tried to enjoy the hour of torture- It was hard. Alli is the local instructor here who has converted much of the yogi community to Pilates and by look of some of the bodies I’m seeing around here, I might have to give it a try. Afterwards I walked around lost in my thoughts, the U2 song, I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For, playing in my mind and I decided I was going to try to change my ticket and come home. Unfortunately, or fortunately I can’t. There is no flexibility with my ticket since I booked it with frequent flyer miles and the next available flight anyway is August 11th. Okay, plan A it is and with nothing else to do, the rain ending, I grabbed a board from Luigi and went surfing. I talked to my son briefly tonight; He had overheard some of the conversation between Dan and I and told me he always experienced a period of being uncomfortable on his travels-he’s traveled extensively in Italy and New Zealand and is quite an adventurer-“It’s good sign”, like Lenore, Josh said, “Things are happening”. Yes, things are happening. No more indecision for me. It’s out of my hands.

Annexation Celebration

Nosara is not without memories for me, this is the fourth time that I’ve returned to this village on the Guanacaste Peninsula .The first time we came here for a family Christmas. We rented a house, “Casa Frisbee” from Harbor Reef, a wonderful hotel and property management company and filled it with the four of us, two friends of Josh and Lucy’s, Dan’s sister and her two kids and our good friends Kellie and Trish the Dish. Nosara is a wonderful place for a family holiday or getaway. There is just the right combination of relaxation and adventure for people like us who love the beach, nature and other cultures and don’t mind “roughing it” a little with the absence of cable, sometimes no air conditioning and other perceived necessities. We’ve had two Christmases here, a dear friends 60th birthday and I’ve come one other time with my daughter Lucy to sing and work. Tonight I found myself at the Tropicana Disco Bar, a rustic open air dance hall in the heart of downtown Nosara. Dressed to kill in my new Krel Wear dress, watching dancers move to urban Latin mixes against black lighting and flashing disco lights, I looked around noticing the entire place was decorated with stalks of corn, primitive torch lighting, altars with coconuts and other Costa Rican symbols. We were celebrating Guanacaste Day. Guanacaste Day is a Costa Rican holiday celebrating Costa Rica's annexation of Guanacaste province from Nicaragua in 1824. The celebration of Guanacaste Day and its importance to Costa Rica reflects Costa Rican culture. Costa Ricans value family, education, democracy, peace and machismo. Apparently Costa Rica provided this value base, where Nicaragua could not. Good reasons to celebrate. The last time I was here at the Tropicana was New Years Eve, five months after the disclosure of Dan’s affair. In the midst of all the pain and heartache we put forth our best efforts to come together with family and friends for our Costa Rican holiday. Dan had given me a ring that Christmas, a “promise ring” signifying his intention to work his way back to the center of our relationship-our marriage. It was uncharacteristic at that time for Dan to give me such a sentimental gift- it meant a lot. Sitting here tonight I can see exactly where Dan and I were holding each other on the dance floor minutes before the dawn of the New Year, 2007, the huge net of balloons bulging above our heads, everyone around us dancing and smiling. “Feliz Ano Nuevo!” Happy New Year. Our eyes locked and we had our first kiss of the New Year. It was so intense, passionate and for me, so full of hope. Sitting here all the feelings came rushing back. It will be another year after that New Years Eve before Dan officially “annexes” from his troubles and joins the province of our relationship, our marriage, our home-me. Looking around at everyone celebrating Guanacaste’s permanent union with Costa Rica, I am hoping for a future celebration of my own to mark, or I should say “re-mark” this new permanence.