I was reading back through some of my old journals I packed with me from the last few years and I happened to notice that aside from the year of the pandemic, I have spent the last five birthdays in other countries: China, Korea, Japan, now Costa Rica. It looks like this year will be another.
I find myself, having lost all sense of time and schedule, enjoying morning sunrise walks on the beach, fresh food in nature, and writing. I feel much more in alignment with myself here, despite the deep isolation and solitude of this place, a remote area of 500 population during the low season.
Following the morning’s walk along the beach, I prepared more of the Mahi that was left in the fridge. An entire length of Mahi goes a long way for one person. I proceeded to eat the equivalent of four fillets which would have cost top dollar in any nice restaurant. I felt a great sense of satisfaction in that. I am still not quite confident about washing my dishes after fish with cold water from a spigot, but that seems to be how they do it in Central America. I was assured it was safe.
I am doing well in weaning myself away from email and connectivity, at least for days at a time. It’s like I have pulled myself out of a video game everyone is still playing. Naps seem to constantly beckon me here.
Today was the vegetable truck. This means the truck goes to the nearby cafe, at which point Grace calls me via Whatsapp and relays in Spanish that they have arrived. I then have to quickly grab my backpack and walk down the dirt road to the restaurant to pick up my order, which means that I have to be at home on wifi when she calls. This morning she called. So I grabbed my backpack and rushed over to the restaurant. There was no truck. Once again I was reminded that there is no need to rush for anything here. Time doesn’t move. Grace tells me the truck will probably come in about 30 minutes. Keep in mind this is Tico time. So I decide I will walk to the beach and come back.
After taking my groceries home, 16 eggs, 6 bananas, 4 apples, 3 mangos, 3 avocados, I walk down the beach to bid farewell and offer gratitude for this day. The sun slowly meets the edge of the ocean. I send love and good energy to those I care for by name. It is barely 6pm.
The day began with the sun at 5:30am and gave 12 hours today without rain. Time seems endless here. Once the sun goes down I am already thinking of sleep.
And so I write and read about The Old Man and the Sea before quietly drifting away to my dreams.
Follow Kirk’s Adventure from the start
- The Start – Five years ago I was quietly living in a small 1100 square-foot home just outside my native hometown of Austin, Texas.
- Day 1 – My journey to Costa Rica, the Rich Coast, began at 4 AM on a crisp Sunday morning.
- Day 2 – Arrival into Costa Rica was quite smooth and seamless compared to my recent experiences in Japan where things are done to another level of precision and detail
- Day 3 – This morning I woke naturally at 5am as the light was already beginning to make its way through my window.
- Day 4 – There is a stretch of beach to
- Day 5 – Last night I drifted off to sleep while reading The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway.
- Day 6 – I heard the morning songs of exotic birds I had never heard before
- Day 7 – I have been quickly reminded once again that one can starve in Costa Rica if one does not know the local routine
- Day 8 – I was abruptly awakened before 5:30 am to the sounds of what I can only imagine to be monkeys in the trees just above my house.
- Day 9 – I began my walk toward the mountain, noticing the blisters on my feet
About the Author
Kirk Lee is a Writer, Meditation teacher and nomad currently living in Costa Rica. Kirk has been an explorer on the journey for over 25 years having traveled to 14 countries culminating in a year living in Kyoto, Japan. Kirk writes about travel through the lens of simplicity and kindness to be found in people and places of every culture. Explore Kirk’s travel journals at https://zenandink.substack.com/