I didn’t move to Costa Rica for its beaches or rainforests. I moved for a man—Daniel, my high school sweetheart. It sounds like a cliché straight out of a reality TV show, but this was my reality. A self-proclaimed feminist, I grew up believing I could be anything. I fought for a unisex ice hockey team in high school, not to play, but to prove I could. I built a career that took me across the U.S. and the globe, furnishing apartments from grandma’s hand-me-downs to Crate and Barrel orders. Independence defined me.
Reconnecting with a Dream
Daniel and I reconnected in 2023 via a Facebook message I nearly missed while hunting for a Milo Baughman dining set. He was in California, I was in Arizona—close enough to rekindle what we’d lost after high school. He shared his dream of building an eco-lodge in Costa Rica’s Sarapiqui, on a hill perfect for his vision but terrible for cattle. He’d been traveling there for a decade as a wildlife photographer and tour leader. When he asked me to join him, I balked. I had a Volvo, a career I’d clawed my way through, and a Master’s degree earned on weekends. Leaving it all for a high school sweetheart’s dream? Unthinkable.
Over a year, Daniel brought me to Costa Rica four times. I saw the hill, met his friends, tried gallo pinto, and stumbled through Spanish. But it was his dream, not mine—until I got laid off.
A Turning Point
The layoff wasn’t a surprise, but I’d ignored the signs. By Tuesday, I was jobless. By Friday, Daniel and I eloped. The following week, I was in Costa Rica—not for a vacation, but to live. We set up a mosquito net in a shelter for building materials and called it our bed. A Kohler showerhead I’d lugged on the plane became our bathroom, rigged to a water tank. A battered Suzuki Samurai replaced my Volvo. We settled not on the expat-heavy coasts, but in a remote jungle village with only two other Americans within 30 miles.
Facing the Reality
My family and friends were shocked. This wasn’t my dream. But here’s what I hadn’t admitted: I had no dream left. I’d hit career milestones, traveled the world, and built a life I loved. What was next? A promotion? Another career pivot? I wasn’t settling—I was comfortable enough to stop running. The layoff was a dead end, and for the first time, I chose a destination without fleeing something else: a life with Daniel in a foreign land.
Lessons from the Jungle
Costa Rica isn’t the idyllic escape I imagined. It’s exhausting—construction crews with a “Pura Vida” schedule, prices rivaling Los Angeles, and streets without names. The jungle backdrop feels like “Avatar,” with giant plants and colorful birds, but also torrential rain and bizarre festivals where kids march with lantern-like cooking pots and Pokémon. Yet, I’ve learned I can:
- Shower outdoors without hot water (though I don’t love it).
- Sleep in an open-air garage with palm-sized bugs.
- Thrift in foreign cities with limited Spanish to furnish a hotel.
- Build a business.
- Learn a language.
- Leave everything behind.
Most importantly, I’ve learned I can do it with someone else—a challenge even reality TV struggles to capture.
A New Chapter
Is this feminist? I’m too tired to care. Unlike corporate America, building a business in Costa Rica exhausts me to my core. But it’s a risk I chose, not one I ran from. This chapter, set against Costa Rica’s wild beauty, is about love, reinvention, and finding purpose when the dreams you had are done.
