We tend to assume the way names function in our home country is simply “normal.” Or at least I definitely did. As it turns out, countries around the world are all playing by wildly different rules when it comes to naming conventions. I worked with a large population of refugees and immigrants when I first started my career and started to pick up on some of these differences from around the world… (did you know that, for example, in Iraq, your last name is usually your grandpa’s first name?
And that same last name won’t be your kid’s last name? Or something like that, my friend Bashar tried to explain it to me several times.) When I moved to Costa Rica, I slowly became aware of all the different forms of Tico name culture. Allow me to share a few that have really stood out to me over the years…
There is no such thing as a maiden name… In Costa Rica you keep the name you are born with for life and there are no changes for ladies when they marry. Where I grew up in rural Pennsylvania, your parents got married, your mom ditched her last name in a fairly tedious legal process, and then they went on to have a bunch of kids so you all could have the same last name and be the The Gallaghers, The Hartmans, The Seymours, etc. I looked forward to becoming Mrs. So and So someday, although my maiden name Walker did have a really nice ring to it.
However, I have gone on to appreciate the change, considering my unknown future life in Ticolandia and the historical context of William Walker in Costa Rica and his unsuccessful attempt to take Costa Rica by force in the 1800’s. I am sure I would have eventually gotten tired of the question… any relation to William??
Last name rules for babies… Speaking of keeping your name for life, this one threw me for a loop at 12 hours postpartum with my first son in a hospital in San Jose, as I very naively filled out very formal paperwork for the Costa Rican government to register his birth. Turns out there are very specific rules and laws regarding how babies must be named. In Costa Rica, babies are required to have TWO last names. You can’t put just one. Even if you beg and plead and cry with the lady from the registry with an IV in your arm after an emergency C-section. Those are the rules and they must be followed.
So here, traditionally, the father’s last name is put first and the mother’s last name is put second. Or to be technical, the father’s first last name and the mother’s first last name. Although moms are now allowed to put their first last name first after a recent change in the law. You still with me? As previously mentioned, I had changed my last name when I got married (this is always a mindblowing concept to my Latina girlfriends when I tell them this).
So in our case, we both only had one last name, which was fine because each of us only had to provide one last name, but it was the same last name, which turned out to be weird. So, we’ve got two Losasso Losasso boys running around Guanacaste. I can’t tell you how many times very kind and well meaning pediatricians and doctors have asked us ever so delicately if my husband and I are related as they thumb through our kids’ medical charts.
Stong nickname game… As a country, I feel like Costa Rica could be called the Land of Good Nicknames. I attribute it to the very relationship focused and warm, friendly culture. I would estimate 50% of the Ticos I know go by a shortened form or friendly form of their name (Steph, Ber, Lau, Meli, Carlitos, Rosi, Lor, Rafa, Isa, Patri, Ale, etc,) and a full 25% are exclusively going by a name that has nothing to do with their actual name. Don SauSau is Roger, Chin is Efrain, Nana is Eliana, Pito is José, Gata is Yessenia, Gato is … I literally cannot remember his actual name, I am sure I have never called him by it.
There are of course all kinds of lovely general nicknames people use here with their friends, loved ones, or even complete strangers. Bella. Guapa. Gordo. Papi. Pa. Mami. Ma. Macha. Macho. Mi Amor. Mi cielo. Mi vida. etc. It took me many years of improving my Spanish to earn my first Mami at a gas station, a true moment of pride.
In my case, most Ticos call me Lin. Which was a little weird for me at first because Linds is the common shorthand for Lindsay in the US. However, I adapted over the years after realizing that all of the crunched consonants together of the name Lindsay was a bit of a nightmare for many native Spanish speakers. I am especially delighted to be referred to as Doña Lin, which has such an elegant ring to it.
Confusing middle name usage… This one is not so widespread but enough that I notice it. I have a few acquaintances who go by either their first name or middle name interchangeably. I have gone years knowing someone by one name, and it turns out their actual first name is Roger or David, and my mind is blown.
Another example, I have a friend who sometimes calls her son Liam and sometimes calls him Alfonso, his name being Liam Alfonso. There seems to be zero explanation of when she uses one name over the other. I guess there is not a literal translation of Middle Name in Spanish… it is called your segundo nombre or Second Name here, more like a Plan B or option to mix it up as you wish.
Saving names in your phone here… My final highlight of the Costa Rican name game relates to how I tend to save numbers in my phone. I have 17 José´s in my contacts. So I need to differentiate them but it is highly unlikely for me to save that person by their last name.
So the naming convention I use is based on my interaction with the person. So I have José Ventana (Window), José Trash Truck, José Lawyer, José Pricesmart (random, I know), José Cocina (Kitchen), José Hijo de Paula (Paula’s son), José TV, Jose Goats, etc. etc. Sometimes I have to use the reverse convention… for example, I have 10 people saved in my phone with their last name as Backhoe, or more specifically Bajop as it is usually written here. What can I say… I’ve needed quite a few backhoes over the years.
