How It Began (Lots of Tears in the Tropics)

I ended up in Monteverde, Costa Rica, because I wanted to learn Spanish.

It was the beginning, but I didn’t realize it at the time. I was (much) younger, with aspirations of learning Spanish and the unfortunate predicament of not being particularly good at acquiring foreign languages. I remember those first Spanish classes and pity the younger version of me, who cried a lot after class and felt so embarrassed by all the mistakes she made.

I hadn’t gotten to the point in my life where I didn’t give a sh*t about being imperfect. Back then, I still had to get it all right the first time, and I never did when it came to Spanish.

Perfectionism is a disease from which I am still recovering. Lots of women are. Let’s embrace the messiness of life, ladies, and cut ourselves some slack.

Enjoying fresh coconut water in Costa Rica.

Despite all the crying over verbs and feelings of inadequacy, I will give my younger self props for being determined and adventurous. I struggled during formal classes and showed no natural talent, but this did not stop me from signing up for a multi-month Spanish course in Costa Rica, where I studied at a local college and lived with a host family, the members of which spoke no English.

That was the real beginning of Spanish, more tears, some good friendships, and my first taste of what it could be like to live abroad and wear flip-flops daily instead of wool sweaters and rain boots.

Mostly, I liked it.

The Nicoya Peninsula in Costa Rica is a Blue Zone on our planet.

I liked being abroad so much that I went back for more about a year later, moving to Costa Rica, then Guatemala and then, much later, Spain.

But it was those Costa Rica days that kicked it all off. I would like to tell you that during those many months in Costa Rica, living among locals and working in a school, I learned a clean, beautiful Spanish and suddenly started dreaming in another language, a sure sign of bilingual achievement.

But, of course, that did not happen. My Spanish was slow and rocky, and over the years I collected idioms, nouns, and verbs at a sloth’s pace.

I saw sloths, in fact. They hung from the trees in Monteverde, Costa Rica, where I lived during my second stint in the country. Their gray fur was tinged green from moss, and their faces seemed to constantly smile, though I’m not sure that sloths really do grin, or if that’s just their “resting sloth face.”

Monteverde is a cloud forest, and it is also a magical mountain destination surrounded by natural reserves packed with critters that I had previously only seen in National Geographic.

Giant trees in the natural reserves in Costa Rica.

In my new Monteverde home base, I spotted raccoon-like coatis who pranced in great families across jungle pathways and howler monkeys who bellowed across hillsides and shook the treetops when they cruised from one feeding spot to the next.

Monteverde was a wild place where rainbows arched from hill to hill, and morpho butterflies the size of my hand rested on vibrant blooms. It was rural, but it was paradise, mountainous and much cooler than the humid beaches and their sizzling 85-degree sunny days.

I packed a bag and hit the road with my budding Spanish skills to travel all over Costa Rica. I spent weeks on the Caribbean swimming in electric blue water and not wearing enough sunscreen.

A friend came to visit, and we went to the Osa Peninsula, one of the farthest southern regions of the country, which at the time was difficult to get to. It still is remote, and an organization called Animal Experience International does turtle rehabilitation there.

The Osa is one of the best places in Costa Rica to see wildlife, but getting there takes some doing.

Beautiful hot springs in Costa Rica. The country is covered with them!

Most of my travels in Costa Rica were along the Pacific Ocean. I sipped (lots of) Imperial beer and ate casados in the northern beach town of Tamarindo, then traveled south to Manuel Antonio National Park.

I walked the palm-fringed playas of the Nicoya Peninsula, which I later learned is one of the Blue Zones on our planet. I was not surprised by this, and now, when I lead tours to Costa Rica, I take people to the Nicoya to Samara and Puerto Carrillo.

Stunning beaches of Puerto Carrillo along the Nicoya Peninsula, a Costa Rica Blue Zone.

The younger me, hatless and stumbling through being alone in another country in a different language, had no idea that the more mature me would be here all these years later, facilitating groups in Monteverde, Rincón de la Vieja, and along the Nicoya.

I could not have imagined this outcome then. I had other dreams, other plans, some of which came to fruition and others that disappeared.

There is one dream which always remained. Spanish.

I so wanted to speak and understand. I didn’t give up. Learning something new is a series of mistakes, failures, and occasionally a win. A language, like anything, is mostly just about showing up and practicing.

There is a happy ending here: I do speak Spanish. I speak it every day. I speak to my dogs, and I speak to my husband. I speak to my Spanish in-laws and friends. I speak it on tours in Spain and Costa Rica and anywhere else where it’s the primary language. I write emails in Spanish. I read it. And sometimes, I dream in it.

Sunset on the beach in the town of Samara in Costa Rica.

Costa Rica is a country I love. It is a magical place.

I’ll be leading a tour to Costa Rica from January 28 to February 3, 2022, along with birder and naturalist guide Alexa Stickel. We will be in Monteverde and also on the Nicoya Peninsula, both places I spent a lot of time in when I lived in the country.

Get in touch to learn more about our Costa Rica tours for women.