Going Home ( well, sort of)

The Long Road Home

And then as quickly as it began, it was over and I find myself sitting in the screaming baby section of American Airlines flight 2160 Costa Rica- Los Angeles with a short connection in Dallas.

I can’t go home and have to move into a hotel for a month or more until the hazmat team finishes doing whatever they do to get rid of poisonous mold spores and the construction crew once again creates a bathroom in the place formerly known as my condo. I spent a large portion of the past few days racking up insanely expensive international cell phone bills trying to deal legally/ financially with my landlord, trying to find a hotel that can accommodate me, two dogs and my teenage son who is visiting for Christmas, which has been no easy feat, I found at least a place to go to for the first couple of days but at least then I will be back on home turf and can navigate what to do much easier—still it feels so weird that I am flying home but can’t enter my own home to get things that I need because they have been all packed up and sealed in plastic and to even open the door , I would be exposing myself to deadly air borne spores--- But I digress…


I loved Costa Rica! We ended up finding a slip after a 9 hour run at Los Suenos truly the swankiest marina/resort that I have ever been in. Mark was having a boating dude orgasm at all the multi million dollar sport fishing yachts, we dined, we explored…when the guys were busy fixing stuff and dealing with immigration and customs, I hired Oscar the taxi driver to take me on a tour of the Jaco and Hermosa Playa the cool beach communities chock full of Gringos, surfers, Ticas (the Costa Rican natives) head shops, cafes, restaurants, tour operators, bars, trippy artsy boutiques – just an all-round wonderful scene. He dropped me off and I wandered around, had a chocolate ice cream cone and taxied back to the boat.

Last night, I went downstairs to Marks cabin and crawled in with him for a snuggle which I hadn’t done in quite a while. It felt good. By 6:00 am I was packed and back in the taxi with my new Tica best friend Oscar, who takes me up into the beautiful mountains of Costa Rica for a yummy breakfast with the view to die for and off to the airport in San Jose - back to the expensive, vain, rat race that is Los Angeles, California…back to feeling chubby and broke and never quite enough.

The Costa Rican's have an expression that they greet each other with and it really has come to symbolize the whole Costa Rican belief and way of life-- Pura Vida!!! It means pure life..

I want that kind of life--I want to move to the tropics—I want the chill lifestyle, I want the incredibly inexpensive way of living and I want the warmth in my body and soul. I wonder how long it will take me till I bite the bullet and go for it. For now though I will try to keep the mellow vibe with me as I re-enter.

Thanks for sharing the journey with me.

Oh and by the way, softie Mark—who still has two thousand miles of sea to navigate the Lor-E-Lei to bring her home, (and whom I truly do adore in spite of how irritated my rants may have sounded,) started tearing up big time as Oscar put my luggage in the taxi and hugged me like he was never going to let go. You gotta love a man like that. And I do.

Just Love,

Patrice