I climbed into bed recently and a gecko scuttled out from under the pillow and threw itself onto the floor, where it froze motionless, as if I couldn’t see it. I quite like geckos, they eat bugs and tend to stay hidden, but they’re a little unsettling when they choose to hide under my pillow. 

I had a crazy just-fell-asleep-dream a couple of nights ago, the kind which you wake up from with a wrench and wonder if you’ll ever fall asleep again. In it I was driving a car but the steering was out of control, I had to grip the wheel and hold it hard to the left in order not to careen into a long row of adobe houses. It felt apt given the chaos surrounding my charming home, although I don’t yet know whether I will crash and burn or manage to steer it to safety. 

I sit on my lovely terrace, the massive hanging ferns blowing in the strong breeze that likely heralds afternoon rain, and wonder whether I am wearing rose-tinted glasses when I look at Costa Rica. I have lived some beautiful years of my life here, I have returned for holidays and enjoyed the lifestyle, the weather and, most importantly, my friends. But can I manage re-entry? What would I do here?

But before I get distracted with all that, let’s raise a glass to my friends here - they have opened their hearts and their homes in a way that bowls me over. Within days of realising that my gorgeous, charming 300-year old adobe house was untenable because of the noisy intersection just the other side of the wall, I had offers from four friends to move into their homes, or their neighbour’s homes, or to use their house when they would be away. 

I think this comes from expat living. We are all living in a foreign country, we may speak the lingo, have Tico friends, worked a full time job, raised children and perhaps been here for decades, but once upon a time we were all new. At some point, everyone received support from others to learn, to cope, to figure out the cultural differences and the ways of the country. There is an acquired awareness.

My current exploration, though, is less about the geography and more about purpose, less about environment and more about using this time to ponder those existential questions. I do realise that most people don’t wrestle with these questions, and perhaps I am a little envious of that. I also know that raising existential issues is a little like people recounting their dreams. There is a limit. Yet I’ve managed to do both in this one post! Maybe I will attempt to dial it down so as not to stir things up for otherwise content people, but probably not.

My plans seem to change on a daily basis, so this blog post feels as though it’s already edging past its sell-by date. Let me launch it into the world, and then soon I can bring you up to date again with new adventures. All I know at this point is that  they will involve house-hunting, shrimp, the beach, a home amongst the trees and flight to Grand Cayman.

I will miss this beautiful terrace...

...but not the chaos surrounding it.