Read part one HERE ...How Do We Live Our Lives? With Abandon and Lotsa Moxie!
Read part two HERE ...Wecome To Living In Costa Rica ...Your Homecoming Includes A Shakedown At Customs!
Read part three HERE ...We Arrive, We Collapse, We Move In To Paradise...Right?
Having left off in our saga with just moving in to our new house, I know by now after reading about

We needed to get our jewelry to a safe place while we settled in. Costa Rica is a sizzling irony of opposites and the idea of safety for one's belongings, not being able to buy homeowners or renters insurance, not being able to trust your household help or your drivers, the landlord, your freinds or anyone else for that matter was/is an anomoly. Paranoia was the word of the day!

We were so lucky having our Canadian expats there to help us as well as a few friendly Ticos before we even arrived. They got the place clean and loaned us some furniture while we awaited the arrival of our container with the remains of our belongings. So we had a garden table and chairs two beds, a batch of mismatched but very usable kitchen gear, plates, silverware and ten thousands pounds of jewelry! What else could two girls ask for except maybe some new shoes!


Hearing this right up front we had to get our goodies to a good hiding place and in a safe until we could figure out how to do it ourselves. This is not an absolute and don't get me wrong, theft doesn't happen to everyone. But caution and common sense are the words of the day and we needed to learn that quickly.
There's an agency in San Jose run by expats for expats to help them get resettled and handle all kinds of affairs that crop up when moving to a new and very foreign country. We had previously met the chief boss man on a former trip down and arranged to put some of our valuables in the safe at the agency.

In my brilliant logic I decided that our gobs of goodies would be safer if we carried them around in plastic grocery store bags rather than in brand new fancy schmancy knap sacks. Each of us had two large bags, one for each hand and after mustering our courage headed out from the hotel to the agency. We looked like two old yentas schlepping through the shtettle at gunpoint with our purses slung over our necks and a large, overstuffed grocery bag in each hand and our faces laced with imagined terror.

Ticos are very laid back, matter-of-fact people who tend to take things as they come. That was the first day I was told, "tranquilo, tranquilo" by everyone we met. In other words, "chill out and calm down!" The more they told me to be tranquilo the more agitated I got. What had I gotten myself into?
We had to sit there forever waiting for the chief boss man to see us because when we got there he was out to lunch and when he returned he had a meeting that lasted until god went to his siesta that afternoon. Didn't they know we had dynomite with lit fuses in our bags for crying out loud?!
FINALLY! It was our turn. He didn't see the reason for our anxiety. He's been living there too long. He's 'one of them' now.

Into the safe it all went, I was so relieved I nearly cried. And to this day I cannot fathom what got into my head that I would convince myself to leave thousands and thousands of dollars of jewelry in a strange man's safe in an agency run by foreigners who must know what I was carrying, in a city I had only be in only for 36 hours and why I was willing to walk away from all of it and somehow know it was safe. But the mind plays tricks for survival and I had first tricked myself into being terrorized and then into being sane... or explode.
We went home with ANOTHER taxista who was absolutely sure that where we now lived was indeed via a route through Nicaragua and Guatemala. "It's only another few minutes" two hours and dozens of dollars later. We had landed in paradise and boy were we in for it over the next two years. Pura Vida!