A friend reminded me recently that I have not written in a while. Too little time, too many excuses.

Maria, this one is for you.

The cabin project is proceeding at a nice, slow pace. When I become frustrated with this, I remind myself this is exactly how I operate in most areas of my life. Except for one: I have no problem buying big ticket items site unseen.

Fortunately for me, my best friend shares the same ailment. It makes for interesting conversations.

“The Dream” Take 1: A Bad Omen

In Costa Rican Dreamin’ I mentioned a tiny casita that had crossed our paths. The owners were local, and after many conversations, we (Dave and I, Kel and Brian) were ready to make an offer. I called the real estate agent. Kel uncorked the bubbly. Brian researched local beers and the fastest way to learn Spanish. Dave paced the floor in small concentric circles. All was right in the world.

But then, right in the middle of our deal-making conversation, one of the agent’s rescue dogs dropped dead from suspected food poisoning.

She fell to pieces. I was speechless. Rumi sprang up from a sprawl across my legs and shot out of the room into his crate.

Between bereft hiccups, she told me her agent partner would call me back.

In the time it took for the new agent to call us back and resume negotiations, we discovered something about the area that was a deal breaker. It came as a shock that this particular issue (highly polluted river close by) had escaped our initial research (but it is noteworthy that throughout the process, Kel had often said she felt like we were missing something).

I called the owners back, tail between my legs. The deal would not be going through. I felt sick on many levels. These were nice people and I hate not following through on promised delivery.

But bad omens cannot be ignored.

“The Dream” Take 2: Sweet Dreams

Kel and I decided to cool our buying-site-unseen-in-a-central-american-country jets for awhile. Dave stopped his frenetic pacing. Brian said learning Spanish probably wasn’t in his future anyway.

This lasted three weeks.

I blame our long winter. Trying to rouse body and spirit in cold, early morning darkness begs for warmer locale research. I have tried exercise. That lasted about two weeks.

It was on this chilly morning, propped up in bed with Rumi sprawled comfortably over my numb legs, that a brand new listing for a cute little studio condo in a great location popped onto my screen.

Outside my window, little ribbons of light filtered through the darkness. Rumi let out a poodle toot and sighed with satisfaction. A smelly calmness filled my body. Something about this little place felt right.

As I was due to work in an hour, I forwarded the listing to Kel. I needed her astute intuition on this one. She had known we were missing something previously.

She called me at lunch, and in true Kel style:

“I spoke to the agent. I like him. He’s straightforward – no BS. Call him. We should do this thing.”

And do this thing we did. Site unseen. Sent a slew of paperwork and proof that we were not money launderers. Wired money transfers to an escrow agent in San Jose. Used our agent Theo’s ex-wife as our local lawyer.

Manana…Until it is Needed Yesterday

Buying real estate in Costa Rica is an interesting process. It went quite well, all things considered. The main issue for me was our differing concepts of time.

When I would not hear anything from Theo (the ex-pat Canadian agent) or Rosa (his ex-wife lawyer) for a couple of weeks, I would reach out and ask if there was anything I needed to do…paperwork that needed signing? Money that needed sending? We were all anxious to get the deal done.

I was usually met with this response:

“It’s OK”

I decided that I needed to relax my North American nervous system, fraught with anxiety and stress, and just chill on the CR wavelength.

I was able to miraculously do just that, until receiving emails or messages that went something like this:

“Hello Karen I hope you are well. YOU NEED TO SIGN THESE PAPERS/DO THIS THING IMMEDIATELY!!”

Each time, I would want to lash out: and that is why I am constantly checking in to make sure there is nothing that needs doing from my end!! But what was the point? After all, we were foreigners buying property in their country. Who was I to judge the last minute blood-pressure sky-rocketing requests?

Theo is a man of few words but he gets the job done. About 6 weeks later, I received this message:

I think that is the Costa Rican Closing Day symbol. I like it.

Moment of Truth

Due to passport wait times and other factors, I was the only one in our group that was able to get down to see the newly purchased place. What a hardship.

After some convincing, I agreed to go down for a quick visit. I wanted to meet the property managers, scout out the primo fruit stands in the area, and basically ensure that we hadn’t purchased a piece of scrubland at the back of a farmer’s field. Even though it was just a few days, this would be the longest I had ever been away from Rumi. I wasn’t sure my heart could take it.

Dave assured me that Rumi would continue to receive 1000 kisses/day and multiple treats, so I reluctantly packed my bags. I justified the travel by calling it a business trip – a recon mission. We would either wind up with huevos on our faces or be pleasantly surprised.

When I let Dad know I would be going down, he had this to say (abridged version):

Dear Karen,

I have sent you some money so you can enjoy a good dinner out. How wonderful that you can get down to see the new place! BUT FOR GOD’S SAKES DO NOT LET ANYONE GIVE YOU PACKAGES AT THE AIRPORT TO BRING BACK FOR THEM. THAT WHOLE AREA IS THE BIGGEST FUNNEL FOR DRUG SMUGGLING FROM SOUTH AMERICA!!

Enjoy the adventure and have a wonderful trip, honey.

Love, dad

The property manager (another Canadian ex-pat) picked me up at the airport (first checkmark: he exists). We put-putted through pretty little towns and brown farmers’ fields under a happy sun. Shoulders and nervous system relinquish their soldier stance. So far, so good.

We pulled into the little complex and Dean handed me the keys. Things started to feel official. The beer I had chugged along the way was definitely helping.

The complex was smaller than I had imagined, the grounds infinitely better. Blue pools surrounded by well-kept tropical gardens, neat two-story buildings with pristine pathways. Birdsong was the only thing to break the silence. A couple of people sat by the pool but other than that, there was no other activity. My kind of place.

I unlocked the door and walked inside. It would be this moment that I would report back to Kel: the feeling, the vibe of the place. You can change furnishings and decor. Energy is much harder to shift.

Later that afternoon, flip flop and bathing suit clad, I sent a simple text to Kel:

We scored.

While the Good Karma Cabin is slowly getting ready for eventual visitors, Casita del Soul has its arms open and is waiting for you! If your soul needs a little replenishing, your spirit requires a little sunshine, contact me for a good-karma-cabin discount on the rental price.

Friends, we have all earned a little break.

Casita del Soul, Playa Ocotal Costa Rica