After living in a new country for a few months, learning a new language and new customs, I began to feel overwhelmed and disconnected. I lived four blocks from downtown San José, the pulse of commerce and diversity; however, occasionally I found myself slipping into seclusion, fear, and loneliness.

There were days – not often – but there were days I stewed and yearned for something. I wanted a connection, but I didn’t know to what.




When my mind is clouded, I walk. I arose at sunrise, before the traffic congestion, and my dog and I went to a nearby park. I held the leash, and she carried the florescent pink and green Frisbee. Once at the park, I unleashed the dog and threw the disk. At ten years old, she could still leap in the air and catch a good throw. Occasionally a crowd would gather to watch her(sometimes she even got applause).




The morning traffic increased, so I tossed the Frisbee one more time, hooked my dog onto the leash, and we started for home. My head wallowed in this thing I couldn’t name – this disconnection and isolation. The wind was strong, and my dog’s ears pointed straight out like she was going to fly. She insisted on carrying her drool covered Frisbee, and I didn’t protest.

During those times when my brain is clouded and under foggy conditions, I also avoid driving, dying my hair platinum, and making any major fashion or accessory changes in my wardrobe.




Three blocks from home, I saw a woman up ahead. Her head was wrapped in a bright orange scarf. She was talking to a group of police officers. Her voice was high and chatty. I wanted to avoid her and a conversation. Somehow though, I knew our paths would cross the instant she saw my dog.

Immediately, she changed her direction from east to north and headed my way. I understood very little of what she said, but gathered she was fond of my dog. She laughed, smiled, and continued talking as we walked.




She asked me if the dog liked eating meat in the street. In my splintered Spanish I told her I was sure she would. Her olive face had deep lines, and her smile pressed into her gums because she was missing quite a few teeth.




The flowers on her skirt fluttered between her knees as she walked. All her hair was tucked under the scarf. Although I understood little of what she said, it was clear she was happy. She never stopped talking or smiling. She walked a zigzag, but it seemed with a purpose.

“I have to turn here,” I said as I pointed around the corner. She chatted a few more high pitched words about the dog. I said goodbye, and I left.




At the gate of my house, I unleashed the Frisbee dog and hitched up my other two, slightly behaviorally challenged dogs. I returned to the street where I had left the woman, and she was still there.




She stopped to pick up something from street. She unfolded the plastic bag and put the new found item inside. She closed the bag and tucked it under arm. She looked up and smiled, chatting again with excitement when she saw me with two new dogs.

The dogs wagged their tails, barked like maniacs and almost knocked me over to try and meet the woman. I pulled back the beasts, waved at the woman, and led the dogs in the opposite direction.




I looked back for a moment and watched her walk away. She flicked her hand like she had just laughed at something someone said. She turned a corner; I heard her laugh again and then she disappeared.




It began to rain, so the dogs and I raced back toward the house. I stopped where I had seen her last, and I looked for the orange scarf – for the woman with the strong calves, black shoes and white bag tucked under her arm, but she was gone.

Brain Clouds

I left the United States for many reasons. After a recent visit there, I felt overwhelmed by the big stores and fast freeways and reaffirmed my decision to live the simpler, less commercial life in Costa Rica. But every so often, there can be a day when I feel a little blue and disconnected in my new home land.




I’m sure I had felt this before (probably while wandering in some huge mall under florescent lights of a discount shoe store), but maybe the light shines on me a bit differently in Central America, and I notice.




The dogs couldn’t shake the rain off anymore and were dragging me home. I was drenched, but I didn’t change my clothes (not for awhile) because I wanted to remember, as long as I could, the rain and the woman with the orange scarf.

That day I could have thrown the Frisbee a few more times to my dog in the park; I could have stayed in bed five minutes longer; I could have walked a different path, and I never would have met the woman with the lined face, but I did.




For a few moments, I felt happiness from her voice, her smile, and her discoveries. I was connected (for a few moments) to someone. And for that moment, I was no longer alone. I was home again. The fog had lifted.

Written by Susan Lutz who is a film maker and writer living in Costa Rica. Her documentary film, The Coffee Dance available for sale an Amazon.com, follows a group of women in the depths of poverty as they strive for empowerment. She teaches film and lectures in Costa Rica. She’s produced radio documentaries and is currently finishing her first travel book on Costa Rica. She writes an internationally recognized blog on life in Costa Rica, Motherjungle.com and is the editor of the Organic Living Page on Allthingshealing.com

If you are serious about buying a home, apartment or land in Santa Ana or Escazu, then please contact us using the simple form below:

Andrew Makarik

to@welovecostarica.com

Andrew Makarik is the main editor of WeLoveCostaRica, a fan of this sunny country. He is also a loving husband and a has a lovely daughter. By being a devoted family man and the biggest Costa Rica fan, he wants to make more people feel at home there. WeLoveCostaRica unites people and helps them find new home or a new travel destination. This website is a friendly community where everyone can find not only information, but also new friends and travel pals. Andrew is also passionate about IT and programming, so he himself maintains a friendly atmosphere in this cozy environment of WeLoveCostaRica.com.