On A Wing and a Prayer – Living in Costa Rica

Something wondrous happens each time I return to Costa Rica.

As the plane touches the tarmac at Juan Santamaria International, it begins – an opening, marked by deeper, slower breathing, an unclenching of shoulders, jaw and fists. When I reach the balmy evening air and head for a cab, I’m awash in an upwelling of love and joy. It’s a spiritual experience, nothing less.

I’m not a religious person. Man-made, organized religions make me itch. Yet, living in this tiny peaceful nation bridging two massive and often conflicting continents, I have come to see The Great Spirit in almost everything.

In my former life, I was a New Yorker. Worked in Manhattan; slept on Long Island. Unsmiling faces on subway and street passed me by day after day. Eye contact was rare or scary. Huddled masses yearning; quiet desperation; I observed a lot of Kafkaesque cliches, which, upon reflection, may have been a projection of my own tortured head.

Here I have found a connection to something deeper, longer-lasting, greater, even, than the daily news. For one thing, there’s the hysterical exuberance of Nature that surrounds us. If you don’t get God from the delicate roar of a Congo monkey, the tenderness of an all-night rain, or the aching sweetness of a morning mango, then your soul may need more time here.

And then there’s the melting warmth of the national character. These spirit-centered beings make eye contact; they greet with handshakes, hugs and kisses. They take time to be. They are, in short, human beings rather than human doings. They’d probably be arrested in Manhattan.

There is no separation of Church and State in Costa Rica, which makes for lots of official Catholic holidays with names like The Day of Our Lady of Perpetual Misery. On the big holy days, commemorating appearances of saints or birthdays or crucifixions of messiahs, churches are thronged with the devout and traffic is rerouted to accommodate processions replete with costumed villagers reenacting with alarming veracity this or that major holy event.

Costa Ricans take their Church seriously, at least to the degree that it’s comfortable.

Local language customs reflect the general piety that pervades Costa Rica. The simple word “adios” means, literally, “to God.” At the end of every verbalized plan comes the inevitable “si Dios quiere,” or “God willing.” Greetings frequently end in “gracias a Dios.” (How are you? I’m fine, thanks to God)

Yet Costa Ricans are remarkably tolerant of other religions and the English language paper, The Tico Times, lists services for 23 separate religious organizations.

Does all this spirituality mean we live in Utopia? Heavens, no. We have a small dollop of all the evils that beset the rest of the world. And yet there seems to be a pooling of light here, a gathering of love, the space needed for us all to find what we are searching for.

Barbara Adams is a long-term resident of Costa Rica originally from the Unites States and she is also one terrific masseuse. (Note from Scott the founder of this site.)

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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.