In September of 2005, at the ripe age of 55, I left the United States behind and moved with 140 pounds of my earthly belongings to Costa Rica.

I had decided to get divorced and I wanted not only a new life, but a new place to live my life.

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The previous February, I had enrolled in a Spanish language class in Sarasota, Florida, to exercise my brain. There, I met Jane, a woman my age who said she was learning Spanish so she could live in Costa Rica, because she could no longer afford to live in the United States.

Costa Rica? Hmm, from my years of vacationing in Aruba, I knew that the plane flew over Central America, but I didn’t know anything about Costa Rica specifically. So I planted myself in front of my computer for several hours every day for two months and consumed as much information as I could about this isthmus of a country.

When Jane said she was going to Costa Rica in July to see if she really wanted to live there, I hopped onboard. We had both narrowed our focus of interest to the Central Valley, which lies in the middle of the country.

The temperatures in the Central Valley range from the mid-60s at night to the low-80s during the day. Growing up in Massachusetts, I knew I was supposed to live in a warmer place, yet three years in humid Florida made me long for cooler and less humid summer days. Here in Costa Rica, the weather feels ideal year-round. Most days I wear a t-shirt and capris.

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During our two-week fact-finding mission, I fell in love with the Costa Rican people. They are friendly and helpful and have a joyous view of life, as witnessed by the countrys motto “pura vida.” This is a common saying among Ticos (native Costa Ricans) and foreigners alike. Literally meaning “pure life,” the expression is used to greet, to say goodbye, and to communicate appreciation. “Pura vida” also conveys happiness about living in this beautiful country.

Jane and I were shown four rental properties as examples of what could be available if we chose to live here. And wouldn’t you know, I fell in love with the first house I saw. I hadn’t even made the conscious decision to move to Costa Rica when I heard myself say, I’ll take it.

The house measured about 1,800 square feet, which was more than enough space for just myself. What appealed to me most was the land  one acre of tropical garden, fruit trees, flowers and herbs. I could heal from the divorce in this spiritual haven.

We flew back to Florida. I was all excited about my impending move; however, Jane was not ready to commit to a new country. It’s funny how things turn out sometimes. Maybe she was just meant to be the catalyst for my life change.

In five weeks I sorted through a lifetime of stuff. I packed clothes, books, pictures, music and a few possessions; I gave, sold or threw the rest away. I spent days detaching from memorabilia. Having started journaling at the age of nine, I had accumulated dozens of journals. I skimmed through them, saved four journals and tore out a few pages from others, then threw the rest away. Why carry old baggage to a new beginning? The writing was cathartic when I did it; I didn’t need to lug around the actual words on paper.

I arrived in Costa Rica and immediately began my new life, filled with one adventure after another. Check back here often to read about them&

Written by Margie Davis

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