MARTIN THE INCOMPETENT REALTOR

While in the car, I glance down at the Costa Rica real estate magazine on my lap and marvel at the homes listed. Clay colored tile roofs, spacious bright rooms, and nymphs dancing on fountains in the middle of circular driveways. I turn the page and see a home with an infinity edge pool that looks like it’s cascading into the ocean view. I can’t afford any of these homes, but it will be fun to walk through their open houses and imagine a white gloved butler pouring me a Cosmopolitan while I work on my tan. This daydream stops short when Rob pulls the car over on a dirt road. He parks in front of a field that leads up into a densely wooded mountain. There are no infinity pools in site.

Martin tells us the entire stretch of land is for sale; forty acres of forest situated on a steep incline. There is a spectacular panoramic ocean view only visible at the tippy top. This seems pleasant enough information, and I am waiting for Rob to start the car again and take me to the spectacular mansion that surely waits. Instead, both Rob and Martin get out of the car, go into the trunk, and take out three pairs of black galoshes. I put down my magazine. “What are you doing?”

“Hey… why don’t we hike up the mountain and see what the view looks like at the top?” Rob answers. “It can’t be more than a mile.” He backs away and avoids making direct eye contact. His strategy when dealing with his wife is strikingly similar with how to avoid a bear attack.

It’s clear why he is worried asking me this. My last cardiovascular activity occurred around 1998 when the sewer pipe exploded in the basement, causing raw sewage from the street to back into my house. I was on a three-hour bucket brigade, running back and forth from the backyard to the basement before reinforcements came and installed a new pipe. It was an incredible workout, and I would highly recommend it to anyone who is looking to burn calories and/or flirt with Hepatitis A. Since then, I’ve become happily sedentary, not performing any exercise that would pump my heart to any level of physical exertion. Other than the tachycardia sewage crisis, my heart has always officially beaten a steady rhythm of eighty beats per minute, the perfect zone for eating a bag of potato chips while reading real estate magazines. Precisely what I was doing before we pulled the car over.

The plan is to hike up the mountain, through dense vegetation, along an ambiguously marked path. I am not sure why Rob is willing to do this. “Maybe it’s a good opportunity,” he says. I think it is more like a good opportunity to get lost in the woods for six hours. The whole idea is crazy, but I don’t have much choice. When I consider my fate sitting alone along the side of a deserted road versus contracting malaria while searching for my husband’s “good opportunity,” a mosquito-borne illness doesn’t sound that bad.

Martin hands me my galoshes. I kick off my flip-flops and try on the pair of boots, only to find they are two sizes too big. To make matters worse, it’s raining, and I don’t have any rain gear except my travel-sized pink umbrella. I think back to the man on the plane wearing his all-weather hat and conclude I was a little hard on the guy. I unfold the umbrella, which provides a measly twelve square inches of coverage, making my Lilliputian purchase look more like a paper parasol garnish for a Bahama Mama cocktail. I lock my umbrella into place, and the metal frame rips through the top of the fabric, channeling rain directly onto the top of my head.

Martin goes first, then Rob, then me. Every time Rob walks past a plant, it snaps back like a taut rubber band at my head. On account of already being wet, I fold my umbrella and attempt to use it as a weapon against the vegetative onslaught. When the next branch springs toward my face, I hold up my umbrella for the pre-emptive block. The force of the branch smacking against my umbrella slingshots bugs, spores, and other forms of life into my face. A sticky cobweb now covers my mouth.

Slightly dazed and already confused, I follow my team and end up at the edge of a fast flowing river. Martin pauses, looks around the riverbanks, and walks straight through to the other side. I start to take off my galoshes, but he advises me to leave them on. He must have read the same article I did on river borne diseases in Costa Rica. I march through; however, the water quickly fills my galoshes, weighing them down like heavy sandbags. The water is now up to my thighs, and I am dragging my feet inch by inch to the other side. Once there, I empty my boots and find a crayfish; I toss him back into the river and watch him swim away.

We walk farther into the forest, my feet slipping and sliding as we go. I try to take another step, but my back leg is stuck in mud. I pull on my leg, but my foot leaves the boot, consequently stepping forward into a warm, muddy mass that squashes between my wet toes. My first impression is this feels pretty good. However, this soon turns into alarm as it becomes clear, by the warmth and the pungent smell, this is no ordinary pile of mud. I have no choice but to stick my stinky foot back into the boot and call out to my husband. “Rob, I think I stepped in…”

“What?” Rob yells as he keeps walking.

“I think I stepped in a pile of…”

“I still can’t hear you.”

“I think I stepped in a pile of shi……holy shit.”

Martin stops short, and Rob bumps into him, causing me to crash into Rob. We are in the middle of a grassy clearing, equal distance from the forest behind us to the forest ahead of us. In the center are four bulls, big bulls, with sharpened horns perfect for gouging the awry traveler. I have literally stepped in a pile of bullshit.

I’ve never been this close to a bull before. They remain so still that for a moment I think they might be statues. That is until I see one of them flick a fly away with its tail. I decide that being so close to the bulls makes me equivalent to a rodeo clown. Only, I don’t have a barrel to hide in.

“Maybe we should back up slowly. We can keep an eye on them that way. Do you think that’s a good idea?” I whisper so as not to disturb even the tiniest gnats flying around their heads.

“I don’t know, but I’m getting the hell out of here,” yells Martin. He races through the clearing and disappears into the rainforest. Rob grabs my hand, and we both start running in the same direction. I toss my pink umbrella so that it doesn’t provoke the bull like the red flag of a matador. We make it to the forest and find Martin hiding behind a tree. All three of us are gasping for air.

“I didn’t know they would be there,” pants Martin. His less than courageous actions have left me with little hope that the realtor can get us off this mountain. Nevertheless, we can see that the top is only a couple hundred feet away, so we carry on as if this ridiculous incident never occurred.

Once at the top, we are rewarded with a panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean. I find a rock to stand on and video tape the scenery. Martin starts his spiel about the potential for this property, and Rob is already running the numbers through his head. “If we charge one hundred thousand dollars a lot, times forty lots…that’s like…that’s like… a lot of money! We’re going to be rich.” I let Rob have his moment. I know he is smart enough to figure out that we are in the middle of nowhere and don’t have a clue how to develop this land. My husband, with his sense of direction, wouldn’t even be able to find this place again.

After we’re done, we start the hike back down the mountain. We come across a large cactus, approximately thirty feet tall with each green stem about a foot in width. It seems oddly out of place in this rainy jungle environment. The five-inch long thorns poke straight out and are thick as porcupine quills. Rob stops in front of it and starts to poke at the green waxy stems in between the thorns.

Boing…Boing…Boing

“Hey guys look at this,”Rob says.

“I don’t think you should be touching that,” I warn.

“This feels soooo cool,” he replies. It’s common for Rob to touch things and then eventually break the things he has just touched. I have seen the man shatter a priceless crystal wine glass after knocking it into someone’s soup bowl at a dinner party. Once, at our neighbor Matt’s house, Rob attempted to warm his feet by the new fireplace. However, he didn’t see the closed glass doors because our obsessive-compulsive neighbor impeccably polished them. When Rob reached his foot toward the fire, he inadvertently pressed his sock-covered toe to the hot fireplace door, causing the fabric to burn and stick to the glass. No matter how much Matt tried to clean the scorched blemish, the impression of Rob’s big toe remained plainly visible: a permanent fossil for future generations to behold. So I can get a little jumpy when I see my husband poking a cactus.

Boing…Boing.

He continues, but on his last poke, I hear a faint buzzing sound. “Shhhhh,” I call out. Rob ignores me and keeps poking. “Seriously, stop it. Can’t you hear that?”

“I don’t hear anything. Lighten up and have some fun.” But after his last poke, Rob pauses. We both hear a heavy buzzing coming from deep inside the thick green stem. We look up, and out from a crack shoots a darkness that develops into a villainous shadow above us.

“What is that?” I holler to Rob.

“I think it’s a swarm of wasps.”

“What do we do?”

“I don’t know, but I’m getting the hell out of here,” Martin yells. He takes off for the second time, disappearing into the brush. Rob grabs my hand and drags me down the mountain. My other arm flails widely around as I swat away the wasps; their synchronized buzzing resembles a high voltage electrical wire. Rob zigzags as if dodging bullets, but the wasps spot us at every turn. We finally outrun them and find Martin, not surprisingly, hiding behind a tree.

We are busy pulling twigs and leaves out of our hair when Martin reveals we are lost. We ran off the path, and he is unsure where we are. Our plan is to keep going down the mountain and find the same river we crossed an hour ago. If we continue past it, we should eventually find our parked car on the dirt road.

After thirty minutes, we approach a river, but it is not at the same place we crossed before and is much deeper. Unlike the last time, Martin doesn’t look so eager to cross. He paces back and forth along the bank and scratches his head nervously.

“What’s the problem?” I ask. “Can’t you swim?”

“I can swim, but… ah… the water is deeper here, and I am a little concerned about crocodiles. Before, the river was shallow, and I wasn’t too worried, but this is deep, and they can be anywhere.” My blood pressure starts to surge. My husband looks at my reddening face and takes a couple steps back. I am about to attack.

“Okay, let’s go over what both of you have put me through. I stepped barefoot in bullshit, which is still in between my toes. I ran up a mountain to get away from four bulls only to be chased back down the mountain by an army of wasps. So now I have to go back through a river I had already crossed, with the ever present fear of contracting a parasite, at a place where crocodiles could be waiting to eat me?”

“Hmm… yes… that’s what I am suggesting,” Martin mumbles.

In an anxious attempt to prove to me we are not in danger, Rob dashes into the river. The water quickly rises, climbing up to his neck, then his chin, and now over his mouth. He reaches his arms straight up holding the camcorder above his head. It reminds me of the scene in The African Queen when Humphrey Bogart’s character gets out of his boat and drags it through a leech-filled swamp. Rob continues, holding his breath, walking until the water slowly recedes and I can finally see the back of his head again. He makes it out alive with a functioning camcorder and a leech-free body.

“It’s under control. I’ll help you get across,” Rob says while wiping river gunk out of his eyes. But I don’t need Rob’s help because Martin and I find a shallow spot only six feet away, and it takes no time to join Rob on the other side.

“So should we put a bid in on this one?” Martin suggests.

I want to strangle him and throw him back into the water.

We gather ourselves and continue hiking down the mountain. I take one last look at the river and see something make a large splash. I don’t bother telling the others, convincing myself it’s just a really big fish. By the time we make it to the road, we are a half mile away from our parked car. The realtor, cheery and upbeat, now wants to show us a townhouse for sale. I am soaked through and look like someone who was just rescued from the jungle after a long and agonizing fight for survival.

I climb in the car and fasten my seat belt, wondering why we couldn’t have looked at the townhouse first.

By | 2020-02-20T10:39:46-05:00 October 10th, 2010|Categories: Tourism|Tags: , , , , |23 Comments

About the Author:

Nadine is the author of the best-selling series, Happier Than A Billionaire. Join her as she navigates living as an expat in the sometimes confusing, always beautiful, country of Costa Rica.

23 Comments

  1. Millie September 30, 2016 at 7:06 pm - Reply

    A very good read and very informative

  2. Steve Barley February 14, 2016 at 7:36 pm - Reply

    Loved it Nadine, I could just picture you and bob doing it all the way! Gave me a good laugh! It would be great to experience that but I like paved roads and side walks!

    • Nadine Hays Pisani February 25, 2016 at 7:38 am - Reply

      What a nutty experience. And to think, that was one of my first experiences here.

  3. Nadine Hays Pisani February 16, 2015 at 9:32 am - Reply

    It’s been such an adventure Rene. It must have been a lot like that in Alaska as well. I don’t regret it at all, even crossing that crocodile stream!

  4. Nadine Hays Pisani February 16, 2015 at 9:32 am - Reply

    It’s such an adventure! I’m sure you have a ton of your own stories to share!

  5. Nadine Hays Pisani February 16, 2015 at 9:31 am - Reply

    My latest book, The Escape Manual, will answer all your questions. It covers topics from residency, buying a car, purchasing property, shipping your items… etc. It’s a big move, but totally doable. I couldn’t imagine what my life would have been like if I didn’t take this chance. It’s been such a lovely journey so far.

  6. Nadine Hays Pisani January 6, 2015 at 8:18 am - Reply

    Good News, pets are not quarantined! I wrote a chapter about it in The Escape Manual. They need their shots, a certain document from your vet, that has to be authenticated at your states Department of Agriculture. Not the biggest deal, but worth setting aside some time to get this done. Also, pets can only fly certain times of the year, so it may change the date you decide to move.

    Overall, it was worth it. I loved having my critters here. It was the one piece of home I couldn’t leave behind.

  7. admin January 9, 2013 at 2:30 pm - Reply

    LOL… yes, the critters. I try to think positively about them. If it wasn’t for the bugs, there wouldn’t be this ecosystem, and I would have no monkeys to watch swinging in the trees. I constantly have to repeat this mantra when I find scorpions in my bed or spiders on my back. But even with all the creepy crawlers, I wouldn’t change a thing. I absolutely love it here!

  8. admin September 29, 2011 at 9:29 pm - Reply

    We never bought the land on top of the mountain top, although it does sound like fun attaching a zip line for transportation. See….that’s an army guy thinking.

  9. Victoria September 26, 2011 at 12:30 pm - Reply

    Hey, this is the best “Gringo meets Costa Rica” writer!

    I am still laughing … just got the book on kindle this weekend!

    It’s all true because I go to CR a lot,and that is what makes her writing so awesome! You can relate if you’ve spent time in CR

    • admin September 27, 2011 at 9:56 am - Reply

      Thanks for much!! It is a lot of fun moving here….if you have a sense of humor.

  10. Robyne September 8, 2011 at 8:33 pm - Reply

    OMG!! Soooo funny!! Thank you so much for the laugh! 🙂 I’m going to be visiting CR soon, and I’m so glad I know what to expect now! LOL

    • admin September 9, 2011 at 12:12 pm - Reply

      I hope you come, it’s a great country with lots of adventures. Especially if you hang around my husband.

  11. lee September 4, 2011 at 10:04 pm - Reply

    That was so funny. I was dying! I totally envisioned that and could relate being east coast and loving nature with adventure!

    • admin September 7, 2011 at 1:54 pm - Reply

      Maybe because I’m from New Jersey that I’m so impressed by the nature around me. And how foreign it is to hike through a rain forest.

  12. Lary Marin August 12, 2011 at 10:36 am - Reply

    Note to fellow readers…don’t read at work if you sit in a cubicle.
    I laughed so loud and long I have people staring at me…it’s so funny you couldn’t make it up.

    • admin August 12, 2011 at 2:22 pm - Reply

      Yes, reading these stories could be damaging to work productivity. Also, avoid gulping large mouthful of liquids….computer screens may become damaged.

  13. Stephanie Governali August 11, 2011 at 7:28 pm - Reply

    Great blog! You are an inspiration to those of us searching for more and weary of answering to ‘the man’. Someday, I hope to have the courage and conviction that you did! In the meantime, I’ll be reading!

    • admin August 11, 2011 at 7:42 pm - Reply

      Thanks, I try to tell my story as honest as possible. It isn’t always easy here, but is that why I moved? I wanted a change…and sometimes that comes with sacrifice. But I felt like I sacrificed more when I was stuck in the office all day.

      I wanted something more. At that time I wasn’t even sure what that was. It turns out I wanted more of my life back.

  14. Pat Hewitt June 26, 2011 at 1:41 pm - Reply

    Hi Nadine,

    I saw you on Fodor’s, and checked out your blog. I am buying the book for my kindle.

    We have owned a small house in Monteverde for several years, and went through a long, gradual renovation. In just a few years, we hope to live there half time, with the other half here in New Orleans. Headed there next week actually.

    Just wanted to let you know that I love your blog. It parallels a lot of our own experiences. I am really getting a kick out of reading it.

    One thing I haven’t found though. Were exactly do you live?

    Warm Regards,

    Pat Hewitt

    • admin June 26, 2011 at 1:54 pm - Reply

      Thanks so much for visiting. I bet you can relate to mostly everything I write. Isn’t it funny when you relocate to another area, especially one in another country. So many differences that you might as well get a good sense of humor or else you’ll never make it.

      I will have my paperback edition up shortly.

      I used to live near San Ramon and now I live near Tamarindo. It is vastly different here. So I am getting used to change and the weather. But I do love all the monkeys that howl at me every morning.

      I’ve never been to New Orleans but definitely want to go one day. Sounds like a REALLY fun town!!

  15. Paula Nilges January 26, 2011 at 4:34 pm - Reply

    I just came upon your blog today. I read the 1st 3 posts (most recent), and had to come back and start at the beginning. This 1st post, had me is stitches. My husband, kids and I have traveled to Costa Rica the last 2 years for a month each time. We are really considering the possibility of moving there full time, or at least 50/50 until our last child flies the nest in a few years.
    I cannot wait to spend some time today reading through the rest of your posts. Everyday is truly an adventure when you are in CR.
    Pura Vida

    • admin January 26, 2011 at 6:39 pm - Reply

      Thanks for taking the time to comment on my blog. It’s been a great 3 1/2 years here. Lots of funny stories (and lots of bug bites). I would recommend you doing the same thing if Costa Rica feels like a place you can call home. It was a little scary at first, landing at the San Jose airport and thinking “Now what”. But if the obstacles are taken lightly, and you have a good partner to share the laughs with, it will be the most amazing adventure.

      I will be querying agents and hopefully my book gets published. I will post another funny story soon. I try to keep the weekly posts short, but I often throw in a funny story or two.

      If you have any questions about the move please feel free to email me at puravida@happierthanabillionaire.com

      Pura vida my friend!

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