Brooklyn Cowboy

Costa Rica Cost Of Living Update: Property Tax— 0.25%

One of the best things about our life in Costa Rica is that now we can pursue hobbies that we didn’t have time for before. My passion has always been writing, while Rob’s has been his music. Some of our best memories are from when we were in college. Rob would play his guitar until late in the evening, and I thought our life would look that way forever. Then came the student loans, the business loans, then the loans for the loans. Before I knew it I was spending a majority of my time working just to pay back an ever-growing mound of debt. My writing got shoved in a drawer, and Rob’s guitar was demoted to the back of the closet.

When we finally decided to simplify our lives and move to Costa Rica, one of the biggest things I looked forward to was hearing Rob play his guitar again. He’s the happiest when he’s writing music, and I can’t help but be at my happiest watching him so happy. (There is a lot of happy going around for us these days.)

A couple of weeks ago he had the opportunity to play at Nibbana Restaurant in Tamarindo. There’s something inherently awesome about playing music on a stage at the beach. It’s like a summer movie where you expect Annette Funicello and Frankie Avalon to pop up and dance the Mashed Potato.

Before the gig, Rob decided he would borrow a cowboy hat and boots. “How do I look?” he asked while tilting the brim over one eye. “I think it pulls the whole outfit together.” The outfit he was talking about was a white T-shirt, and a pair of jeans tucked inside his boots.

“Only women tuck their jeans inside their boots,” I laughed. It’s not every day I witness Rob in cowboy gear, which is a good thing because there is nothing country about him. For example, Rob walks with a strut: a discerning blend of Vinnie Barbarino from Welcome Back Kotter, and JJ Walker from Good Times. I doubt Tim McGraw moves like that… ever.

Even the way Rob drives makes it apparent he is not from the country, leaning all the way back in the driver’s seat, so low it actually looks like no one is driving the car. At times I question he can even see over the dashboard. He insists that this is the way a relaxed guy from Brooklyn drives, and I insist that this is the reason not-so-relaxed pedestrians run for cover while crossing the street in New York.

I, on the other hand, drive while sitting at a 90-degree angle so close to the steering wheel that my upper ribs accidentally turn on the cruise control. It’s a pensive state that can only be compared to a Russian astronaut blasting off for the Space Station.

What I’m trying to say is Rob’s new country appearance left me speechless. And as you have probably gathered from my writing, speechless is something that rarely happens to me.

So when I watched him play that night, singing his original songs and some cover tunes with his friends, I couldn’t help but feel amazed that the night was happening. I have more and more occasions in Costa Rica that spark happy flashbacks. Somehow we got a life back that I thought was gone forever.

Happy times come and go, but sometimes when the moment is right, you land in a place that dusts off old memories. They flooded back to me that night while I watched him play on that stage in the sand. He looked more like that guy from twenty years before, with the same personality and smile.

Only this time he wasn’t my college boyfriend, but my Brooklyn Cowboy.

(Thank you to the community for coming out and making the night so special.)