About Nadine Hays Pisani

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.

High Altitudes

By | 2021-08-18T10:00:00-04:00 August 18th, 2021|Categories: Mountain House|Tags: , , |

Nantahala Lake

“Trust me, this house looks great online,” Rob says before turning up the car radio. It’s a country station, and Rob hums to a song he never heard before.

The highway connecting Georgia and Western North Carolina has incredible views of the Blue Ridge Mountains, along with billboards that put to rest any question about the locals’ feelings toward the second amendment.

This road is the Rodeo Drive for gun lovers, and businesses have jumped on the theme. Like the one I just passed, realtors dressed like 007 gripping pistols. “Licensed To Sell,” it read.

Across the street, another realtor in a snazzy pantsuit promotes her attributes, “Hunter, Wife, Realtor.” Annie Oakley certainly adds a level of suspense to her open houses.

Drug and GunNext is a pharmacy advertisement designed for the multitaskers in all of us; a picture of a prescription bottle with “Drug and Gun, Refills and Reloads” scribbled above it.

Although these are quick to get my attention, I enjoy the smaller signs stuck in the grass—the kind a person might use to alert a yard sale. One store planted a dozen “Gun, Ammo, Gun, Ammo” hand-painted signs along the highway. I repeat them quickly, sounding like a gangster rapper.

There is one notable profession not advertising along this highway: lawyers. Surprising, because they wrote the playbook on cheesy billboards. Like “Need a DUI Attorney? Call 1-888-GET-SLOSHED.” Or “Injured? Call the Sledgehammer.” I’d love to toss my hat into the mix at their next marketing meeting. “Shot Your Hunting Buddy in the Ass? Call 1-800-Im-LosingMyHouse.”

Rob is oblivious to these billboards, only excited to find Dunkin’ Donuts, a treat we haven’t had for fourteen years. I can live another fourteen without eating a Boston Kreme, but Rob is already turning into the parking lot. Some things are a reminder of a life we had so long ago. Strange and familiar at the same time. He asks for a large coffee, which is the size of a mop bucket. He then orders enough donuts to fill a pizza-sized cardboard box. Everything seems bigger here than in Costa Rica. And if we’re not careful, so will Rob and I be in a few months.

I know little about firearms, as you can tell from me calling it a pistol in the 007 billboard. We owned a gun in Costa Rica, and I still can’t tell you the model. It had a black handle, and the pointing thing was silver. It went pew pew when shot.

I fade out whenever anyone discusses them. The same way when my accountant explains a new tax code. These facts fly on a carrier pigeon from my brain destined for someone who cares about changes to depreciation rates.

Growing up in New Jersey, firearms never came up in conversations. But it’s clear I better learn a few things if I’m assimilating to mountain life. I must be a chameleon. Their pigmented cells change color depending on light, temperature, or mood. If cold, they darken to absorb more sunlight. When frisky, a male turns purple to attract the hottie ignoring him on an adjacent branch. I’ll need a color that stops me from saying anything stupid, which is bound to happen since saying stupid things has been a trademark of my life here on earth. (Razzmatazz—a reddish-pink, similar to rose but with a smidgen more magenta.)

Chameleon

“Hey, look, a turkey!” Rob says as it waddles in front of the car.

Pine trees tower on either side of the street. Their branches reach across, forming a green tunnel one might see in a Disney movie. If I were in a good mood, the story would be happy with singing princesses and talking bunny rabbits. But I’m depressed and anxious and hungry, wondering if I should eat that Boston Kreme in the back seat. An explosive bout of Irritable Bowel Syndrome seems appropriate right about now.

What am I doing here? How did Rob convince me to buy a house in the backwoods? Rob shuts off the radio and starts the How Great It’s Going to Be speech.

“Wow, I bet we see deer.”

“Smell that fresh air.”

“Nice and shady. You always complained about the heat at the beach.”

“Simple livin’. Can’t beat it.”

Can’t beat it? I want to beat the optimism right out of him.

The sky brightens as the road bends, landing us on the shores of Nantahala Lake. Cumulus clouds reflect off the surface, and fish—the size of raccoons—jump from the water like dolphins. We pull over and walk to the edge. The water is so clear we see straight to the bottom.

Nantahala Lake

The surrounding mountains explain why I felt my ears pop. We are standing at 3200 feet, which is about the altitude of the house we rented in Grecia, Costa Rica. That house was where I saw a kinkajou for the first time and where I experienced the magic of living in the woods.

The morning fog spirals vertically from the forest like campfires, and I take a deep breath, noting a shift in my mood. I feel pretty good. It must be the altitude. Maybe it’s the smell of powdered sugar coming from Rob’s t-shirt.

bunnyA kingfisher dives into the lake but returns empty-handed, shaking his plumed head and scattering droplets of water around us. I hear a sound to my right. A brown bunny rabbit jumps from a bush, shaking her fluffy tail and perking her ears as if waiting for a response from me. I approach, but she zig-zags away.

While standing alongside this lake, my brain flips a switch—I imagine a life here. One that zig-zags me into the woods, fly-fishing, and moving away from the hustle and bustle of life. A fairytale involving bunny rabbits and songs in the forest. A handsome prince, promising me that everything will be okay.

Happiness rides on neuro pathways. Some people have more extensive networks than others, and can refill and reload a good mood with ease. But that doesn’t mean the rest of us are out of luck. I was sad once and became happy in Costa Rica. It took leaving everything behind to begin a new adventure. And during that move, I realized that when you’re unhappy and can’t escape its grasp, it’s best to go search for it.

But happiness will never throw a ticker-tape parade or shoot fireworks over your head. It’s subtle, only a graceful feeling in a strange place. When the air you breathe expands your chest like a hot-air balloon, lifting you on your tippy-toes, and seeing everything from a different perspective. And if you pay attention, happiness will bring along her sidekick, curiosity. He’s never subtle. He’s loud, courageous, and horseback rides on steep mountain passes. He’s the gatekeeper right before something incredible happens. You can’t get anywhere fun without him. And he finally showed up for me, appearing in this foggy forest, miles away from the place I thought would be my forever home.

“Things happen gradually, then suddenly,” said Hemingway. I’m gradually falling for this lake, but I don’t want it to be a fling. I want a monogamous relationship of mutual respect. The kind where he opens the car door and gives me his jacket when I’m cold. If I do fall in love with this place, I want it to love me back. I don’t want my heart broken.

And that’s a lot to ask from a lake in the woods.

(Follow our whacky journey on Facebook Adventures of Happier Than A Billionaire)

 

Smoky Mountains, Homesick & Bigfoot

By | 2021-07-24T14:05:55-04:00 July 24th, 2021|Categories: North Carolina|Tags: , , , |

Bigfoot

Comparing Cost of Living: Costa Rica Electric Bill at The Happier House —$300 | Electric Bill in North Carolina — $80

“You want a southern experience? Check out their apple festival,” the car salesperson says. “They have apple jerky, apple pie, applesauce, apple…”

I’ve never passed up a county fair or hayride. I’ll even stop on the side of a highway to witness the biggest ball of rubber bands or to enter a house shaped like a shoe. America may not have Europe’s lengthy history, with its spired cathedrals and cities buried under volcanic ash, but it has curiosity attractions.

We are somewhere on the border of Georgia and North Carolina, home to apple festivals, waffle houses, and Bigfoot. I don’t recall much about Bigfoot except a grainy film where, by all accounts, a man dressed like Chewbacca walks through the woods. But here, he is a media sensation with ten-foot silhouette cutouts placed aside the road, which scare the shit out of you while driving at night.

These folks love Bigfoot. Occasionally, we’ll pass a Sasquatch graffitied on the side of a building like a Banksy creation. Or discover a life-sized furry model positioned outside a gas station. Bigfoot even has his own museum in Cherry Log, Georgia, claiming “The World’s Largest! With 3700 sq feet of self-guided exhibits.” Self-guided? That’s unfortunate because I’d rather have a crusty old-timer show me around and explain why the Abominable Snowman has his own section, surely taking attention away from the headliner. And why is there a Bigfoot Museum in Georgia when the grainy film took place in Northern California? But alas, I keep my Yankee mouth shut which, for any Yankee, is hard to do.

I’m oddly attracted to the bizarre. I’ll stop at any roadside attraction that will ensure a mediocre experience. Preferably one with an eight-dollar admission and a bored teenager leaning against the register. The attraction should have a thin layer of dust, not enough to look unkept, but sufficient to remind you not to take any of this too seriously. The real profit is in the souvenirs which I will buy in excess.

I’m moving to the Smoky Mountains, searching for happiness the same way I did in Costa Rica. And like the Costa Rica move, Rob opened a map. But this time, instead of pointing to Central America, his index finger tapped on a tiny lake in North Carolina.

“How would you like to live on one of the cleanest lakes in the country?” he said.

We’ve been entertaining splitting our time in Costa Rica. Being a snowbird sounds attractive. I’ll be closer to my aging parents, which has taken a priority, especially after the pandemic that has mentally tumbled everyone’s brain in an industrial dryer. Everything has changed is putting it lightly. And I almost croaked from the virus, which is a story need not told.

We still have a property in Costa Rica that still doesn’t have legal water. Coincidently, it’s only a half-mile from The Happier House, but in a defunct development. If we could get that water letter, we’ll build a smaller vacation home. But to make this dream possible, we had to sell The Happier House. So off it went, feeling like an amputation, a piece of me gone forever.

“While we work on getting legal water, we could go here,” Rob had said while playing a YouTube video of Nantahala Lake. “It’s the prettiest place I’ve ever seen, and it looks exactly like the mountains of Costa Rica. And can you imagine living in the woods? Miles from any store? It’ll be great.”

It did look like Grecia, the tiny town that started our Costa Rica adventure. Rob found the next best thing, a lake nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains surrounded by rolling carpets of green that went on as far as the eye could see.

We’ve never been to North Carolina or lived anywhere in the South. And I’m not sure how South this area is. Is it sweet tea on the porch, South? Dolly Parton, South? Deliverance in the woods, South? Or are those just stereotypes, like how everyone assumes people from New Jersey have big mouths?

Change is scary, more so for me than Rob. He wants to live a hundred different lives. I’m okay with just a few. I need a push, and this push has taken me to the land of Big Foot and the Smoky Mountains. A place where I’m unsure if a couple from Brooklyn and Jersey will fit in.

But like phantom limb syndrome, I can still feel my Costa Rica life. I smell salty breezes and hear the distant call of howler monkeys. Memories so strong I’m not sure if I can ever be that happy again, and maybe I’ll always feel a little wounded no matter where I live.

And that’s when I meet a guy who was bit through his foot by a black bear…

Why We Sold The Happier House: Forward Momentum

By | 2021-05-05T16:57:19-04:00 May 5th, 2021|Categories: The Happier House|Tags: |

Costa Rica Cost of Living Update: Trawick COVID insurance to visit Costa Rica for 90 days—$40 to $60

I remember first moving to Costa Rica, coming off a stressful job and looking for a moment to exhale. It’s easy to assume that having a moment to breathe and the stillness it brought was a sign of laziness or boredom. I’ve heard that a lot over the years.

But stillness does the opposite. It gives clarity, and clarity feels like momentum. Not the speed of a racecar driving around a track, but more like a moving walkway at an airport, quietly standing next to your carry-on while looking down at the food court below.

Our fourteen years in Costa Rica have taught us how to live life. Simply. Honestly. Living abroad and adapting to a different culture is one of the biggest adventures anyone can have in their lifetime. You can no longer approach obstacles with the same rigidness you had before. Instead, you learn to be flexible and bend in the wind like a willow branch.

When COVID hit, I got extremely sick after a flight back from the States. Rob raced me to a hospital in Liberia, and true to my husband, we didn’t have enough gas in the tank. We barely coasted to a gas station where I whispered to Rob the location of all the passwords to our computer. It’s weird the stuff that goes through your mind when you think you’re dying and your husband barely knows how to open his email account.

After I recovered, I had problems with my lungs, especially during the rainy season. Each full breath felt like a struggle, and walking the mountain became a Herculean feat. Costa Rica was on lockdown, and we weren’t allowed to leave the country without risking losing our residency. We couldn’t get home to see our aging parents when they needed us the most. It’s all I thought about during those walks. Of all the things you try to plan for, this wasn’t in the Pisani’s Costa Rica Escape Manual.

Rincon Largo

But in the mess of that year, good things started happening. Our Pacific Heights lot which has been problematic for 14 years, finally got a water letter. Without it, you can’t get a building permit. We put it up for sale on Happier Facebook and it is now in escrow. We also own another property that has a view of the long-anticipated Flamingo Marina. It’s located in a struggling development called Rincon Largo where water letters are still not available. We ultimately want to build Happier House Dos there, or in another growing development. The future is wide open and I know something great is about to happen.

During this year, Rob and I felt forward momentum again. The same feeling we had when we quit our jobs and moved to Costa Rica. We started daydreaming about other adventures that were waiting for us. But the toughest thing about new adventures is letting go of the old ones. It’s always difficult leaving your comfort zone. Some days I wonder what it would have been like if I stopped moving and stayed in one place. But I’m an insufferable dreamer and refuse to believe that there is a cap to the people you’ll meet or the happiness that fills your heart.

Our plans have shifted but the goals remain the same, live freely, happily, and continue writing about all of it. I would love to spend time in Ireland. Or Switzerland. Split our time in Costa Rica with other places around the world. But most importantly, we need to be around for our parents.

Our goal is to become snowbirds, spend much of the year in Costa Rica and some of our time elsewhere. I’m not sure how this plan will work, but I’m flexible, bending each day, letting go of the old, and making room for the new. Holding onto The Happier House made this plan impossible. Selling it was the right choice. It gave us the freedom and finances to jump onto another rollercoaster ride.

So now we are on a quest to get this water letter for our Flamingo Marina lot. It will take many trips to the municipality, many more odd encounters with people who insist they can help us but can’t. It’s one piece of a puzzle that can have us building again. There was a time when I gave up on that dream and I felt this loss was just part of the story. But maybe getting a water letter to that lot will be the biggest surprise of all. Or maybe we will find a completely new community eager to work with those crazy Happier people.

I’m strapping into this rollercoaster and ready for the rickety ride it will take me on. We are back to owning only a handful of belongings. And a cat. We are taking Sabertooth with us wherever we go. She is hard to strap in but I couldn’t leave her behind. She’s as much a part of the story as anything else and a piece of Costa Rica that we’ll take with us.

The lesson I learned this year is that you can’t plan for everything, and letting go may be the only way to get your momentum back. I can feel the lightness and freedom to travel down another road. One that I’m sure will be dirt, on top of a mountain, surrounded by the things that inspire me the most.

And like Rob always says, “How bad can it be?” Only this time we made sure we will be traveling on a full tank of gas.

We have a water letter, now what? To build, hold, or sell in Costa Rica.

By | 2021-03-31T11:54:10-04:00 March 29th, 2021|Categories: Pacific Heights|Tags: , , , |

Pacific Heights

Costa Rica Cost of Living Update: Yearly Real Estate Tax on Pacific Heights Property—$280

I have a not-so-glamorous skill set. It won’t dazzle someone at a bar or get me invited to an afterparty. But if you are considering buying property in Costa Rica, I may be the most important person you’ll meet. I am the one who bought TWO building lots in the mid-2000s before the government enacted stricter water laws.

What followed has been fifteen years of struggling and chasing attorneys, all while sitting on these properties and waiting for the tides to turn.

In The Costa Rica Escape Manual, I write all about buying property and building a home. But the most important chapter may be the Water Letter. It is the difference between having a lovely home or pitching a tent in a pile of dirt. No one likes to talk about it, but since I blab about everything in my books, I told the world about what happened to us. It’s embarrassing but true.

We have had great times in Costa Rica, but we have also shared plenty of heartache.

A water letter does not determine whether a property has water at the building site. Both of mine do, but it wasn’t legal to use. And without it being legal, I couldn’t get a permit to build. We were stuck in limbo many years before ultimately finding another place to build the Happier House. In fact, when we first visited Mar Vista, we wouldn’t go past the gates unless they showed proof of legal water. They did.

One thing I’ve learned about living in Costa Rica is to be patient. Whether at the bank or in the grocery store, things move slower here. But low and behold, it turns out 15 years was just long enough for one of our properties.

We finally received a water letter for our lot in Pacific Heights. An ocean-view, 10,000 square meter lot only fifteen minutes from the new Flamingo Marina. It’s designated forresta. Lots in this part of the community only need to be 5000 meters each to build a home, guest house, and caretaker’s house. This lot is twice that size and therefore it should be able to be split in two. Build on one lot and sell the other was our plan

Yesterday we requested an updated Uso de Suelo certificate from the municipality for this lot. It helps to prove we can build on the land. I’m on a documentation high right now and loving every minute of it. The Eye of the Tiger song plays everywhere I go. If I sound excited, I am.

I’m legal baby! And I’m telling the world!

Unfortunately, we can’t say the same thing for the other lot, our Problem Child. Fifteen years has not been enough time to sort it all out. There is no Rocky theme playing for that one. But it does have a spectacular view of the Flamingo Marina. We hope to sell Pacific Heights in order to fix and build on this one.

So the question now is, should we build, sell, or hold on to our beautiful legal Pacific Heights property?

If we do sell now it could be at a significant loss…
If we wait a little longer for the Flamingo Marina we might just get our money back!

But until we decide, I’m enjoying the moment. Rob and I did it, and that’s one hell of a happy ending.

If you are at all interested in the property please contact us at:

puravida@happierthanabillionaire.com

PM us at our Facebook Page: www.facebook.com/happierthanabillionaire

Get Me Out-a-Here Syndrome

By | 2021-01-22T11:32:01-05:00 January 22nd, 2021|Categories: The Costa Rica Escape Manual|Tags: , |

The Costa Rica Escape Manual 2021

Costa Rica Costa of Living Udate: COVID-19 Test—$120

Get Me Out-a-Here Syndrome is a combination of disorders that include but are not limited to:

  • Glancing around and wondering how you accumulated so much stuff
  • Imagining palm trees while staring out your window
  • Desire to sit in a hammock all-day
  • Wanting to walk out your front door and never look back

If you suffer from any of the above, The Costa Rica Escape Manual, 2021 edition is the road map to your escape. You’ll learn about residency, buying a car, crime, and funny things about living as an expat. You’ll also find out why I hate the guy who gave a glorious five-star Amazon review of a blanket while giving a less charitable assessment of my work. My dad hates him too.

The Costa Rica Escape Manual doesn’t have any unpleasant side effects. It’s a happier book for people looking for a happier life. Everything from taxes to national park regulations is up to date.

San Joseito

Some exciting developments are a proposed digital nomad bill that will make it easier for telecommuters to live here on a temporary visa. Another is a projected change to import costs so that you can move your belongings here without getting clipped on thousands of dollars in taxes. And get this… it includes a car. Anyone who has bought a vehicle in Costa Rica knows that this may be one of the biggest game-changers.

We’ve all been through a lot over the past twelve months. So much has changed, and there continues to be a sense of unease about the future. But it may also be the green light you’ve been waiting for. Sometimes it takes facing the ultimate challenge to make the biggest change. Getting out of your comfort zone is one of the hardest things to do. But it’s incredible how alive you feel after the first step. A little nauseating as well, but alive, nonetheless.

Is it easier living here than anywhere else? No. But I can attest that the sounds of howler monkeys and lavender sunsets calm my racing mind. And it makes me daydream.

That may be the biggest side effect of The Costa Rica Escape Manual. You’ll daydream again but this time with a road map to the monkeys, the hammocks, and the crazy, psychedelic sunsets. Your daydream is a seed taking root. It’s just a matter of time before it cracks the surface.

Keep your dream alive, and thank you for allowing me to help. It’s been the pleasure of my life.

Nadine Hays Pisani

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