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)

 

Volcanoes, Chihuahuas, and Mountain-View Properties

By | 2020-11-25T13:26:16-05:00 November 10th, 2020|Categories: Mountain House, Uncategorized|Tags: , , |

Grecia

Costa Rica Cost of Living Update: Total Monthly CAJA (health insurance) for my husband and I — $197

I wrote my first Happier book in Grecia, a Central Valley town in Costa Rica. The reason we started our adventure there was that we needed to buy a car. It was the most unglamorous reason to move anywhere. Grecia, for reasons unknown to me, is the mecca for car lots. We gave ourselves three months and then would move along.

That three-month stay turned into three years. Grecia is one of the happiest places on earth. We rented a house on top of a mountain where we enjoyed temperatures in the 70s (21-26C). The Ticos were kind, even waving to us each time we rode past their house on our scooter. We made friends everywhere, except with Chihuahuas, who always chased us down the mountain. To this day, I get the finger from every Chihuahua I pass.

Henchman

Each Saturday, we looked forward to shopping at the farmers’ market. Food is much less expensive in the Central Valley as compared to the coast. We brought a carry-on suitcase and stuffed it with all the produce that would fit. Rob then balanced it on our scooter, even shoving the eggs under our seat.

If you’ve read any of my books, you know why I’m so fond of this town. It was where everything in my life changed for the better. It’s where my writing career began. It’s a place where I imagined all sorts of things, and many of them came true.

Even though today we live at the beach, I can still remember that cool Grecia-mountain air. We didn’t need air conditioning or heat, so the inside was always the same temperature as the outside. I never realized how good that felt.

Every Thursday, we scooter’d to Poas Volcano. The scenery looks like a cross between Jurassic Park and the Swiss Alps. At 10,000 feet, it’s one of the few places in Costa Rica I needed a jacket. La Paz Waterfall Gardens is not far down the road. We’d visit there and walk through their butterfly observatory and hummingbird garden. Before going home, we’d stop at a Mirador and enjoy a hot cup of coffee. It was simple, and that’s what I remember most about starting our adventure—living a simpler life.

Volcano

Our attorney reached out to us to let us know he is selling his mountain-view property. If you’ve read my Costa Rica Escape Manuals, then you are familiar with Gilford Banton Beckford. He helped us get residency and is one of the nicest guys we know. Residency rules kept changing, and our file became more complicated. Banton quoted us a low price for the job, even though it became clear the process was more than he expected. When we offered more money, he said, “I quoted you that price, and I’m a man of my word.” We have relied on his advice ever since.

I’m feeling nostalgic today, playing a mental slide show, recalling the good times, passing over the bad. Selecting out happy moments and shaking them like a snow globe.

What I’ve learned this year is to keep the good memories at the surface. Place a paperweight on them so a breeze can’t ruffle them away. Grecia will always be near the top of the pile, reminding me of where it all started, with scooter rides and yapping Chihuahuas. And of times when we stood 10,000 feet in the air.

(To contact Gilford about his property, you can email him at gbanton8@ice.co.cr , or call 506-8896-7910)

A New Yorker Gardening in Costa Rica

By | 2018-04-15T18:19:12-04:00 July 14th, 2017|Categories: Mountain House, The Happier House|Tags: , , , |

Happier House Garden

Costa Rica Cost of Living Update: A Thousand Bougainvillea Plants—Free when your husband is a lunatic

The weather has been beautiful in Costa Rica with the perfect mix of rain and sunshine. We have amazing lightning shows at night, with claps of thunder so loud it rattles the windows. Mornings begin with misty clouds drifting across the hilltops; temperatures so cool it feels like I’m still living in the mountains.

I think often about my time in Grecia, where this whole journey started. Rob and I didn’t know what to expect when we moved to Costa Rica. The idea was risky, ridiculous, and romantic. Little did I know, it was the beginning of something great

Below is a chapter from Happier Than A Billionaire: The Sequel. It chronicles the move to the beach and the beginning of our next adventure, one which included a truck full of plants.

Rob knew we would have a garden one day. He has a way of seeing into our future. (more…)

RAINFOREST FRESH LAUNDRY

By | 2018-04-15T18:20:03-04:00 October 28th, 2010|Categories: Mountain House|Tags: |

Costa Rica Cost Of Living Update: Water Bill  $4 /month

Living in a cloud forest has its surprises. The high rainforest humidity combined with the strong sunshine creates an effect like a smoke machine. This also occurs when I get out of the shower making me look like the Human Torch from the Fantastic Four.  It’s fun to feel like a superhero.

PINK HOUSES, CLOUDS, AND CRAZY PEOPLE

By | 2018-04-15T18:20:03-04:00 October 11th, 2010|Categories: Mountain House, Uncategorized|Tags: , , , |

The past few days we’ve been busy unpacking and enjoying the tranquility. Not being disturbed by car horns, leaf blowers, and radios is sending me into sensory detox. I am actually experiencing a much anticipated lifestyle withdrawal. This withdrawal is accompanied by a less than anticipated loss of electricity. Sometimes it flickers on and off, while other times it just stays off for eight hours. The realtor didn’t tell us that the higher you go on the mountain, the more likely you will have trouble with your electrical lines.

Upon further investigation, Rob discovers the wires in the house are not grounded properly. During a thunderstorm, all the outlets pop, making us run around unplugging everything. The thunder also makes the phone ring, which is nice since it gives the illusion I have lots of friends calling me. Even though we have these electrical issues, the good news is we don’t have a suicide shower. I can shave my legs without electrocuting myself, something I am sure I will write in all my Christmas cards this year:

 

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Finklestone,

Costa Rica is enchanting. I wash my hair by candlelight and have yet to be struck with several hundred volts of electricity.

God Bless Every One (more…)

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