Exodus

My story is not one of arriving into the paradise of Tamarindo, 2024. Mine is one of running.

When I first became acquainted with the wild remote nature of Costa Rica, my world changed. The streets were dusty and bare. I would see the same hard bodied, man bunned, tattooed fellow in the street, on each trip to town. He would be walking down the hill. One man, one car – ours. It was a different world. 

People looked at us with disgust. New people. 

All of the people from those first trips are gone. They fled to Educador. That was thirty years ago. Those that chose Panama made a hasty return. 

I sat and watched and surfed. I fought for every wave. 

I traveled every inch of this country I could. Climbed volcanoes and swam in hot springs. Now they look ugly to me. Big billboards everywhere. God’s nature costs a lot these days. 

The roadside trash is free.

The land and indigenous people morphed. Their culture changed. Our (whities) holidays became more important. After all we had the money. The average new gringo believes all Costa Ricans to be poor. They are mistaken. And to think at one time all of this land was theirs. Now they get to be maids. ( That’s really mostly Nicaraguans) Ticos are sports fishermen and lawyers.

How the f*ck do I get out of here. 

I have prayed to God. 

But it has been the same as my initiation. The land is full of gypsies, tramps, and thieves. Now they just have better clothes and drive better cars. 

Their lambs to slaughter arrive daily.

God I know you’re out there. You’re in me. 

Crossfit is two blocks away. Yes, I know Jesus will get me to heaven, but Crossfit will keep me alive until I get there.