I found this note on my hard drive tonight. It’s something I wrote for my journal from back when I was living in Costa Rica, in Escazu… considered “the Beverly Hills of Costa Rica”. Can you imagine this (below) happening in Beverly Hills on a regular basis?
“A guy can’t even take a nap in this country without something crazy going on!
6:21 pm. About 20 minutes ago I’m lying in bed and hear what I think is a gun shot. Sounds like it’s coming from one of the houses next door.
Can’t be. Probably just a car backfire, right?
Lie back down and listen. BANG! Another one.
Okay, that was definitely a gun shot. WTF? And this is supposed to be the Beverly Hills of Costa Rica?
I wait about 10 minutes and peak down to the guard tower. Guard is tranquilo (or dead?) but if he’s alive, he seems to be in one piece.
I go down with my trusty Maglite. It’s all I’ve got since getting a gun in this country requires jumping through all kinds of hoops I haven’t figured out how to maneuver. Going down there with a machete would seem cavalier.
Can’t completely understand his Spanish (Nicaraguan dialect) but as best I could tell, shots WERE fired but they were not in our complex but in the complex to the South. The IOHOTA (the Federal Police) were searching for a guy or something, and my Spanish isn’t quite good enough to tell who shot who.
Man… I love this s**t! (seriously). I thought moving to Texas would be fun, but this is a real adventure. (Sarcasm)
Finally got a working diesel land cruiser yesterday and a native girlfriend. Now I gotta work on getting a gun. (Or two!)
Lovin’ it here– can’t wait to get shot. (More sarcasm). ”
When I wrote this, I was still in that intellectual space between the picture the “Escape America” websites paint for you vs. the stark reality of living in a third world country.