You can't out-nice a Tico

Let’s start this beginning in the middle.

About a month into our great adventure of moving to Costa Rica, my sister Melanie and I were in the car heading for our new home. We’d stayed in a vacation rental for the first month while we got details such as banking, residency, and home-buying squared away. This was the big day - one last trip from the site of our vacation rental in Quesada to our new home in San Isidro de Grecia. This trip, incidentally, is about 40 miles long, but because of the mountainous and winding roads between here and there, it takes up to two hours on any given day.

On this day, though, it took about four. A busted hose in our car’s cooling system left us stranded in a stranger’s yard on the side of the road. We opened the hood to check the radiator and reserve cooling tank - overheating is a very common problem along the mountain roads - and discovered that, indeed our radiator was decidedly unhappy. We added water, it coughed and spluttered. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

As it happened, a mild-mannered Tico (native Costa Rican) walked by. He carried an AC/DC backpack and wandered over to see if he could help. He had all good intentions, but he wasn’t armed with a lick of English. Likewise, we knew a little Spanish but not enough to communicate with him. He pointed down the road and said something in Spanish. We picked out a few words, most obviously “mechanico.” He kept pointing and starting walking away, indicating that he would return. 

And he did, only to tell us that the mechanic down the street was closed. Another Tico driving by on a motorcycle stopped, too. Turns out they knew each other - Leo and Martin (Mar-teen.) They examined the car for a while before jumping on Martin’s motorcycle, driving away in another direction to find another mechanic.

I called our realtor/friend/translator/savior Brooke Bishop, who is as cool a customer as they come. She said “Send your location. I’m on my way.” She arrived shortly and was able to communicate with Leo & Martin in Spanish. They returned saying that a mechanic friend was on the way, he too on a motorcycle.

The mechanic spent a half hour isolating the problem, took off the busted hose and drove another town over for the replacement hose. Twenty minutes later, he returned and commenced replacing the hose. By the time he did, it’d been more than an hour since we’d  limped off the road. When we settled up with him for coming to us in the first place, assessing the problem, going to get the part and then installing it, he asked for around $40.

Because we’re Americans and this just didn’t seem right, we also paid Leo & Martin a few bucks for  their help. They stayed through the entire episode, which Brooke explained is common practice because they want to be sure the stranded females, (especially Americans new to the country and who speak little Spanish) are safe. 

“My Dad always said ‘You can’t out-nice a Tico,’ and he was right,” Brooke told us. She is an American from Michigan who relocated to Costa Rica more than 20 years ago, and if anybody can out-nice a Tico, it might be her. More on her later.

We have learned that Ticos are willing to instantly help with, well, whatever it is you need help with. When we stood in the market trying to figure out the dual sim cards on our phones, a stranger offered his to use - “Here, use mine,”only in Spanish, which would be “aqui, usa el mio.” 

While trying to find the Central Market, we asked directions only to have a group of high-school students actually walk with us to our destination a few blocks away.

Another mechanic spent half an hour looking at our car on a different day, ran a couple of leak tests, made sure we were safe to keep going, and refused payment. 

These examples go on and on. Ticos just say “con gusto” - with pleasure. These people, I swear. It feels like they are just wandering around looking for someone to help.

While we waited for our hose to be replaced, we communicated with Martin and Leo, mostly through Brooke. Sometimes, Leo simply acted out what he wanted to say. He showed me a photo on his phone. “Mi Madre,” he said, pointing to the sky and folding his hands under his cheek as if asleep. “Hace un ano,” he said, indicating the sky again. “Ah,” I answered. “She’s been in Heaven for one year.” I showed him a photo of my mom as well. He pointed to the sky questioningly, and I said “Si, mi madre tambien,” I said. Mine is in Heaven, too.

Our car was packed with all the belongings we were transporting to our new home, including the food from our vacation rental. I offered our two new Tico amigos guava tarts and tangerines. We sat in the shade eating while we waited for the car to be repaired. Brooke carried out business on her phone, some of it on our behalf, while she waited with us. 

“No worry,” Martin said. “Be happy. Pura Vida.”

Pura Vida is more than just Costa Rica’s unofficial national slogan. It pretty much symbolizes the “don’t worry, be happy” outlook here. It’s more than just a marketing tagline that’s emblazoned on everything here, including the T-shirt I am wearing as I write this. It’s the lifestyle, the simple gratitude for everything that happens in a day, the being in the moment, no matter what that particular moment might be serving up.

My favorite Tico is my adopted brother Carlos. He’s the real brother of my friend Yesenia, who was born here and whose family remains here, though she is in the States these days. She brought us here on vacation, introduced us to Pura Vida and shared her family. Carlos speaks a little bit of English the way we speak a little bit of Spanish. He teaches us words: “semaforo” he says pointing to a traffic light, then “what is in English?” 

“Traffic light,” we chorus. We ask him words we’d like to know “What is bird?” pointing to the ever-present birds flying by. “Ah,” he says, “pajaro,” (which is very fun to say - “PA-ha-ro.”)

Melanie taught Carlos something her grandmother liked to say: “Men sweat, ladies glow.” He loves saying that with his devilish grin. We also taught him to say “See you later, Alligator.” Melanie’s still working with him on “After while, Crocodile.”

There are new adventures every day. We’ll share these, of course, and the people we meet and for those of you entertaining the idea of moving here someday, some resources for that as well. In the meantime, we are just embracing “Tico time,” which means … we’ll get to it when we get to it. “Appointment,” is just a word here, a rough guideline. Not much goes to schedule, but that’s just one tiny piece of the considerable beauty and pace and love that infuses this country.

It’s amazing here. 

Bienvenido.