So we’re visiting Costa Rica, an amazing little Central American nation with myriad animals, beautiful landscapes, sweet fruit, lovely people—and m-a-n-y insects of all shapes, sizes and colors.
Yesterday afternoon we were walking through Samara, a small coastal town, when I entered a shop named Luv Burger. There were two women behind the counter. One was Costa Rican, and spoke little English. The other was Canadian, and spoke no (like, zero) Spanish. Her name was April Furanna. She was 34.
She’s my new role model.
I asked April why, oh why, would a Canadian woman (she’s from Ontario) move to a nation where the primary language is one she doesn’t understand. Her quote: “My husband told me he didn’t want to be married to me any longer. So I started something new.”
April had a friend living in Samara; a friend who owned Luv Burger. She called, asked, “Can I live with you and help with the store?” Yes, she could. So—she did. Which, if you think about it, is pretty fucking amazing. It’s the sorta thing I admire; the sorta thing too many of us never think to do.
Sitting here at age 41, I’m beginning to really see how life just zips by. Birth—zip—end. And yet, too often we act as if we’re gonna be around forever. We hold jobs we hate, just because, well, uh, hmmm, yeah. We date people we’ve grown tired of, because it’s convenience and easier than breaking up. We work through vacations; we stop smelling the flowers, seeing the bright lights, riding the fast roller coasters. We slog.
Then we die.
April Furanna refused to do this. Her life was given a jolt, she jolted back.
