Back in Boston

I’ll admit that the first few days back in the States weren’t easy. I exper- ienced culture shock my first few days in Costa Rica, and I also went through culture shock coming home. It’s not all bad – this country has many opportunities, and I have resettled back into my daily life, although I do miss Costa Rica already.

My experiences leaving the US and leaving Costa Rica were significantly different. While in the airport in Boston en route to Costa Rica, I was informed my luggage was “overweight” and that in addition to paying an overweight fee of $25 per piece, I would need to remove some of the contents of my luggage. Anything over fifty pounds is considered overweight, with a maximum weight of seventy pounds, and I had two pieces that were about seventy-five pounds each. While I learned a valuable lesson to pack lighter for the next residency, at the time it became an inconvenience as I was carrying some of the contents of my luggage in my arms, in addition to my travel easel and laptop bag.

On the return trip, immediately after being dropped off at the Juan Santamaría airport in Costa Rica an airport attendant helped me with my bags and assisted me with paying the exit tax, and even filled out the required forms for travel back to the US. He then led me to the line at the ticket counter where I could drop off the checked luggage and get my boarding pass.

When I was next in line at the ticket counter, the luggage attendant there smiled and greeted me with “Pura vida.”

“Pura vida,” I replied and also smiled. He eyed my two pieces of luggage to be checked, which still had the bright red “overweight” tags on them from the flight leaving the US. He lifted one of the bags and motioned that it was very heavy. “Muchas pinturas de Costa Rica,” I explained.

He then began speaking to me quietly in Spanish, words that were obviously meant to only be heard by me. While at first I didn’t understand what he was saying, his intentions soon became clear. With one swift movement he ripped the red “overweight” tags from my luggage. He began making eye contact with a friend of his behind the ticket counter, all the while speaking quietly to me in Spanish.

When it was my turn to go to the ticket counter, the luggage attendant lifted my bags directly over the scales to his waiting friend. While my boarding pass was printing, I looked back at the luggage attendant, who made a calming motion with his hands. Tranquilo, I heard in my head, the Spanish equivalent of chill.

After my boarding pass had printed and I was on the way to the gate, I realized the luggage attendant had saved me $50 by avoiding the overweight fees. As I walked by him to slip him $5, he smiled and again said “Pura vida.”

“Pura vida,” I smiled.