Cosmic Dive 05: World Schooling

From the Bus to Rio Lindo

Experiencing different cultures widens your point of your view.

Not groundbreaking information, I know, but true.

When there is a significant language barrier, travel teaches resiliency and hones the ability to communicate. One is suddenly left with mime, mimcry, and em-PHA-sis on few known home language words. It’s kind of the best, while at the same time bewildering and stressful. For instance, stressful if you are trying to navigate significant information like “what time is my bus leaving” or “what kind of meat is that…seriously, is it cat?” (Mimics cat while gesturing wildly.)

Many times in my travels, I’ve not understand one word of what was being said, and would be left with only intuition to rely on and the basic trust that the human I was interacting with wasn’t about to rip me off. Certainly I have been swindled, tipped too much, or been seen as an easy mark, but I always watch for the little miracles that reveal themselves after these encounters. I trust the Universe has my back, and it teaches us lessons in mysterious ways.

Recently in Costa Rica I over-tipped by far. I like to tip and I budgeted for it, but I also got rinsed in those first days. I like to tip servers and hotel staff because I’ve worked those jobs and the hourly wage is insufficient. They need tips to survive. I was also aware I was travelling in high season and this is the time the industry is working its hardest and when they make their money for the year. I believe in circular economies, gift economies, and sharing of resources. What I didn’t realize is that in most restaurants in Costa Rica, gratuity is included. When I realized I’d been tipping on top of tipping, I had the opportunity to feel upset or swindled, or I had to the opportunity to energetically give my money freely and look for the subtle ways generosity returned to me.

In Dominical, we had a great little surfer restaurant around the corner from the Bus. It was called Tortilla Flats and it served up decent pub food, big drinks, and surf culture. Big Wave Surf competitions played on the main television screens and the crazy- ripped surfers, sun-kissed and salty from sunset sessions, would all gather around the bar and tables to re-hash the days’ events with over-sized glasses of white wine and stacks of Imperial beer.

The servers were so good to us. Zazie fell in-love with the owner’s dog, Rosie, and loved that shoes were not required. She wrapped every server around her little finger and they brought us extra drinks and smoothies for free. It was incredibly kind.

When we were shopping at Mama Toucan’s, the local Natural Food Store (Boston-owned but Tico-run), I realized I was short cash at the check out and didn’t want to get more out of the expensive ATM. I told the check-out guy I’d have to return the Mama Toucan’s brand Coconut Ice Cream to the shelf, but he wouldn’t hear of it and gave it to us for free.

Little miracles every day, that add up.

The waves were so intense in Dominical, after a few days, Zazie’s enthusiasm dwindled. I had to work a lot that second week, and so we were hanging out at the Bus more than not, with little dinners at the surf pub.

By our second Sunday in Costa Rica, we were both starting to get a little stir crazy. I thought, “Let’s just go for a wander and find something to do.” We walked out the little back alley and at exactly the same time, a local pulled up on a little crotch rocket to a neighbouring house. A gorgeous blond walked out to meet the Tico who merrily chimed, “Mi AMOUR!” Zazie and I grinned at one another. We were continuing past when suddenly the man removed his helmet to exclaim loudly, “KATE AND ZAZIE! OLAAAAA!” It was our server from Tortilla Flats. He asked where we were going, what we were doing. We shrugged. The beautiful blonde interjected, “Oh, you must go to Rio Lindo!”

Hotel Rio Lindo is a little hidden gem across the road from Mama Toucan’s with a fabulous kid-friendly pool and bar/restaurant. A 10-minute walk from where we were. For $20USD, we could swim as long as we wanted. Plus, they served home-made pizza.

We were over-the-moon excited. I waved gratefully and our server roared off. I thought to myself, “There - that’s the Universe giving back, right there.”

We ran back to the Bus, got changed, and meandered at a five year old’s pace to Hotel Rio Lindo, and then didn’t move for 4.5 hours. The pizza was great. The hard Kombucha Culture awesome. The pool was clean with a cool rock sculpture with flowering plants in the centre and Grecian-inspired waterfalls streaming from the bar. There were many families and lots of other kids to play with. Five-year-old heaven.

We spent the next afternoon at Rio Lindo, too. I got to chat with cool travelling families from other countries. Norway and Switzerland, respectively. They were all so interested that I was on my own with Zazie. “So brave! No husband!” “Yes…” I agreed, inwardly rolling my eyes. One of my frustrations in life is that somehow once you become married, people expect you to do absolutely everything with your significant other. I get that works for some relationships, but it has never worked for Kal and I. We married each other because we were equally independent. It’s made for some very difficult moments, but we always allow each other 100% independence to do the things that we need to do as individuals, take the jobs we want to take, and travel to places our soul feels called to go. Kal gets to travel a lot with his work as a camera man on reality-competition shows. I used to do those kind of gigs, but having a child changes that. This was my first opportunity to travel since Zazie was a baby, and I’ve been like a horse charging out of the gate.

“We’re World Schooling…” I’d explain sipping kombucha. “Oh?” They’d ask, politely. “Yes, we’re here to visit friends and tour an International School and then we’re off to Spain…”

“Oh!” Mothers would exclaim, excitedly. “I love that. How special…”

Fathers would look, critically…

“My husband will join us in Spain…” I’d offer further. Husband heads would nod in approval. “And my brother’s family will be joining us, as well. My father works in real estate; he and his wife bought in Màlaga…”

“Amazing…” They’d reply softly. Most families from Nordic cultures are very reserved, quietly intelligent, and eager to connect. All their kids were four years old and under. After five in Norway and Switzerland, you must enrol your child in school. In Costa Rica, the same rule applies. Homeschool is against the rules. They ask a million questions about homeschool, and if it’s hard, and what the rules are in Canada.

“Well, I’m not sure I’ll be able to afford to homeschool forever…” I explain. “I’ve been able to manage it because my husband works so hard, and because I have a digital nomad existence: I can work from anywhere and I am a writer. I wake up between 3am and 5am every day and work until my daughter rises. Then we homeschool. I have a curriculum I follow. It is a Waldorf program…”

This begins the conversation about Steiner, where I try not to be too Crunchy.

"To me,” I explain, “World Schooling is about learning resiliency and widening a child’s world view, teaching my child to look for every day miracles and build communication skills necessary to navigate other cultures.”

So far, so good.

Every Thursday, I tell travel stories. I’m travelling in real time with my daughter, in an effort to teach her that the world isn’t actually that scary, that people aren’t inherently bad, and most places we travel to proves humanity is not just good — it’s extra-ordinary. This is hopeful. We are looking for every day miracles: one week at a time. Follow along….