Lair Davis (Our Man in Costa Rica)

Smile

Sooner or later, this smile will have to come off my face. I cannot spend the remainder of my days grinning like a person who has just won the lottery. I was born and raised in the United States, where we are much too concerned with succeeding to walk around with smiles all day. If we do, people will think we’re not serious. Not dedicated. Not stressed with the need to over-achieve as we are supposed to be.

I am not in the United States any longer. I am not stressed. I have achieved, and I am over it! What else can you show me? Mucho, it turns out.

It is much easier to smile when you are speaking Spanish than when speaking English. It has something to do with how you hold your mouth in order to pronounce Spanish words. It is easier to trill your ‘r’ when you smile.

Costa Rica just makes me smile. I wake up each morning in my apartment high in the hills of the Meseta Central and gaze out my picture window at an enthralling vista — jungle-covered mountains in the distance, a few villages scattered about, the steeples of their churches poking up through the greenery.

It is now afternoon, and I see the clouds and mist beginning to roll over the top of the mountains to the west. In about two hours it will rain. The longer you live in Central America, the more expert you become at predicting when the rains will come.

I went to town this morning and bought a roasted chicken, right off the spit in a window of a restaurant. A charming young man assisted me (“charming” and “young man” fit naturally together to describe so many Costa Ricans). He spoke to me slowly in Spanish. The other employees, all men, kidded him with “Why don’t you speak to the gentleman in English?” “You should be practicing your English.” (I speak horrible Spanish, but I have come to understand an amazing amount in my short time here — almost six weeks now.)

They were all curious about who I was. Where I was from? Was I married? Did I have a “novia” (girlfriend)? They were very friendly and welcoming. They seemed proud that I had chosen their town in which to settle. They should be proud! It is a delightful place, this Grecia!

I strolled down the street to the panadería to purchase some sour cream and bread — and couldn’t resist some odd pastries stuffed with something unseen before. I asked what it is, and the young woman told me with a smile, speaking slowly. I didn’t understand. I’ve eaten one now, and I still haven’t a clue about the filling.

It cost me the equivalent of 60 cents for a taxi ride from the center of town to my apartment on the city’s outskirts, in the barrio known as San Roque. There is something delightful about living in a community that has been named for a boxer from Philadelphia. And who would have dreamed that the character portrayed by Sylvester Stallone in the movies would be sanctified?

Yeah, yeah, I know, but, hey, it’s another reason to smile!