I have to remind myself to slow down. Especially in the tropics.
Like many who reside in North America, I’m used to running around. Hustling. Thinking that five minutes early is on time. Walking with purpose. Getting shit done, at least in my own mind.
Those are not internationally embraced traits. And here in Costa Rica, all that will get you is sweaty and frustrated.
Yesterday, I was anxious because I arrived six minutes late for an appointment. Then, 22 minutes later, my friend arrived, without a care in the world, and we had a wonderful time catching up.
Today, five minutes into my morning trek for coffee, and only two days into this journey, I noticed I was walking at a pace that, compared to the pedestrians around me, likely looked like a person who urgently needed a toilet.
Then I started to sweat. And it was only me. Because it’s cold.
Cold for here, at least. It’s 71 degrees, which is 77 degrees warmer than when I left Minnesota. But here folks are wearing boots, jackets. They’re strolling leisurely. For me, it’s certainly a nice change of pace. I’ll just have to make sure to put on the brakes when I notice myself going into a frenetic passing mode on the sidewalk because, really, I have nowhere I need to be except for where I am.
