For most of our lives, we’ve been world-class complainers—Olympic-level grumblers in the fine art of whining about everything under the sun. Traffic? Infuriating. Slow internet? Unacceptable. Burnt toast? A personal tragedy. We’ve sighed dramatically in grocery store lines, groaned about weather that’s never quite right, and ranted about the neighbour’s dog barking at absolutely nothing. Entire lunch breaks have been sacrificed to complaining about coworkers, politics, or the travesty of our favourite TV show getting canceled.
As hockey fans, our griping skills are elite. We criticize player performances, lament our team’s lack of success, and argue with total strangers about draft picks and lineup decisions like it’s a matter of national security. It’s as if we were wired from birth to find something—anything—to be miserable about. And the worst part? We thought that was just life.
Pura Vida
Then, something shifts the moment we land in Costa Rica. Suddenly, the urge to complain just… disappears. We wake up to tropical birds instead of alarm clocks and sirens, and instead of being irritated, we think, Wow, that’s kinda nice. The sun rises over lush green mountains, the waves roll in lazily on golden beaches, and stress? What stress?
Costa Ricans have a saying: Pura Vida. It translates to “pure life” or “simple life,” but it’s more than just words—it’s a mindset. A way of living that prioritizes joy over frustration, gratitude over nitpicking, and peace over pointless stress.
Pura Vida means:
It signifies:
It’s a lifestyle:
It’s for tourism:
And it’s contagious. We sip coffee that tastes like it was brewed by the gods and wonder why we ever rushed through mornings back home. We marvel at the sunset, smile at strangers, and embrace the unhurried rhythm of life. Grocery lines? No big deal. A slow waiter? No rush. The things that used to set us off barely register. Life is simpler, lighter, and filled with moments of pure, unfiltered happiness. No complaining. No stress. Just Pura Vida.
Then, at the airport, passed security, before boarding the plane home…
Like clockwork, the magic starts to fade. The moment we’re surrounded by North Americans, the tension creeps back in. Kids running wild with sticky hands. Passengers lugging full-sized suitcases onto the plane. The familiar chorus of impatient sighs and muttered frustrations. By the time we land in Calgary, the race to nowhere has resumed. People hurrying, even when they have nowhere to be. Phones out, screens on, catching up on all the things we didn’t miss.
When we finally got home, it was back on the electronics, phones, computers, TV to catch on the shows we had missed.
And just like that, Pura Vida slips through our fingers. Where did it go? We already miss it… But we felt it. We lived it. And maybe, just maybe, we can hold onto a little piece of it, no matter where we are. Until next time, Costa Rica.
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