I have much to say about what it was like to live in Costa Rica for six months. So, just warning y’all, I’ll probably be talking about this for the rest of 2026.

The first thing I realized is that I have been worshipping at the god of excess, personally and collectively.

PERSONALLY

When I moved abroad, I had prepared to be away for at least a year. I sold my car and gave a lot of belongings to charity. I arrived in CR with two suitcases, and a backpack. Dassit. As time wore on, especially after I quit teaching, I found that I didn’t need many of the clothes I’d brought. Most of the time, I alternated wearing the same two pairs of leisurewear shorts, while occasionally switching shirts. Six of the eight pairs of shoes I’d brought never saw the light of day. Even when I did in-person yoga training, I wore, washed, and re-wore the same four outfits.

After I moved from La Casa Cucaracha into a casita (a tiny house), I found I had everything I needed: one couch big enough for two people, two bedrooms with beds, a kitchen with two pans and a pot, enough dishes and silverware for me and three other people, and one TV. The bathroom was so small that at five-feet tall, I couldn’t turnaround in a circle. But that was fine because I used the bathroom to shower, pee, brush my teeth, and do my hair. That’s what bathrooms are for, right?

I immediately pondered how spoiled I was as a US citizen. I wondered why I had so many things back home, why my master bath is so large, with two sinks. At my house, there are two TVs—one in the bedroom and one in the living room, both for convenience. My husband even added a swivel thingee on the living room TV, so he could be entertained while he works from home or cooks. I’m convinced these extras are merely for convenience. We’ve mastered the art of comfort in the States, and I am no exception.

Even though I gave a lot of clothes away, I still have two closets full. I possess several pairs of jeans—distressed, black, white, flared, skinny, and barrel leg. Every time I attend a new event, I buy more clothes, including shoes, so I am not seen twice in the same outfit, in person or on social media. Owning all of these clothes is for one reason: vanity. Why else does one need so many pairs of the same thing in a different variation?

COLLECTIVELY

Costa Rican grocery stores lack diversity, and this took a minute to digest. In the States, we not only have several places from which to buy food, but we also have variety within each store. Let’s use cheese as an example. In CR, there are two cheeses: cheddar and mozzarella.

Imagine your life with two cheese choices. Nah, for real. Think about it. I don’t know about you, but I use gouda for scramble eggs. I have shredded “Mexican” cheese blend for tacos. I buy goat cheese crumbles for my homemade gourmet salads. For the past six months, I’ve had none of that. And you know what, I didn’t self-combust.

Speaking of the grocery store, I’ve been telling folks that we in the States think we’re cute with our little go to the farmer’s market and “buy local” campaigns. I don’t wanna poo-poo on the idea. It is a great start. However, what I’ve found is that in the back of our minds, many of us know that if the farmer’s market doesn’t have what we want, then we can simply go to our grocer.

Well, in CR, local and grocer are sometimes one in the same, especially in terms of produce. Generally speaking, the grocery store only seemed to have what was locally sourced. For example, one week, I had some amazing mangoes. Next week? No mangoes. It didn’t matter how bad I wanted mangoes, I wasn’t gone get none until they grew and ripened from someone’s tree.

Finally, I traveled in many Costa Ricans’ cars, which for lack of a better word were, raggedy. I don’t mean a little old and bit beat down, I mean hole in the floor, engine light beeping on the dashboard, raggedy. It didn’t bother me, though. I never felt unsafe because the alternative was walking on the side of the road, which really was dangerous. I didn’t need leather seats, dashcams, or lane assists. Are those things nice? Sure. But I didn’t need them to get from point A to point B. I arrived just fine in somebody’s raggedy car.

I think I’ve said enough for now. As I settle back in to being in the “land of milk and honey,” I’ll be thinking more about how I can use up a little less honey. Until then, what do you think about any of this? Are you a minimalist? Do you want to be?