I find myself feeling freer the closer I get to September.

Although this particular act of “freedom” is tinged with some nervousness  — pulling up stakes and moving to a foreign country with a different language isn’t a commonplace, “inside the comfort zone” thing to do for most individuals.Especially for someone like me, who has only been to Canada, Mexico and New Zealand (briefly in all cases) — my anticipation and excitement outweigh my nervousness by a factor of at least five.

I have a list of almost 30 things that have to happen before I go, very few of which I can undertake until June, so the last three months are going to fly by as I tick the boxes to complete them all.

I will also probably have to have hernia surgery before I go, and there is the appearance on June 11th at King’s Books in Tacoma.

My cousin Patty will be here on June 9th for an as-yet-undetermined period of time, so we’ll be biking some, I suppose, and she’ll be accompanying me as I get a current FBI background check done in Olympia. (Fingerprinting.) In June I also need to get a current birth certificate and a Social Security report proving I get at least $1000/month from them (a requirement to move to CR and get pensionado status). All three of these documents need to be apostiled (mailed to a second location for that) and they may have to be translated into Spanish, too, before I fly. But since I’m going down as a tourist on a 180-day “permit,” I can probably have the translation done in CR just before I apply for pensonado status.  My coach will let me know which ropes can be completed down there…

I will also need to lock in a landing spot — a rental address, or a hotel address (called una direccion) if I can’t lock in a rental address, in June so I can give the airline and customs my intended immediate location after landing. To come in as a tourist (turista), it is required that I provide the first address where I plan to stay and a return ticket out of the country 180 days later (either a return flight or a bus trip to a neighboring country).  And because I will have applied for residency well before the 180 day leave date, I will receive a document allowing me to stay until my application for residency is acccepted or rejected, so I won’t have to leave at the 180-day mark even if the application hasn’t been completely processed through the system by then.

And of course, I will need to apply for MediSmart and whatever in-house insurance programs  that clinics and hospitals down there have; most cost just $100/month,  I hear. After I get into the caja system — upon application approval, which can take a year — those costs will go away unless I elect to keep some private insurance. The caja system costs about $100/month and there are no co-pays, deductibles or anything else. Imagine that! Universal health care that is entirely affordable! I will be able to drop Part B medical, which will cost me $239/month up here starting in May or June.

Another thing:

Last  night during my ponderings, I remembered that humans spend one third of our lives (on average) sleeping. So, even if I live another 15 years, five of them are going to be while I’m asleep. Somehow, that gives me immense comfort!  I don’t know why, but it does.

It makes the other two thirds (the waking hours) seem somehow less potentially onerous. Even if they’re ten happy, restful, peaceful years — which I intend to foster with every breath I take — there are so few of them left that they will feel all that much more precious to me than the ones that have gone before (well, most of them!). I’m on the last leg of this journey and so far, I’ve survived it all and come out ahead, for the most part. It has been an amazing journey.

I’ve had a good life.