Common Sense is Not So Common.

I collect orchids. Now there are orchids, and there are orchids! I collect the latter. Not only the buy-'em-at-Whole-Foods Phalaenopsis, but exotic Oncidiums, Vandas, and corsage-quality Cattleyas. Ironically, it was after our first visit to Costa Rica that my orchid collecting began. Now as we're moving to orchid-land, it is time to say goodbye as they cannot be imported. Yesterday I sold 10 or 12 orchids, and a large plumeria in a beautiful pot, to a very nice woman from Hawaii. This gal knows orchids, so they'll be in good hands.

Today I cleaned-up the greenhouse . . . having all that extra space in the absence of all the orchids. I re-potted, divided, and tidied-up the other blooming plants that will come out after all danger of frost. Our back yard is lovely, year-round, with a variety of winter-hardy tropicals (palms) and seasonal color. But since the home will be listed for sale in just over a month, it must be especially breathtaking this spring.

And Thus Began Our Longest Journey Together

Now what?!

As of a few hours ago, 23 January 2015, we own a home on 1.65 acres, more or less, in Montaña Samara Estates, Samara, Nicoya Peninsula, Guanacaste, Costa Rica. Lock, stock, and barrel . . . or perhaps in Costa Rica one says Surf, turf, and bats! We even have a name . . . Rusty's selection, though I certainly have no objection. As for truly, finally being the owners of a property outside the United States . . . I'm paralyzed. We're about to be expats, again.

No Wire Hangers, Ever!

No wire hangers? Goes without saying. But perhaps there are to be no wooden, satin, or velvet hangars, either. Why? Because we have no closets. We actually purchased a home with nary a closet. I ask you: who does such a thing? Foolish? Well, as my darling friend, Becky, would say with a broad sweep of a slender arm, "one word: simplify."  The absence of clothes closets isn't an issue for me. But I'm married to a man who is more married to his ostensibly rare t-shirt collection than he is to me. Did I mention his cowboy boots and hats? And I'm not talkin' 'bout foldable ball caps. For the love of God, man, we're moving to the beach; and you don't even like horses.

The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of

We're buying a home in Samara, Costa Rica. It is not a new home; but no one has ever lived in it; and in that sense it's new (warranties and all that). Our home has been nearly complete for over two years. We're working with its developer/builder, who didn't exactly build our home on spec; but that has been the effect in that the home was on the market for many months.

Back in October 2014 following more than a week of daily house-hunting over hundreds of kilometers of Costa Rican roadways (some were roadways only in the academic sense), we chose a home that was 99% complete, but whose builder was still putting on finishing touches. And it was those finishing touches that we got to select. Let's take a little tour starting with the exterior, because for me, for now, the photos are the stuff that dreams are made of.

Need to Know Basis . . . More or Less

We did it! More or less.

Finally, a contract came on my DFW home. Finally . . . it took 8 days after listing the home in December 2014. Eight whole days. Eight days that seemed like eight months. And so we were back on schedule and might even close on Lot 6 by its original close date sometime around January 4th, more or less.

But just in case we didn't close timely, on the Samara end we would put in place a back-up plan . . . an Amendment to the original Costa Rica contract extending the closing date through early February. But from our cold North Texas home, who was there to put in place said amendment? The world's best realtor.

On the near-opposite end of the spectrum, more or less, I believe that my Texas realtor held the erroneous assumption that I wanted updates only on a need-to-know basis. Bill Knight, and his charming and helpful wife Donna, are the exceptions that prove my rule of there is no such thing as a perfect realtor. Except for Bill and wife/team-mate Donna! Without Donna, I'd have lacked an expat woman's perspective of the three-dozens homes we viewed. Cheers to Donna!

Why is this important in our saga of buying a home in Costa Rica?

The Name's the Thing

We're from Texas, where homestead laws protect many assets, including one's home, of course. So if (God forbid), I'm in an auto accident and wipe-out a bus-load of talented physicians, my home is protected from any legal judgment not covered by my insurance. But what about Costa Rica? Well, home owners in Costa Rica are protected to some extent, but that doesn't mean that the property (and personal finances) won't be tied-up in years of litigation. As is done in the United States, expatriate home buyers in Costa Rica often purchase their homes in the name of a Costa Rican corporation. So Bill Knight, Costa Rica's best realtor, introduced us to an attorney for the formation of our new corporation. Five hundred dollars and a name for said corporation . . . that's all we needed.

And so one rainy afternoon on Samara Beach, cocktail in hand and 30 minutes before meeting our new attorney, we frantically compiled potential corporate names not heretofore used . . . not already taken by those thousands of foreigners snagging all those gorgeous Costa Rican homes.

• Lo Que Hay . . . undoubtedly taken.
• Monkey Around . . . think about its fun duality in the land of the ubiquitous Howler.
• No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problemo . . . admittedly plagiarized.
• Lost in Translation . . . do we ever have an original idea?

There were more; all we had to so was confirm their availability through our new attorney.

Things Fall Apart

As a Peace Corps volunteer (PCV) in Burkina Faso, I read a lot. Yes, I accomplished a great deal, thanks to my wonderful village; but there's lots of downtime as a PCV, so one reads . . . and reads, and reads. And watches movies on a laptop. Why, I have a better movie library on my laptop than in my DVD collection (thanks, Kyle). Anyway, at some point after I'd read all of my Nelson DeMille novels three times, I turned to new literature, including Things Fall Apart: the woeful tale of poor Okonkwo and his life in Nigeria. And to this very day, when I think things are rough in my little world, I think back on Okonkwo. My life is pretty swell . . . though for the past 10 days it seems anything but swell.

And Speaking of Nuts . . .

We get trees, including nuts. And Costa Rica, whether dry forest or rain forest, has no shortage of trees . . . not to mention the most beautiful tropical plants anywhere, such as this bee hive ginger. It's just there . . . growing wild.Walk down the road or into a field with your little spade and dig-up a specimen. With my PCV background as an agriculture volunteer, and with my obsession over orchids, this country is right up my alley. But back to the nuts . . . the trees, not us buyers. We get eight (8) specialty trees. What?! Like every plant in Costa Rica isn't special?

Montaña Samara Lot 6 - We Need a Name

Casa Colina, Caso Jalepeño, Casa de los Monos. We can't decide on a name. And this is sad because all homes in Costa Rica have names. To paraphrase Nelson DeMille's line in Gold Coast: Stanhope Hall, Grace Lane, Lattingtown, Long Island . . . I get my mail.

But before the naming comes the purchase and closing. And we're still far from closing. Or so it feels.

Here's our little (albeit long-winded) tale of purchasing Lot 6, the home with no name. It began, as does everything in the 21st century, with an extensive Internet search. And hours of watching HGTV's House Hunters International.