We live in an enclave of mostly condos that were mostly built in 2008. The road through the neighborhood is a lopsided circle split down the middle by another road with two story condos of various shapes and colors lining both sides.
We have two dogs and we walk those dogs around our little neighborhood a few times a day. According to my Fitbit each of our laps with the dogs are about 3000 steps, not a huge walk but both of the fur-kids are getting old and that's all they want to do now days.
Each time I go out, I see people. I got to be quite a hermit during the Covid days. I'm really social when you get me out doing stuff, it's the getting me out doing stuff that's hard. Occasionally I don't want to do anything at all, ok, sometimes I don't want to go out, fine!
Most of the time I'd rather not leave my shelter and interact with the world. Covid was the perfect excuse for a long time not to get out there and it became not just a habit but a rut that was hard to break out of.
For many, many years we lived on land with neighbors within site but not super close, we even spent six years on 70 acres with no neighbors to speak of. I got very used to walking outside to do stuff without brushing my hair or wearing matching clothes, or even proper clothes for that matter. I used to walk every morning from my house to my barn in my PJs without even thinking about it.
Now, I live in a condo with five buildings with four units per building and there is always someone outside when I get up to take the dogs out. I have learned to dress properly but I rarely remember to brush my hair. I always put on a bra. That’s because way back when we lived in Georgia and the kids were in elementary school we were at a neighborhood party and one of the dads had enough to drink to loosen his usually very conservative lips and made a confession I will never forgot.
Neighbor: I like to take the kids to the bus stop ‘cause you ladies don’t wear bras in the morning.
Us: What? You can tell?
Him: Oh yeah, it’s nice.
Us: (Shocked) We just thought you were a super nice dad.
Him: Nope. (looking around) Now I think I’ve blown it.
Us: On so many levels.
For obvious reasons this stuck in my head and it’s damn inconvenient if you ask me.
This complex has its own full-time gardener/pool guy and no matter how early I get up I run into him. It could be 5:35 in the morning, the sun is just turning the sky pink and yellow, I’m stumbling down the stairs, eyes half shut, no coffee and there’s Myron all chipper and bright eyed.
Myron: Buenos Dias
Me: (mumbling) Buenos, Como esta?
Myron: Bien.
Then he gets down on a knee and says an enthusiastic Hola to each of the dogs who wiggle and jump and lick his legs. This is way more interaction than I’m ready for before coffee. But it’s also nice.
The dogs get multiple small outings daily and one big walk, that’s the 3000 step one, usually by about 9 am. By this time, I’ve had a couple of cups of coffee, sort of collected my wits and I’m a decent imitation of a human being.
I pop in my earbuds, turn on the latest podcast/audiobook and head out. A lot of people in this neighborhood walk their dogs in the evening, right at sunset. The sun sets everyday between 5:30 and 6:00 pm year-round, it doesn’t change, it’s one of the unique aspects of living almost on the equator. Since one of my dogs tends to be a little Napoleon in fur and can’t get the Pura Vida vibe, I try to walk when there are less dogs out.
On average I would say I pass about 10-15 people on every 20-minute walk. Without fail almost all of them say Hi or Hola or Buenos or nod or smile or wave. Gardeners trimming hedges, vacationers walking to the beach, moms pushing babies, tremendously fit people jogging or speed walking, other dog walkers, all pause, make eye contact, and greet each other.
It’s a lot of work. It’s also nice. I’m forced out of my shell, forced to interact with strangers, forced to put on a smile and it works. By the time I’m done walking I’m in a good mood, sometimes a great mood.
I’ve lived in places where when I was out walking and saw someone, they purposefully went out of their way to not say Hi. We could cross less than a foot apart and their eyes never shifted left of right, not a smile, not a nod, nada.
I get it, some places are like that. You feel the need to protect your inner world by keeping the outer world on the other side of a shield. I’ve been to those places, I’ve felt that way.
When I was out walking yesterday a guy was passing by going the opposite direction and there were trees and bushes between us. Even though we weren’t far apart it wasn’t easy to see each other. He actually paused a brief second, made sure we made eye contact and quickly smiled and said Hi. That may sound a bit creepy, but it wasn’t. I didn’t get that feeling at all. It felt like; Hey, I see you! Have a great day! I smiled back and said Hi.
After the isolation of Covid this little beach town has been a delightful reintroduction to life in a community. I don't want you to think that it's all sunshine and Pura Vida all the time. Nothing is perfect.
What I have found though, is that acknowledging my neighbors, the people around me on a daily basis, makes me more forgiving. I don't get upset at random loud sounds because I probably know that person, or I've seen them and smiled at them.
I look forward to my walks. I take basically the same route everyday and everyday it's a little different because of the people and dogs I meet along the way. I am grateful for the Hi's and Hola's they remind me that I can be connected to a world and a people much bigger than me. I like that.
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