Hello Neighbor!

One of the things that struck me as odd about Costa Rica, were the placement of many of the houses. They were squished RIGHTUPNEXT to each other, similar to townhomes in the states, but stacked tight like sardines in a can. Most with floor to ceiling bars, which I know now are to safeguard against thieves.

Many houses in the city rarely have back yards and only a patch of grass out front to call their own. The back yard is usually just a small slab of patio used for doing laundry and hanging clothes, not really for relaxation or childs-play. It's rare to find a house with yard space big enough to run around in... it's like a diamond in a sea of cole. But it never seizes to surprise me when I see that rare house that sits in the middle of a plot of land, surrounded by green and trees... neighbors far enough away not to hear you whisper.

I do often wonder what it's like to have neighbors so close (even closer than even I am used to). Would one have to mind what they say, or how loud they said it? How private were conversations kept with your neighbor just inches away. Though made out of brick, there is only so much walls can keep out.

Many homes too, often lack a lot of windows. You can't exactly put a window on the side of your house that is adjacent to your neighbor... especially when you have neighbors on both sides of you. Most often, it's just a wall that separates you from your neighbor... like a wall that separates your bathroom from your bedroom. So putting a window on the side of your house would be like putting a window in their living room or their kitchen.

In Dorchester, your neighbor would be so close, you could look out your window and see right into their living rooms, like spying, which always felt so wrong, yet addicting. Here you really can't look next door to your neighbors... unless you look across the street. And even then, there isn't a whole lot to see.

Most people here leave their front doors open, especially on hot or really cool days. With the safety of bars, there really isn't much worry of a stranger walking into your home and relieving you of your belongings. Most often, when you peek inside your neighbors home, you can look right into their living rooms... some with their couches pushed up so close to the front door you wonder if it'll eventually sprout legs and walk right out. The thought amuses me.

Once you get more outside the city, you see more sparse settings, where houses actually have grass, and the neighbors are more than a few feet away... separated by green and trees and often times a fence.

We are lucky. We live in the city, a suburb of San Jose and we have what some people lack and most people crave.... outdoor space! Plus too, we're not barred up. I swear I would feel suffocated and trapped if I had to live in a house with no back exit, just a scrap of grass and then bars galore. While I understand that it is pretty much the 'norm' here, if I grew up like that I know I would mind. I need to feel safe but I also need to feel free. I admire the houses that remind me of 'home'. I stare at them long and hard. I applaud the owner for going against the norm and making it so that they would have their own personal space, and not be sitting on top and right next to their neighbor.

On the other hand, I also admire the houses that are sardine packed, because most draw you in; they are so pretty. When you are situated so close to someone else, you want your house to stand out from the rest. You want your neighbors to admire your efforts.

Some I have found to be very attractive, especially when the owners make the most of what they have. So they don't have a ton of green space, their front yard overflows with flowers and lush plantings. So the house is small with few windows, they spruce it up with color, eye catching trim and decorative ornaments. They even put detail into the tile they use for their driveway. Everything they do pleases the eye. I've seen homes with detailed iron work that makes the bars not look like prison but a welcoming retreat. Some homes are more open than others, with low lying iron or wall fences; free of the heavy bar-work and jail-like feel. Some with windows so big, you could step right through them like doors, allowing you to forget that there are only those two for the entire house. Some with doors so pretty, it draws your eyes in and invites you to come take a tour. You have to wonder about people who take such good care of the outside of their home, what the inside must be like. Marvelous, I hope.

Many of the houses, in nicer neighborhoods, stacked so close together are actually pleasing to the eye as one neighbor tries to outdo the other... the comparison is like eating one juicy strawberry after the other... it just gets better as you go along.

I've been to a few homes in the city that have back yards... small but still something more than just a patch of cement with a clothesline. It's a nice surprise to see it, as it is usually unexpected. It's something the owners must look forward to, knowing that even though they have to share a wall with a stranger, they at least have a refuge out back.

I don't share a wall with a neighbor and my house cannot be seen nor admired from the street. It's a very private setting. It's what I always wished I had back in Boston. I always wished for grass I could roll around in with my kids and trees I could take shade under on a hot day, while reading a book. I longed for a place I could escape to after a long and trying day. On a clear day, the mountains seem so close I feel as if I could reach out and touch them.

So every time I pass a house in a neighborhood in the city and I see how compact together they are, I am thankful for what I have. It isn't perfect, but compared to what's out there, it's pretty damn close.