I may start this story in a slightly unexpected way: my love of travel was planted in me by my mother. During socialism, opportunities to see the world were limited, but somehow, at the age of six, I made it to Bulgaria—where else? I will never forget the 36-hour bus ride, the questionable squat toilets at Romanian and Serbian petrol stations, or the first time I saw the sea. I also learned to swim there.
Later, we went on organized trips to Corsica and the French Riviera, and memories of St. Tropez and Monaco stayed with me forever. At that age, I probably did not appreciate those journeys as much as I could have—my mother, on the other hand, enjoyed the long beach days like a child—but the seed had been planted. Somewhere inside me, a desire to discover other worlds had taken root.
Six years passed between our last family trip to Corsica and my high school graduation. During that time, my parents divorced, and I unconsciously stepped into my father’s former place as the target of narcissistic abuse. By the time I graduated, I was already looking—without fully realizing it—for ways to get as far away from my mother as possible.
When I was not accepted to the University of Economics in Budapest, and because I had not applied anywhere else, I left for England for a year. I later moved to the Czech Republic to study, spent a semester in Rome, then a full year in Tokyo, and worked during summer holidays on the Greek island of Kos and in London. But after I got married, I began to feel a need to settle down. We first lived in our hometown, then moved to a smaller village about 40km away, where we built our first real home. Adjusting to village life was not easy for me, but I loved our house. Until last December, I was convinced I wanted to retire from my job and grow old in that beautiful home.
Early Travel and the Desire to Leave
The Moment I Realized Something Had to Change
The realization that I needed a complete change did not arrive all at once. It crept in quietly—until one day, it came out at full force. At the time, I was seeing a psychologist to process childhood trauma and the fact that I had decided to go no contact with my mother. I told her I no longer felt joy in my roles as a mother and wife, and that I was no longer able to perform at work with the same energy and dedication I had always expected from myself.
She pointed out that I was burned out, and that unless I made changes in my life, things were unlikely to improve. A few weeks after that conversation, I read an email at work that made my blood pressure spike yet again. Suddenly, the words burst out of me: “Rado (my husband), let’s pack up and get out of here. Let’s go somewhere very far away.”
My husband did not need even a second of convincing. For years, he had been saying that he wanted to move somewhere far away by the sea and start living a very simple life. I refused to even discuss it. The children were small, and I was grateful to finally have a real home of my own. But now, I had finally grown ready for change.
Choosing a New Life Abroad
From Bali Dreams to Costa Rican Reality
Our first choice was Bali. We gathered information obsessively, watched videos of families who had moved there, and at the same time began the process of selling our house. Then we discovered that in Bali—and in Thailand, for example—you cannot actually own land as a foreigner; you can only lease it. In the end, that discouraged us. We wanted to build something that we could one day pass on to our children.
Around that time, information about Costa Rica started reaching me through influencers. We began studying the country in detail, and the more we learned, the more we liked it. The real estate system, culture, language, and religion all felt relatively familiar. Costa Rica is connected with one of the world’s Blue Zones, is often described as one of the happiest countries on Earth, has stunning and diverse nature, and offers not just the sea—but the ocean.
So we booked flights to the Osa Peninsula to see how it would feel in real life. Rado was thrilled. I had mixed feelings, partly because this part of the country is still developing in many ways. And let’s not forget: even village life had been hard for me to get used to. Deep down, I am more of a city person.
We looked at several plots of land, but our feelings were uncertain. Eventually, we decided not to force anything and to treat those few days as a holiday. And, as often happens in life, the moment we stopped pushing and let things flow, everything changed. One morning we woke up and realized there was one particular plot neither of us could stop thinking about. We could not imagine it belonging to anyone else.
We called our agent and started the process of buying it. While still in Costa Rica, we signed a power of attorney so that our contact could represent us. We signed the reservation agreement, paid the reservation fee, and hoped we would manage to sell our house as quickly as possible.
We had no idea how it would turn out, because we were not selling it cheaply. Rado had designed and built the house himself and had put only the best into it, so its value was understandably high. With the mortgage situation in Slovakia being far from ideal, we were not sure whether a young family would be able to afford it. In the end, a very kind older couple contacted us. From the beginning, they made it clear that they truly loved the house, and that warmed our hearts. This was never only a financial transaction for us. We wanted the house to end up in the hands of people who would love it as much as we did.
We sold the house ourselves, without a real estate agency, although we had the contract prepared by a lawyer. We were lucky to find buyers with whom we could agree on terms that allowed us to buy the land in Costa Rica while still remaining in our home until the end of the summer holidays. After signing the contract, we arranged a meeting with a Costa Rican lawyer, and the entire purchase process took place online.
Finally, we knew this was really happening. We bought our tickets for the end of August, flying from Budapest to San José via Frankfurt. I deliberately chose Lufthansa-operated flights because, when it comes to transporting animals, they are among the better airlines in Europe. I also wanted only one transfer, and I wanted it to be in Europe. My first job after university was in customer service for Lufthansa, so I know firsthand how complicated things can become when someone buys a codeshare flight—especially when traveling with animals or children. Despite the recent news about Lufthansa strikes, I believe we made the right choice.
Selling the House and Committing to the Move
When the Dream Became Real
After that step, everything suddenly felt very real. I began thinking about everything we still needed to take care of before leaving.
At this point, our house is already half empty. Furniture is disappearing piece by piece, and all our winter things have either been thrown away or donated. The wardrobes and cupboards now contain only what we use every day. For the final week, we plan to practically stop living here altogether so that we can fully empty the house and prepare it for its new owners.
I plan to describe all the details of our preparations—documents, official matters, paperwork, and everything else—in a separate article. Still, I have a persistent feeling that in the end I will forget something important, so I will share a proper summary only after we arrive in Costa Rica. I am not underestimating the preparation, and I truly hope everything goes smoothly.
For now, we are standing somewhere between the life we built and the life we are about to begin. It feels scary, uncertain, and sometimes completely overwhelming—but underneath all of that, there is also a quiet excitement. I do not know exactly what is waiting for us on the other side of the ocean, but I know we are going there together, with open hearts, open minds, and hope that this new chapter will bring us closer to the kind of life we have been dreaming about.