Before I could even walk, my firefighter dad had me on a longboard.

We live just half a mile from the beach, so weekends weren’t spent at parks, they were spent boogie boarding, building sandcastles, or getting tossed around by waves. By thirteen, I was biking to the beach with a surfboard strapped to my bike and staying out until my arms were too tired to paddle. The ocean has always been part of my life. So has helping people, something my dad modeled every day. Medicine and surfing are part of who I am.

Three years ago, while eating fish tacos at Long Doggers, a quirky restaurant swarming with surfers, a video of a barrelling wave in Playa Grande came on. My dad and I looked at each other and knew: we were going back to Tamarindo. That wave was calling us. Like most surfers, we chase the next best break, which has taken us to Puerto Rico, Mexico, the Dominican Republic, Nicaragua, and always back to Costa Rica. In every place, I have learned about not just where to find the cleanest swell, but also about the people and culture.           

Every morning in Costa Rica, we get up early and surf before breakfast with the locals. This gives me a chance to practice my Spanish and connect more deeply with them in their own language. Brittany Little from the taco stand is responsible for my love of avocados. Ironically her maiden name is the same as my last name. This makes me feel even more connected to the little town I call my second home. Brittany even shared the recipe for her special sauce. Our “neighbor” taught my mom how to make fried plantains, which my mom now makes on special occasions. The locals seem to enjoy sharing their culture with us as much as we enjoy talking about our chaotic lives back home.  

After our mid-day session on the water and a taco, the rain usually begins and the country naps. Life slows down. Costa Ricans have a different pace, yet the people I met seemed content and successful in their own way. Most businesses come from families opening their own shops and passing them down to their family members. Generally, they don’t work for big corporations but instead start something small, like a yoga studio, vacation rentals, or tutoring service. Over time, many have become successful enough to support their family. On a few occasions, when driving out of town, we stop by an empanada stand. The woman who owns it makes the empanadas herself and sells them from her porch while her son runs around the front yard or colors on the ground.

This summer, I realized that this small hobby has introduced me to a perspective so different from mine. My parents work so much, and my sister and I are constantly on the move with volleyball and academics. I rarely stop long enough to connect in a meaningful way with people in my immediate circle let alone my favorite taco stand owners. Until this point, I believed that success consisted of getting As, getting into a great college, going to med school, and working for a large corporation. I still want to become a doctor. I still thrive on momentum. But I’ve learned the value of slowing down, of listening, of being present. The Costa Rican surfing community taught me that slowing down is not a bad thing. In fact, happiness and success can exist in a simpler form. 

The ocean will always be part of me, but it’s the people I met along the way who taught me how to live. As I move forward, my goal is to achieve an inspiring career in medicine while also making the time to connect with my patients, family, and the communities around me. I want to live a life that feels successful to me.