To borrow a phrase, "that's a great question, I would love to tell you."
So someone just reached out to me over Facebook messenger and asked me if I thought the Caribbean side was good for kids. She was coming next month to scout possible locations for her family (with three young kiddos) to relocate. She wanted to know my opinion on living here with kids. So it got me thinking about doing a larger post for those that wanted to know a bit about my thoughts.
To start, we moved from California...and I've since made my opinions on the gun violence in America known (see my welcome and intro post). It's probably no surprise then when I tell you between that and all the news about kidnappings, trafficking, child molestations, and general fucked up things we in America had been conditioned to accept as normal, I kept my little girl next to me in the market. We scheduled playdates, we went to the park together and she never, ever played in the yard without me.
For the first few weeks here, it was much of the same. Being in a new place, not knowing anyone, we kept especially close, mostly for my peace of mind. It started to shift a bit when I settled on my compound. For starters, there are two other long term expat families that have lived here for several years, and they both had small children. Our spot is 2 hectares or about 4.5 acres. There are 7 houses here, but only three full time families, including us. Immediately, as in the first morning after we moved in, I had a little face peeking over the wood part of the front door, pressed against the screen asking if Gaia could come play. That morning, I admit, I was nervous. He came in, barefoot and shirtless, long hair and looking very at home here...He and Gaia sat up at the bar and ate breakfast together while getting to know each other. Then the dreaded question, "can I go play?" That day, I texted and called the other moms frequently, and went to put eyes on about every half hour. Not long after that little one left for futbol practice, another little face appeared in my door, pressed against the screen asking if Gaia could come play; having just run over as soon as he got home from school. He was also barefoot and shirtless, with long hair, at home in the jungle. And so it went.
I watched from the windows, with fascination as the week progressed. Each day the kiddos said goodnight for dinners and baths, seeking each other out as soon as daylight came, or as soon as school let out, depending on the day. They played for hours, imagining in the way that only kids can do, without televisions or video games. The roamed the woods around the house, looked for frogs at the stream, built structures with whatever they could find. They wandered with the confidence of an explorer, stopping for food in whatever house was closer or could offer what they wanted. Slowly, I started relaxing, understanding that these other families were watching even if I wasn't. I stopped hovering and started trusting. Usually each day, the mamas and the papas would gather up the kiddos and head to one of the local beaches in the afternoon. It didn't matter which beach it was, I quickly learned that there was almost always other kiddos already playing there. Sometimes one or two of our crew might split off to join an existing game of futbol that always seems to be going on. Sometimes, they would head directly into the water all together. Other times, a few would wander over to the river that curved around behind my house, across the road and emptied out on to the beach. Or sometimes they all would opt to build structures with the endless bamboo and wood that washed up onshore. It didn't matter what it was, because my daughter had been accepted by the compound crew as one of their own. That meant she was now welcomed by almost any that knew the compound kiddos.
We now found ourselves being invited to beach birthday parties, running into families that we knew at the local hotel pool, being invited to a group that gathered weekly at a different river. It was there that I watched with both fear and wonder as the crew of kiddos decided that a random tree they found washed up on the beach from a storm would make a perfect pirate ship. They worked together to haul it down the beach and into the river, where they all helped each other get on and paddle it. I watched the relaxed parents from this group, hoping they knew something I didn't, as I was fairly certain there were caiman in that river. Turns out they did. I have since learned that there are two types of animals here: those that are aggressive and will seek to attack you should they have the chance, and those that are passive, and actively seek to avoid humans. Our caiman are the latter. A few weeks later, I watched again with a heart full because I knew this was how it was supposed to be and head full of what-ifs as the kiddos decided to climb a very high tree and jump into the swollen river from a 15 foot height. I listened with that heart as I heard my daughters' voice go from trepidation to pride and confidence.
I continued to learn to let go and remember what my own childhood was like, watching the kiddos run to the pulperia about a 100 yards down the road from our compound. As I started to meet more people in the community, I realized this was the type of place that locals run tabs and shopkeepers know kids names and who they belong to. Even the men milling about socializing with a beer in their hands are usually quick to help a kiddo up should they fall. One night, my golf cart brake seemed to not want to engage, therefore, I wasn't able to put it safely in park. Gaia had gone into the market to buy the items we needed (something I NEVER would have done in America) and didn't have enough cash. She came back out to get me and I realized I needed to go in. One of the men drinking in front of the market saw the issue and came right over, volunteering to take my place in the car, keeping his foot on the brake so I could go in and pay with card. I have a hundred examples like that.
I watched the compound kiddos hop on their bikes and ride to the beach sans parents, rent a kayak and go down river, Gaia right with them, as I volunteered to drop her and anyone else that wanted a ride off, because I just wasn't quite ready. Then came the day that her and another little girl from a property over asked to use her kid sized kayaks and go from the beach to behind our house by themselves down the river. I looked at their little faces. Her friend was a year and a half younger than Gaia and yet, she had been leading groups with her dad down that river since she was five. I knew Gaia was ready, even if I wasn't. Her little face beaming as she rounded that final corner to the dock was everything I ever needed to know.
In America, my daughter was painfully shy in school, quiet, withdrawn, chewed her nails, and had self confidence issues. Here she runs barefoot and wild, moves between groups of friends, and has stopped biting her nails. She takes acrobatic silk and gymnastic lessons from a man we met at the hotel we stayed at in the beginning. They offered it free three times a week to the guests there. She loved it so much we didn't miss a lesson, planning our days around it. After the two weeks we were there, I approached him and asked if he'd continue for her privately. We go three times a week, and as she has grown stronger, learned how to trust her body, persevere through pain and fly through the air on that piece of cloth, I have watched her cement personality traits that could have stayed hidden had we stayed in America, her in a classroom with thirty-five other children being swallowed by children that needed more managing and a system that valued quiet compliance.
Is this coast good for kids? I can say a full throated yes. It was good for my kid. It is good for every expat kid I have seen here, learning from experience and play, imagination and cooperation. Parents are slow to involve themselves, something I have had to learn how to do. Gaia is working on standing up for herself in conflicts, finding her voice and advocating in a way that is both productive and has boundaries. It may not be for everyone, but every time I watch her have the self confidence to cliff jump, kayak, snorkel or just go into the forest with the compound kids to explore, I remember a little bit more about how free my little world was when I was her age and I wouldn't trade this for anything.
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