Nadine Hays Pisani - Happier Than A Billionaire: An Acre in Paradise

This book is memoir. It reflects the authorspresent recollections of experiences over time. Some names andcharacteristics have been changed and some events have beencompressed.

Im starting a burrito business, Bobby sayswhile standing under a palm tree. Im calling it are you readyBobby-Ritos. He splays his hands in the air as if revering aneon-lit Vegas marquee. To seem polite, I look up as well. I do notsplay or revere.

Tonight, people are approaching me with thevery first thought on their minds. They pick me straight out of acrowd or corner me in the bathroom. Apparently, I wear anexpression of someone who is keenly interested in what others haveto say. Most times I am. But not tonight.

So far Ive been approached by an expatwhobecause of my big, stupid facefelt the pressing need toconfess that hes in charge of covert operations at the Pentagon.That tte--tte was a walk in the park when compared to the gringowho, moments ago, sounded the alarm that the United Statesgovernment was currently herding its very own citizens intointernment camps. Right now as we speak.

They are coming to get us, they are comingto get us, the man yelled.

Of course, this concerned me. I may not beversed in all current affairs, but surely this was something Ineeded to investigate further. I asked Paul Revere, who was oneCorona away from falling face first in the dirt, When are theycoming? When are they coming? Are they headed to West Palm Beach?Browsing Lake Tahoe? Will the internment camp have a pool and ameal plan? Because frankly, that doesnt sound all that bad. Theman nodded and glanced up at the sky, most likely summoning themother ship.

However, Bobby doesnt appear inebriated orcrazy. He isnt wearing an aluminum foil beret and did not mentionone internment camp. This is a deliberate career strategy.

Ill be selling burritos full-time. Thatsthe biz Im in, Bobby says, putting his hands on his hips whilerocking back and forth on his heels.

So you moved from the United States to CostaRica, and your plan is to sell burritos? In a Latin country that isalready proficient in the art of encasing food in tortillas?

Thats right, he confirms, using a tonenormally reserved for inviting applause. According to Bobby, thisFortune 500 idea has early retirement written all over it.

Ive never seen someone so happy to open aburrito business. Come to think of it, Ive never seen someone sohappy, period.

Bobby reaches into his pocket and hands me abusiness card. The logo is a smiling, blue-eyed burrito,overflowing with sour cream, guacamole, and a cheesy sauce drippingover the side. The cartoon looks delicious.

Contact me for any and all of your burritoneeds. Bobby-Rito then tips his imaginary hat and exits under hisequally imaginary marquee. Im left asking myself, how many burritoneeds can one person have?

Rob steps down from the stage and lifts hisguitar strap from around his neck.

Who was that? Tonight was supposed to be arelaxing one, watching my husband play guitar on the beach.

A burrito salesman. Odd business choice,dont you think?

I dont know. Its not the worst idea, Robsays.

Come on. It's strange. Of all things,burritos?

Why do you find it so odd?

Hes calling his business Bobby-Ritos. Andhe already printed out business cards. I grab the one from mypocket to show him.

Aw, the logo is adorable. Come on, give theguy a break. I freakin love it!

Rob is always urging me to grant peoplebreaks, but usually, its him who is requesting one. This commonlyoccurs when I change the television station to any reality program,specifically one with women screaming at each other.

So, because the blonde didnt invite thebrunette on an Atlantic City spa vacation, she tossed wine in herface? he said as I explained the complexities of reality showfemale dynamics. Thats just Thanksgiving Day in Brooklyn. Give mea break, Nadine.

Rob has been asking for these breaks for aslong as weve been married. Hes requested so many over the yearsthat I began asking him how long each should last. Should he beleft alone in the living room for a few hours, or would he prefer Ipack him a weekend bag? Apparently, they are herding people intointernment camps, so Im sure Ill be able to flag down the nextshuttle bus.

When you think about it, Bobby-Rito is noweirder than us, Rob states. We did the same thing hes doing,short the guacamole. He probably had a crazy job in an officesomewhere and dreamed of doing something completely different.

You could be right. Or he could be nuts.Ive met a lot of nutty people tonight.

Either way, when you break it down, all ofus expatriates are Bobby-Ritos.

Can this be true? Are we all Bobby-Ritos? Roband I did sell everything we owned and moved to Costa Rica.No one said it was a good idea. My parents wholeheartedly did notthink it was a wise decision, but Rob and I knew we had to go. Thethought of spending the rest of my life in an office was sinking meinto an abyss of depression, which for me meant being irritableninety-nine percent of the day. That, in turn, resulted in Robsteering clear of me one hundred percent of the time.

Rob grabs his amp and hands me his guitar.Lets get out of here. Weve got a long day tomorrow.

Hes right. Its going to be a long daybecause were moving once again. The time has come for us to saygoodbye to our rental house. Our landlord decided to put it up forsale, and we are moving into a different place about fifteenminutes away. Every time we move, I go through a delusional processof denial.

Im not doing it. Theyll have to drag mycold, dead body out of here.

Rob ignored me and wisely began callingproperty managers. Its not going to happen! I scream over hisshoulder.

The main reason I dont want to leave ourhouse is that its where I photograph hundreds of howler monkeysright from our balcony. Mature trees surround the home, and monkeysclimb straight up to its windows. This allows me to take the mostremarkable pictures of their faces and hands, as well as video ofthem cramming lavender flowers into their mouths. Ive watchedbabies jump on and off their mothers backs, and males fighting fordominance before falling asleep seconds later.

For the longest time, the monkeys congregatedacross the street in a neighbors yard. I waited patiently, howledat the right times, and tossed a few bananas outside, only to learnhowler monkeys dont eat them, iguanas do. And once the iguanasfinished the bananas, they turned their sights toward my husbandsbaby hibiscus plants. I call this the circle of life, orthings a wife never admits to her husband.

Where the hell are all these iguanas comingfrom? Rob yelled after finding yet another plant eaten down to thestem. I just shrugged my shoulders and acted bewildered.

But I never gave up, and soon it happened:the monkeys came to my side of the street. And once they did, Inever wanted to live anywhere else.

Its not only the monkeys that I love so muchabout the house but also the birds: trogons and mot-mots,white-throated magpie-jays and squirrel cuckoos. I even spotted apainted bunting: a bird that often hides in dense brush. Mybackyard is a perennial aviary.