I've resided in Costa Rica this past year. The highlight? The month I visited Buenos Aires.

OK, so it hasn't been all bad. There was that day in June.

I kid. No way do I wish to imply life here has been a big challenge. Because, really, it's been way harder than that.

Background: In 2005, my soon-to-be ex-wife and I sold our house in a then-sizzling market. I took my half of the windfall and decided to move to Costa Rica.

Q: Because you loved the country so?

A: I'd never been there.

Q: Oh. Because, then, after diligent research it captivated you?

A: All I knew about Costa Rica was it was army-less and a bunch of birds lived in it. I could also locate it on a map after, you know, finally finding it on a map.

Q: OK, then, because …

A: Let's move on, shall we?

In April 2008, I made the leap and moved into my nearly finished house in verdant mountains. (My contractor had an excuse for my home's incompleteness: He'd had only 21 months to construct it.) I arrived sick. Days later, I had a falling-out with a neighbor whom I'd been hoping to count on for support.

So much for the good week.

I went to the national telecommunications company, ICE (pronounced "e-say"), for a cell phone number. They'd run out. A new concept, this, a phone company sans phone numbers. Had the phone-number factory been struck? Was a shipping container delayed in customs? I borrowed a neighbor's extra cell phone until new numbers were offered … eight months later.

In May, a days-long tropical storm unleashed wild winds and torrential rains. ("Oh, we never get storms like this," said the locals.) This was when I discovered that my house sported a sieve rather than the more traditional roof.

Soon, I was introduced to my job here. I'd been an analyst in Sacramento with the California Commission on Teacher Credentialing. My new occupation? Waiter. But not at a restaurant. At my home, where I'd just … wait.

A year of my life has disappeared waiting for folks (not) to return calls or come out to install/deliver/repair things. However, I now know the third-world time formula: five hours late is actually one hour early.

In August, I developed a persistent, distressing condition. I'll skip specifics, butt it was a real pain.

In October, relief: Argentina!

In November, reality: mildewed beds! Seems someone forgot to activate the dehumidifier before someone left for South America – unwise in a country where rainfall averages 3 billion inches annually. (That could be off. It's likely more.)

There's also a cloud forest here. It starts in our neighborhood. Only meters down the road, the climate is noticeably better. There, they speak of some thing called "sol." When I get friends' e-mails opining how nice the sunny tropics must be, I think, yeah, they must be.

The weather's been hideous for months. Windy, wet, windy, cold, windy, foggy. Oh, windy, too. November produced another brutal storm with rain and wind that howled unabated for a week. Parts of my roof blew off. (The pre-perforation helped.) A broken skylight banged incessantly while water cascaded onto my computer desk. Luckily, I wasn't electrocuted. (Although, by now, it sounded appealing.) Other leaks sprung. For seven days it was like being inside a giant, porous metal box being beaten with a club. Was this the torture-by-noise method the CIA used? If so, I'd confess to anything, even to once having registered Republican. (Shhhh!)

Oh – the burglaries: During the maelstrom, neighbors were robbed. Two break-ins were attempted here, both while I was home, asleep. I survived but my psyche was shaken.

Post-storm roof repairs were needed. More weeks of waiting. Finally, three guys came out, applied about $6 worth of materials and charged $550.

But at least I no longer had that pesky leak by my couch. Nope.

Now it was nearer the door.

It was time to become ill again so, in December, I developed frightening intestinal problems. The doctor diagnosed colitis, suggested dietary changes and said stress had been a contributing factor.

Mark Drolette is a freelance writer from Sacramento who moved to Costa Rica but changed his mind and moved back to Sacramento...as of last week.