Is Costa Rica expensive to live in?

Costa Rica isn’t the cheapest country in Central America, but it’s not outrageous either. Daily life costs less than in most major U.S. cities — especially if you adapt to local food and lifestyle. Where it gets pricey is rent in beach towns, imported goods, and electricity if you blast the A/C all day.

What is the average rent in Costa Rica?

Rent depends on location. In San José, a two-bedroom apartment runs $600–$1,200/month. In popular beach towns or suburbs, expect $800–$1,800/month. Rural areas can be as low as $400/month — but you’ll trade off some conveniences.

How much money do I need to live comfortably in Costa Rica?

A single person can live modestly on $1,200–$1,500/month. For more comfort (A/C, private healthcare, imported snacks), budget $2,000–$3,000/month. Couples usually spend $1,500–$2,500+ depending on lifestyle and location.

What’s the cost of food in Costa Rica?

Local produce, coffee, and seafood are affordable (think avocados for $0.50, pineapples for $1, fresh fish at local markets). Imported items, though, are expensive — a jar of peanut butter can be $8 and wine can sting your wallet. Sticking to the local diet saves money and makes you healthier.

I Carried the Sound: When Broadway Passes the Torch of Legacy

Waymon Hudson
Nov 29
6 min read

How Miss Addie becomes the Velvet Boot’s new heartbeat... and how queer survival becomes triumph.

Bernadette Peters as the Witch in Into the Woods, standing in front of the ensemble with an outstretched hand, commanding the stage with fierce authority and mythic presence. — ***Broadway’s matriarchs don’t just guide the story — they guard the truth.***

Broadway has always known how to honor the legacy and the people who held us up before we could stand on our own.

Think of the lineage songs... the quiet, reflective moments where a character stops performing and starts remembering:

“Children Will Listen” – Into the Woods

A warning, a prayer, and a legacy passed down.

“Days and Days” – Fun Home

A mother’s confession that becomes her daughter’s liberation.

Annaleigh Ashford and Jake Gyllenhaal in Sunday in the Park with George, holding sketchbooks as they sing with emotional intimacy, bathed in soft theatrical lighting. — ***Every generation learns how to carry the sound from the ones who came before.***

“Move On” – Sunday in the Park with George

Art as inheritance, creativity as ancestry.

“The Dark I Know Well” – Spring Awakening

Intergenerational trauma shared quietly, powerfully.

These songs don’t just move plot... they move history.

They show us who taught us, who shaped us, and who carried the flame long enough for us to finally touch it.

And in Speakeasy: A New Musical, that torch is carried by one woman: Addie.

Addie’s Final Transformation: From Witness to Keeper of the Flame

By the time we reach “I Carried the Sound,” Addie has lost everything her old life demanded she protect.

A dignified Black woman in a navy dress stands in warm light, hands folded, embodying quiet strength and resilience — the visual foundation of Miss Addie in Speakeasy. — ***Before the song, before the revelation — Addie has already lived a lifetime of truth untold.***

She’s been fired for helping Jules escape after the police raid.

She’s been cast out of the Delaney home, the place she survived, but never belonged.

And Merc, seeing the quiet power in her, leads her into the Velvet Boot for the first time.

This is the moment she steps from the edges of the story into its center.

Not as a housekeeper.

Not as a witness.

But as a woman who has finally decided to live out loud.

And as Addie enters, nervous, reverent, electric, the butch bartender Frankie “Tank” Johnson watches her with the same awe Rome had the first time he saw Jules.

A soft gaze.

A recognition.

A spark.

A reminder that Addie’s love... her desire, her story... belongs on equal footing with Jules and Rome.

History is finally making room for her.

And in that moment, Addie sings.

Breaking Down the Song Lyric by Lyric

I seen joy in a bottle, truth in a sigh. I held hands in the shadows, watched hope pass me by. But I never bent low enough to break… I just hummed my truth with every ache.

Miss Addie stands center stage in the Velvet Boot nightclub set, hands raised as she sings with power and vulnerability, surrounded by the queer community she is finally stepping into. — ***The moment Addie stops carrying the sound alone — and becomes the heart of the Velvet Boot.***

This is Addie’s truth:

She didn’t get to live loudly, boldly, freely.

Not in the South she escaped.

Not in the Delaney home where she had to shrink herself.

But she carried what she could...

the hum of her truth, the melody of her past, the quiet beat of who she really was.

Addie survived by holding on to the small things that couldn’t be taken from her.

A sound.

A whisper.

A hum.

Some folks ran, some folks prayed... Me? I stayed.

This line lands like a hammer.

It reframes everything we thought was weakness.

Staying was resistance.

Enduring was defiance.

Silence was survival, not surrender.

I carried the sound... through storm, through sin. I held the light when the dark poured in. I may not wander, I may not preach... But baby, I know fire when I teach.

This is her thesis.

She’s saying:

I didn’t get to run.

I didn’t get to shout.

I didn’t get to love in daylight.

But I survived.

And survival is a lesson.

Addie becomes both student and teacher: a queer elder whose life is her curriculum.

The Gaze: Frankie “Tank” Johnson Enters the Story

I got miles on my soul, laughs in my scars... Seen the law pull bodies out of bars. Still, I sang. Still, I rose. Still, I wore that red with those run-down clothes.

Frankie “Tank” Johnson, a confident Black butch lesbian bartender, stands against the Velvet Boot bar in suspenders and rolled sleeves, offering a warm, steady smile. — ***The watcher becomes the witness — the first spark of Addie’s new beginning for Addie with Frankie.***

As Addie sings, Frankie watches her... really sees her.

And for the first time, Addie is witnessed with tenderness instead of fear.

Just as “Stolen Glances” framed Jules & Rome’s first spark…

this moment frames Addie’s.

A new love, a new future, a new chapter.

Broadway rarely gives queer Black women this storyline.

Addie claims it anyway.

You ask what faith looks like to me?It’s choosing love — and letting it be seen.

This is Addie’s true revolution.

Not just love.

But visibility.

Choosing to be seen is the bravest thing she has ever done.

I carried the sound — through grief, through shame. I called it joy when they called it blame. My back may bend, but it won’t bow...Not then. Not here. Not now.

She is no longer just carrying survival.

She’s carrying legacy.

The Bridge: Addie’s Fire Breaks Open

Say I’m loud... I know I am. Say I’m too much... then watch me stand. I was born to rise, to fight, to feel.... This voice I got? Baby, it’s real.

This is Addie’s liberation.

Her “I’m Here.”

Her “I Am What I Am.”

Her “Days and Days.”

It’s the moment her body remembers itself.

Frankie Joins In: The Torch Is Passed

When Frankie steps forward and sings with her:

I carried the sound — in hush and shout.I held the song when they cut it out.

…it’s the queerest, most tender passing of the torch.

Not from elder to youth, but from survivor to survivor.

Frankie takes Addie’s hand.

A small gesture.

A seismic shift.

Addie is no longer alone.

No longer watching.

No longer carrying everything by herself.

She is sung with.

Seen with.

Witnessed with.

This is chosen family made flesh.

Final Line: The A Cappella Benediction

I carried the sound.... Still do..... Right now.

And the room holds its breath.

Because the sound she carried wasn’t just music.

It was history.

Memory.

Queer lineage.

A life finally lived.

Why the Broadway Legacy of “I Carried the Sound” Matters

Miss Addie in a pinstripe suit stands proudly at the front of the Velvet Boot ensemble, radiating authority, conviction, and chosen-family leadership. — ***From housekeeper to revolutionary — the Velvet Boot finally has its matriarch.***

Addie’s final song is about:

✨ The cost of survival

✨ The weight of erasure

✨ The miracle of chosen family

✨ The courage to be seen

✨ The joy of second chances

✨ The legacy of queer Black women history ignores

And ultimately:

It’s Addie reclaiming everything she once lost.

Her voice.

Her love.

Her power.

Her future.

Addie isn’t just a supporting character.

She becomes the Velvet Boot’s new heart.

Its new matriarch.

Its new rebel.

Its new legacy.

And she earns it not just by fighting louder... but by finally letting herself be heard.

🎧 Listen Now

🎧 “I Carried the Sounds": Full lyric video now live!

📺 Watch all the “Behind Broadway” video episodes: Step into the spotlight behind the spotlight. Behind Broadway is your backstage pass to how musicals really work, from iconic song structures to emotional arcs, queer storytelling, and the hidden craft that makes theater magic. Whether you’re a theater kid, a casual fan, or a future Tony winner in disguise, welcome to the show behind the show.