Pura Vida: A 2004 Costa Rican Odyssey

In 2004, I embarked on a soul-stirring journey to Costa Rica with Jonathan, my American partner at the time. It was a trip that wove together adventure, nature, and unexpected connections, leaving echoes in my heart even now, decades later. Our adventure began with a flight from San Jose to Puerto Jimenez—on a tiny plane, no less. Halfway there, bad weather forced us to turn back, the pilot’s calm voice crackling through the cabin. We tried again that afternoon, and this time, we touched down on a small jungle airstrip. A lady sat there under a rainbow umbrella, snipping our tickets with scissors—a quirky memory that still makes me smile. As we landed, I spotted a biker casually pedaling across the strip. Easy life, I thought—no worries here.

Our cabin in the jungle was a rustic dream—open windows with no glass, just a mosquito net between us and the wild. Morning brought parrots chattering high in the misty trees, their colors piercing the green haze. It felt so peaceful, so pure, like the world had exhaled. From there, we explored the rainforests of Corcovado and Osa on the Peninsula de Osa—lush, untamed expanses where howler monkeys and rustling leaves played nature’s symphony. Next came Manuel Antonio’s postcard beaches, Playa Samara’s whispering Pacific, and Monteverde, the misty “Little Switzerland.”

In La Fortuna, we stayed at the Volcano Lodge, a front-row seat to Arenal’s magic. At night, lying in bed or soaking in the hot springs, we watched glowing lava trickle down the volcano—a surreal, fiery dance against the dark. Nearby, we hiked to Rio Celeste, where the river shimmered with an otherworldly turquoise glow, like liquid light carved through the jungle. That blend of fire and water left me awestruck. The journey shifted gears when we bused from Guapiles to Cariari/ La Pavona and took a longtail boat to Tortuguero. That ride was a global mash-up—Germans, Americans, Israelis, Dutch, all swaying together on the water. One night in Tortuguero, we trekked to the beach under a starlit sky to watch turtles lay their eggs—a quiet, sacred moment. Dinner followed at a rustic spot in Parque Tortuguero, where plates clinked and stories flowed. I couldn’t help but notice: as long as religion and politics stayed off the table, harmony reigned. It’s a truth I still carry.

The longtail boat delivered us to Puerto Limon, where we settled into La Costa de Papito, owned by an American chef from New York who’d traded the city’s rat race for paradise. His pancakes were divine—fluffy, golden perfection that fueled our days. That place sparked my creativity; the Caribbean vibe later poured into artworks I made, echoes of its laid-back charm. (Check the pics!) The people we met—locals and travelers alike—were as vibrant as the landscapes. Years later, I even dreamed of moving there, lured by Costa Rica’s raw beauty and peaceful soul.

Did you know Costa Rica has no army? Since 1948, they’ve chosen peace over military might, funneling resources into education and conservation. It’s a small nation with a big heart, cradling microclimates from steamy jungles to cool highlands. Rio Celeste’s turquoise glow, the golden sands of Samara, the lava-lit nights in La Fortuna—it was a love letter to nature. Tortuguero’s turtles, the jungle parrots, the rainbow-umbrella lady—they all stitched this trip into my soul.

This journey remains a vivid thread in the tapestry of my life—a reminder of nature’s wonders and the fleeting, beautiful bonds we forge along the way.