It was already dark when we landed. We, a family of five from Berlin, had been convinced by our Costa Rican friends to take the long journey. 18 days across Costa Rica, always in their company.
Even at the airport, we got a taste of the famous Pura Vida mentality that we had read so much about in travel guides. The staff seemed completely unhurried, extremely polite, and always smiling.
But the Pura Vida feeling quickly gave way when we hit the streets of San José. For over an hour, we inched forward bumper-to-bumper through rush-hour traffic from the airport to the city center. “This isn’t unusual,” our friends laughed, “it’s like this every evening.”
The road network dates back to a time with far fewer residents, and the steep population growth since the 1950s overwhelms it. Public transport options are limited, so most people rely on cars, further straining the system. Luckily, our friends kept us entertained with stories and insights, giving us a crash course in the city.
Once in the center of San José, our first culinary adventure awaited: Costa Rica’s traditional Casado. The variety on the plate was overwhelming—beans, rice, salad, vegetables, plantains, and meat—a stark contrast to Germany’s typical “Abendbrot” consisting of bread and cold cuts.
The next morning marked the real start of our journey. Seeing San José in daylight for the first time, we began the day with a stroll through La Sabana Park. The city’s location, framed by lush green mountains, was something completely new to us. Berlin is green too, with plenty of parks, but being constantly surrounded by untamed nature? That was entirely different.
The next surprise didn’t take long. Rice and beans for breakfast! The traditional Gallo Pinto, similar to Casado but with eggs instead of meat, felt more like a full lunch to us. We embraced it and soon started nearly every day with this hearty breakfast. Energized, our group of eight split across three cars and packed like mules, set off toward the southeast of the country. Our destination: Cocles on the Caribbean coast. Little did we know, an entirely different Costa Rica awaited us.
Caribbean Coast – Reggae and Sloths
On the holiday “Día de la Madre,” we weren’t the only ones heading for the beach. After an eight-hour hell ride—though the GPS had promised just three hours—we arrived again in the dark.
We tried not to let it ruin our mood and enjoyed a few piña coladas in the hotel restaurant. What we didn’t expect was the gradual arrival of the extended Costa Rican family. From a table of eight, it quickly grew to 18, spanning ages from 12 to 80. We stayed late into the night, exchanging stories and experiences—a true immersion into Costa Rican culture.
We had also underestimated just how well Costa Ricans speak English. The country has the best English skills in Central America, so communication between the families was effortless despite our limited Spanish.
Awakened by the wild noises of the howler monkeys—the most common of Costa Rica’s four native monkey species—we started the day at 6 a.m., much earlier than expected. But this turned out to be a blessing.
On our way to the hotel restaurant, the next wildlife encounter awaited: still half-asleep, my mother’s shout pulled us out of our daze: “Look over there!” A sloth was slowly climbing back into the treetops right before our eyes. The remarkable thing: sloths leave their trees only about once a week to go to the bathroom—a risky moment, as they are easy prey.
With our entire group of 18, we headed to the beach, and we were in awe. While we Germans struggled to spread towels, the locals had already set up tents, tables, and a full picnic spread. Their experience at the beach was obvious. Punta Uva was breathtaking—a perfect fusion of rainforest and beach. That evening, we mingled with locals in the village of Manzanillo, sampling food with the classic Caribbean sauce while reggae music floated through the streets.
During dinner, locals shared that their grandparents had immigrated from Jamaica as part of the late 19th-century labor migration, many working on railroads or banana plantations. These roots still shape the Caribbean coast: reggae beats, Caribbean cuisine, and a laid-back attitude.
Over the next four days, we split our time between beaches, visits to animal rescue centers, and hikes—discovering an astonishing variety of plants and wildlife, sometimes just meters from the shore.
La Fortuna – Heart of the Rainforest
Excited to explore the country’s incredible diversity, we headed to La Fortuna. La Fortuna felt far more touristy. On the way to our accommodation, we passed countless signs advertising tours, buses, and hotels. Adventure awaited us everywhere, and after a week on the beach, this active change was welcome.
Surrounded by green everywhere, it finally hit us: we were in the heart of the rainforest. With constant views of the Arenal Volcano, we set off on our first hike through Mistico Park. The wobbly hanging bridges offered breathtaking views of the dense jungle. We walked a few kilometers, discovering plants we’d never seen before and listening to howler monkeys echoing through the treetops.
The next day, we hiked along the path cleared by lava during the 1968 eruption. The volcano loomed overhead, a reminder of nature’s raw power. After five kilometers, we thought we’d done enough for the day, but 500 steep steps later, we
arrived at La Fortuna Waterfall, plunging into a refreshing pool. Swimming against the current was an experience none of us will ever forget. The waterfall’s force made it nearly impossible to get closer than ten meters. We scrambled back up just in time before a torrential downpour began, which would last two days. But anyone visiting the rainforest should expect exactly that.
After two active days, we slowed down. A guide introduced us to the secrets of cocoa, coffee, and sugarcane. We learned that 70% of the world’s cocoa comes from Ghana and the Ivory Coast. And that climate change could soon make chocolate an expensive luxury worldwide. We also tasted freshly brewed coffee and homemade sugarcane liqueur.
With full stomachs, we headed to the famous hot springs—geothermal pools heated naturally by the volcano. One day of relaxation was enough. After all, we didn’t come to the rainforest just to lounge in water.
Next, we took on the Rio Celeste hike. The wildlife was overwhelming. Within meters, we were greeted by a group of at least six white-faced capuchin monkeys. A 10-minute monkey-watching pause later we continued, since we’d barely covered 100 meters. It wasn’t long however, until the next interruption occurred: a small, coal-black snake. Initially unimpressive, we later learned it was the deadliest snake of latin america. “Fer-de-Lance”, responsible for most snakebites in Costa Rica. Had we known, we certainly wouldn’t have gotten so close for a photo.
After more encounters with snakes, turtles, and monkeys, we reached the hike’s highlight: a 30-meter waterfall plunging into a turquoise pool, the so-called Blue Lagoon. Its almost magical color comes from minerals in the water scattering sunlight.
With all that hiking, we wondered how to experience the rainforest even more intensely. The answer hung above us: in steel cables. After all those steps, it was time to literally hang out. Ziplining. Introduced for tourists in Costa Rica in 1997, it’s now standard in national parks.
We raced through the air at up to 70 km/h, 200 meters above the ground, across seven cables, the longest stretching 750 meters. Surreal and adrenaline-pumping—but not for the faint of heart. Several people on the platform decided at the last second to back out.
Buzzing with adrenaline, we went on another hike—this time with a guide. That made all the difference. Until now, we had wandered through the forest awestruck but clueless. With an experienced guide, we could truly understand the flora and fauna. The ant colonies we had seen before suddenly became fascinating: strict hierarchies and even enslaving rival ants.
La Fortuna offered experiences unlike any we’d known before. Beautiful beaches and sunsets exist in Europe too, but the untamed, wild rainforest? That was something completely new and unforgettable.
Guanacaste – Sunsets, Surf, and Hidden Adventures
Our final five days were spent exploring Guanacaste and its stunning coastline. Even on the drive to Playa Flamingo, it was clear: this is Costa Rica’s tourist hub. Hotels lined the coast, property ads in dollars, restaurants more expensive than in Berlin.
The only contrast? The bumpy roads, with potholes suddenly appearing out of nowhere. But the beaches made up for everything: miles of coastline, perfect water temperatures, and sunsets worthy of postcards.
We explored one beach after another: playing in the waves in Flamingo, letting the shell-sands of Conchal massage our feet, trying our hand at surfing in Tamarindo, and strolling through the pastel streets of Las Catalinas. After four days of beach visits, we had more sand in our suitcasesthan clothes—time for adventure.
So we booked a tour to La Leona Waterfall. What awaited us here would later be considered the highlight of the trip by most of us. The journey alone was an adventure: eight of us standing on the pickup truck’s bed while the guide answered all our questions about Costa Rica.
On foot, we hiked through rivers, past giant blue morpho butterflies, spiders, and iguanas. No holding back—slides down rocks, three-meter jumps into icy pools, swimming through gorges. The cherry on top: the waterfall itself.
To reach it, we had to hang from a rope against the current and scramble over slippery rocks. Standing before the thundering water was breathtaking—beautiful and dangerous at once. “Don’t get too close,” the guides warned, “the force will pull you under.”
After a few photos, we returned, freezing but euphoric. Back at Playa Flamingo, Costa Rica gave us one last downpour—perhaps a wink: “Time to pack your bags.” The next morning, a final Gallo Pinto fueled us for the drive back to San José.
On the way, we stopped at Palo Verde National Park, hoping to spot our last “famous” Costa Rican wild animal: a crocodile. Near the end of the bridge spanning the marshlands, we were so focused on the birds landing on the railing that we almost forgot our mission.
Then, 10 meters away, a massive crocodile appeared—motionless, mouth wide open. Only as it slowly swam away did we realize: this was no statue, but a true prehistoric beast.
Mission accomplished.
We spent our last day wandering San José, wrapping up the journey, packing thousands of photos, and collecting memories that would take time to fully process. Costa Rica left us with something that can’t fit in a suitcase: calm. After 18 days, it felt as if the country had taught us a little Pura Vida. For me, it means taking life as it comes, staying optimistic and not taking everything too seriously … except if you are stuck in San Josés traffic.
