My name is Patricia, I’m 55 and live in Seattle, and I went to Jaco Beach because I needed a change of scenery in the truest sense. Years of gray skies and long workdays had worn me down more than I realized. Friends kept telling me about Costa Rica—about the warmth, the kindness of the people, the way the rainforest and ocean come together—and one day I simply decided to listen. I chose Jaco because it seemed like a place where I could have both comfort and adventure without being isolated.

I booked a comfortable Jaco Airbnb apartment with plenty of space to unwind. It had a real living room, a well-equipped kitchen, and a bedroom where I could finally sleep without an alarm clock. The building felt very safe, with secure entrances and a calm atmosphere. My host checked in frequently by message, suggesting day trips and making sure I knew which buses to take if I wanted to explore beyond town. From the balcony, I could see the tops of palm trees and a slice of the mountains that frame this whole region.

Jaco itself made a gentle first impression. On my first morning, I walked down to the beach just after sunrise. The sand was cool, the air already warm, and the waves rolled in with a steady rhythm that felt almost meditative. A few surfers were out, silhouetted against the brightening sky. Behind me, the town was waking up: buses passing, shopkeepers opening doors, birds calling from the trees. I remember thinking that it felt both vibrant and surprisingly calm at the same time.

One of my favorite days was a combination of water and forest. I joined a waterfall tour to Bijagual, where we hiked through lush rainforest to reach a tall cascade. The trail was alive with sound—birds, insects, water moving somewhere just out of sight. When we finally reached the falls, the air turned cool and misty. I slipped into the pool at the bottom and felt like I was washing off months of accumulated tension. On the way back, our guide pointed out views over the Puntarenas coastline, including the stretch that runs past Jaco, Herradura, and Tarcoles. It was beautiful in a way that made you quietly grateful.

A couple of days later, I visited Pura Vida Gardens and Waterfalls. If Bijagual was wild and rugged, Pura Vida felt curated and contemplative. Walkways wind through gardens full of tropical flowers, butterflies flutter between blossoms, and at certain points you can stand where the waterfalls, forest, and ocean all come into view at once. I took my time there, stopping often just to listen to the wind and the distant sound of water. It was one of those places that invites you to slow down without any effort.

I didn’t spend all my time in quiet reflection, though. I joined a Jungle Crocodile Safari Tour on the Tarcoles River and was amazed at the wildlife so close to town. Massive crocodiles basked on the riverbanks, and a variety of birds—herons, egrets, macaws—moved through the mangroves. The guide talked about how important these ecosystems are to Costa Rica and how the communities around Tarcoles and the coastal highway depend on tourism done responsibly. It gave me a deeper appreciation for the region beyond just its postcard beauty.

In Jaco itself, I enjoyed a balance of simple pleasures and a little bit of nightlife. Some evenings I ate at local spots like Soda Jaco Rustico Restaurant, where generous plates of rice, beans, plantains, and grilled meats filled me up for just a few dollars. On other nights I treated myself to dinner at places like Green Room Restaurant or Lemon Zest Restaurant. Afterward, I’d walk along the main street or the beachfront, watching families, groups of friends, and other travelers enjoy the warm night. One evening I stepped into Croc’s Casino Hotel for gambling, played a few games, and then spent most of my time on the outdoor terrace, listening to the waves and watching the lights glitter on the water.

At some point during the week, I decided to mark the trip in a more literal way and visited a Jaco tattoo shop and body piercing studio. I’d been considering a small, meaningful tattoo for years and never quite followed through. The artist was professional and kind, and as he worked, we talked about life in Jaco, the busy high season, and how much the town had grown. I walked out with a tiny, tasteful reminder on my wrist of the week I finally made time for myself.

Transportation was straightforward and never stressful. I used taxis and Ubers to get to places like Herradura and back from Croc’s when it was late. For the tours, shuttles picked me up right at my Airbnb. One afternoon I took a public bus down toward Playa Hermosa just to see more of the coastline and watch surfers tackle bigger waves. Even as a woman in her fifties traveling alone, I felt safe. Drivers were respectful, other passengers were polite, and I never felt like I was out of my depth.

The thing that will bring me back, more than the scenery or the activities, is the warmth of the people. Costa Ricans seem to radiate a genuine friendliness. From the woman who sold me fruit near the bus stop to the staff at restaurants and the guides on my tours, everyone treated me with kindness and patience. They answered questions, offered suggestions, and often ended conversations with “pura vida”—not as a slogan, but as a sincere expression of their outlook. In Jaco, that phrase started to feel less like an idea and more like something I was living, if only for a week.

When I flew back to Seattle, the clouds and drizzle were waiting, but I felt different. Taking this trip alone was a reminder that it’s never too late to try something new, to explore a new coastline, to walk through a rainforest, or to sit quietly in a garden and listen to the world. Jaco Beach and the surrounding areas—Tarcoles, Herradura, the hills above town—all blended into an experience that was beautiful, safe, welcoming, and quietly transformative. That’s what “pura vida” means to me now, and Jaco is where I found it.