I’m Kevin Garcia, 29. I booked Jaco after staring at my office screen for too many months and realizing I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen an ocean. I stayed in a Contemporary Airbnb Apartment near Jaco Beach and promised myself I’d trade the office chair for a beach chair as often as possible.

My four big moves were Surfing on Jaco Beach, a day trip to Carara National Park, dinner at The Pizza Shop Jaco Pizza Restaurant, and a laid-back night at Mynt Lounge Jaco where the music and hookah made it pretty hard to think about spreadsheets. The people I met—guides, bartenders, rideshare drivers—were all warm, patient, and quick to laugh.

On off-days, I walked the beach at sunrise, then hopped out to Playa Hermosa just to watch locals carve waves, or over to Herradura to watch the boats glide in. I even rode the bus south toward Esterillos just because the route hugged the coast. Taxis and Ubers filled in the gaps when I didn’t feel like timing anything. Everything about getting around felt straightforward and safe.

At one point, a guy selling fruit on the sidewalk showed me the easiest way to catch the bus to Manuel Antonio, then insisted I take an extra slice of pineapple “for energy.” It’s a small thing, but it sums up how Costa Ricans treated me: like a guest they were honestly happy to have around.

Nights in Jaco were their own reward—beachfront bars with live music, the hum and lights of casinos, and spots like Mynt where you can sit, sip, and just enjoy the vibe. I walked back to my apartment each night under warm streetlights feeling safe, relaxed, and a little bit sunburned in the best way.

By the time I flew home, my shoulders were lower, my screen-time stats were better, and I’d added “Jaco” to the short list of places I plan to revisit whenever life starts to feel too small again. If you need a reset, this town delivers.