I’m Mary Johnson, 33, and I came to Jaco to thaw out a long winter and learn how to breathe again. I checked into a Stylish Jaco Beach Airbnb Apartment and the week found a rhythm fast. Street vendors fanned grills, smoke curling through the fronds; mornings were soft and gray and then bright as a postcard.

My days were equal parts motion and wandering: Took a Surfing Lesson at the Jaco Surf School, Waterfall Tour in Bijagual, Ziplining through Rainforest, and a sunset Horseback riding by Sunset on a ridge that looked painted. Everywhere I went, people were helpful—drivers, guides, folks in line for smoothies. Pura vida isn’t a slogan here; it’s a reflex.

I grazed my way through town—ceviche, casados, and a pizza place I found on a side street. Herradura’s marina felt serene, Playa Hermosa was all muscle and surf, and the day-trip menu was stacked: Tarcoles crocodiles, Esterillos for quiet sand, Manuel Antonio for wildlife. Taxis and Ubers came fast; the bus was easy and cheap.

I bought a cold coconut from a cooler; the vendor handed me a straw and a grin.

After dark, I split time between beachfront bars, a club, and a bright little casino detour. I even won a little. Everything felt friendly and safe, and the walk home under warm air and palm shadows made me want to stretch the week.

By the end, Jaco felt like a town designed for yes—waves for beginners, food for grazers, adventures for anyone willing to lace shoes or grab a board. I’ll be back, and I’ll bring friends who need a reset.