If you had told me ten years ago that I’d be wandering along a Pacific beach in Costa Rica at sunrise, birdwatching and sipping strong local coffee, I might have laughed. My name is Charles, I’m 61, from Philadelphia, and my idea of vacation used to be “whatever conference was in a warm city.” This year I decided to do it differently. I chose Jaco Beach because it looked like a place where I could travel slowly: stay in one town, take a few thoughtful excursions, and really feel what daily life is like in another country. It turned out to be an excellent choice.

Rather than a hotel, I rented a spacious Jaco Airbnb apartment suitable for a longer stay. The apartment had a proper living room and kitchen, a comfortable bed, and a balcony with just enough height to look over the palm trees toward the mountains. I liked that the building had locals as well as other travelers living there. The front gate stayed locked, security cameras were visible, and neighbors greeted each other in the hallway—in short, it felt like a real community, and I always felt safe coming and going.

Most mornings, the town woke up before I did. Jaco is early to rise; by the time I took my coffee out to the balcony, I could hear buses on the main road and see surfers already walking toward the water. Some days I joined them, heading down to the beach to walk along the dark sand while the light over the Pacific changed from gray to pink to gold. I’m not much of a surfer myself, but watching the locals and visitors catch waves with rainforest-covered hills behind them might be one of the most calming scenes I’ve ever witnessed.

I chose my activities carefully, giving myself plenty of rest in between. On one day, I joined a birdwatching-focused Jungle Crocodile Safari Tour on the Tarcoles River. The crocodiles were impressive, of course, but I found myself more captivated by the birds: herons, egrets, kingfishers, and the occasional scarlet macaw swooping overhead. The guide knew the river like a close friend and sprinkled in stories about the surrounding Tarcoles and coastal communities. A few days later, I visited Pura Vida Gardens and Waterfalls, wandering through immaculately kept gardens bursting with color. From certain viewpoints you can see both waterfalls and the ocean, with the green hills of the Puntarenas region rolling between them.

On another day, I booked a trip to Catarata Bijagual. The hike took effort, but at my age I’ve learned that taking your time is no sin. With a walking stick and a patient guide, I made it down to the waterfall and eased into the cool pool at the bottom. I ended up talking with a couple from Canada and a family from San José, and even with my limited Spanish, we shared stories and snacks. Costa Ricans, I discovered, are not just polite; they are genuinely pleased when you take an interest in their country. I heard “bienvenido” and “pura vida” so many times that they started to feel like part of my own vocabulary.

Jaco itself is lively without being overwhelming if you move at your own speed. In the afternoons I’d sometimes sit at a café near Jaco Walk, watching people drift between shops, kids sharing ice cream, tourists wrestling with beach hats in the wind. On a couple of evenings I treated myself to nicer dinners, like at Hartley Ranch Prime Steakhouse and Green Room Restaurant, enjoying good food and the easygoing atmosphere. You can feel the town’s pulse more strongly as night falls—music from bars, chatter on the sidewalks—but even then, I never felt out of place or unsafe as an older solo traveler.

I didn’t avoid the casinos entirely. One early evening I visited Croc’s Casino Hotel for gambling, more out of curiosity than any expectation of winning. The casino floor buzzed with energy, tourists from all over the world trying their luck. I played for a while, then took my drink outside to look at the lights reflected on the water. It struck me that in many cities, nightlife can feel aggressive; in Jaco, it felt like another expression of that same “pura vida” spirit, just set to a louder soundtrack.

Getting around was surprisingly simple. I relied heavily on taxis and Ubers for convenience, and I never had trouble finding a ride, even later at night. Drivers were patient with my basic Spanish and often switched to English to make things easier. On a couple of days I used the local buses to explore nearby areas like Herradura and Playa Hermosa, paying just a few colones for a journey that came with mountain and ocean views. The routes toward Quepos, Manuel Antonio, and even farther down the coast toward Parrita and Esterillos remind you that this is a region defined by both sea and rainforest.

What I appreciated most about Jaco and its surroundings was the balance between accessibility and wildness. You can stand in the middle of town with a pharmacy, supermarket, and ATMs within arm’s reach, then look up and see jungle-covered slopes just minutes away. The people are warm without being intrusive, the town feels safe without feeling sterile, and the beach is always there when you need to clear your head. For a slow traveler like me, who wanted to feel a place rather than rush through it, Jaco Beach turned out to be exactly right. I went home with a lighter suitcase, a heavier photo roll, and a deeper sense of connection to a little stretch of Costa Rica’s Pacific coast.