It didn’t happen overnight.
There wasn’t one single moment when we looked at each other and said, That’s it, we’re moving to Costa Rica. But over time, the weight of it all began to settle in. The constant noise. The division. The heaviness that seemed to be everywhere in Canada, even among the kindest people we knew. It was in the air, in the news, in conversations that never seemed to end without someone walking away frustrated.
We weren’t running from anything. We were walking toward the hope of something better. Toward a way of life that felt lighter, more human, more in tune with the kind of peace we had started craving deep down.
Yes, Costa Rica has its own challenges. Crime exists here, like it does back home. Governments will always govern. They’ll make decisions that leave you nodding in approval, and others that make you shake your head. That’s life anywhere.
But the difference, the one that hits you right in the chest, is the energy of the people. And the absence of tension in the air.
Back in Canada, it’s hard to escape the gravitational pull of politics. Even when you try to avoid it, it finds its way into your conversations. Into your friendships. Into your social feeds. It’s fed by media that thrives on division, and by politicians who seem more interested in scoring points than solving problems. The result? A country full of good people, pulled apart by endless arguments and finger-pointing.
We have immediately noticed that here in Costa Rica, the conversations shift. The focus changes. And so does your breathing.
People talk about different things. They ask how you’re doing, what you’ve been up to. They talk about how the weather’s been. They focus on the birds in the trees, the monkey they saw on their walk, or the best place to get fresh fruit today. And it’s not small talk, it’s organic connection.
You see someone struggling, you help. You see someone smiling, you join them. You offer advice, or ask for it, without needing to prove a point or win anything.
The feeling is… softer. Calmer. Lighter.
That’s what Pura Vida really means. It’s more than a saying. It’s a mindset. A way of showing up in life with open arms instead of clenched fists. A way of letting go of what you can’t control, and embracing what’s right in front of you: sunsets, laughter, slow mornings, simple joys.
Of course, there are good people in Canada. Plenty. I know many, and I miss some of them every day. But even they, without realizing it, are pulled into the same current of negativity that runs so strong in North America.
Here, it’s different. I know, because I’m living it. The current flows the other way. It pulls you toward peace. Toward simplicity. Toward kindness without condition.
The news isn’t everywhere. The tension doesn’t follow you to every dinner table or community event. And when people do talk about what’s happening, it often feels like a throwback to the 1950s. The announcements about road closures, weather alerts, and upcoming community celebrations.
We didn’t come here expecting perfection. But we came here hoping to feel lighter. To breathe easier. And so far I must say, we found that.
We found people who live from the heart. We found conversations that matter. And most of all, we found a slower, richer rhythm that reminds us how beautiful life can be when you let it be simple.
That’s why we’re here.
That’s why we stay.
That’s what peace feels like… and I wish nothing else but for you all to find it too.
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