Pura Vida in Practice: Lessons from Both Sides of the Fence

Listen instead: full blog narration by Tere & Skip. Press play.

When Skip honked at a family of iguanas crossing the road and my grandmother made coffee during a roadside tire blowout, we learned the same lesson from opposite sides of the cultural fence: Pura Vida isn't something you do, it's something you become. But getting there? That's where the real stories begin.

Skip arrived in Costa Rica 22 years ago with an American schedule and a to-do list. I was born here with gallo pinto in my DNA and "there's no bad from which good doesn't come" as my family motto. Between his learning curve and my cultural insider's view, we've discovered that Pura Vida is both simpler and more complex than anyone imagines.

Tere's Side: What Pura Vida Actually Looks Like When You're Not Trying

Let me start with something that might surprise you: I never thought Pura Vida was a superpower until expats started telling me it was .

Growing up in Costa Rica in the 90s, Pura Vida wasn't a philosophy we practiced - it was just how life worked when everything around you were beautifully unpredictable. You learned to roll with whatever came your way because, honestly, what else were you going to do ?

Picture this: My entire extended family - and I mean the real Costa Rican extended family that includes third and fourth cousins whom you still call "cousin" and, treat like siblings... plus my grandmother's 100-year-old aunt - piling into a camión ganadero for a beach trip... For those who don't know, a camión ganadero is a cattle truck - essentially a large flatbed with metal or wood rails designed for transporting livestock. But in the 90s, it was our family bus.

We'd load twenty-something people onto this truck, sitting on mattresses, grain sacks, and gifts for whoever we were visiting, traveling for hours... that's just how families moved together. As kids, we thought this was the height of adventure- but it was simply how you got the whole family to Playa Pan de Azúcar

During one of these trips, our tire went flat. What happened next is probably the most Costa Rican thing ever: All the men jumped out and immediately started organizing roles to fix the tire. The women decided this was the perfect time to make coffee - right there on the side of the road. And us kids? We turned the delay into playtime, running around while the most beautiful sunset painted the sky.

Nobody complained. Nobody checked their watch. Nobody demanded to know how long this would take. We just made the best of an unexpected moment, and somehow it became one of my favorite childhood memories.

This is what some expats miss when they talk about our "mañana culture" - it's not that we don't care about time. It's that we understand our infrastructure has its own personality. Roads flood overnight, landslides happen on the way to Limón, police checkpoints appear randomly, and sometimes your tire decides it's done with life. When you live with these realities daily, you learn to appreciate that people arrive at all rather than stressing about when they arrive.

My grandmother embodied this perfectly. When someone showed up late to family gatherings, her response was never "Where were you?" but rather "You made it! Let me get you some gallo pinto and coffee." She understood that if someone was late, they probably had good reason - or at least an interesting story.

When different expectations meet Pura Vida:

I've learned so much from observing how differently people approach Costa Rica. Some visitors arrive with very specific expectations - they want roads like home, house systems identical to what they left, and sometimes they're surprised to discover we're not an island (yes, that happens more than you'd think).

I remember one guest asking me to bring Baygon for tiny black ants peacefully living near a beach chair - on the actual beach. They weren't bothering anyone, just being ants doing ant things in their natural habitat. It made me realize how different our relationships with nature can be. For us, those ants are part of the beach ecosystem; for visitors, they might represent something to fix immediately.

The quick-solution mindset versus acceptance:

Where I see the biggest difference is in the urgency to "fix" imperfections. I understand that in higher-income countries, replacing things is often straightforward - quick access to stores, multiple financing options, relatively lower costs compared to income. When mansomething breaks or looks worn, the solution is usually just a shopping trip away.

Here in Costa Rica, that same accessibility doesn't exist. When I see an expat thinking "that house needs a coat of paint," I know the Tico owner probably sees it too. But they might be carefully managing other financial priorities, waiting for the right moment when resources align. What looks like "not caring" might actually be thoughtful planning.

This ties into something deeper in our culture. I grew up learning "no hay mal que por bien no venga" - there's no bad from which good doesn't come. Everything happens for a reason. A tico knowing his house needs a renovation might be disappointed but he would calm down and say, "solo Dios sabe por qué no lo permite" (only God knows why He doesn't allow it), and they'd find peace in that. Rather than being something to be ashamed of, this protects your heart from getting poisoned or stressed by things you can't control.

This creates two different approaches to imperfection: visitors often want to fix things immediately because they're used to being able to do so, while we've learned to live with imperfection until the timing is right for addressing it. Neither approach is wrong, but understanding the difference helps everyone appreciate each other's perspective.

The cultural exchange opportunity:

A Tico community is built into pura vida philosophy. My grandmother didn't just endure life's surprises alone - she had Doña Tina next door, who served as her tear cloth. They weren't just neighbors but friends who shared their daily situations over afternoon coffee. This network of support made challenges manageable.

Thats how Tico's are, when someone genuinely needs help, we act instinctively, always seeking fairness and soon after the distress is dealt with, we become immediate friends to whom we helped. Ticos warm up to humility; pushiness can slow trust.

The most beautiful experiences happen when people step outside familiar circles and engage with local community. When visitors stay primarily within expat networks, they experience Costa Rica filtered through other foreigners' perspectives. Meanwhile, we locals miss opportunities to share authentic Costa Rican culture and learn from different worldviews. The richest Pura Vida experiences emerge from this cultural mixing - visitors discovering neighborhood sodas with incredible casados, locals learning new approaches to efficiency or organization. Both communities grow when the exchange flows in both directions.

When Pura Vida Gets Exploited: The Fine Line Between Grace and Mediocrity

Here's where it gets complicated: Ticos rarely complain about slow service, which unfortunately means some bureaucrats have taken advantage of this cultural patience over the years. When you know people won't complain much, it's easy to settle into a comfort zone, especially when your boss has been doing the same thing for decades.

Take our public banks closing at 3:45 PM and staying closed on weekends. We understand the system isn't updated for modern life, but changing public sector operational laws involves navigating unions and multiple interests - it's complicated.

This brings me to something I struggle with as a Tica: the thin line between authentic Pura Vida and plain mediocrity. There's a difference between accepting life's uncertainties with grace and accepting poor effort from people who should care more. The challenge is that outsiders often can't tell the difference.

The stereotype that we're "slow" or "inefficient" hits differently now that many Ticos have lived or worked abroad. We've returned with broader perspectives, understanding that some things could indeed be better. But there's still something valuable about not letting every delay ruin your day.

I'll admit I have my not-so-Pura-Vida moments. Driving brings out my inner impatience, especially when I see people making aggressive, potentially harmful choices. Extreme laziness in customer service can make me ask for better service, walk away, or close my business with that office entirely. Sometimes I imagine the slow service person as the sloth from Zootopia and try to channel my inner calm - humor helps me hold on.

My biggest struggle with our culture involves customer service. Maybe it's because I've experienced those "help me God" moments when dealing with zero empathy from service providers. People might say that's part of Pura Vida, but as a Tica, I disagree. Being mindful and respectful to others is part of Pura Vida - treating customers like they're a pain is not.

When Pura Vida goes too far vs. when it's perfect:

Too far:

• Accepting a contractor who takes your deposit and disappears for weeks without communication because "that's just how construction works here"

  
  

• Tolerating professionals who consistently show no respect for appointment times without any explanation

  
  

• Allowing service providers to deliver genuinely substandard work because addressing it feels "too confrontational"

  
  

• Ignoring legitimate safety concerns because speaking up seems "un-Pura Vida"

  
  

• Staying silent when someone consistently takes advantage of your cultural politeness

Perfect:

• When the power goes out during a dinner party, and instead of panicking, everyone starts telling stories by candlelight while someone finds a guitar

  
  

• Road construction delays your beach trip, so you discover a hidden waterfall you never would have found otherwise

  
  

• The restaurant runs out of your first choice, leading you to try the chef's special that becomes your new favorite dish

  
  

• A sudden rainstorm interrupts outdoor plans, creating the perfect excuse for family board games you haven't played in years

  
  

• Your internet goes down during work, giving you permission to take that walk you've been postponing

  
  

The Pura Vida Test:

Ask yourself:

• "Am I choosing acceptance because I genuinely can't control this situation and making the best of it will bring joy, or am I avoiding necessary action because confrontation feels uncomfortable?"

  
  

• "Is this delay teaching me valuable patience about life's natural rhythm, or is someone taking advantage of my cultural politeness?"

  
  

• "Will embracing this unexpected change lead to a better outcome or new discovery, or am I just avoiding my responsibility to speak up?"

Authentic Pura Vida requires wisdom to distinguish between life's natural rhythm that we should embrace and situations where we need to advocate for ourselves or others while maintaining respect and kindness.

This is what expats miss when they think our acceptance is weakness, and what we sometimes miss when we accept things we shouldn't just to avoid conflict.

Loving Costa Rica Enough to Want It Better: Gratitude and Growth

As a Tica, I know there are many things my country should and must do better. We complain about political decisions contaminated with personal agendas, we regret seeing how people get corrupted once they get their seat at Cuesta de Moras, and so many other frustrations. Yet our way to cope internally and family-wise is holding to our Tico spirit, trying to adapt our Pura Vida style to incorporate what foreigners come to teach us.

In that sense, I thank expat people for believing in our country and our people, for showing us better ways of doing business like Americans do, and for teaching us to always be courteous and say thank you like Canadian folks do.

The real Pura Vida isn't about being slow or accepting mediocrity. It's about understanding that life has its own rhythm, that community matters more than individual convenience, and that sometimes the best moments come from the detours you didn't plan. It's making coffee when your tire goes flat instead of cursing the delay.

It's knowing that your grandmother will always have gallo pinto ready, no matter what time you show up.

Skip’s Side: What Pura Vida Looks Like When You Try Too Hard

When I landed in Costa Rica 22 years ago, I was armed with an American survival kit: a planner that could choke a horse, a Palm Pilot (remember those?) and an ironclad belief that “on time” meant five minutes early. I had visions of running my life in Costa Rica with military precision. You know what I'm talking about. . smooth roads, quick checkouts & contractors who showed up when they said they would.

Well, my very first week here, reality tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Relax, gringo, we’re doing things differently.” I’d made an appointment with ICE (the electric company, not the other one), showed up early and sat in the waiting room like a Boy Scout reporting for summer camp. An hour passed. Then two. Finally, when I asked when I might be seen, the clerk smiled warmly and said, “Mañana.” Not “tomorrow,” mind you—mañana. That was my introduction to the Costa Rican concept of elastic time.

Then came the iguana traffic jam. In the U.S., honking was my way of life! It’s how you say hello, goodbye, and “please move before I lose my mind.” So when a family of iguanas started strolling across the road like they were on a Sunday walk to church, I did what I always did: I honked. That was a big mistake. The iguanas didn’t scatter; they glared at me. One actually stopped in the middle of the road and gave me what I swear was the reptile version of the middle finger. . an erect tail flick! Meanwhile, a Tico in the next car just leaned back, grinned and waited like he had all the time in the world. That was my second lesson: here, iguanas (and all the other hundreds of thousands of species of animals) have the right-of-way. . always!

And then there was the infamous roadside coffee moment. My American instincts told me a flat tire was a full-blown emergency. Break out the jack, call my insurance company and grumble about the wasted time. My neighbor, on the other hand, treated it like a picnic. He pulled out a camp stove, brewed a pot of coffee, and passed me a cup while saying, “tranquilo, Skip, life goes on.” At first, I thought he was mocking me. But as we sipped coffee under the shade of a mango tree, I realized he was teaching me the secret: life doesn’t stop for inconveniences, it simply reshuffles a little bit!

Over the years, I’ve collected dozens of these “Pura Vida recalibrations.”

When my contractor disappeared for three weeks, I thought I’d been robbed blind. He eventually showed up smiling, saying, “Sorry, my cousin got married, big fiesta.” I was furious… until he handed me homemade tamales from the wedding. Somehow, they dulled my rage. I got used to this way of doing business REAL QUICK as I gained 20 pounds!

When my bank closed at 3:45 PM (not 4:00, not 3:59, but 3:45 sharp), I ranted for a week. Now? I plan my banking trips like expeditions to the summit of Everest.

When my power went out during Monday Night Football, my neighbors lit candles, grabbed guitars and sang rancheras until midnight. I missed the game, but I learned all three verses of “Cielito Lindo.”

Slowly, I began to understand what Tere’s family had known all along. . Pura Vida isn’t about perfection, it’s about participation. You’re not supposed to conquer time here. . you’re supposed to live inside it. That means laughing when you’re stranded, singing when the lights go out and remembering that a flat tire can be the start of a story instead of the end of your day.

I used to think Pura Vida was a phrase I’d eventually “master,” like a second language. But it’s more like a muscle you train. Every honk I’ve swallowed, every unexpected delay I’ve embraced, every time I’ve stopped trying to fix things and just enjoyed the mess—it’s been a workout for my soul. And let me tell you, after two decades, my Pura Vida biceps are finally showing.

Here’s the kicker: I came to Costa Rica thinking I’d teach myself how to live here. What I’ve learned instead is that Costa Rica teaches you. . one iguana crossing, one flat tire coffee break and one “mañana” at a time.

So, while Tere was born with gallo pinto in her veins and family fiestas on cattle trucks, I was born with a pocket planner and fast food drive-thrus. But somewhere along the way, I stopped honking and started laughing. And that, my friends, is the moment you stop “doing” Pura Vida… and start becoming it.

Skip’s Ten Commandments of Pura Vida

1. Thou shalt not honk at iguanas.

   They own the road. You do not. Period. Even if you think they’re moving slowly—they’re meditating.

   
   

2. Thou shalt embrace flat tires as opportunities.

   Roadside coffee, impromptu sunsets, and awkward dance moves with your cousin’s kids are mandatory.

   
   

3. Thou shalt not schedule thy life like a spreadsheet.

   Appointments, deadlines, and timetables are suggestions, not laws. Even the internet goes down to remind you of this.

   
   

4. Thou shalt learn patience from sloths and ants.

   They move at their own pace, and that’s faster than your first Costa Rican taxi driver will move.

   
   

5. Thou shalt treat every delay as a plot twist.

   Traffic jam? Bonus sightseeing. Rainstorm? Unexpected waterfall. Contractor disappeared? New tamales recipe.

   
   

6. Thou shalt drink coffee at all moments of crisis.

   Flat tire? Coffee. Power outage? Coffee. Existential dread? Coffee. When in doubt, brew another cafecito.

   
   

7. Thou shalt not complain about slow service… silently or otherwise.

   Instead, develop a Zen-like grin, mutter “tranquilo,” and secretly enjoy the human drama unfolding.

   
   

8. Thou shalt make friends with your neighbors.

   Pura Vida is contagious, and shared laughter over spilled gallo pinto is more valuable than Wi-Fi.

   
   

9. Thou shalt turn mishaps into stories.

   Lost luggage, missing packages, or an unplanned jungle detour—these are not setbacks; they are anecdotes that make you a legend at family gatherings.

   
   

10. Thou shalt remember: Pura Vida is a muscle, not a motto.

    Flex it daily. Sometimes it aches. Sometimes it surprises you with strength you didn’t know you had. And sometimes... just sometimes.., it lets you finally sip your coffee in peace while an iguana stares you down.

    
    

Your turn! What moment taught you Pura Vida the hard way, and what helped you laugh about it later?

Drop it in the comments or email us at info@expatseniorcr.com We read every message and often turn the best lessons into practical tips for the community.