Tico Time: A Cultural Anthropologist's Defense (Or: Why Gringos Are the Weird Ones)

The eternal struggle: Tico Time

 Tica: “Relax. If the party starts at 7, show up at 8:30.” 

 Expat: “I arrived RIGHT ON TIME and ended up helping set up the chairs, preparing the food and buying the beer.”

Skip's Viewpoint.

I had been in Costa Rica for only a couple of weeks when I got invited to my first real Tico party. The invitation said: “7:00 p.m. sharp.” To me, a man raised in the punctual, stopwatch-driven culture of the USA, this was clear. If you arrive at 7:05, you’re already sending the host into a mild panic. If you stroll in at 7:15, you might as well wear a T-shirt that says “I don’t care about your friendship whatsoever.”

So naturally, at exactly 6:58, I showed up at the front door, gift bag in hand, hair combed, shirt tucked, and with the confidence of someone who thought he had cracked the Costa Rican social code. I rang the bell, smiled wide, and braced myself for a room full of guests, music blasting, and a buffet table ready to collapse under the weight of gallo pinto, arroz con pollo, and Tres Leches cake.

Instead, the host opened the door wearing sandals, an old T-shirt, and holding a half-inflated balloon in his mouth. The living room was empty, the chairs were stacked against the wall, and the speakers weren’t even plugged in yet. He looked at me, grinned, and said: “¡Perfecto! You’re right on time to help!”

For the next hour, I was less of a guest and more of the unpaid setup crew. I hauled chairs from the back, tested extension cords, and spent an unreasonable amount of time trying to hang a streamer that insisted on falling every thirty seconds. By 7:45, I was sweating like I’d just taken a Zumba class. At 8:00, I was fanning myself with a paper plate, staring at the clock, and wondering if I’d accidentally misread the invite. Then, I started preparing the food, setting the table that I had to get from the garage and went down to the store to get the beer!

Finally, at 8:30—ninety minutes after the official start time—the first guests began to stroll in. Everyone looked immaculate, freshly showered, smiling, and holding bottles of rum and trays of food like they had just floated in on a cloud of effortless joy. The music started, laughter filled the room, and suddenly it was like the party had been alive all along—just waiting for the right moment.

The next day, I asked my tica neighbor, Teresita why no one had shown up at 7. She laughed so hard she nearly spilled her coffee and said: “Ay, gringo. If the invitation says 7, you don’t leave your house until 7:30. You show up at 8:15, 8:30 if you want to be polite. Otherwise, you’re just volunteering to be the party planner.”

That was the moment I learned about Tico Time. It’s not about being late—it’s about being relaxed. It’s about knowing that the chairs will eventually get set up, the food will eventually be served, and the night will eventually come alive… but there’s no need to stress the clock.

Meanwhile, in my American brain, I’m still adjusting. Back home, if a dinner invitation says 7, and you arrive at 7:10, someone’s already texting to ask if you’re alive. Here in Costa Rica, you can show up an hour and a half late and still be considered early.

So now, whenever I get invited to a party, I glance at the time on the invitation, subtract an hour and a half, and then remind myself: Do not arrive until the chairs are already standing, the beer is cold and the food is hot and in the serving dishes!

Because nothing says rookie expat more than showing up on time in a land where time itself decided to kick back in a hammock with a cold beer. And THAT, my friends. . it's how PURA VIDA rolls!

Tere's Perspective

Let me tell you something that might blow your mind, dear gringo friends: You're the weird ones.

I know, I know. You've been raised to believe that punctuality is next to godliness, that "on time is late," and that showing up at the exact moment printed on an invitation is a sign of respect and good manners. But here's the thing—that's just your cultural operating system.

And like any operating system, it works great... in your environment.

Welcome to Costa Rica, where we're running different software entirely.

Time = Money vs. Relationships = Wealth

In the United States and much of the Western world, there's an unspoken equation that governs everything: Time = Money.

Your culture invented the phrase "time is money." You have productivity apps, time-tracking software, and entire industries built around "maximizing efficiency." A meeting scheduled for 3:00 p.m. starts at 3:00 p.m. sharp because every minute wasted is a dollar lost. Being late is disrespectful because you're literally stealing someone's most valuable resource.

I get it. In that framework, showing up at 7:00 p.m. for a 7:00 p.m. party makes perfect sense.

But here in Costa Rica, we operate on a completely different value system: Relationships = Wealth.

The Tico Algorithm

Let me break down what's actually happening when a Tico says "the party starts at 7":

What the invitation says: "Party at 7 p.m."

What the Tico host actually means:

• 6:00 p.m. - I'll start thinking about getting ready

• 6:30 p.m. - I'll take a shower

• 7:00 p.m. - I'll begin setting up

• 7:30 p.m. - Most things will be in place, music playing

• 8:00 p.m. - I'm actually ready for guests

• 8:30 p.m. - Guests arrive and the party truly begins

What the Tico guest understands:

• Party "starts" at 7 = arrive at 8:30

• This is not being late; this is being socially intelligent

Nobody explicitly teaches this. We just... know. It's cultural telepathy.

Why This System Actually Makes Sense

Here's where it gets interesting. When Skip showed up at 6:58 p.m. to that party, he wasn't being "respectful" in our cultural context—he was being confusing.

Think about it from any Tico host's perspective:

If we genuinely expected guests at 7:00 p.m., we would be ready at 6:45. But we're not ready because we don't expect anyone at 7:00. Why would we waste an hour and a half of our lives standing around fully dressed, with all the food getting cold, waiting for guests who understand the social contract?

When Skip arrived "on time," he accidentally opted into a different role: the inner circle. In Tico culture, the people who arrive early are family, close friends, or people who want to help set up. It's actually a beautiful system—the people who care most about you naturally arrive first and contribute.

Skip didn't realize he was speaking a different social language. He thought he was saying "I respect you" but he was actually saying "I'm here to help with setup because we're close."

It's Not About Laziness—It's About Priorities

Americans often interpret Tico Time as laziness, disorganization, or lack of respect. But that's like a Mac user calling a PC "broken" because it doesn't work like macOS.

We're not disorganized—we're differently organized. Our priorities are simply arranged in a different order:

American Priority Hierarchy:

1. Punctuality

2. Efficiency

3. Individual responsibility

4. Relationship

Tico Priority Hierarchy:

1. Relationship

2. Relaxation (stress kills the vibe)

3. Flexibility

4. Punctuality (when absolutely necessary)

Neither is wrong. They're just optimized for different outcomes.

When Worlds Collide

The comedy—and sometimes tragedy—happens when these two systems collide without a translator.

The American shows up at 7:00, believing they're demonstrating respect, and ends up feeling used because they had to set up chairs. The Tico host is confused why someone arrived so early and slightly embarrassed they're not ready yet, but grateful for the help.

Both people think the other person is being rude.

The American thinks: "These people have no respect for my time!"

The Tico thinks: "Why is this person so stressed? The party will happen. Relax."

The Doctor's Appointment Paradox

Now, before you accuse me of making excuses, let me acknowledge something important:

We Ticos know when to be on time.

Doctor's appointment at 9:00 a.m.? We're there at 8:45.Flight at 2:00 p.m.? We leave for the airport at 11:00.Job interview? We arrive early.

We're not incapable of punctuality—we're selectively punctual. We save our precision for contexts where time actually matters in a life-or-death, miss-your-flight, lose-your-job kind of way.

Social gatherings? That's not one of those contexts. A party doesn't "miss its flight" if it starts at 8:30 instead of 7:00.

The Real Question

So here's what I want my gringo friends to consider:

What if Tico Time isn't a bug—what if it's a feature?

What if building in buffer time allows people to arrive relaxed instead of stressed? What if it creates space for spontaneity, for helping each other, for not treating every social event like a corporate board meeting?

What if the goal isn't to squeeze maximum efficiency out of every minute, but to create an atmosphere where people genuinely enjoy each other's company without watching the clock?

Living Between Two Worlds

These days, I find myself watching this cultural dance play out over and over. I've seen countless Skips show up punctually to Tico parties, confused and slightly betrayed when they realize they're the setup crew. And I've watched Tico hosts scramble when a gringo arrives "on time," trying to be polite while simultaneously inflating balloons and wondering where they put the extra folding chairs.

It's hilarious. It's awkward. And it's completely avoidable if both sides just understand the game.

When expats ask me, "What time should I actually arrive?" I tell them the truth: "If the invitation says 7, plan for 8:30. If you want to help set up and bond with the host, arrive at 7:30. But whatever you do, don't arrive at 7 unless you're family or you're bringing the ice."

Because here's the secret: Tico Time isn't about the clock—it's about understanding what kind of event you're attending and what role you want to play.

The Bottom Line

So yes, Skip helped set up the chairs, prepared the food, and bought the beer at someone's party. And you know what? By the end of the night, he wasn't just a guest anymore—he was practically family. That's the Tico Time trade-off.

You can show up at 8:30, polished and perfect, and have a great time.

Or you can show up at 7:00, roll up your sleeves, and become part of something deeper.

Neither is wrong. But only one builds the kind of relationships that last long after the party ends.

And THAT, mis amigos, is what PURA VIDA is really all about—not the clock on the wall, but the people in the room.

P.S. - If you're reading this and thinking, "But what about respecting people's time?!"—I hear you. Just remember: respect looks different in different cultures. In yours, it's punctuality. In ours, it's presence. Both are valid. Both are beautiful. And both require a little patience to understand.

Now, who wants to debate this over coffee? I'll be there at 10:00. (Which means 10:30. Obviously.)