Welcome to Costa Rica, a land of lush rainforests, warm smiles, and vibrant communities where the heartbeat of the “Pura Vida” lifestyle pulses through every village. For those of us arriving as “foreigners” (yes, I’ll use that term with a wink and a nod), the allure of this tropical paradise often draws us into tight-knit expat circles—think permaculture farms, raw food gatherings, or the bohemian vibes of Diamante Valley. But there’s a deeper layer to living here, one that transforms your experience from merely existing in Costa Rica to truly belonging. That layer? It’s community—specifically, the local Tico community that has called these lands home for generations.
Picture this: you’ve landed in a small Costa Rican pueblo, surrounded by emerald hills and the chatter of Spanish. At first, it’s easy to gravitate toward the familiar—English-speaking neighbors, expat markets, or yoga retreats. I get it; I did it too. For years, I floated between foreigner farms and music circles, soaking up the “new world” energy while the rich, rooted Tico world felt like a distant backdrop. But here’s the truth I’ve learned after 12 years: to live fully in Costa Rica, you must step into the heart of its villages and join hands with the locals who keep them alive.
Why it matters?
Let’s talk about why this matters. Imagine growing up in a tight-knit village where everyone knows your name, your culture thrives, and Spanish flows like the rivers. Then, in a few short decades, half the population becomes foreigners—people with different languages, customs, and, often, privileges. It’s no wonder some Ticos might see us as “gringos” passing through, enjoying the good life while they carry the weight of maintaining their community. I felt this distance myself—polite smiles from neighbors, but not the warmth of true connection. That is, until I took a leap that changed everything.
Two years ago, I joined the comité for the soccer field in Las Tumbas, a small village near my home in San Salvador. Now, I’m no soccer star, and I don’t even live in Las Tumbas, but I showed up to help with something that matters deeply to the locals: their soccer field and communal salon. These aren’t just spaces for games or gatherings; they’re the lifeblood of the village. In Costa Rica, the soccer field is more than a patch of grass—it’s where Ticos come together, raise funds through lively “ferias,” and pour love into their schools, churches, and shared spaces. Volunteering there opened a door to the Tico world I’d been living beside but not truly within.
At first, it was slow. Trust doesn’t come from a single meeting or a bright idea—it grows through consistency, service, and showing up with a good attitude, week after week. Over time, I noticed a shift. Neighbors greeted me with genuine warmth. They began to see me, not as “another gringo,” but as someone committed to their village. This wasn’t just about fixing a soccer field; it was about building bridges between worlds—foreigners and locals, English and Spanish, new dreams and old traditions.
Costa Rican villages thrive on cooperation. Unlike places where municipalities handle everything, here, the people maintain their schools, roads, and communal spaces. Ferias—those vibrant weekends of food, drinks, and soccer—are how villages fund improvements, like the recent church renovation in Las Tumbas. But too often, we foreigners stay on the sidelines, caught up in our off-grid projects or retreat centers, unaware of the heartbeat of the pueblo we call home. The result? A parallel existence where we’re present but not truly part of the community.
Now, imagine something different: a harmonious “constellation” of foreigners and Ticos working as one. Picture the potential of villages where trust binds us, where we share goals and celebrate together. This unity doesn’t happen by accident—it takes action, curiosity, and, yes, learning Spanish (10 minutes a day, folks, it’s not that hard!). Speaking the language isn’t just practical; it’s a gateway to understanding Tico culture, hearing their stories, and weaving yourself into the fabric of the village.
From outsider to trusted neighbor
My journey from outsider to trusted neighbor taught me this: giving back balances the privilege we bring. It raises the vibration of our relationships, fosters oneness, and creates a ripple effect across the bio-region. Whether it’s volunteering at a feria, supporting the local school, or simply showing up to listen, every small act matters. And here’s a bonus: working alongside locals is the fastest way to master Spanish and discover the soul of Costa Rica.
So, to every foreigner dreaming of a life in Costa Rica, I invite you to look beyond the expat bubble. Be curious about your village’s priorities. Join a local initiative, even if it’s just one meeting. Learn the language, show up consistently, and open your heart to the people who’ve shaped this land long before we arrived. Together, we can build villages that hum with unity, where foreigners and Ticos aren’t two constellations but one, shining brighter for it.
Pura Vida isn’t just a slogan—it’s a call to live fully, connected, and in harmony with the community around you. Let’s answer that call, one soccer game, one conversation, one shared purpose at a time. By a grateful foreigner, born in France, living with an open heart in Costa Rica.
This article is crafted to engage readers with a vibrant, heartfelt narrative that highlights the transformative power of community involvement in Costa Rica. It emphasizes the importance of bridging cultural divides, fostering trust, and actively participating in local initiatives to create a more unified, harmonious village life.
