COSTA RICA LANDING
The ten-hour wait in New York moved slowly, the kind of slow that only airports seem capable of producing. Hours blur into each other under artificial lights, time measured by departure boards and coffee refills. At one point I stumbled upon a lounge that felt like stepping into a 1960s diner—bright lights, chrome details, and music blasting out old classics. It was oddly comforting, a little pocket of nostalgia in the middle of a very long journey.
By the time my flight was finally announced, I was ready to collapse. After what felt like endless security checks, I sank into my seat and, at last, slept soundly almost the entire way.
When I landed, the relief was enormous. Walking out into the warm air and seeing the woman holding the sign for my pickup felt like the final piece falling into place. My mini-bus driver greeted me with a huge smile, and we set off towards Playa Grande.
The drive itself felt like an awakening after the long hours in airports and airplanes. Costa Rica unfolded outside the window in deep greens and golden light—lush jungle pressing close to the road, palms swaying gently, bursts of tropical flowers appearing like bright brushstrokes against the foliage. Small roadside houses painted in cheerful colours flashed by, and every so often the road opened to wide views of fields, rivers, and distant hills softened by the humid air.
It felt alive, vibrant, and peaceful all at once.
By the time I arrived at the villa in Playa Grande, the sun was warm and the welcome even warmer.
Everyone was so happy to see me that the tiredness of the journey suddenly melted away. Without hesitation I dropped my bags, headed straight for the pool, and jumped in....fully clothed ~
And just like that… the pool party began.
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