It was one of those near-perfect days. The tropical sun glinted off the water. There was enough of a breeze to keep us comfortable. The palm trees at the back of the beach were perfectly spaced to provide both ample shade and a prime spot to hang our hammocks. The mile-long stretch of Carillo Beach hosted no more than a dozen other souls. Even though the breeze was just strong enough to keep the paddleboards strapped to the top of the car (I mentioned it was a NEAR-perfect day) we were quite content to walk the beach, swim and sway in our hammocks to while away a Thursday. Or was it Wednesday? No matter. “We should do this tomorrow, too” Heather called out from her spot under a couple coconut palms. We did.

It certainly hadn’t been this lovely and relaxed during the entirety of our one-month stay in Samara, on Costa Rica’s Pacific coast. When we arrived here at the end of October, the area was still in the throes of the rainy season, which typically lasts until the end of November. But this rainy season was unlike most others – the region had already received TWICE it’s seasonal rainfall, with over a month to go. Roads that typically crossed small streams were impassable and at least one bridge had been washed away. Add in the passing of hurricanes Eta and Iota through the region and we’d had our fill of rain. But after our second week (and amid our growing fear that the dozens of paperback books on the shelf of the laundry room in our condo complex might not be enough to get us through an entire rainy month) the rain started to dissipate. Instead of all day torrents, there were breaks between showers. Then the first glimpses of blue sky between storms appeared, and by the middle of the third week we actually had to start using sunscreen while out on our beach walks. We embraced the end of rainy season to make a couple day trips – a long drive south to Playa Corozolita, a short stretch of dark sand in the middle of nowhere, where a lone surfer lounged in a hammock after a day of having the waves to himself and colorful scarlet macaws squawked and screeched while feasting on the nuts of the seagrape trees; Playa Islita, another remote beach which we shared with a single fisherman who cast his net into the shallows at the far end of the beach; and the busier beaches of Guiones and Pelada, just outside the tourist town of Nosara, where we enjoyed ceviche and passion-fruit mojitos at a surf-side restaurant. And, of course, we took the short drive to Playa Carillo for more near-perfect days.

Samara itself is a rare gem: a small, unpretentious surf town that forgoes big resorts in favor of small, family-run guesthouses, none of which infringe on the pristine nature of the beach; hosts a smattering of ex-pats, some who have opened dining establishments serving delicious food (I’m thinking of the Italian cuisine at Mama Gui and the baguettes and pastries at the French-owned Boulangerie); where howler monkeys herald the dawning of each new day and free-roaming horses wander the streets of town and the beach. Sure, you can do the zip-line tour, or rent ATVs just like in most beach towns on the Nicoya Peninsula, but it seems most people come here to surf the mellow waves, relax on the uncrowded beach, peruse the fresh fruits and vegetables at the weekly farmers market, feast on the fresh ceviche offered by a fisherman from his vehicle parked in town and enjoy the pura vida vibe that makes Costa Rica so special.

As the first month of our winter travels winds down, we’ve started to plan for our next destinations. For the next month, we expect to explore the southern part of the Nicoya, visiting Santa Teresa, Malpais and Montezuma before making our way to the Osa peninsula and Corcovado National Park. Turning back north, we hope to return to the areas around Monteverde National Park and Lake Arenal before settling in for another extended visit to Costa Rica’s Caribbean coast (sloths!!). While it’s not celebrated here, where folks already have their Christmas decorations up, we hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving!