Crossing
into Costa Rica felt like stepping into a greener, wetter, somehow even
more enthusiastic version of Central America. My trip started in the
south on the Osa Peninsula, home to the legendary Corcovado National Park. Corcovado
is often called one of the most biodiverse places on Earth, and it
lives up to its reputation instantly: warning signs for crocodiles,
troops of spider monkeys in the canopy, yellow black toucans
sitting above, and coatis rustling through the undergrowth as if they
own the place. Hiking there feels less like entering a national park and
more like entering nature on its own terms.
From Sierpe to Corcovado
Getting
there was an adventure in itself: negotiating the taxi fare from Palmar
Norte to Sierpe, eating lunch and waiting for the 4 pm boat, cruising
through the mangrove river until the open sea, crossing over the rough
sea felt like a roller coaster ride. And then the captain announced:
“Get ready - this is a wet landing” - basically, it meant no pier or
jetty. You jump from the boat with your luggage into the shallow water
and walk ashore. Luckily, the tent camp I booked was stop #3 and I had
some time to get ready, take off the sneakers, and pack everything in
waterproof bags. At the shore, someone from the camp picked me up,
helped me with the luggage and showed me up the hill to my bungalow.
Toucan
The
next day, I took a boat with a group of Spanish and our guide to the
Corcovado National Park- on the 60-90 min ride we came across two
turtles in a slow reproductive embrace and a pod of dolphins.
Arrived,
we changed from water shoes to hiking shoes, got our backpacks checked
by the park service and filled our bottles with water. Then we followed
our guide Freier into the rain forest and looked for the wildlife: very
fast we saw small wild pigs, then birds with his telescope but other
animals were hiding.
We took another trail from the starting point and
soon passed by a crashed airplane. A brown furry ball jumped over the
wings running for life, although we could not see any predator. We
stayed and observed, after some time one in our group signalled that
there was a snake. And we got a front row seat to a boa constrictor slowly crawling into the tail of the airplane and then action and noise when the boa got the rodent. Pura vida.
Crashed airplane - with boa constrictor action
Later,
we also saw spider monkeys, Jesus Christ iguanas and other animals
before we had lunch at the Ranger station. Then we returned back to the
shore for our boat and saw humpback whales on the way back.
Pura Vida – more than a slogan
It didn’t take long to understand Pura Vida,
Costa Rica’s unofficial national motto. It’s used for everything—hello,
goodbye, thank you, no worries, life is good, shit happens. But more
than a phrase, it’s an attitude: unhurried, warm, slightly mischievous,
always ready for a smile. I heard it from guides deep in the rainforest,
from café owners serving drinks, and from strangers along the way. Pura
Vida isn’t something Costa Ricans say; it’s something they live—and
it’s impossible not to absorb a little of it along the way.
Bus stop in the rain
After days of mud, humidity, and wildlife, I swapped jungle boots for slightly cleaner shoes and headed to San José for the AIESEC Alumni Leadership Summit.
It was a sharp contrast: conference rooms instead of palm trees, name
tags instead of binoculars, and conversations about leadership, impact,
and global networks. A fun pause from solo travel and a chance to
reconnect with AIESECers from IberoAmerica. Sunday afternoon, I picked
up my rental car - a very large Chinese car from VGV/CNHTC. To
make use of the seven seats, I loaded it up with Mexicans and Peruvians
and we drove to a Steak House for dinner.
German stand at the Global Village
National Theatre in San José
From the city, I looped north to the Chachagua Rainforest Hotel near La Fortuna. It's the sort of place where mornings begin with howler monkeys acting as your alarm clock. I visited the La Fortuna Waterfall,
descending the many, many steps to reach the pool beneath it. The power
of the falls is impressive—thundering water surrounded by dense green.
On the way back up, I convinced myself the climb counted as my workout
for the week.
My bungalow
La Fortuna Waterfall
Sloth/ Perezoso/ Faultier
One highlight at Chachagua was a cacao and chocolate workshop.
My guide led me through the rainforest to the cacao farm and walked me
through the entire process step by step. We opened fresh cacao pods,
tasted the surprisingly fruity pulp, learned how the beans are fermented
and dried, then roasted and ground them by hand. The final stage was
the best one: mixing, tempering, and pouring the chocolate myself. I
ended the session proudly holding my own handmade chocolate
pralines—slightly uneven, deeply satisfying, and more durable than the
sweet bars from the supermarket shelf.
Cacao Workshop
Arenal Volcano
The road then took me west toward the Nicoya Peninsula, passing views of the perfectly conical Arenal Volcano and making a completely non-negotiable stop at a German bakery—proof that good bread will find you anywhere in the world. From Paquera (Playa Organos) I joined a day trip out to Isla Tortuga, famous for postcard beaches and snorkelling. Underwater visibility wasn’t perfect, but I still spotted colourful reef fish weaving through volcanic rock formations. On land, there were iguanas sunning themselves as if posing for brochures and deer.
Bungalow with outdoor bathroom
Sunset view
On the way to Isla Tortuga
To continue my loop, I took the ferry to Puntarenas, while waiting I bought a cutting board made from the Guanacuaste tree (local) that is also on the 1,000 colon bill note. The crossing was relaxed in the bow of the ship with pelicans gliding alongside the boat and families eating ice cream on deck, while a relaxed crossing . It felt like a small, slow moment in a fast-paced itinerary.
Pool position on the ferry
My final days were spent near Manuel Antonio, staying at a mountaintop hotel with a balcony view that stretched all the way to the Pacific. Manuel Antonio’s trails delivered the full wildlife bingo: sloths (both two- and three-toed), white-faced capuchins, agoutis, basilisks, and even a few cheeky raccoons searching backpacks for snacks. The beaches inside the park were some of the most beautiful I’ve seen—soft sand framed by jungle that practically leans into the ocean.
smallest snake
One detail worth mentioning: for the entire last week, I drove the VGV/CNHTC. Bigger than anything I would ever choose at home, but surprisingly comfortable on Costa Rica’s mountain roads and unbothered by potholes and gravel. It became my mobile base—sometimes slightly too wide for village parking lots, always ready for another curve.
Costa Rica was a mix of jungle, waterfalls, oceans, conferences, coffee, and chance wildlife encounters. A country that somehow balances wild nature with friendly chaos and makes it all feel effortless. A place I’d happily loop around again—preferably with a slightly smaller car.
The December sunday trip to the Tegernseer Advents-zauber wasn’t the classic snowy Christmas postcard—but it had its own kind of charm. Lily and I took the morning train to Gmund, arriving to a gentle drizzle that wrapped the lake in mist. 
Later we continued by ship to Tegernsee, the day’s final stop. Even without a snowy blanket, the market felt warm and traditional—wooden huts, twinkling lights, and the gentle hum of people enjoying Advent together.
