(Couch) Surfing in Costa Rica

Before I returned to the U.S., I needed to actually couch surf. It seemed like one of those “traveler rights of passage.” That and reusing the same pair of socks more than two times.

My couch surfing attempt in New Zealand was unsuccessful, meaning it didn’t happen. But, I like to think that wasn’t because I was not hostable, rather I wasn’t giving people enough time to prepare for a stranger to sleep in their home. Even New Zealanders, the most-inviting people I’ve met so far, needed some notice.

I decided to try it again in Costa Rica. I had 24 hours to kill before meeting my mom at the airport in Liberia, a town in the Guanacaste province of Costa Rica. So, more than 24 hours before I would arrive in Liberia, I decided to start swiping (on the Couchsurfing app).

I had a couple of requirements as I swiped:  

1. The host had to have at least a couch available (no sleeping on the floor, in the backyard, etc.)
2. The host had to be willing and available to accept me as a guest
3. The host had to live in Liberia

And that was about it. (In addition to finding a host that seemed like a reasonably sane person who wasn’t looking to kill me and sell my organs on the black market).

So, I found a few potential candidates, sent them messages with my arrival date and saw who responded.

Tati was busy. Leti wasn’t in the country. But, Arturo was available.

I checked out his Couchsurfing profile and references, did a quick Facebook stalk/check to make sure he was a real person and agreed that I would make it to his house by Friday late afternoon.

Now, I just had to get myself to Liberia.

For whatever reason, I initially thought that Costa Rica was a little country. While it isn’t, say, the size of Australia, it is also larger than...Rhode Island. So, this wasn’t going to be a quick uber ride from San Jose to Liberia.

Promptly after arriving in the San Jose International Airport, I navigated to the domestic terminal. This terminal was not only outside of the air-conditioned, newly built airport but it was a block away behind a broken fence and inside a decrepit structure.

I walked up to the counter and asked for a ticket on the next flight to Liberia. I paid in US dollars, they weighed me (I presume these planes work like roller coasters with their height/weight restrictions), and then they handed me my boarding pass.

Thirty minutes later I walked up the steps into the propeller plane and grabbed one of the 12 open seats. Meanwhile, I was plotting a Plan B in case Arturo was actually trying to sell my organs.

I would meet Arturo in the Central Park of Liberia at 4:30 pm. Public meeting place. Daylight. I could run if necessary. And, I already had a hotel picked out, just in case.

I landed in the airport to get a message from Arturo about how to navigate to the Central Park. His written English was excellent and he provided an extremely detailed explanation of the public transportation system in Liberia.

Using his thorough directions, I arrived at the park without any problems, sat on a bench and waited for a mid-twenties guy wearing a black polo and jeans to spot me.

I don’t blend in very well here, with blond hair and an extra 8 inches on the average Costa Rican woman. All I had to do was sit there.

"Paige?" I turn around to see a mid-twenties guy wearing a black polo and jeans. So far, he seemed friendly and normal. No “organ-seller” vibes whatsoever.

We exchanged pleasantries, chatted about my trip, Costa Rica, his job--then made our way back to his house.

I arrived at his home to see a super fluffy, friendly German Shepherd named Rigo. The house seemed much nicer than many of the others surrounding it, with a large gate and manicured lawn.

He showed me my private room, opened the fridge and told me to make myself at home.

This definitely felt like a home.

Not only was I getting zero organ-seller vibes, but I seriously was blown away with how nice this place and these people were. As his family slowly trickled in from work, they started feeding me and talking to me in the living room.

I met his two older brothers, his mom, his dad. They all sat with me and helped plan Costa Rican itineraries.

I hung out with Arturo the rest of that night, chatted, walked around the city, grabbed a drink. I learned that he was heading to Colorado soon to temporarily work at a ski resort. He wanted to improve his English, and hosting people was one of the best ways to do that.

The next morning I left my bags at Arturo’s house and met my mom at the Liberia airport. After a pleasant breakfast downtown of pinto and eggs, we returned to pick up my stuff and say goodbye. Arturo’s brother, David, happened to be surfing at Playa Grande that day and offered to give us a ride to the beach, 1.5 hours away.

My mom and I bid adieu to my hosts, first to Arturo then (much later) to his brother, and looked at each other in surprise.

Not only did I get a place to stay, food to eat, a tour of the city, and a ride to a magnificent beach, but I got to know some cool ticos (locals in Costa Rica) who opened the doors to their culture and home.

No doubt, I'll be couch surfing again.