Entrepreneur life in Costa Rica

What Does Freedom Look Like to You?One of the many reasons we moved to Costa Rica for the winter was to learn Spanish.
Learning Spanish has been a lifelong dream of mine. Long before I moved to Quebec in 2008, I had already fallen in love with the language. I first traveled to Costa Rica when I was 17 and returned again at 19 to improve my Spanish and salsa dancing.
I've always believed that learning languages opens doors—not only to opportunities, but also to people, cultures, and experiences that might otherwise remain out of reach.
In just one week, we've already made three new tico friends.
The first is an engineer who once lived in Montreal and even attended Expo baseball games. The second is a bar owner who rebuilt his business after tourism collapsed during COVID by creating a new gathering place for local residents. The third is a generous egg farmer who stopped to give us a ride into town after seeing us walking along a long country road on our third day here.
We later bought a bicycle from the egg farmer, and next week he's even offered to help us negotiate better prices—in Costa Rican Spanish, of course.
Our days begin at 5:30 a.m. as the sun rises over the clouds that often hide the magnificent Arenal Volcano. Twenty years ago, when I first visited Costa Rica, the volcano was much more active. Today, even when it's hidden behind the clouds, I still love knowing it's there.
Our mornings are slow and intentional.
We drink coffee and study Spanish together. I learn from English to Spanish, while my boyfriend learns from French to Spanish. Throughout the rest of the day, we communicate in a hilarious mix of Franglais, Spanglish, and what we've affectionately started calling "Frespañol."
During our first week, my stomach muscles actually hurt from laughing so much.
I honestly can't remember the last time I laughed that hard.
It's still the rainy season here.
Many mornings begin with heavy tropical rain, and today we're happily spending the day indoors because of it.
If this had been my one-week annual vacation, I probably would have been disappointed by the weather.
But this isn't a vacation.
This is our life.
And because we're here for the entire winter, the rainy days feel like a welcome pause from the 36°C heat.
We live just over three kilometres from town, and yesterday it took us about an hour to walk to a beautiful river with cool, refreshing water.
I stretched out on a warm rock in the middle of the river while filling my filtered water bottle with fresh water. Meanwhile, my 50-year-old boyfriend was happily doing backflips from the rope swing.
Moments like that are priceless.
On the walk home, we stopped at a small soda—a traditional Costa Rican family-run restaurant—for lunch.
After the long walk, I was craving something cold and discovered a coconut popsicle.
Watching my boyfriend's face light up as he laughed at my excitement made the moment even sweeter.
What has surprised me most isn't the adventures.
It's the slowness.
The leisurely walks.
Stopping to admire unfamiliar trees.
Watching lines of ants carry leaves far bigger than themselves.
Saying hello to neighbours.
Chatting with local people.
Taking afternoon naps.
Practicing yoga.
Preparing fresh meals.
Buying only what we can carry home ourselves.
Making tropical fruit smoothies every morning.
Watching dogs, roosters, and iguanas wander freely through the neighbourhood.
This has quietly become our new way of life.
When we first arrived, we were emotionally exhausted from the move.
We slept... a lot.
Sometimes I wonder what most people actually do during a one-week vacation.
Would they ever have time to experience life this slowly?
We chose La Fortuna because it's known as the adventure capital of Costa Rica.
Ironically, we haven't even gone on an adventure tour yet.
We simply didn't have the energy.
Instead, my next big outing will be spending an entire day at a spa.
And honestly, that sounds perfect.
It has taken me more than ten years to create this lifestyle.
Over the past decade, I've built a business that is now 100% online.
My clients, staff, and subcontractors don't care where I'm physically located because I'm able to serve them just as well from Costa Rica as I could from my office in Quebec.
That, to me, is freedom.
Not because I'm living in a tropical country.
But because I've intentionally created a life with the flexibility to choose where I live, how I work, and how I spend my time.
And that's the kind of freedom I've always dreamed of.
So I'd love to ask you:
What does freedom look like for you?