MissLJBeauty

1. You really do need a 4x4 (even if every blog tells you otherwise)

I read at least five articles saying a small sedan would be fine. Stick to the main roads, they said. You will save money, they said.

Reader, I did not save money.

The cheap car I picked up at the airport lasted exactly until the unpaved road into Monteverde. By kilometre three I was white-knuckling the steering wheel on switchbacks full of potholes the size of bathtubs. A local family in a Hilux overtook me like I was standing still. And I was, basically.

On day four I swapped my tiny hatchback for a proper 4x4 at an agency called Jumbocar. Cost me more, obviously. But my shoulders dropped about four inches the moment I got behind the wheel of something that could actually handle a gravel climb without sounding like it was dying. Lesson learned. Book the bigger car from the start.

2. Waze will save your life. Google Maps will not

I do not say this lightly.

Google Maps in Costa Rica has a habit of sending you down “shortcuts” that are, in reality, abandoned farm tracks. It also does not know about a lot of the local road conditions in real time. Waze does. Waze is the app everyone uses here, from taxi drivers to tour operators to the woman running the fruit stand at a crossroads near Arenal.

Download it before you fly. Download the offline maps too. Signal drops in the mountains and on the Pacific coast more than you would think.

3. Nobody warns you how dark “dark” is

Costa Rica sits near the equator, so the sun sets around 5.30 pm year-round. Earlier than you think. And then? Black. Proper black.

No street lights on most rural roads. No reflectors on the tarmac. Cyclists without lights. Dogs that wander into the middle of the road. Buses that come round blind corners at speeds that defy physics. I got caught out exactly once, on the drive from Monteverde to Manuel Antonio, because I lingered too long at a viewpoint. Twenty minutes of white-knuckled driving in pitch dark was enough. Never again.

Rule I now live by. Wherever you are going, arrive by 4 pm. Use daylight. The sunsets are gorgeous, but watch them from a hotel terrace, not your driver’s seat.

4. The wildlife is closer than you think (bring the right stuff)

You know those perfectly staged Instagram photos of sloths in trees? They are not staged. Those sloths are just there. In the parking lot of your hotel. Above your breakfast table. Three metres from the pool.

Which leads me to the bits of kit I did not expect to need.

A decent pair of binoculars. I thought I could get by without. I was wrong. You will spend so much time craning your neck at canopies that a small pocket pair is genuinely worth the suitcase space.

Reef-safe sunscreen. This one is non-negotiable now. Costa Rica takes its ecosystems seriously and some national parks actively check. Beyond the rules, the water is full of creatures you do not want to poison. Mine was a La Roche-Posay one that doubled as my daily face SPF. Two birds.

Mosquito repellent with at least 30% DEET. I know, I know. I normally prefer the natural stuff too. But the tropical mosquitoes here laugh at citronella. Pack the heavy artillery for rainforest days, use the gentler one for beach days.

5. Being a solo woman is mostly fine (but here is what I actually did)

Let me be honest with you. I felt safer in Costa Rica than I do walking through some parts of Glasgow on a Saturday night.

That said, I was not reckless.

I messaged my mum the licence plate every time I changed rental cars or hotels. I avoided driving alone after dark, as I mentioned. I chose accommodations with reviews from other solo female travellers, which was easier than I expected because there are loads of us doing this. I never left valuables in the car, even for two minutes, because opportunistic break-ins do happen in tourist car parks.

And I carried a cheap decoy wallet with a handful of small notes. Never needed it. But knowing it was there was oddly calming.

One more thing. Ticos (the name locals use for themselves) are some of the most genuinely warm people I have met anywhere. More than once I asked for directions and ended up being invited for coffee. A woman in La Fortuna showed me a waterfall her husband had known since childhood. A petrol station attendant near San Isidro checked my tyre pressure without being asked because he “did not like the look” of the rear left. Small moments. Huge difference.

6. Pack for three different climates (and a monsoon)

This was the packing error that cost me. I assumed tropical = hot + humid. Done.

Nope.

The cloud forest in Monteverde sits at 1,500 metres. It is properly chilly at night. I was shivering in a cotton t-shirt wondering why my Highland genes had abandoned me. Meanwhile, the Pacific coast was 33 degrees and dripping. And then Arenal, sitting in the middle, was a wet, warm, weirdly in-between zone.

Here is what actually worked. A lightweight fleece for the cloud forest evenings. Breathable linen shirts for the coast. Quick-dry trousers, because jeans turn into sponges in the rainy season. A proper rain jacket, not a flimsy poncho. And two pairs of trainers, one you do not mind getting muddy.

Bonus tip. Pack a microfibre towel. Bathrooms sometimes lack hot water or proper towels, and when you have just hiked through a waterfall, you will thank yourself.

7. Budget way more than you think for extras

Costa Rica is not cheap. That was a surprise.

I went in expecting Central American prices and got charged Central American prices on the bus tickets and very much not-Central-American prices on everything else. National park entries are usually 15 to 20 dollars. Guided walks are 50. Dinner at a tourist-area restaurant might set you back 30, even at a modest place.

The savings come from eating at sodas, those tiny family-run lunch spots where a plate of gallo pinto, rice, beans and a bit of meat costs around 6 dollars and tastes like someone’s grandmother made it. Because someone’s grandmother did.

I also wish I had factored in the little things. Tolls on Route 27. Parking fees at beach lots. Tips for park guides. Nothing individually expensive, but they add up fast. Add at least 30% to whatever budget you think is reasonable. You will still want the budget.

Would I do it again? In a heartbeat. Would I do it differently now? Obviously. That is the whole point of writing this.

If you are reading this and you are on the fence, the way I was, please just book the flight. You will be fine. You might even come back a slightly different version of yourself. I know I did.

Pura Vida, as they say here. It means more than just “pure life”. It means taking it slow. Trusting that things work out. Saying hello to strangers. And occasionally, yes, swapping your rental car for something with actual suspension.