When guests began arriving at Casas Kismet, they were greeted by a very Costa Rican welcome: Nosara’s infamous roads. The last hour of the three-hour drive is a rite of passage, even on sunny days. It’s less of a “road” and more of an obstacle course, full of potholes that could eat a scooter and gaps that make you wonder if you’ve accidentally driven into an unfinished video game. Add in weeks of relentless rain, and it was more like white-knuckle off-roading.
Yet, one by one, everyone made it. Wet, a little frazzled, but excited to begin. Casas Kismet itself felt like a reward: an open-air retreat center perched above the jungle, with sweeping views of the Pacific Ocean. Even with the rain clouds hovering, the setting was stunning, and spirits were high.
The week was planned down to the smallest detail. Each day centered on one of the seven chakras, with playlists, readings, and practices curated to guide the group’s transformation. Evening yoga sessions were lit by candles, and Tree of Life lamps lined the stairs to dinner, adding a subtle yet magical touch.
Meals were prepared by a five-star chef and his team, offering a culinary experience that felt like a retreat of its own.
The accommodations were warm and welcoming, perfect for attendees to settle in and meet their roommates. Most came alone, so the initial introductions felt like the first day of summer camp—only with fewer backpacks and more yoga mats. By the end of the week, strangers had become like family, with attendees from five different countries exchanging plans to travel together in the future.
Costa Rica’s rainy season isn’t new to us, but this was next level. The rain didn’t just arrive; it moved in, unpacked its bags, and settled down like it had booked a suite. Outdoor activities like hiking and surfing were canceled, but our guests didn’t seem to mind. Instead, they embraced the storm. Massages became the go-to rainy-day activity, a perfect way to unwind while listening to the downpour.
The rain wasn’t just a backdrop—it became a participant, joining us for meditation and yoga. As retreat leaders, we knew what our guests were missing: sunsets painting the sky in fiery colors, paddleboarding along serene rivers, and exploring the lush beauty of Nosara. But they leaned into the moment, finding joy in the unexpected.
Twice a day, yoga sessions unfolded in the open-air studio. Guests meditated, chanted, practiced tratak gazing by candlelight, and dove into deeply restorative yoga nidras. Even the newly added cold plunge, not exactly a top pick in the rainy weather, saw a few brave souls who emerged shivering but triumphant.
The week also included a pop-up holotropic breathwork session led by Terry, the owner of Casas Kismet. Originally a last-minute addition, it turned out to be transformational—an unexpected highlight that we’ll now include in all future retreats.
When the rain paused, attendees seized the opportunity. Some explored Nosara’s flooded streets, while others ventured out for a sunset horseback ride along the beach. The skies stayed dry just long enough to make it magical.
One dinner out at Lagarta Lodge provided another memorable moment. The rain let up briefly, allowing the group to soak in the breathtaking view where jungle meets ocean. The lodge’s sign, “Bad roads bring Good people,” seemed written for our week. And, as we joked later, bad weather apparently does the same.
Midweek, we learned that the town of Nosara—just a few miles inland—was underwater. Both ends of town were cut off by flooded rivers, leaving it completely isolated. The gas station? Submerged, with water covering the pumps. Our on-site retreat coordinator even shared that she had to swim to and from her house on the river.
Despite these challenges, the staff at Casas Kismet showed up every day with smiles, ensuring the retreat felt as seamless and magical as possible. Their dedication, knowing what they were navigating to get to work, left us in awe.
Among the attendees were Erin’s dad, Tom, and stepmom, Beth. As first-time visitors to Costa Rica, they had no idea what to expect—and what a week to introduce them!
Tom, a yoga novice, joined every session, undeterred by a group that included some seriously talented practitioners. Both he and Beth embraced the quirks of Costa Rica without hesitation: cold showers, tossing toilet paper in the trash, and waiting on repairmen who might (or might not) show up. (As I write this, I’m waiting for a repairman who was supposed to arrive yesterday. Fingers crossed.)
Their openness moved us. During group discussions, they shared parts of their lives we’d never heard before, even bringing a tear to my eye once or twice. By the end of the retreat, they had become honorary parents to everyone.
The final morning of the retreat was supposed to be smooth: a yoga session, breakfast, and goodbyes. Instead, we woke up to texts announcing that every flight out of Liberia was canceled. This was a first in all our retreats, and it set off a domino effect of chaos.
The retreat center was preparing for their next group, so staying wasn’t an option. By midmorning, everyone was en route to hotels near the airport on rescheduled shuttles. It should’ve been straightforward—until the main road to Liberia flooded. The three-hour drive, already an adventure on dry roads, turned into an all-day odyssey. A shuttle carrying the first group made it within 15 minutes of the airport before being forced to turn back, adding a three-hour detour.
The second shuttle, leaving an hour later, faced the similar (but slightly lower) flooded roads but decided to go for it. One of the attendees sent us a video of the van plowing through feet of water like a makeshift boat, swirling like a river around the wheels. It looked terrifying. Those drivers are absolute studs. Erin and I watched, jaws on the floor, wondering if we’d have had the guts to try it.
While some attendees decided to make the five-hour trek to San José in hopes of flight options, ended up sleeping in Jacó (nearly two hours away) because all rooms were completely full, others stayed in Liberia, waiting out the storm.
They practiced yoga together in hotel gyms, even doing Erin’s YouTube classes, including one filmed during the retreat. The sight of them moving through poses in a gym while laughing and bonding was a reminder of the spirit of the group.
As I write, two attendees remain in Liberia, their departure scheduled for tomorrow—an entire week later than planned. Fingers crossed.
After the retreat, Erin’s parents planned to stay with us for a few days at Casa Colorado, our home in Tamarindo. We’ve spent 13 years living here half the year, raising our kids, and building a life that we were proud to share. Our kids even graduated from high school here, at a tiny school we helped build and support. Getting to spend almost two weeks with Tom and Beth was an honor we’ll cherish forever.
Their time with us in Tamarindo took a slight turn, though, when we learned the airport was closing again. Erin and I found out during dinner, a text appearing on my phone. I silently showed her the message, and her expression said everything. We exchanged a glance that carried an entire conversation, then shared the news with Tom and Beth.
The delay didn’t dampen their spirits. While Erin attended an all day yoga teacher training in Playa Negra, they stayed at our house with me, chatting and exploring when the rain allowed. I worked and they relaxed. Still, hosting nonstop for nearly two weeks was catching up with me. I was relieved when Erin returned in the evenings to rejoin us.
As if hosting a retreat and family weren’t enough, we also welcomed our friends Dani and Paul, who were stranded during their honeymoon with another cancelled flight. Unable to find reasonable accommodations during the storm, we invited them to stay with us for a few days. It was a chance to catch up, especially after our infamous wedding mix-up (a long story involving a misplaced calendar entry and Erin and I showing up to what turned out to be a quinceañera a day after their wedding). We took a selfie to commemorate the moment..
Interestingly, we had hosted Dani’s parents at Casa Colorado a few years ago during another rainy season. That time, it rained nearly every day, as expected for October. This time, however, the rain was far from ordinary—an unrelenting reminder of the power of Tropical Storm Sarah.
If there’s one thing 13 years in Costa Rica has taught us, it’s that you have to stay fluid. Reflecting on these two weeks, I’m overwhelmed by gratitude. This retreat reaffirmed what Erin and I have learned in our 13 years of hosting retreats: adaptability is everything. No matter how much rain falls, how long the power goes out, or how many roads flood, the heart of the retreat—the connection, the intention—remains. I am so proud of what we’ve created, it’s beyond a yoga retreat. It’s an experience.
Sure, I wish the group could’ve seen one of Nosara’s classic sunsets, world-class surfing, and dry-season landscapes. But the rain gave us something else: a story none of us will ever forget.
As we catch our breath, we’re already looking forward to what’s next. We’ve got two more retreats lined up for April and November 2025, plus Erin’s first-ever yoga teacher training here at our home, Casa Colorado. And yes, we’re planning to push the November retreat back a week in hopes of dodging the rain!
Costa Rica is a land of surprises, and this adventure was no exception. From flooded airports to unexpected yoga sessions with friends in airport hotel gyms, it’s a reminder that the best stories come from the moments you can’t plan. We brought 20 strangers together and created a lifelong family. And now, finally, it’s time to rest. Until the next one!
