The art of remote work while traveling. I could write a book on it. Or so I thought. As a tech executive and culture journalist, I’ve had the privilege of experiencing many rewarding and sometimes enviable travel moments over the years. These days, barring the occasional flight or baggage delay, my trips unfold seamlessly. I’ve worked with the ocean as my backdrop, in European cafés and bustling airports, even at iconic events like Art Basel and ESSENCE Fest. During these adventures, I make the most of my downtime, capturing images and footage, fully immersing myself in each unique cultural moment. When I return home, there’s a deep satisfaction in sharing those experiences, tips, and highlights with my readers.
The one area I hadn’t yet explored was the world of organized remote working trips—a concept that has intrigued me for quite some time. The idea of joining a group of like-minded remote workers and digital nomads on an international adventure has always appealed to me. So, when I recently won a voucher to attend such an experience in Costa Rica, I couldn’t resist seizing the opportunity.
This trip could not have come at a better time. With the deep contemplation that comes with recent life changes, and the election looming like a dark cloak that I couldn’t quite shake at the time, I had a lot on my mind.
I was already at a point of emotional reckoning when my pilot announced that he was unable to land the plane in Guanacaste, our intended destination. After two dramatic and failed attempts, he gave up due to adverse weather conditions. Out of a necessity for fuel, we were rerouted to Nicaragua, where we remained for almost two hours, hot, thirsty, and unable to deplane. This unexpected layer of stress disrupted my plans for an early arrival.
By the time we finally arrived at our hotel, Onda in Playa Grande, I was frazzled. I did my best to be social as I met everyone. I would be spending the next three weeks with 20 of them on a remote working expedition, and I was intrigued by their interesting and varied backgrounds (Argentina! England! Romania! Canada! The South!).
A few days later, when my phone screen was inexplicably and irreparably damaged, I realized that the universe was clearly hazing me. This trip was supposed to reignite my creative passions. But how, with no working phone and an inability to capture footage? Frantic, I met with a purported phone repairman in Tamarindo who promised he could replace the screen. Soon after, he returned the broken phone but kept my $80 deposit. I was livid.
I was completely disconnected and unable to rely on my phone for communication or documentation. Soon, however, I began to see this forced digital detox as a blessing in disguise. The “setback” of not having a phone altered my perspective as I began to apply Costa Rica’s cheerful, pura vida (translation: “pure life”) approach to travel and life in general. I started to rely on authentic human connection again, spending more time being present with my travel mates and less time worrying about any stressors here or back home.
It also allowed me to fully immerse myself in the natural splendor of one of the most biodiverse countries in the world. And it was then that I started to experience miraculous encounters with nature.
During a catamaran trip one afternoon, a humpback whale surfaced in front of our boat just long enough to take a few breaths. Within thirty seconds, a dorsal fin emerged, rolling elegantly through the water’s surface like only a bottlenose dolphin can do. As we continued to float, there were subsequent sightings of both, tag-teaming each other as we stared in open-mouthed wonder. According to our captain, it was incredibly rare to see either, but especially the whales, which were in the area momentarily, simply crossing on their way South.
My second encounter with fate was the hatching of endangered sea turtles at Ostional Beach, a truly awe-inspiring spectacle that required an early morning wake-up call. Zombie-like and pillows in hand, we boarded the van with our group leader Javi, arriving at Ostional at around 5:15 a.m. The dawn had yet to break, but we could see small, shadowy figures darting ahead of us on the sand. Baby turtles! Some slow as expected, some faster than anticipated, but all with the same goal in mind — survival. Another surprise guest: mother turtles. They too had arrived at dawn — to lay their eggs. Again, it is rare to see both mothers and babies on the same beach at the same time. But they were there, and it was glorious.
It was an exquisite morning, etched into my memory forever. I was fully present and fully engrossed in every sight, sound, and feeling that the moment afforded me. Oddly enough, it was one particular instance when I was grateful not to have my phone.
On the last day, our group gathered for a farewell party on Flamingo Beach. The sun had warmed both the air and the water, creating an irresistible invitation to swim, and we couldn’t resist returning to the water time and time again—long after sunset. It was the perfect way to close a trip that had been, in so many ways, deeply fulfilling.
The following morning, Ayzel, my dog, and I arrived at the airport with hours to spare. At the airline counter, the first thing the agent asked for wasn’t my passport—it was the paperwork for my dog. Feeling prepared, I handed over the documents I’d received from her vet for re-entry into the United States. To my dismay, the agent informed me that those papers weren’t sufficient for leaving the country. She told me I would need to rebook my flight.
From there, I encountered a series of bureaucratic hurdles and language barriers, which eventually led to an emergency visit to a veterinary clinic to secure the necessary documentation for Ayzel. I had always wanted to participate in a Spanish immersion program, and that day, I got my wish. No one at the clinic spoke English—not even the veterinarian. At first, the situation felt overwhelming, but it ultimately became an opportunity to push the limits of my Spanish proficiency, forcing me to dig deep to communicate and understand.
A day later, Ayzel and I arrived home safely.
Ultimately, this trip to Costa Rica was a reminder of the importance of embracing the unexpected. From a disrupted flight to a broken phone and even the bureaucratic chaos at the airport, every curveball that came my way felt like a test of patience, flexibility, and perspective. Yet, as I reflect on my time there, I realize how these very challenges became some of the most enriching parts of the journey.
The real beauty of Costa Rica wasn’t just in the sights I saw or the adventures I had but in how they transformed me. Being disconnected from the digital world allowed me to reconnect with myself and the people around me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. Without the distraction of a constantly buzzing phone or the pressure of documenting every moment, I found myself more engaged, more open to the magic unfolding before me. Whether I was gazing at a humpback whale or witnessing the incredible journey of baby sea turtles, each experience was an invitation to slow down, to savor, and to be fully immersed in the moment.
As I boarded my flight home with Ayzel by my side, I felt proud of how resourceful and resilient I had been. I also felt a profound sense of gratitude. Costa Rica had offered me more than just adventure—it had offered me a deeper connection to nature, to people, and to the simple joys of life. The pura vida spirit, which had seemed like just a catchy phrase at first, had become a way of life, reminding me to find peace in the midst of chaos and to always look for the beauty in the unexpected.
This trip was more than just a remote working experience; it was a journey of self-discovery and growth. And though the airport drama and phone mishap may have felt like setbacks at the time, I now see them as part of the tapestry that made this experience unforgettable. Costa Rica will forever hold a special place in my heart, not just for its breathtaking landscapes, but for the way it taught me to embrace the flow of life, trusting that even in the face of uncertainty, there is beauty to be found.
Karen J. Francis is an attorney and culture journalist specializing in stories about the diaspora. Follow her at @culturebykaren.
