To oversee a six-day photo shoot for the magazine, Curtis made her first trip to Costa Rica, visiting Guanacaste and Alajuela provinces with photographer Joshua Paul and his assistant (and brother), Jason.

“You’ll find out . . .”
I’d called for a limo to pick me up at my home at 4 a.m. for an early flight, and the driver arrived on the dot. But this was no regular driver, this was the Eddy Wilson, an exuberant Costa Rican/American whom someone had recommended I request. He was full of life even at that hour and bearing multiple maps of his home country for my perusal. Turns out that Eddy used to play keyboard in a beach-bar salsa band that topped the charts for three years down Costa Rica way. Even half-awake, I knew I should take advantage of his knowledge. So as he drove I fired questions to see if the guidebooks were right. It went something like this:

So, Eddie, what do you like most about Costa Rica? Eddie grabs the air with his fists and shouts, “The fruits!” He mimes picking fruit with both hands. Meanwhile, the rain pours down and a truck looms in the headlights. Uh, Eddie . . . (hands go back on the wheel). “Ahhhh, the fruits,” he says, shaking his head.

What kind of fruits? Again, he mimes picking fruit, saying, “Mangos, papayas and, oh, the pineapple!” Then he sings with a huge smile, “You’ll find out.”

Do you swim in the ocean, Eddie? “I swim in the ocean rain or shine! I respect the ocean, though. You got to respect Mother Nature.”

Are there really butterflies the size of my hand and close to 1,600 species of orchids? “Yes, yes, yes.”

What about killer bees and 162 species of snakes, Eddie? “Yes, but you won’t see any.” How do you know? I’m headed into some wilderness areas. Seems like we might run into one of those fer-de-lance snakes.  “Yes, but you won’t! If you do, just respect Mother Nature and you’ll be fine.”

One last thing: Is Costa Rica really a good place to retire? Eddie smiles and hands me my camera bag. “You’ll find out,” he says with a grin.

What I Found Out
Even Eddy’s enthusiasm didn’t prepare me for the beauty of the country. Lush forests; volcanoes accessible by car and a short hike; beautiful mountains and valleys green with hillside crops; beaches in dozens of shades of white, black and brown; 14 species of turtle; more than 850 species of birds; and the list goes on. We were fortunate to have Jose Ramon Aguilar Calvo from Swiss Travel Service as our guide (he also modeled for our cover shot). Thanks to his deep knowledge of the country and background in ecology, we were able to see crocodiles, iguanas, troops of howler and white-faced capuchin monkeys, pink spoonbill birds, great egrets, toucans, coatimundis, bats and butterflies. (I didn’t see a single snake, and I was looking.) Jose also directed us to a produce aisle’s worth of fruit trees (mango, papaya, fig, cashew, coconut, lime, lemon, grapefruit, orange, guava and almond trees). Is this a place you might want to retire? Visit, and you’ll find out.

Small World
Halfway through the trip we parted with Jose, and Joshua, Jason and I traveled on to Alajuela province. Our last day of shooting began in Poas Volcano National Park, followed by an afternoon at the nearby La Paz Waterfalls, among stunning butterflies, birds and monkeys. By late afternoon, we’d started the drive down the mountain for our final night at Xandari Resort, congratulating ourselves on a shoot well done. Suddenly, we realized we were lost! Silence filled the car. What had happened to the well-marked signs? Maybe we could backtrack to find where we’d strayed. But that took us to a sign with four arrows and five roads facing us. We chose the closest right-hand turn: Big mistake. An hour later, the pavement became an old farm road of clay and rocks. Dead silence now. It was starting to sprinkle and we couldn’t see a main road for miles. No choice—we had to turn around again.

Back at the same sign, we tried “the other right” and finally reached the resort. After a swim, I ordered a glass of wine in the tropical bar and chatted with a charming couple who had spent the day white-water rafting. They invited me to join them for dinner. As it turned out, they live on the same street as I do in Westport, Connecticut. The waiter joked that he hoped I wasn’t there undercover. “Not this time,” I said.