You know that moment when you're sitting in a gray cubicle, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, and you think: there has to be more than this? That was me five years ago in Montreal. Now? I'm writing this with sand between my toes, waves crashing in the background, and a business that pays me to live exactly the way I want.

Moving to Costa Rica and building a business from the beach wasn't some trust-fund fantasy or lucky break. It was a calculated leap, a lot of hustle, and honestly, the best decision I ever made. If you're dreaming about ditching the nine-to-five for sun, surf, and self-employment, let me share exactly how I made it happen.

Picture February in Montreal. Minus twenty degrees. I'm scraping ice off my car at 6:30 AM to get to a marketing job that paid the bills but slowly killed my soul. Don't get me wrong, I liked my colleagues, the work was fine, but something was missing. That spark. That feeling of being fully alive.

I'd been surfing on family vacations since I was a kid, and every time I came back from a beach trip, I felt like I was returning to a life that didn't quite fit anymore. I spent months scrolling through Instagram accounts of people living in tropical paradises, telling myself they must be trust fund kids or just incredibly lucky. But the more I researched, the more I realized: these people weren't that different from me. They just made different choices.

So in March 2020—yes, right as the world shut down—I made a decision. I was going to move to Costa Rica within a year and figure out how to make money while living at the beach. People thought I was crazy. My parents worried. My friends said I was throwing away a good career. But I couldn't shake this feeling that if I didn't try, I'd regret it forever.

Choosing Costa Rica wasn't random. I spent six months researching different countries, and Costa Rica kept checking all my boxes. The visa situation is relatively straightforward compared to other Latin American countries. The internet infrastructure is solid, which is crucial when trying to run an online business. The expat community is established, which means there's support when you need it. And of course, the beaches are absolutely incredible.

Tamarindo specifically caught my attention because it has this perfect blend of surf culture and entrepreneurial energy. It's not so touristy that it loses its soul, but it's developed enough that you can actually get things done. Additionally, the consistent waves meant I could surf year-round, which was a non-negotiable requirement for me.

Costa Rica has this concept called 'pura vida'—pure life—and it's not just a tourist slogan. It's genuinely how people approach life here. Less stress, more presence, better balance. Coming from Montreal's hustle culture, this was exactly the mindset shift I needed to build a sustainable business, rather than just creating another version of the rat race in paradise.

Here's what most people get wrong about moving abroad to start a business: they think you just show up and figure it out. That's a recipe for running out of money and heading home with your tail between your legs. I spent eight months preparing while continuing to work my day job in Montreal.

First, I got my surf instructor certification through the International Surfing Association. This wasn't cheap, about $800 USD plus travel costs, but it was my insurance policy. I knew that even if everything else failed, I could teach surfing and make enough to survive. I practiced teaching friends at the local surf simulator and took every opportunity to get in the water.

Second, I started my travel blog six months before moving. This was crucial. I began writing about my preparation process, sharing surf tips, documenting my Spanish learning journey, and building an email list. By the time I landed in Costa Rica, I had 500 subscribers and was earning approximately $200 per month from affiliate links. Not much, but it was proof of concept.

Third, I saved aggressively. Like, really aggressively. I moved into a cheaper apartment, sold my car, picked up freelance writing gigs on weekends, and funneled every extra dollar into my move fund. My goal was $15,000 USD, enough for six months of basic living expenses in Costa Rica plus a buffer. I hit $12,500 by moving day, which felt tight but doable.

November 2020. I landed in Liberia with two suitcases, a surfboard bag, and a mixture of excitement and pure terror. The pandemic was still raging, but Costa Rica had reopened to tourists. I'd arranged a month-long Airbnb in Tamarindo to get my bearings.

Those first few weeks were intense. Everything took longer than expected. Opening a bank account required multiple trips and a mountain of paperwork. Getting a local phone number was surprisingly complicated. Finding a longer-term rental meant navigating a market where most listings weren't online. My Spanish, which seemed decent in Montreal, suddenly felt completely inadequate.

But here's what saved me: the surf community. I started showing up at Playa Tamarindo every morning at dawn. I'd help beginners, chat with other instructors, and just be present. Within two weeks, I had more connections than I'd made in two years at my corporate job. Someone mentioned that the local surf shop was looking for instructors. I walked over that afternoon, demonstrated my skills, and was teaching my first class the next day.

My business model evolved naturally from those early weeks. During high season (December through April), I'd teach surf lessons four to five times a week. Private lessons paid $40-60 USD per hour, group lessons brought in about $40 per hour. I kept my prices slightly below the local average to build clientele, but not so low that I devalued my expertise.

But here's the thing about surf instruction: it's physically demanding, and there are only so many hours you can teach before you're exhausted. Plus, the rainy season means fewer tourists and less consistent income. I needed something that could scale without destroying my body or depending on tourist seasons.

Enter the travel blog and content creation. Every afternoon after teaching, I'd spend two to three hours creating content. I documented everything: how to choose a surfboard, what to pack for Costa Rica, budget travel tips, remote work setups, visa processes, and health insurance options for expats. I wasn't trying to go viral; I was building a library of genuinely helpful information for people who wanted what I had to offer.

The blog monetization happened in layers. First came affiliate income from surf gear and travel booking sites, which grew to about $800 per month within six months. Then I added sponsored posts as my traffic increased. Surf brands and sustainable travel companies started reaching out, paying $300-500 per post. By month ten, I launched my first digital product.

That guide changed everything. It took me two weeks to write, pulling from all my experiences and mistakes. I soft-launched it to my email list and made $800 in the first weekend. Suddenly, I had passive income that didn't require me to be physically present. I could surf all morning, teach one lesson, and still make money while I slept.

Let's talk money, because everyone wonders, but few people share real numbers. My monthly expenses in Tamarindo average about $1,800 USD. Here's the breakdown:

Rent: $700 for a one-bedroom apartment, five-minute walk to the beach. Not fancy, but clean, safe, and perfect for my needs. You could go cheaper ($500 for a studio) or much more expensive ($2,000+ for beachfront), but this hits the sweet spot.

Food: $400. I cook most meals at home, hit the farmers market twice a week, and treat myself to restaurant meals a couple of times weekly. If you eat out constantly in tourist zones, triple this amount. If you're willing to eat like locals, you could cut it in half.

Utilities & Internet: $150. High-speed internet is essential and costs about $70. Electricity runs higher because of AC, which you'll want. Water is cheap.

Transportation: $100. I have a used motorcycle that cost $2,000 upfront. Gas is cheap, and maintenance is minimal. Many people manage with bicycles or walking, but the freedom of a bike is worth it for me.

Health Insurance: $200. I use INS, the national insurance system. It's not perfect, but it covers basics and emergencies. Some expats prefer international plans ($300-500 monthly).

Fun Money: $250. Surf trips, dinners out, yoga classes, the occasional splurge. Life shouldn't be all hustle.

On the income side, I now average $3,800 monthly. About $1,500 comes from surf instruction, $1,200 from blog monetization and affiliate income, $800 from digital products, and $300 from freelance writing, which I still occasionally do. Some months are higher (December through March can hit $5,000), some are lower (September-October might drop to $3,000). But it averages out, and I'm building, not just surviving.

Living and working in Costa Rica isn't all sunset surf sessions and fresh coconuts. Let me be real about the hard parts, because if you're considering this life, you need to know what you're signing up for.

Loneliness hits differently when you're far from home. Yes, I've made amazing friends here, but they're transient. People come for three months and leave. Building deep relationships takes time and effort. I've had periods where I felt incredibly isolated, questioning why I left a place where I had established friendships and family support. Video calls help, but they're not the same as grabbing coffee with your best friend from high school.

The bureaucracy is maddening. Getting proper residency took eighteen months of paperwork, lawyer fees, trips to San José, and patience I didn't know I had. Banking is complicated. Taxes are confusing. Simple things that took ten minutes in Canada can take half a day here. You need to make peace with inefficiency or you'll lose your mind.

Business instability is real. Some months are feast, others are famine. Tourist season is intense. I'm working six days a week, teaching multiple lessons daily, and barely keeping up with content creation. Then the low season hits, and suddenly I'm scrambling to fill my calendar. Building financial buffers isn't optional; it's a matter of survival.

And honestly? Sometimes I miss seasons. I miss fall colors, the first snowfall, and bundling up in a cozy sweater. Costa Rica has dry season and rainy season, and while I prefer endless summer, there's something about the rhythm of four seasons that grounds you. It's a weird thing to miss, but it's true.

But here's why I stay. Here's why, even on the hard days, I've never seriously considered going back.

I wake up without an alarm and decide whether today is a surf morning or a work morning. That genuine freedom over my time is worth more than any salary increase I could have received by climbing the corporate ladder. I take clients out for lessons and genuinely enjoy it because I'm not burned out from back-to-back meetings. I write content about things I actually care about, not whatever a marketing brief tells me to care about.

My body feels different. I'm stronger, more flexible, and healthier than I was in my twenties, despite being thirty now. Surfing most days and eating fresh, local food does that. I don't get seasonal depression anymore. The constant sunshine and ocean time have transformed my mental health in ways I didn't expect.

The people I've met here have shown me different ways of living and thinking. My neighbor runs a successful remote design business from a tiny apartment. A friend built a sustainable tourism company focused on sea turtle conservation. Another teaches yoga, leads retreats, and writes novels. Everyone's piecing together their own version of a good life, and it's inspiring as hell.

And the little moments—those matter most. Yesterday I finished work at 3 PM, grabbed my board, and caught a perfect sunset session with dolphins swimming nearby. Last week, I helped a complete beginner stand up on her first wave and watched her face light up with pure joy.

This morning I wrote a blog post while howler monkeys chattered in the trees outside my window. These aren't vacation moments. This is my regular Tuesday.

If you're seriously considering making a similar move, here's my hard-earned advice:

Start Before You Leave

Build your online presence while you still have a stable income. Start the blog, create an Instagram account, and develop your skills. Get your first freelance clients or establish your digital product while you have the safety net of a regular paycheck. Don't quit your job and hope it works out—that's how you end up broke and desperate.

Develop Multiple Income Streams

Never rely on one source of income. My surf instruction covers basics, the blog provides growing passive income, digital products create scalability, and occasional freelance work fills gaps. If one stream dries up, I'm not panicking. Diversification isn't just for investment portfolios—it's essential for location-independent entrepreneurs.

Save More Than You Think You Need

Everything costs more than expected and takes longer than planned. My six-month buffer? I burned through four months of it in the first three months because of setup costs, slower client acquisition, and unexpected expenses. Having that cushion meant I could be strategic instead of desperate. Aim for at least six months of living expenses, preferably a year.

Research Visa Requirements Thoroughly

Costa Rica's visa situation is manageable but not automatic. I started on a tourist visa (renewable every 90 days), which initially worked but was unsustainable in the long term. Getting temporary residency required hiring a lawyer ($1,500), providing extensive documentation, and waiting patiently. Some people do perpetual visa runs, but that gets old fast and isn't technically legal. Do it right from the start.

Learn Basic Spanish

You can survive in tourist areas by speaking only English, but you'll miss out on so much. Learning Spanish opened up friendships with locals, provided better business opportunities, fostered deeper cultural understanding, and, honestly, just made daily life easier. I use Duolingo daily and practice with patient Tico friends. It's still not perfect, but the effort matters.

Choose Your Location Carefully

Not all beach towns are created equal. Tamarindo works for me because it offers reliable internet, a community of entrepreneurs, good surfing conditions, and necessary infrastructure. Smaller towns might be cheaper and more authentic, but could lack the connectivity and support systems you need for business. Visit first, spend time in different areas, and talk to people who live there. Don't just pick the prettiest beach on Instagram.

Five years in, my business looks different from what it did at the start. I'm teaching fewer surf lessons, maybe ten hours weekly instead of twenty-five, and focusing more on content creation and digital products.

I'm also thinking about the next chapter. Maybe opening a small surf camp that combines lessons with content creation workshops. Maybe spending part of the year in other locations: Bali? Portugal? Mexico? To diversify experiences and content. The beautiful thing about building a location-independent business is exactly that: you're not locked into one place forever.

But Tamarindo will always be home base. This is where I figured out who I am outside of external expectations. Where I learned that security isn't about a steady paycheck but about skills, resilience, and resourcefulness. Where I discovered that building a business from the beach isn't about escaping reality, it's about creating a reality that actually fits who you are.

Look, I'm not going to tell you that moving to Costa Rica and starting a beach business is for everyone. It requires risk tolerance, self-discipline, flexibility, and a willingness to regularly feel uncomfortable. You'll have moments of doubt. You'll make mistakes. Some days will be hard.

But if you're reading this and feeling that pull, that deep knowing that there's a different life waiting for you, trust it. Not everyone needs to move to a tropical paradise, but everyone deserves to design a life that feels authentic to who they are.

For me, that meant trading Montreal winters for Costa Rican sunshine. Trading office politics for surf sessions. Trading someone else's vision for my own. It meant less financial security but more freedom. Fewer possessions but richer experiences. More risk but deeper satisfaction.

The business I built from the beach isn't just about income—it's about identity. It's proof that you can create something meaningful on your own terms. That you don't need permission to redesign your life. That sometimes the scariest decision leads to the most extraordinary outcome.

So, here's my challenge to you: stop dreaming and start planning. Open a savings account for your move fund. Research visa requirements. Start building your online presence. Take one concrete step this week toward the life you actually want.

Because five years from now, you'll either be living that life or still wishing you had the courage to try. I know which one I choose, and I hope you do too.

Ready to make your move to Costa Rica? Our comprehensive Move to Costa Rica Masterclass walks you through every step—from visa applications to finding the perfect beach town, from setting up your business to building your expat network. Learn from those who've successfully made the transition and avoid the costly mistakes we made so you don't have to.

Pura Vida from the beach.

Written by Sophie Leclerc — The Beach Entrepreneur

Montreal-born Sophie followed the waves to Tamarindo, where she teaches surfing and runs a travel blog. Her lively, free-spirited writing celebrates independence, sunshine, and creativity. She encourages young professionals to live passionately and design a lifestyle rooted in freedom.

📍 From Montreal, now in Tamarindo
Surf instructor and travel blogger, Sophie writes with energy and optimism—perfect for those dreaming of sand, surf, and self-employment.
Read Articles by Sophie →