Founder's Letters Archive

Like every true community, the coming-to-be of Costa Dulce is not the result of a single vision or moment, but rather a weaving together of many stories—personal, political, and deeply human—that continue to shape our present reality.

I will share a few simplified versions of those stories. First, my own path to Nicaragua and the early days of Costa Dulce. In a later letter, I’ll explore the local history of the land itself and the surrounding communities that have made Costa Dulce what it is today. I’ll also share the personal journeys of some of our team members—how they arrived, the challenges they faced, and how they’ve grown into the heart of our community.

Let’s start in 1988.

That year, my father was invited by his friend—an organic farmer and activist from Canada’s Gulf Islands—to accompany him on a mission to Nicaragua. Their aim was to create a sister-island project between the Gulf Islands and Ometepe Island, an initiative that gave rise to OGIFA (Ometepe-Gulf Islands Friendship Association), a nonprofit built on solidarity, sustainability, and cross-cultural collaboration.

Their early efforts included building a potable water system for the villages around Balgüe and establishing a direct-trade coffee partnership to support Ometepe’s coffee cooperative. The country was in the midst of a devastating civil war, and my father—deeply moved by what he witnessed—sought to amplify the voices of those most affected. He attempted to bring Indigenous leaders from the Río Coco region to the U.S. Congress to speak out against the continuation of U.S. war funding. While his plan fell short due to documentation barriers, his conviction to stand with the people of Nicaragua never wavered.

Later that year, he returned to Nicaragua—this time with a beat-up RV, a camera, and his young family: my older brother Adam (8), myself (6), and Simon (2). His intention was to create a documentary titled Through the Eyes of Children—a film that followed our family as we lived with Nicaraguan families, aiming to share a more human and honest portrayal of life in a country too often misunderstood by foreign media. (Watch the video here)

That journey left a lasting imprint on me.

I grew up on Galiano Island, one of Canada’s Gulf Islands—a tight-knit community of around 1,000 people. Life there was slow, simple, and deeply connected. The values I absorbed—mutual support, environmental respect, and the understanding that wellbeing is collective—became part of who I am. Those early experiences, both in Nicaragua and at home, planted the seeds for what would later become Costa Dulce.

At 22, I returned to Nicaragua, this time on a road trip with the intention of learning how to surf. I arrived in San Juan del Sur and immediately felt at home. I moved in with a local fisherman and surfer named Gonzalo and immersed myself in the rhythms of coastal life.

It felt as though destiny had a hand in what happened next. I crossed paths with a traveler who was exploring the possibility of buying land. I helped him discover what is now the Costa Dulce property—and in that moment, something clicked. I proposed a partnership, sensing that this place was calling me toward something far greater than myself. The project started as a modest three-room vacation rental called Casa Ola—now the Costa Dulce library—the first step in something much bigger.

But the deeper vision for Costa Dulce didn’t come from a business plan. It came from the reality I saw all around me.

From the beginning, it was clear that Costa Dulce couldn’t thrive in isolation—it had to grow hand-in-hand with the local community. The nearby villages were full of hardworking, resilient people whose warmth and joyful spirit left a lasting impression. Most families lived off the land, and while formal jobs or schooling weren’t always easy to come by, the strength of the community was undeniable. Environmental and social challenges were real, and access to even the most basic needs—like healthcare and transportation—was often limited by a lack of financial resources. Still, the potential to work together toward a more sustainable future was always present—one rooted in shared care, opportunity, and collaboration.

In those early days, we welcomed team members who had never held formal employment, who walked long distances just to get to work, or who joined us as teenagers in need of support to finish high school. Many of those same individuals are now part of the heart of our community—an evolution I’ll share more about in the next letter.

These experiences deeply influenced the model of Costa Dulce. Inspired by the desire to create lasting, positive community impact, we focused on doing as much as possible right here on site—from food and wellness services to construction and operations. By offering a wide range of experiences to our guests, and by building much of what we use ourselves, we’ve been able to create meaningful, year-round employment for over 100 local families.

At its core, Costa Dulce is just as focused on the wellbeing of our native community as it is on the comfort of our guests. We believe that true hospitality begins with dignity, opportunity, and shared prosperity.

It’s become clear that true paradise isn’t just a beautiful beach or a private retreat—it’s a place where both community and nature can thrive. That realization continues to guide Costa Dulce’s mission to this day.