Beach Bash: A Tropical Thanksgiving Saga

If you ever find yourself in the expat enclave of Playa Loco, Costa Rica, around late November, consider yourself warned: the beach transforms into a spectacle that defies both logic and historical accuracy. What started as a simple expat gathering has morphed into a full-blown tropical Thanksgiving tradition—a chaotic, costume-filled, culinary catastrophe that locals observe with a mixture of confusion and amusement.

The festivities are known as the “Pilgrim Beach Bash,” an event where expats, fueled by guaro and misguided nostalgia, don their best (or worst) attempts at Pilgrim attire—think black felt hats, big buckles, and bikini bottoms. It’s a fever dream where history meets Margaritaville, and it’s just as absurd as it sounds.

The Hunt for the Thanksgiving Bird

It all begins with the Great Chicken Chase. You see, turkeys are not exactly plentiful in Costa Rica, so the expats settle for something a little less traditional and a lot more elusive: a jungle chicken. Securing a whole bird in a country where chickens roam free but rarely make it to your dinner table with all their parts intact is a Herculean task. Bob, Playa Loco’s self-appointed Chief of Poultry Procurement, takes this responsibility to heart every year, despite the trauma it involves.

Bob’s quest usually starts with rumors. “I heard there’s a lady up in the hills who sells whole chickens—if you can find her,” someone whispers. Armed with a vague map, a machete (for show), and a fading sense of dignity, Bob embarks on a journey through dense jungle, dodging howler monkeys and the occasional suspicious iguana. After what feels like a scene straight out of *Apocalypse Now,* he finally returns victorious, clutching a chicken so “free-range” it might have had a gym membership.

Pilgrims in Paradise

While Bob wrangles the bird, the rest of the crew is busy “preparing” for the big day. Preparation mostly involves debating whether Pilgrim hats really need to be historically accurate and discussing whether it’s possible to create a Thanksgiving menu that blends New England tradition with tropical flair. Spoiler alert: it’s not.

This year’s theme, proposed by the ever-enthusiastic Karen, was “Pilgrims Meet Margaritaville,” which resulted in a mishmash of costumes that ranged from inflatable turkeys to pirates with an identity crisis. Karen herself showed up in a glittery Pilgrim hat and a lei, declaring that history is “all about interpretation, anyway.”

As the sun blazed down on the beach, a makeshift kitchen was set up under a series of tents that flapped lazily in the breeze. The cooking setup was a patchwork of grills, half-functional ovens, and one suspicious-looking cauldron that seemed more appropriate for a witch’s brew than a Thanksgiving feast. Power outages and propane shortages added a delightful element of unpredictability to the cooking process.

The Butterball Hotline Fiasco

Every year, someone tries to call the Butterball hotline, only to be met with confusion, laughter, and eventually, what can only be described as a hang-up disguised as a “connection issue.” This year was no different. The hotline was bombarded with questions like, “How long do you cook a chicken stuffed with coconut and marinated in piña colada mix?” and “What’s the best way to baste a bird when the humidity is 90% and your oven door won’t close?”

The poor operator, clearly baffled, responded with a stammered, “Uh, are you sure you’re calling the right place?” before the line mysteriously went dead. The expats took it as a sign that they were on their own—much like the original Pilgrims, but with worse internet service.

Cooking in Chaos

As the feast drew nearer, the kitchen turned into a war zone. Side dishes that had no business existing were being concocted left and right. Someone decided to add coconut to everything—coconut gravy, coconut-stuffed plantains, and even a coconut-infused green bean casserole that caused more than one person to reevaluate their life choices. The pièce de résistance was the “fusion stuffing,” a mix of heart of palm, guava jelly, and something that may have once been bread. It was about as appetizing as it sounds.

But the star of the show was, of course, Bob’s jungle chicken—now named Tom, because tradition must be respected, even if it’s through the lens of complete absurdity. The bird, roasted to perfection (if you squinted), was paraded out like a hero, dressed in sunglasses and garnished with tropical fruits. Just as Bob was about to carve it, a stray dog—clearly having a *Pura Vida* moment—sprinted up, grabbed a leg, and bolted down the beach. The crowd erupted into laughter, and someone quipped, “Well, at least now it’s authentic.”

The Pilgrim Parade and Turkey Trot

After the meal, the festivities shifted into high gear. Karen’s “Pilgrim Meets Margaritaville” theme took a life of its own as expats formed a conga line on the beach, led by a guy in a parrot costume who clearly got the wrong memo. Next up was the annual “Turkey Trot,” which had little to do with actual running and more to do with a race involving inflatable turkeys, questionable athletic ability, and frequent trips to the sand.

Linda, still sporting a Pilgrim hat that had seen better days, took first place in the trot after her main competitor, Todd, face-planted in a pile of abandoned empanadas—another misguided dish that everyone had tactfully ignored.

The night ended with a bonfire, because what could go wrong with a bunch of expats setting things on fire after consuming rum and mystery casseroles? The group gathered around, toasting marshmallows (which melted into a gooey, humid mess) and telling exaggerated stories of past Thanksgivings. The expats awarded each other mock prizes like “Most Creative Use of Pineapple” and “Best Historical Inaccuracy.” 

The Day After: Leftover Roulette

The morning after the bash, Playa Loco looked like a battlefield where Pilgrims had fought tiki warriors and nobody won. Sunburned expats wandered around, piecing together fragments of the night before. Tables were still littered with half-eaten side dishes—some of which had transformed overnight into science experiments. There was a Tupperware of something unidentifiable labeled “Pumpkin Pie-ish” that no one dared open, and a half-empty bottle of guaro inexplicably stuffed with a plantain.

In a bid to “repurpose” the leftovers, the crew organized what could only be described as a potluck of poor decisions. Dishes were mashed together in ways that defied both logic and taste. Linda’s plantain yams were rebranded as “sushi rolls,” and Bob’s empanadas found new life as tropical frisbees. Someone even suggested turning the coconut gravy into a face mask for the next “Wellness Wednesday.”

The Pilgrim Legacy Lives On

Despite the chaos (or maybe because of it), plans for next year’s bash were already in the works. Bob hinted at tracking down an “organic” turkey next time, though everyone agreed it would probably still involve some kind of jungle adventure. Karen was already pushing for a “Pilgrims vs. Pirates” theme, while Todd suggested adding a surf competition—though the thought of surfing in Pilgrim gear had everyone in stitches.

As the year rolled on, Playa Loco returned to its usual rhythm—surfing, hammock lounging, and pretending to work remotely. But the legend of the Pilgrim Beach Bash grew with each retelling. Newcomers were quickly informed that Thanksgiving in Playa Loco was no ordinary holiday—it was a wild mix of cultures, costumes, and culinary disasters where the only rule was “the crazier, the better.”

So, if you’re ever in Costa Rica next November, and you stumble across a group of gringos in floppy hats and flip-flops, deep-frying empanadas while racing inflatable turkeys down the beach, you’ll know exactly what’s going on. It’s the Pilgrim Beach Bash—where history gets rewritten, recipes get butchered, and expats learn that home is wherever you can laugh at your own ridiculousness while enjoying a side of arroz con leche straight out of a coconut.

Pura Vida, and see you next year—bring your own hat and a strong stomach.

More related articles