There’s something undeniably sensual about the rain in Costa Rica. It doesn’t just fall—it arrives with drama. Thunder claps like a jealous god, lightning sketches passion across the sky, and the earth responds with the scent of wet leaves and longing. And somehow, in all this tropical downpour, love finds its way through the mist.
June is known as the start of the rainy season, but for romantics, it’s better known as cuddle weather. Umbrellas become shared secrets. Porches turn into confession booths. Hammocks? Well—those are love nests strung between trees dripping with kisses.
Meet Andrés and Lucía, who fell for each other in the kind of rain that would cancel any decent outdoor plan. She ducked under his umbrella outside a bakery in Heredia, thinking it was a kind gesture. He told her later he just wanted to share a pastry with someone who didn’t mind the thunder. “He was more cinnamon roll than smooth,” Lucía laughs now, “but the rain made it magic.” They now bake together during storms, claiming sourdough is their third partner.
Further down the coast in Uvita, Diego and Samira met when a waterfall tour was rained out. “We were stranded in a ranger’s hut with six strangers and no Wi-Fi,” says Samira. “We played cards, watched the storm move through the jungle, and he gave me the last granola bar. I decided then he was either husband material or very well-trained.” Spoiler: they now bring snacks together on every hike.
Then there’s Julia and Ana, who kissed for the first time in a hammock at a cloud forest ecolodge, wrapped in a blanket while lightning traced their silhouettes. “We had no idea we were into each other until the rain slowed everything down,” Ana shares. “There was nowhere to rush to. Just us, the sounds of the jungle, and that electricity, not the lightning, the other kind.”
Rain in June turns everything into a slow-motion movie scene. Bus stops become flirting stations. Raincoats hide nervous fingers brushing. And everyone becomes a little more poetic. Even Ticos, known for their easygoing “Pura Vida” attitude,e seem to sigh more wistfully during this time. There’s something about being damp and delighted that draws people together—perhaps it’s the shared discomfort that becomes oddly intimate.
Coffee shops in San José fill with quiet pairs watching the rain slide down the glass, steaming mugs clutched between hands that are moments from holding each other. Beach towns like Nosara and Tamarindo, even when soaked, glow under a different light—the kind that refracts off puddles and into someone’s eyes just right.
Of course, the rain also brings the kind of mischief love thrives on. A flash flood canceled a boat trip for Elías and Marco in Tortuguero. They ended up waist-deep in water trying to rescue flip-flops and laughing so hard they forgot to be embarrassed. “By the time we got dry, we’d already swapped life stories,” Elías says. “The river tried to separate us, but the mud glued us together.”
So if you’re single, June might be your moment. Forget dating apps. Just go outside and let the weather do the matchmaking. Stand in a doorway, linger under an awning, share your towel at the beach. You never know who might be waiting out the same storm.
Because in Costa Rica, the rain doesn’t ruin romance—it writes it.
