Some people come to Santa Teresa chasing waves. Others come chasing a feeling they can’t quite name yet. For Roset, it was something quieter… something deeper.
Born in Israel, her path had already taken her across the world – years living in the Philippines, where her husband was working, building a life, raising a family, studying special education, and always, somewhere in the background, creating. Art. Experiences. Moments for children to feel something meaningful. She was designing themed parties for children, creating decorations, crafting experiences, even building custom photo albums to capture those moments. That thread never left her.
She first arrived in Santa Teresa in 2010, just another visitor passing through paradise. But like this place tends to do… it stayed with her. Years later, in the middle of a world turned upside down, she and her husband heard Costa Rica was open. While much of the world stood still, this small stretch of coastline was still breathing, still moving, still offering something close to normal.
So they came. Not with a master plan. Just a feeling. Their work didn’t define where they had to live, and for the first time, they could truly choose. They arrived with two young children, pregnant with their third, thinking they would stay for a while… and never left.
Building a Life From the Ground Up
Like many who choose this path, it started with land. Raw, untamed, full of possibility. They bought property and began building their home – clearing mango trees, shaping space not just for walls, but for life, even carving out room for a playground. A place where their children could grow freely. A place to grow roots.
At the time, Roset wasn’t thinking about building a business. She was thinking like a mother. A mother who had grown up surrounded by activities – art, creativity, expression – and suddenly found herself in a place where those opportunities were… missing. “There was surfing, soccer, the beach… but no space for art, music, or culture. Not for kids. Not for adults.”
She started looking for workshops. Supplies. Anything. Nothing. There were no materials, no studios, no easy access to even basic art supplies – forcing her to travel all the way to San José just to find what she needed. So she did what people here learn to do quickly – she started asking around. That’s when something clicked.
She realized this wasn’t just her problem. It was something the whole community was quietly living with.
A Gap in a Creative Town
Santa Teresa is full of artists. You can feel it in the way people live, build, move. But talent without space… fades into the background.
Roset began meeting people – painters, musicians, makers, creators of all kinds. People with real skill, real passion… but no place to express it. No platform to share it. No structure to build something from it.
And at the same time, she was searching for something for her own children, feeling it was her role as a mother to provide more than what school alone could offer. Something more. That’s when the idea began to take shape. Not all at once. Not perfectly. But steadily.
The Vision
It came to her in a moment of stillness. On a family trip to Panama, just before her 40th birthday – relaxed, open, finally with space to think – she saw it. Clear as day.
“I saw the land from above… people coming and going, kids laughing, creativity everywhere.”
She grabbed a notebook and started sketching. Every detail. Every corner. Every feeling. When she returned to Costa Rica, she wasn’t guessing anymore. She was building something she had already seen.
From Paper to Reality
What followed wasn’t glamorous. It was boots on the ground. Measuring tape in hand. Constant observation.
“I had a measuring tape in my pocket everywhere I went. Looking at spaces, taking measurements, imagining how it could all come together.”
She sketched everything. Passed it to an architect. Waited on permits. And before the first brick was even laid… she was already building something else. The community.
She started interviewing artists. Anyone who wanted to teach, to share, to be part of something. Dance. Painting. Macramé. Jewelry. Sculpture. Music. She didn’t wait for the space to exist – she built the network first, even reaching into nearby Montezuma where a strong art community already existed. By the time construction began, she already had a large list of artists ready to be part of it.
And what she found was undeniable. There was no shortage of talent. Only a shortage of space.
Creativo Comes to Life
By early 2024, the doors opened. Not with a grand launch. Not with polished perfection. But with kids. Camps became the heartbeat of Creativo. Because at its core, that’s where it all began – for her children, and for all the children here.
But something interesting happened along the way. The structure she first imagined… didn’t quite fit.
“We realized quickly – we didn’t want it to feel like school.”
So they let go of rigid schedules. They leaned into flow. Each day became organic. Kids chose what they wanted to do. Some painted. Some played music. Some ran outside. Some went to the beach. Sometimes all at once.
Over time, the camps evolved into themed experiences, shaped not only by the children’s interests but by the strengths of the teachers available at any given time. Different teachers. Different energies. Different strengths. No two camps the same. Younger children had their own guided groups, while older kids were given more freedom to explore and choose their activities. And somehow… it worked better.
A Space That Breathes
Creativo isn’t just a studio. It’s layered. Inside, shelves filled with art supplies gathered from trips to San José – because if you want something here, you go get it. Outside, open space to move, explore, create without walls, including a large front yard that can even host acrobatics, and a back area designed for children to roam, play, and discover freely. A wooden floor for dance, movement, gymnastics. A second level for workshops, classes, and independent creators to build their own offerings. A private room for one-on-one therapeutic work.
Music also became an important part of the rhythm inside Creativo. Instruments are always within reach, inviting children and adults alike to experiment, play, learn, and express themselves freely. Some children discover music casually during camps, while others begin developing deeper interest through private lessons and guided workshops. The space regularly welcomes local musicians who use the studio to host classes, group sessions, and creative collaborations, adding another layer of culture and connection to the environment. Like the art spaces, the music side of Creativo is designed to feel open and approachable – less about pressure or performance, and more about exploration, confidence, and joy through sound.
Even the beach becomes part of the classroom. Kids head down with garbage bags, cleaning as they go, learning without being told they’re learning. What they collect comes back with them – transformed into art, into expression, into something new. Nothing is wasted. Broken toys become new creations. Natural materials become part of the process. Life becomes the lesson.
More Than a Studio
Creativo has grown into something bigger than one idea. It’s a platform. Artists can rent space and teach their own workshops, using the upper level, the main studio, or the outdoor areas. Teachers can create their own programs. Families can host events, themed parties, celebrations built with imagination – something Roset brings from her earlier creative work.
But for Roset, it’s also deeply personal. As a mother, she has always believed it’s her role to offer more than what happens inside a classroom, and in this small coastal region, that possibility is real. Her eldest found a home at Gaia School, drawn to its creative, open approach to learning, while her middle son, looking for more structure and academic challenge, discovered his place at Futuro Verde in Cóbano. In a town this size, having access to different styles of education is something rare, and something families here are learning to navigate with intention.
Creativo naturally became part of that balance. A place that sits alongside school life, not replacing it, but expanding it. A space where children can move between structure and freedom, between academics and expression, finding what fits them as individuals.
In a time when many parents are quietly struggling with the pull of screens, social media, and constant digital distraction, spaces like this offer something grounding. When children are given the opportunity to create, to move, to be outside and engaged, they choose it. Not because they’re told to – but because it feels better. And in that process, they begin to understand something deeper about balance, about attention, about connection.
There are gallery nights where local artists can show and sell their work, with a small percentage supporting the studio and helping it sustain itself. Dance classes. Improv. Music. Movement.
And slowly, quietly, a bigger vision is forming. To give back.
“To be able to sponsor local children… to open this space to everyone.”
They’ve already started – fundraisers, second-hand markets, small steps toward something larger. Because the goal isn’t just to build a business. It’s to build access.
A Different Rhythm
There’s something else happening here too – something people don’t always talk about, but you can feel it.
A lot of people come to Santa Teresa looking for a different life. Slower. More connected. More real. They remember how it felt on vacation – the ocean, the freedom, creative juices start to spark again, the way time opened up – and they think moving here will hold onto that feeling.
But then something doesn’t quite click. Because they didn’t actually leave their old life behind. They just changed locations.
The phone is still in their hand. The same habits, the same constant scrolling, the same noise. We see this all around us, sitting at dinner with friends but not really there. Standing on the beach with one of the most beautiful views in the world… and missing it.
And after a while, there’s a quiet question that starts to creep in – why doesn’t this feel the way I thought it would?
The answer isn’t complicated. You can’t feel Santa Teresa if you’re not actually here for it. This place runs on something different. People look up. They say hello on the road. They stop and talk. They notice each other. They notice the ocean, the light, the wind. It’s simple, but it’s not automatic – you have to choose it.
And that transition isn’t always easy.
That space between the life people came from and the life they say they want – that’s where places like Creativo matter.
Not because they tell you to put your phone down, but because they give you something better to pick up – paint, music, movement, conversation. Sitting next to someone and actually sharing a moment without distraction. Kids creating without thinking about being watched. Adults remembering what it feels like to use their hands, their imagination, their attention.
It’s not about becoming an artist. It’s about reconnecting. Because the truth is, the life people come here looking for doesn’t just happen because you moved.
You have to step into it. And sometimes, you need a space that helps you do that.
The Invitation
Creativo is open, not just as a space – but as an idea.
If you’re an artist, a teacher, a creator, there’s room for you. If you’re a parent looking for something more for your children, it’s here. If you’ve been holding onto an idea, waiting for the right place to bring it to life, this might be it.
And if you’re someone who came here for a different kind of life but quietly feel like you haven’t quite stepped into it yet, you’re not alone.
Sometimes the shift is simple. It starts with putting one thing down and picking something else up – paint instead of a screen, music instead of noise, a conversation instead of distraction. Something real, something tactile, something that asks you to be present.
Because when you begin to reconnect – to your hands, your attention, your creativity – you start to feel the difference. More clarity. More confidence. Less need to constantly reach for something outside yourself. The kind of days that feel full in a different way, and the kind of nights where sleep comes easier.
If you have something to share, something to teach, something to create, you’re invited to step in and be part of it. And if you’re simply looking to feel more connected – to this place, to others, to yourself – the door is open for that too.
Because sometimes living the dream isn’t about finding the perfect place. It’s about finally showing up for it.
