Is Costa Rica expensive to live in?

Costa Rica isn’t the cheapest country in Central America, but it’s not outrageous either. Daily life costs less than in most major U.S. cities — especially if you adapt to local food and lifestyle. Where it gets pricey is rent in beach towns, imported goods, and electricity if you blast the A/C all day.

What is the average rent in Costa Rica?

Rent depends on location. In San José, a two-bedroom apartment runs $600–$1,200/month. In popular beach towns or suburbs, expect $800–$1,800/month. Rural areas can be as low as $400/month — but you’ll trade off some conveniences.

How much money do I need to live comfortably in Costa Rica?

A single person can live modestly on $1,200–$1,500/month. For more comfort (A/C, private healthcare, imported snacks), budget $2,000–$3,000/month. Couples usually spend $1,500–$2,500+ depending on lifestyle and location.

What’s the cost of food in Costa Rica?

Local produce, coffee, and seafood are affordable (think avocados for $0.50, pineapples for $1, fresh fish at local markets). Imported items, though, are expensive — a jar of peanut butter can be $8 and wine can sting your wallet. Sticking to the local diet saves money and makes you healthier.

Ruin Me Slowly by Waymon Hudson — A Deaf Artist’s Debut Pop Single You’ll Feel in Your Skin

Waymon Hudson
Sep 12
3 min read

Close-up portrait of Waymon Hudson against a red background. He has short, styled blond hair, a soft gaze, and bare shoulders.

I didn’t plan on making a pop album.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure I could. Not after losing my hearing.

Not after the silence.

But then I realized something:

I don’t have to hear music to feel it.

And I don’t have to wait for permission to tell my story — especially when it’s already humming through my skin.

💔 Ruin Me Slowly by Waymon Hudson— My First Single (Out Sept 12)

Steamy image of a hand pressed against foggy glass with droplets. Text reads “Ruin Me Slowly – Waymon Hudson – From the album Through My Skin.”

The first track is called Ruin Me Slowly — and yeah, it’s exactly what it sounds like.

It’s the kind of song that sneaks up on you. Sexy. Sad. Dangerous in the way only bad decisions and good memories can be.

I wrote this for the trouble you see coming from a mile away.

You know they'll wreck you.

You let them anyway.

That’s what Ruin Me Slowly is — letting go of logic and falling into someone’s hands, even when you know you won’t come out whole.

It’s the sound of the last kiss before it all falls apart.

And it’s the first single from my upcoming album Through My Skin — dropping soon.

🎧 Get Ruin Me Slowly by Waymon Hudson here

🧠 Creating Music Without Hearing

Back of Waymon Hudson’s head with a visible hearing aid. A bright bird-of-paradise flower arcs across, blending natural beauty with identity.

A lot of people ask me how I write and sing music if I’m deaf.

And the answer is: I don’t hear it. I feel it.

I lost my hearing a few years ago, suddenly and permanently. But music has always lived in me — in my body, in my bones, in the way my chest hums when the bass hits or how vibrations crawl across my skin.

I used to be a musical theater kid. I danced. I sang. I studied music in college. It was my escape, my lifeline, my identity. And when I went deaf, I thought that part of me was gone.

But music didn’t leave me. It just changed shape.

Now I write songs that are tactile. Emotional. Visceral.

Built around rhythm and sensation.

Built to be felt.

🎶 The Album: Through My Skin

This album isn’t polished pop perfection.

It’s not trying to sound like something it isn’t.

Image of Waymon Hudson standing waist-deep in purple-toned water in front of a jungle waterfall. His back is to the camera, showcasing a spine tattoo. Text reads “Through My Skin.”

It’s raw.

It’s messy.

It’s sexy.

It’s mine.

Through My Skin is a collection of songs that reflect how I experience the world now — through vibration, memory, sensation, and emotional truth. It’s full of desire, vulnerability, and voice, even if I can’t hear it.

There are ballads. There are bangers. There are sweaty pop confessions that probably say too much.

And every single song was written to be more than just heard.

It’s built to be felt.

🖤 Why This Matters

As a queer, late-deafened artist, I’ve always lived in the margins — too much of this, not enough of that. But this album is me stepping fully into my voice. Not just as a writer, or a performer, but as someone who’s still here. Still loud. Still unbothered.

I don’t need perfect pitch.

I have something more powerful:

A story that vibrates through the silence.