Treehouses, Howler Monkeys, and the Trip That Changed Everything

Aqua Resort sits on Nicaragua's Emerald Coast — a stretch of Pacific coastline north of San Juan del Sur that feels like it belongs in a dream. The resort's treehouse villas are perched high in the jungle canopy, each one with its own private infinity pool, a wraparound deck, and views of the ocean that make you forget, entirely, that the rest of the world exists.

Waking up in a treehouse above the rainforest, stepping out onto the deck with a coffee, watching the Pacific catch the early light — it is the kind of morning that recalibrates something deep in you. The sound of the jungle at dawn, the warm breeze off the water, the absolute stillness before the howler monkeys woke up and reminded you that you were very much a guest in their world.

The resort also has a cliffside yoga platform, a spa, a beachside restaurant serving the freshest surf-and-turf you have ever tasted, and a bar where the passionfruit margaritas and locally produced Flor de Caña rum make every sunset feel like a celebration. It is remote, it is beautiful, and it is unlike any resort I have ever stayed in.

We did not drive to San Juan del Sur. We arrived by boat — cutting across the Pacific from the Emerald Coast, watching the crescent bay open up ahead of us as we came around the headland. It is, without question, the best way to arrive anywhere.

San Juan del Sur is a small Pacific beach town that manages to be simultaneously laid-back and electric. The main beach curves in a perfect arc between two jungle-covered headlands. Fishing boats bob in the shallows. Toña beer umbrellas line the sand. The streets behind the beach are painted in every color imaginable — turquoise, coral, yellow, green — and the energy is that particular mix of local life and traveler joy that you only find in places that have not yet been overrun.

We wandered the main street, ate fresh ceviche, watched the surfers, and felt the particular happiness that comes from being somewhere beautiful and unhurried. San Juan del Sur does not ask anything of you. It just lets you be.

Granada is one of the oldest colonial cities in the Americas, and walking its streets feels like stepping into a painting that has been slowly accumulating beauty for five hundred years. The buildings are painted in ochre, turquoise, coral, and cream. The cathedral towers over the central park. Horse-drawn carriages still move through the cobblestone streets. And everywhere you look, there is something that stops you in your tracks.

We climbed the bell tower of La Iglesia de La Merced — one of Granada's most ornate baroque churches — and looked out over the terracotta rooftops all the way to the jungle hills and the distant silhouette of Volcán Mombacho. It is one of the best views in Central America, and it costs almost nothing to access.

We also visited a chocolate factory — one of the artisan cacao workshops in the colonial district — where we learned how cacao is grown, fermented, and transformed into chocolate. Nicaragua grows some of the finest cacao in the world, and tasting it fresh, in the city where it has been traded for centuries, is an experience that connects you to the place in a way that no museum ever could.

Granada is also the gateway to Las Isletas — the archipelago of 365 tiny islands formed by a volcanic eruption of Mombacho thousands of years ago. We took a boat through the islands, gliding past lily pads and water hyacinths, past tiny homes and howler monkey-filled trees, and felt the particular peace that comes from being on water surrounded by green.

Ometepe Island rises from Lake Nicaragua like something from a myth — two volcanoes, Concepción and Maderas, connected by a narrow isthmus and surrounded by the largest lake in Central America. From the boat, as you cross from Granada, the island grows slowly on the horizon, and there is something about the sight of it — those twin peaks wrapped in cloud — that makes you feel very small and very grateful to be alive.

The island is home to howler monkeys, white-faced capuchins, sloths, and more bird species than most people will see in a lifetime. The roads are unpaved. The pace is slow. The people are warm in a way that feels completely unperformed — they are simply, genuinely glad you are there.

Before reaching Ometepe, we spent time on the water exploring Las Isletas — the archipelago of 365 tiny islands just outside Granada, formed when Volcán Mombacho erupted thousands of years ago. Our boat glided through channels thick with water hyacinths and lily pads, past tiny homes built on the islands, past trees full of birds and, yes, more howler monkeys. It is one of the most peaceful boat rides I have ever taken.