To Visa or Not to Visa? That is the 90-Day Question

In the United States Declaration of Independence, Thomas Jefferson declared certain truths to be self-evident: that all people possess unalienable rights to Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. The simplicity of these rights belies their profound implications—a framework for human dignity that transcends borders and centuries.

Across the Atlantic, a few decades earlier, Jean-Jacques Rousseau wrestled with a question that would shape modern political philosophy: Can there be legitimate political authority? His answer became the cornerstone of democratic theory—the Social Contract. In this arrangement, individuals collectively delegate to government the authority to establish rules that protect and advance the very rights Jefferson would later enumerate. Government exists, in theory, to serve the interests of the people it governs.

Costa Rica has long considered itself heir to this Enlightenment tradition. The nation’s 1949 Constitutional Congress embedded these principles into the country’s founding document. Article 50 declares that “the State will procure the well-being of all inhabitants in the country through organizing and stimulating production and the most adequate distribution of wealth.” The language is deliberate: inhabitants, not citizens or residents. Everyone within Costa Rica’s borders.

This constitutional promise touches immigration policy in ways few have seriously considered. The organization and stimulation of production—the economic architecture that determines how resources flow through society—creates incentives that shape entire communities. This is not abstract philosophy. It is the practical work of protecting Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness for all who call Costa Rica home, however temporarily.

The Economics of Perpetual Tourism

Consider the phenomenon of the perpetual tourist—individuals who cross Costa Rica’s borders every 90 days to reset their visa-exempt entry status. This practice has become a fixture of expat life in Costa Rica, a ritualized border run that thousands perform four times annually.

I can guarantee you this: nobody at Costa Rica’s immigration department holds a degree in economics, and nobody at the Department of Economy and Industry has studied migration patterns or their human implications. Yet immigration policy is economic policy, whether policymakers acknowledge it or not.

The math is straightforward. A border crossing costs approximately $300 USD, depending on location and circumstances. Some perpetual tourists minimize expenses by returning the same day. Others spend two or three nights in Panama or Nicaragua, increasing costs but reducing the grinding repetitiveness of the experience. Conservative estimates place the annual cost at $1,200 USD per person—four crossings at $300 each.

Determining the exact number of 90-day runners remains impossible, but border statistics offer clues. At Paso Canoas alone, 40,910 US and Canadian nationals crossed into Panama in a recent year, while 41,679 entered Costa Rica. These figures exclude other ports of entry to Panama and Nicaragua. They capture business travelers, vacationers, and genuine tourists alongside the perpetual variety. The data is imperfect, but even conservative extrapolation suggests a striking figure: approximately $40 million USD spent annually on the singular purpose of crossing borders to maintain legal status.

There are people who have performed this ritual for a decade. Ten years of quarterly border runs. The absurdity compounds with each crossing.

Where the Money Goes

Every dollar spent crossing into Panama is a dollar not spent in Costa Rica. Meanwhile, perpetual tourists support local economies throughout the country—in beach towns like Tamarindo, Sámara, Playas del Coco, Jacó, Santa Teresa, Dominical, Golfito, and Puerto Viejo. They pay rent. They buy groceries. They purchase cell phone plans and gasoline. They eat at restaurants and hire service providers.

The stereotype of the backpacker drifting through Central America captures only a fraction of this population. Many perpetual tourists own homes or businesses. They pay property taxes. They employ local workers. They contribute to CAJA, Costa Rica’s social security system. They function, in nearly every respect, as legal residents—except they must leave every 90 days to maintain that function.

Money does not discriminate between legal and illegal, between resident and tourist, between citizen and foreigner. It flows where it is spent. Those $40 million USD directed toward border crossings could circulate through Costa Rican businesses instead. The economic logic is unambiguous.

The Constitutional Question

Article 19 of Costa Rica’s Constitution states that foreigners possess the same rights as Costa Ricans. Paired with Article 50’s promise to procure the well-being of all inhabitants, a compelling argument emerges: the Costa Rican government should enact policies promoting the welfare of everyone within its borders, regardless of nationality.

Is it in the well-being of elderly foreigners to undertake quarterly border crossings? For some, these trips represent genuine hardship—physical, financial, and psychological. The current system forces individuals to choose between legal status and personal welfare, a tension that Article 50 appears designed to resolve.

Current immigration law offers numerous residency pathways, but significant gaps remain. Many foreign nationals simply do not qualify under existing categories. The perpetual tourist phenomenon exists not because people prefer it, but because the system leaves them no alternative except departure.

Costa Rica’s government has made functioning as a foreign national increasingly difficult, even as the constitution promises equal treatment. The contradiction is stark. One could argue that maintaining arbitrary departure requirements contradicts the state’s constitutional obligation to organize economic activity in ways that promote collective well-being.

Beyond Borders

The solution is neither complex nor unprecedented. Allowing foreign nationals to remain in Costa Rica without 90-day departures would benefit the country economically, align with constitutional principles, and respect the dignity of individuals who have built lives within Costa Rica’s borders.

This is not about eliminating borders or abandoning sovereignty. It is about recognizing that immigration policy is economic policy, social policy, and ultimately a reflection of values. If Costa Rica believes in the Enlightenment principles embedded in its constitution—if it truly seeks to procure the well-being of all inhabitants—then the 90-day visa run stands as an anachronism, a bureaucratic ritual that serves no one’s interests.

The perpetual tourist exists in a legal limbo, neither fully present nor fully absent, contributing economically while remaining administratively invisible. This status benefits no one. Not the individuals forced into it. Not the communities that depend on their economic participation. Not the government tasked with managing migration flows.

It is time to ask whether this arrangement serves the principles Costa Rica claims to uphold. Whether it furthers life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for all inhabitants. Whether the social contract extends to those who have chosen Costa Rica without fitting neatly into existing categories.

The answer, I would argue, is self-evident.

Feel free to reach us with your questions or comments.