After living in rural Virginia for 18 months, San José can feel like a sprawling metropolis - within just minutes of my front gate, there are several universities, restaurants of all varieties, museums, malls, and a whole lot more. Almost anything I want is at my fingertips, and as much as I enjoy this, living in a city can be overwhelming.

Street noise haunts my dreams, and the local motorcycles like to wake me up every night on their 1 a.m. jaunts. Pollution from the city’s huge bus fleet and myriad drivers invades my lungs and irritates my eyes. During rush hour, it takes 30 minutes to cover a distance of a kilometer or two. This comes part and parcel with the city life, but every once in awhile, a girl needs a break.

On top of city frustrations, the past few weeks have been busy and exceedingly stressful for both Fabi and I, and we were in need of a getaway. But with too much work and no vacation time in sight, we weren’t able to take off for the hills of Turrialba or the beaches of Manuel Antonio. And as nice as it is to hole up in the house, crawl under the covers, and refuse to let the outside world in, that plan of attack just wasn’t going to massage away the stress.

So instead of wallowing in the doldrums of irritability, we opted to be tourists in our own town. Rifling through my Costa Rica guidebooks, I crossed out all the museums we’d been to, parks we’d picnicked, and opted for something new. What we found was so tranquil, so beautiful, that I almost don’t want to mention it. We plan to return many times and my biggest fear will be to find our secret paradise teeming with people, just like the dirty streets of San José.

Lucky for me, my blog readership isn’t large enough to make such a dent, and since a guidebook hasn’t ruined this urban Shangri-La, I figure I’m safe to tell you. The Spirogyra Butterfly Garden is secreted away into a section of Goicoechea (Guadalupe) best known for its loud music and party scene. Just blocks from El Pueblo, the gardens are so quiet and peaceful that we could almost forget that we were in the heart of the city. And as I meandered through the gardens, zooming in on every butterfly I could find (and there were many), I felt some of my pent-up stress begin to dissolve. By the time we had finished the garden’s beautiful Contemplation Path loop, I was convinced that we’d fallen down the rabbit hole into our own version of Burnett’s secret garden.

The rest of the weekend was spent on other stress-relieving activities, like visiting the Parque Zoologico Simón Bolívar, which has greatly improved its conditions over the last few years, walking the streets of Barrio Amon and the pedestrian-only paths of downtown, enjoying iced tea at a tiny café, and wandering the sidestreet maze of our own part of town. It was more activity than we’d had in awhile, and yet we both felt more relaxed and refreshed than we had in a long time. It was the perfect weekend, just what we needed, and we’ve vowed to do it all again (at new locations) this weekend. And while it may seem odd to declare this at 24, I think I’ve finally discovered what weekends are for.