Casa Nueve: A Home for the Deliberate Few

This is not a home for everyone. It never was.

It began with Fraser—visionary, contentious, unfinished. It was brought to life by Cynthia—intentional, unrelenting, beautifully resolved.

And now, it awaits its next custodian. Because this is not a property. It’s a stand.

A stand against the white-box sameness that dominates the landscape. Against homes built for headlines, not for holding people. Against a world where originality bows to the endless scroll.

Casa Nueve calls to the few who live with conviction. To those who forge their own path. To those who trust their taste, their instinct, their carefully considered renovation.

It’s not a trend. It’s a commitment: To live with purpose. To preserve soul. To honor what’s rare, and give it space to flourish.

If you seek merely a smart home, continue your search elsewhere. If you desire a meaningful life, make your way up the hill.

The door stands open. The flame burns bright, waiting for new hands. If this resonates with you, you already understand.

We live in an age of scrollable perfection. The homes, the meals, the faces, the lives—all filtered to match the feed. Architecture hasn’t escaped it. Design has been flattened into trend. Homes now come with mood boards, not mystery.

The pain is subtle but deep: We’re surrounded by beautiful things that feel like nothing.

-Kai Sotto

The Origin Story

Cynthia wasn’t looking for a house. She was looking for a creation, an escape, a muse. The house had been lived in for over twenty years—but it hadn’t really changed. It carried the scent of old cigarettes, and aluminum foil lined the kitchen counters. Small windows boxed in one of the most majestic views in Nosara—sky, river, ocean, jungle. A fortress that forgot what it was protecting.

John Fraser built it—one of his fully poured concrete creations. He didn’t design homes; he carved monuments. He built this long before Nosara had roads worth paving or cafés worth naming. Back when materials arrived late, if at all. When building here required obsession, audacity, and a taste for chaos. Fraser had all three—and not much patience for anything else.

He poured vision straight into the hillside—raw, forceful, and rarely complete. Most of his projects ended mid-sentence—unfinished, untamed, and unapologetic. Like the Nosara Beach Hotel—a poured-concrete hallucination with a sculpted hand inside that might as well be giving the middle finger to the world. Part temple, part bunker. A place you don’t check into so much as cross into. Monuments to defiance—cast in concrete, shadow, and just enough whispers to keep people wondering.

Cynthia felt potential. Not fantasy—form. She’s not a dreamer. She’s a designer. Certified. Seasoned. Sharp. She’s built for herself. Built for others. She’s wrestled with materials, jungle humidity, contractors who mansplained their way through half-truths and shortcuts. She knows what works. What lasts. And most of all—what’s worth it.

She kept what mattered: the concrete, the arches, the dome, the drama. And let the rest fall.

She opened walls. Expanded windows. She let the house exhale. What emerged is something rare. A home with backbone and softness. Perched in the mountains, apart—but never remote. Livable. Luminous. Alive.

And it’s not for everyone. Casa Nueve is for the few who know how to finish someone else’s sentence—and make it better.

A Different Kind of Beautiful

If your dream home came from Pinterest, this isn’t it. If “open concept” means flattening everything, you might miss the point. Not the modernist mansions with glass walls that give it all away. No drama. No reveal. Just white boxes and naked views—like those LA porn houses dressed as architecture (you know the ones). They photograph well.

But, nope.

Not the kind built for awards, magazines, or someone’s portfolio. This wasn’t made to impress strangers. It was made to hold people.

This is a home for those who feel things. Who notice shadows. Who care how a handle feels. How a breeze moves. Who know beauty isn’t decor—it’s memory, movement, atmosphere.

This is where you gather your people. Not for events. Not to impress them—but to let them soften. To cook. Laugh. Linger. For a night. A season. To leave more themselves than when they arrived.

A Sanctuary With Purpose

Up here, it’s quiet. Not empty—intentional. Monkeys at dawn. Clinking glasses by dusk. Town is close. Surf is a hop. But this place stands apart.

It’s not a vibe. It’s a vow.

To live with soul. To reject sameness. To protect what’s rare—and let it breathe. To belong to a lineage of the unfinished, the unapologetic, the original.

Everything here was chosen. Fought for. Tracked down. Hauled in. Ripped out. Replaced.

Until it felt right.

This is for the ones who never wanted what everyone else has. Who know luxury whispers.

Who like their beauty with bite. Who feel more at home in a novel than in a showroom.

It’s not precious. But it is rare. Not perfect. But whole.

The Invitation

Dare to live with originality. To choose soul over symmetry. To reject the templated life and build one with conviction.

Casa Nueve doesn’t care about your approval. She wasn’t designed for likes or resale value. She was shaped by two humans who built what they felt—not what they were told.