Inside Costa Rica: A Ten Day Experience

Day 1

I ran pretty fast to the back of the bus. I knew I’d have a few friends with me so I definitely needed seats next to mine. I threw my bag across the aisle as a seat-saver and sat down. Took a breath staring blankly at the absence of familiarity. 10:30 at night is a bad time to try and prepare for a nearly 2-hour bus ride to Chicago, although it wasn’t really my choice. After two years of waiting since the first trip was canceled exactly 2 years ago (on the day), I pretty much assume the last thing I am is in control. At least this time I managed to get on the bus, still technically not taking the trip for granted yet. However, we have been driving for a couple of hours now. Should I call it? Is it actually going to happen? Asking these questions made my head hurt. I let my gaze decide to drift my head towards the front of the bus. My open-mouthed face observed the metamorphosis of the aisle and the lights along with it. It looked like an army of UFOs all organized in rows. I see a silhouette of a mushroom made of light. Beams of blue lasers shooting from the mushroom and dancing with the contrasting rows of mysterious flying objects. I took a breath while staring blankly at the absence of familiarity. It was exciting thinking this was just the beginning of my journey, although I am as I always have been: out of control.

Day 2

I swiped my key card above the handle and pushed the door open. It was 3 pm, yet the hotel room was completely dark with the curtains drawn over a wall of glass. I stepped inside cautiously, holding the door open for my two friends who were lucky enough to be trusted in the same room together. My legs guided me into the dark obscurity as curiosity soaked my brain. We threw the curtains apart and revealed a mountainous view of the city. I wish I could have spent more time watching people go about their lives as tiny cars drive on the highway and tinier people walk around, but 2 flights and 36 hours of no sleep proved to be more influential at the time. The irony is that now I can’t sleep, and the idea of being in a completely new part of the world hasn’t completely been processed yet. A small shopping venture at the mall was our only activity of the day, and the lack of sleep only left the antiquation into the Spanish language even more difficult. Awkward pauses and the usual “repite por favor” still has me cringing, although I suppose I’d better get used to it. That is why we’re here after all isn’t it? To try and actually use the Spanish we’re being taught and that not ALL things being taught in school are useless? Perhaps it’s shown to be a more emotional necessity than a technical one. Sure, not being able to tell someone what kind of meat you want on your taco can be inconvenient, but asking someone how they’re feeling and actually understanding them creates an entirely new perspective on the necessity of language.

Day 3

Aromas of sunscreen mixing with damp and heavy air lingered in my nose as we made our way towards the innards of the city. The bus continued to paint an array of frequencies from low engine hums to high-pitched window squeaking. All parts of Costa Rican life seemed to be on display throughout the ride: tall, glass buildings left people in suits walking around like ants in a colony as houseless people sat in the shade. I wondered if it made anyone else angry, but I sinfully rejected its verbal acknowledgment. Before we arrived at the market, I was expecting an outdoor venue with Eazy-Ups and trailers, but I didn’t know I would soon be surprised at what it actually was: an indoor labyrinth of tight walkways and stores crammed together inside an entire square block. Scents of spices, fish, raw meat, and rain were so strong I could nearly taste them. The music of old men playing a wooden xylophone somehow cut through the several conversations I was hearing at once. My attention was swiftly stolen by a group of mannequins wearing colorfully abstract shirts. I walked over to the store and was greeted by a young man quite abruptly.

“You want shirts? I give you very good price!”

“Damn, English already? Do I really look like a tourist that much? I guess the only people who would go here would be,” I thought to myself.

“Si si. Cuanto cuesto por esto?” I said while tugging on one of the shirts.

“Para ti, doce mil colones” he replied.

I sat in silence pondering the conversion of 12,000 colones into U.S. dollars. If 10,000 colones was roughly $15, then 12,000 was probably still under $20.

“Ok ok, voy a comprar” I finally said, happy to see what it would look like on me.

I could practically see the wide smile through his mask as his eyes squinted and outer cheeks pulled towards his ears.

“Una buena decisión!”

Hey, a successful interaction with another human being is cool, so I took pride in it. After nearly an entire day being fully immersed in using and listening to Spanish, I now find myself thinking in Spanish sometimes. I begin to wonder just how much this trip may change me.

Day 4

An early breakfast prepared us for the nearly four-hour bus ride to our next destination. It doesn’t feel like four hours as I remember it, since we stopped and toured around a few times throughout. Our first stop introduced us to a small park, where after a few luckily successful greetings with several local kids around our age, a game of fútbol began. The gringos vs. the Latinos; I swear I’ve never seen a more unfair match. I was surprised at how well we handled ourselves, and fortunately got to save our group from the embarrassment of a total loss (but a loss nonetheless). Our second stop was at a small town up in the mountains. We exited the bus into the sprinkling rain just outside a large church with a garden of bushes trimmed in a conglomeration of shapes, patterns, sizes, and forms.

It was between these stops, however, where the most fun occurred. Freshly formed groups of people and new friends being made seemed to be too common a theme. By the time we actually arrived where we would be staying, new roommates were already in order. Wild, dark, and exotic vegetation grew everywhere around the compound, with dozens of cabins lining a maze of brick streets that swayed left to right. The smell of rain still lingered in the air as fog enveloped the area like a warm blanket. Orbs of light seemed to be our only guide at night, which made the shapes and colors of plants and trees look like alien monsters dancing as a quiet wind blew by. The next four days here would surely prove to be adventurous.

Day 5

I remember staring at the waterfall from a distance. It looked like a small trickle of water that lightly flowed into a mesh of bright green trees. We walked down towards it and put our stuff down near the bank of the large creak that it produced. As we stumbled and trudged upstream, the sound of the nearly 250-foot shower began to grow louder. When we made it to the bottom of the falls, a large and deep body of water welcomed us. We all tried to swim closer to where the water was landing, but the sheer force of the water produced a strong current and an even stronger gust of wind away from it. The thunderous roar of the water seemed equal in nature to the power of a thousand gods. Mist carried by the gust reflected the innocent sunlight and left us surrounded in a kaleidoscopic and color-filled vortex. Many other groups of people came to see this almost overwhelming sense of natural might and beauty, although its humility stayed constant in its simple definition and action: water falling. We descended the mountain on a gravel road as we headed back from the falls. We all walked in single file so as to avoid any traffic. After 10 minutes of walking, a really loud and repetitive banging kept coming from a shoddy-looking, wooden cabin we were walking past. The cabin had at least 20 hammocks and tapestries hanging randomly around the porch. I look up and see a large, fluffy white dog on the edge of the sheet metal roof of the cabin (whose steps and jumps were causing the sharp and clashing bangs) barking at us while 3 other dogs began running at us from the ground. An old, barefooted man with gray dreads and crooked teeth was throwing small rocks at the dog, yelling in Spanish for him to go back inside through the open window. After seeing the other dogs coming at us from the ground, he finally decided to join them and went inside. The old man introduced himself as Daniel, and Sra. Thompson and Garbe seemed to be all too familiar with him. The Señoras told us that he’s a hammock maker and that they’ve been visiting him for years. Our whole group walked onto Daniel’s open front porch as he showed us his method of looming and crafting each hammock by hand. An assortment of jewelry on a center-situated table attracted the majority of people as a few went to pet the still very exuberant dogs. As Daniel poked and pulled the thread throughout his already amassed bundle, his smile seemed so genuine. It was obvious he enjoyed his craft, and more than obvious that he was relishing in being able to demonstrate his skill. I loved the thought that such a humble life and vocation could produce such happiness.

Day 6

Throughout the entire trip, the Señoras have been asking what our favorite part has been. The market, waterfall, and Daniel’s dogs have certainly been top contenders among the majority of the people in the group. But for me, my favorite moment is right now: walking around in the late-night heat around the foreign and bizarre looking plants and trees. It’s not that a lot didn’t happen today; a lot did in fact. We went on a zip line tour throughout the Costa Rican rainforest, a hike towards the Arenal volcano on the outskirts of the town, and toured a small and local farm where we got to hold baby goats, pet sheep, and feed bulls. We even saw a gang of wild monkeys outside our hot tub towards the later end of the day. Friends of mine are debating what their favorite part is, and appear to be settling on the zip line tour. Despite today arguably being the best day so far, nothing compares to the sense of calm that this warm night brings. I feel myself sinking into the feeling you get right before you wake up while simultaneously floating on the sense of content you feel after seeing something truly beautiful. Not carelessness; quite the opposite actually. I’ve never cared more in my entire life. The sympathy for nature and the harmony of it all are a sweet and stunning duet.

Day 7

“Paddle forward!” the tour guide yelled from the back of the inflatable raft. All four of us began leaning forward and stuck our paddles in the clear water and pulled them back. It was important that we were in sync so that we didn’t turn the boat accidentally. We only got two paddles in before the guide yelled again, “Stop!”. The rapids were approaching faster as we accelerated towards a drop in the water. BOOM. We hit the wave head-on as cold water climbed over us before it came crashing down everywhere. The rushing flood around us made it so that we could barely hear the shouting of the guide, “Paddle forward!”. Our backs were sore, but we really had no other choice. An enormous, fallen tree was sticking out towards our left, and we were aiming right at it. My friend and I both looked at each other, confused as to why we would paddle directly towards the barrier that looked like it could knock us all unconscious. Even though we all had helmets, they certainly wouldn’t stand a chance against this behemoth of a blockade. At least our life vests would keep us afloat if our unconscious bodies needed rescuing. We reluctantly pushed our paddles into the water and began pulling forward. Slowly, our vessel began shifting to the right, away from the obstacle. I look back to see our guide, a skinny and long-haired young local, had his unmoving paddle stuck in the water, effectively steering us as we provided the drive. Soon, the rapids were behind us, and the sound of rushing water began fading out of my ear at a leisurely pace. Eventually, it was all quiet, except for the sounds of cawing birds and an easy wind. My sense of adventure was overflowing into my personality as the guide took verbal note of my excitement. Simply “having fun” is the only way to really describe things sometimes, and this certainly wasn’t an exception.

Day 8

A nearly 8-hour bus ride to our next destination made me set an alarm for 5:30 am. Unbearable cannot even begin to describe the seemingly endless, torturous, and emotional hell that those 8 hours unleashed upon me. The seats were small and uncomfortable, making sleeping an impossibility. Our route towards the coast was a series of S, Z, C, and other curvy, letter-shaped roads. Not a problem for some, but for anyone sensitive to car-sickness, the tight streets proved to be almost fatal (in spirit at least). Lastly, the air conditioning seemed to be conveniently quitting on us, making the craving for cold air become a desperation. When we finally did arrive in Montezuma, it was joyous. Our hotel is steps away from the beach. Stray cats and dogs welcomed us immediately as small howler monkeys climbed everywhere in the trees above. Small shops lined the streets as locals sold jewelry and food. After all the busy schedules we’ve had the past week, it’ll be nice to relax a little.

Day 9

A reeeeeallyyy relaaaxing beeeach dayyyyy.

Day 10

Saturday night. The staff at the bar had cleared away all the tables and chairs, making a convenient dance floor in front of the DJ. All around the DJ, piles of speakers and subwoofers larger than me were gathered around. The immense power of the sound made it feel as if you were swimming inside the mix. The music would start with an intense and exciting buildup. The feeling of anticipation seemed almost torturous. When the beat dropped, the crowd would burst into a frenzy of rhythmic movement. A smoke machine exhaled a large, billowing cloud which made the lasers and lights reflect beams all around the bar. We were all dancing in a heavenly fog, no care at all that this was our last day. The cool thing about music is that it takes you out of the world you worry about; you’re reborn inside a realm being created right in front of you. Costa Rica feels the same way. You no longer care about homework assignments, college applications, or school drama. You’re simply there; feeling the hot sun, touching the cool water, discerning between the hundreds of unique trees and the thousands of entirely distinct birds. Free. Calm. A breath of fresh air for the first time. Life enlivened. Time inflamed. Nothing will ever be the same after this.

Day 11

Goodbye.