Day 3 marked my entry into extreme sports – Costa Rican style. I did the typical canopy tour thing – ziplining through the forest on a cable wire – and also this thing called a “Tarzan Swing.” Basically they harness you to a rope (not a bungee) and then you jump off this super high platform. After about what seems like 10 seconds of free falling, the rope snaps tight, and you swing into the forest, Tarzan-style. I was prepared for the zipline – wasn’t prepared so much for the Tarzan swing. I just knew, when the time came to purchase my tickets, that I wanted to do it. There are a million different canopy tours in Santa Elena – the so-called canopy wars. Each has a different gimmick to lure tourists in. Some allow you to ride tandom with some dude (no, thanks) while you take pictures. Some hook you up to a different sort of harness that allows you to do flips. And some are simple and basic, like mine, but allow you to coast over primary growth, as opposed to secondary growth. It was on this canopy tour thing that I met another solo traveler, Kristen, (we seem to be able to find each other like moths to a light) who I spent the rest of my time there with. It was also on this tour where I met a bunch of flirty Costa Rican boys. By this time, I was beginning to accept that boys in Costa Rica are quite forward and flirtatious. It wasn’t a bad thing, but when you are single female, ethnicity unknown, walking down the street, and several guys call out to you, “hola guapa,” well, ya, that falls under the category of attention you don’t necessarily want to receive. It’s not bad, it’s just different. If my sis had been around, she would have definitely taken all the attention away from me (heh), as guys love to do that to her. At any rate, we suited up in our harnesses, and one of the 2 Maurcicios was instantly flirting with me. I didn’t mind it so much because he was a playful flirt, not a skeezy flirt. He spoke very little English, so we communicated half and half. But it was playful – and we just teased each other, and he pulled my pigtails, and that was all. And when I got stuck out in the middle of the zipline, he came to rescue me quite promptly (embarrassing). His friends were a bit more sarcastic. One of them asked me if I was scared of the Tarzan swing (I actually was) and in English he said to me, “oh, don’t worry.” In Spanish, he joked to his friend, “Yeah, only a few people died.” I turned to him and said, “what did you just say?” They laughed and laughed, and then opened the gate and pushed me out, where I free fell — screaming — for a good 5 or 6 stories (maybe more) until the rope snapped tight, and I swing into the forest. Afterwards, one of them asked me and Kristen if we wanted to go dancing. We politely declined. 
Now for the actual ziplining – amazing. It was one of those experiences that happens in your life where you think to yourself, “oh my god, is this really happening?” It was stunning, and the moment was not lost on me. The way it works is that you are strapped into a harness, ziplining from plaform to platform. In some instances, the actual ziplining is short and sweet, and goes through some secondary growth. But in most other instances, you zipline through a some trees, and then BAM, you are sailing over the tops of pristine rainforest where all you can see are green tree tops for miles and miles and miles around. It was nothing short of breathtaking.
As for Kristen and I – we became fast friends, and it was super fun walking through the rainforest on the hanging bridges just getting to know each other. We talked about everything – boys, life, jobs, likes, dislikes. Everything. Oh, and the rainforest was really amazing too. It didn’t technically rain while we were there, but the lushness of the foliage, and the sounds of all the animals was one of the most invigorating and yet relaxing things ever. I kept telling Kristen that I wanted to build a tree house there and spend the rest of my days living in the rainforest. She, of course, thought I was ridiculous.
We missed our bus back to Santa Elena, so we were took our time in the gift shop. I had like 5 things in my hands, and Kristen had even more. Then, one of the ladies working at the shop started speaking to us excitedly in Spanish. She asked us if we wanted to get on the japanese tour bus because it was going in our direction. We agreed that we wanted to, and thus hurredly proceeded to make all our purchases. Basically anything that was in our hands at that moment – we bought. Afterwards, we both laughed hysterically when we looked at what we had bought: I had a some wooden earrings shaped like little oranges and a patch with a turtle on it that said “Pura Vida” Kristen had 2 stuffed sloths hanging from wooden dowels. It was pretty damn funny.
The bus stopped in the tiny town center (in this case, a triangle) and let us off. Kristen and I went back to our hostels/hotels to get situated, and then we went to La Marvillosa for dinner. The evening was as perfect as the day had been – the sun began to sink beneath the horizon, and the extreme heat started to give way to balmy breeze. We ordered sopa negra, plato de frutas, mango fruit drinks con agua, and I ordered a plate of crispy pork tacos with cabbage and mayonnaise (sounds gross, was decent) salad. We hurried through dinner, since Kristen needed to catch her rainforest night tour, but I continued sitting there, watching all the people come into or walk through the town. As I stared out the window, I caught sight of a familiar face. At that same moment, the familiar face caught sight of me, and we shared that split second of “is that…yes…it is” sort of recognition. It turned out to be Mauricio – from the ziplining. We both recognized each other at the same time and you could see his face go from confusement to acknowledgment to friendliness, as mine did as well. We both warmly waved at each other, at the same time, and for me, that was a simple moment that I know I will always treasure and always carry with me forever. I felt as if I had made a friend in another country. And that feeling of friendship for a complete stranger – someone you can barely communicate with, but who will wave to you in the street – was as unexpected and profound as they come. Suddenly, the world became that much smaller. And I, a solo traveler, was all of a sudden not so alone.
Kristen and I met up later that evening after her tour, and after I had time to shower and change and surf the internet. While I was changing in my room, one of my bunkmates came in. I had talked to him the night before, but not so much a one-on-one conversation. This time, we sat around and he was really warm and friendly and so funny (and yes, cute as hell), and I laughed maybe a little too hard at his stories about his first horseback riding experience. “I wanted to be like a cowboy – like John Wayne with the cowboy hat and the can of beans, so I went on the horseback ride. It wasn’t so bad – not quite John Wayne, but I am told that my horse was a very good one for someone as green as me. Well, I guess I will find out tomorrow about these ‘saddle sores.'” I wished that I had had this conversation a day early. A week earlier. Anytime but now – our last nights in Santa Elena.
As if on cue, there was a knock on our door. It was the innkeeper, with Kristen, coming to look for me. It also happened to be at the precise moment when my German boyfriend decided to take off his shirt to take a shower (I could get used to this co-ed thing, I tell ya). I got a glimpse of abs…but I had to leave. Kristen awaited.
By 8 or 9, most of the shops in the tiny town are closed. There are a few bars scattered off the main road, but we were not in the mood for drinking. Instead, we hit up this gift shop and bought a lot of jewelry. Then we found this restaurant next to the Tree House Cafe (yes, its really a tree house…so cool) and had some nachos and some pineapple flambe. For the most part, the restaurant had already closed, but we asked them if they would serve us anything. They did. So we took what we could get.
We watched the dogs across the street bark at each other–one beautiful husky-like purebred barking at a gang of mix-matched street dogs. There are so many street dogs in Costa Rica – beautiful, friendly dogs who will follow you if you so much as give them a caring glance. And their faces – my god. They have such soulful faces – as if the spirit of an old man is trapped inside these skinny canine frames. I remember this moment because you know the night is coming to an end when the noises of animals replace those of humans. That, and it was beginning to get cold.
The waiter returned to flirt with us – sarcastic as all hell. He took our pictures. We thanked him. And then Kristen and I hugged and said goodbye and good luck. I was sad to see her go but at the same time, glad to have met her. I guess that is how the whole backpacking thing goes – you meet virtual strangers, you make friends, and then you say goodbye. It\’s a pretty good way to live life, I think. Well, except for the goodbye part. What I mean to say is that how fulfilling would life be if it was lived like it was in Santa Elena – always open to meeting people, and always connecting and making friends no matter how short your time with that person is.
I snuck in after hours to my dorm room. The rule of the hostel is that the light stays on until the last person arrives. Most everyone had already gone to bed (including my German boy) save for another American. I had talked with her a couple times before — she had been working in Costa Rica, and now was just traveling until going back to the US. We made the usual goodbye small talk – where are you off to next sort of thing. And then she asked if she could turn off one of the lights. In this case, turning off that light meant actually unscrewing the bulb. She grabbed at towel to shield her hand, then reached up to unscrew the light. Moments later, I grabbed the same towel and packed it away with my other things. It was my last night too, and I wanted to make sure I didn’t forget anything. She looked at me with wide eyes, “Oh, I’m sorry, I used your towel. I thought it was his” I looked at her, puzzled. “You used my towel?” She looked at me puzzled. “I mean, I used your towel for the light, not to take a shower.” We both realized what the other had been thinking and buckled over in laughter. It was one of those laughs, where you are laughing so hard, but trying even harder to muffle the sounds so as not to wake anyone up. We laughed a good 15 minutes with tears streaming down in our cheeks. Since I was the last to arrive, I turned out the lights. This time, I had a bottom bunk next to the window, and below the German guy (I joked with Kristen that he was on top, and I was on bottom. har har.) The window faced the courtyard of the hostel compound, so there was a little bit of light. The windows were left open to allow the cool night breeze to cool the rooms. But I couldn’t sleep. I watched the light from outside flicker against the billowing curtains, as I lay in my bottom bunk listening to sigur rus on my ipod. I was feeling so many different things at that moment – as the night started to wind down. I remember every single second and sound and feeling because for some reason, that simple point in time was as intense a moment I have ever felt. It felt as if all the love in the world had collapsed on me at that one moment in time – everyone I ever loved, and everyone who ever loved me; people I knew, people I just met, people I was going to meet – a feeling so profound that it moved me to tears. Happy tears. I felt so connected with everyone and everything – that these people in my room — strangers i had only just met — were people I loved and who loved me. If I were to read this journal and not been there, I would think that the person writing it was either high or crazy or both. I’m not a fan of New Age notions or hippie ideals, but this moment of absolute happiness and seemingly infinite love, overwhelmed me. I didn’t want it to end. I kept thinking to myself that every day for the rest of my life would be spent trying to chase after that feeling, because nothing would ever be more perfect than falling asleep on a bunk bed in a hostel in Santa Elena at the beginning of rainy season. 
