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The Adventure Begins

The Uber driver charged the mountain pass like Don Quixote charging a windmill, but the compact car with the subcompact engine was straining. There were no guardrails to block the view of the violently steep cliffs on the right side of the car as we passed descending cars on the non-existent shoulder. Conversation with my companion was largely non-verbal, our breath stolen by fear.   I can vouch for the fact that people who go through near-death experiences form intense, quick bonds. Until then, we’d had plenty of conversation during the two-hour trip from Costa Rica’s capital to La Paz.

Jaymie and I arrived in Costa Rica a day early for a speaking engagement at the United Nations UPeace Summit, a gathering for happiness and peace just after Russia invaded the Ukraine in early 2022. The fact that we were discussing peace in a tropical paradise while the Ukrainians were dodging Russian bombs was certainly not missed by my colleagues or me. That being said, this would mark our first major post-covid foray outside the US, and we were thirsty for adventure. Our trip into La Paz would be our first of several deep dives into the lush rainforests of Costa Rica and a springboard into our new friendship.

As we continued to circle upward in the Uber, we felt the temperature drop as the car became immersed in a raincloud. Jaymie and I looked at each other in surprise, laughing because we hadn’t realized that it might actually rain, in a rainforest.

A Walk in the Rain Awakens My Senses

Our Uber dropped us in front of a cabin that doubled as a restaurant and entrance for the La Paz Cloud Rainforest and Waterfall Gardens. We quickly ran to the cabin to avoid the unavoidable rain. We had no idea the rain would later become a welcome part of our experience.

The rainforest was an explosion to the senses, a kaleidoscope of green dotted with flares of luminous florals. The greenery was a brilliant backdrop for the vivid colors of rainforest flowers. Different sizes, shapes, and textures of plants and foliage wrapped around and circled above us.

We discovered that the sounds of the rainforest varied greatly depending on where we were. Initially, all I heard were raindrops falling on my hat. However, as we meandered around the mountaintop, we were greeted by unique bird calls, unusual wildlife, and an immeasurable number of insects. (The insects, albeit plentiful, were also merciful. I left the forest without a single bite.)

The smells were unique and largely refreshing. While there was an occasional scent of all things biodegrading, the predominant smell was fresh rain and water, which permeated the air like a light perfume. I have never smelled such sweet, fresh rain, a scent so welcome that I didn’t wash my hat for several weeks afterward. Months later, I found my colleague hadn’t washed her jacket for similar reasons. The scent-based mementos seemed to transport us back to that time and place – far away from the world of work.

As we walked, we passed through a labyrinth of hummingbird gardens and a multilevel aviary full of vibrant, tropical birds with unique calls. It was the first time I’d seen a Toucan outside of a cereal box. The path from the aviary cut through the outskirts of the rainforest and was lined with lush foliage which frequently overtook the narrow trail.

The incessant rain pitter-pattered on the rim of my Boonie hat as I hurried through the net-covered colonnades encompassing the world’s largest butterfly pavilion. Finding myself alone, I looked around to see Jaymie standing with a butterfly perched on her outstretched hand. She passed the butterfly from her hand to my finger, making me feel like Lennie Small in Of Mice and Men. Butterflies are even more fragile than rabbits, though, so as I tried, like Lennie, not to hurt or disturb them, my breathing became shallow, and I stilled.

A Butterfly Brings Perspective

As we continued through the pavilion, Jaymie saw how intrigued I was by how effortlessly she attracted the butterflies. She shared her love of fragile creatures, and more importantly, she shared the lens through which she sees the world. She’d had a hard life and had found resilience through her trials. She would share that same lens through the rest of our journey, honoring me with her vulnerability.

We saw only a few people as we walked, so the sounds of the rainforest were only broken by our ever-deepening conversation. Once we departed the butterfly pavilion, our pace slowed to the rhythm and feel of our conversation. I thought about our previous quick pace, the pace of the life I’d begun to loathe prior to our trip. It seemed ironic and sad that we would rush through such heavenly surroundings at a panic-laden pace instead of enjoying the momentary escape from our frenzied world. The confines of covid and challenges in life were nothing either of us wished to return to anytime soon.

If the butterflies had not slowed our pace, the sloth enclosure would have. If a koala bear, a monkey, and a tortoise mated, you would have a sloth. The glacier speed of the sloth seemed to beckon us to slow our pace even further and seemed to affect me as well, slowing my thoughts, so I noticed every second of our time there, which left me grateful for the experience and excited for what might lie ahead.

Upon reaching the depths of the forest, we were jolted by a crescendo to the senses: an extraordinary waterfall, the first of five. We were silenced, in awe, and we slowly positioned ourselves for a better view of the cloud portion of the cloud rainforest as it synergized with the mist exploding from the top of the waterfall. The waterfall broke up the sounds of the forest, heightened the smells, and vastly improved the already amazing tapestry of the forest. Surprisingly, each waterfall afterward had a similar effect. Our awe and amazement were never dulled by the previous falls.

Partly Cloudy, Fully Refreshed

We finally reached the end of the trail and reluctantly turned back toward the chaos of regular life, leaving behind the respite of sights and sounds that had enfolded us but taking the peace of the rainforest, and its lessons, with us. Shortly after entering the thickest area of descent into the rainforest, I began to feel an affinity for the rain and realized our trek into the depths of the forest mirrored my life. Away from the mountain, much of my life was confined and monotonous. I avoided the storms of life. When confronted with a heavy downpour, both figuratively and literally, I hustled through to escape the discomfort. I had become imprisoned by fear and encased in boredom. But now, I realized the rain added to the adventure. Confronting the downpour of responsibilities and stressors is essential for life. Before our journey’s end, I embraced the storm.

I was grateful for the calm I found that day and deeply humbled by the vulnerability of my new friend. The heavy growth around us, full of vibrant life, had permeated our connection, and the narrative of our relationship grew from that of casual acquaintances to a true friendship. This kind could weather a storm.