At the tail end of COVID, a pandemic that stripped me of post-graduation freedom, the travel bug nesting within me for the past 3 years screamed for release. Traveling alone still proved concerning and when your potential companion approaches trips differently than you (him being the relaxing on a beach type and me the adventure-seeking, constantly exploring type) one worries that the compromise sacrificed may not sate that bug’s desires. I meticulously planned every detail for a trip to Costa Rica in the spring of ‘23, down to the time, cost, and distance from one stop to the next, for a week’s time, to plot how to best satisfy all parties involved. By the time I boarded the flight, we had studied and dictated every item that could ambitiously fit into a week’s itinerary. Many people over the years have suggested I ease up on the planning and save room for more spontaneous experiences. I have learned over those same years that spontaneity is a natural element of every trip. After all, “Things don’t usually go as planned.”

Upon landing in San Jose at 9pm, this statement was immediately proven true. The plan was to unite with my companion flying in from Denver (a companion who, by the way, grew up with a Spanish-speaking mother and very likely knew more of the language than I did). Unfortunately, his flight had been delayed several hours, leaving me to somehow navigate this strange land, find the rental car with little grasp of the local language, and return to the airport. It may not have been the most glamorous of adventures but I’d still classify it as an adventure of spontaneity and I’d consider relying on Google translate for communication a notable memory on its own.

Finally greeting my companion at midnight, we now only had seven hours to somehow drive ninety minutes to our first hotel and find sufficient rest in preparation for an excursion that would occupy our entire next day: a boat tour to Tortuga Island, where my companion would have his beach day, I would have my cultural cuisine experience, and together we’d dip our toes into snorkeling, albeit with difficulty as the equipment insisted on sliding off every time I dunked underwater (I managed maybe 5 minutes of the given 30 enjoying the activity). The day ended with an early bedtime to catch up on lost sleep and the next day started with perpetuated leisure as my companion fell victim to food poisoning. The hotel pool replaced him as my companion that day, as I feared straying too far from home lest he recover. Food poisoning would claim me two days later after indulging in an obligatory tropical cocktail in a tropical region. 

Our adventure continued on a rope course in Monte Verde, zip-lining and swinging through the Jungle like George, listening to local wildlife and even gazing upon one such creature called a Coati Mundi, it’s name forever ingrained into my brain for its very near identical replication by a popular Star Wars character (sorry but there may be many references to pop culture). As we searched for dining that evening, we bumped into a pair of German buddies whom we recognized from the rope course and invited them to dine with us (again, that spontaneity).

Previously, while roaming around the streets of the Alajuela Province, the region of Costa Rica where we spent almost our entire trip, a billboard caught my attention advertising this 9 course meal restaurant in the treetops reminiscent of the Moon of Endor, as fine as dining can be. A truly unique experience, fully above our budget at the time and with limited availability anyway, it inspired me to search for the next best thing, which turned out to be a restaurant in town intentionally built around a massive tree. It is here, at the aptly named Treehouse Restaurant, that the four of us spent our evening, and here where food poisoning cast its second attack. 

It’s strange to recognize the almost instantaneous assault from the Piña Colada. Despite entering the restaurant with an empty stomach, simply two sips of the cocktail stripped away that hunger. Yet that would not dampen my mood, for here I sat with two strangers from a foreign land. Having been to Germany before myself, a conversation called to me, recanting a tale of my experience in their home world, a tale not wholly relevant for this particular story and thus to be saved for a later date. The conversation shifted to the topic of music, where I inquired to them about an artist whom I believed to be one of the top artists of their country that I recently discovered after their release of their cover to “Tom’s Diner.” These German bros (not actual bros) were the third and fourth Germans I had mentioned AnnenMayKantereit to and the third and fourth Germans who had no idea what I was talking about (I did eventually bump into a fifth German in May of 2024 who had heard of the group). I have always enjoyed chatting with foreigners, experiencing their different outlooks on life, yet I felt a tad embarrassed after the encounter, hoping to connect on a level I failed to do so. 

We arrived at La Fortuna the next day, the focus of our trip where we’d spend the next several days. It is also the heart of this tale, the reason for its writing. Maybe it is a testament to my abilities as a writer or to the life impact of the trip that I have only just now reached this point in the story but it was here I found my travel bug sated. For it was here that I almost died. Twice. 

You may come to a conclusion that these near-death experiences are greatly exaggerated, that because no actual physical harm fell upon me it’s not fair to classify them as such. Perhaps it’s because the classification makes the story seem more intense that I use it, and that’s probably true, but there is also a grander purpose for its use. 

The National Slogan of Costa Rica is “Pura Vida,” which translates to “pure life” or “simple life.” It’s an  expression that has shaped their cultural lifestyle, an encouragement to appreciate the little things and maintain a relaxed approach toward life. This lifestyle is so rooted in their culture that it somehow even grasps the hearts of its tourists such as me. 

I have naturally developed a similar approach in life, a relaxed and patient soul cherishing those little moments (just last week I spent a couple hours in Wales resting next to an alpine lake under a twilight sky, another tale for another time). It’s an admirable lifestyle that in my experience has granted a generally happier life. But I have also discovered the dangers attached to that lifestyle. 

While on a guided tour along the rims of the Arenal Volcano, the guide shared a snippet of the town’s history involving its last eruption decades earlier. He explained how it would take two hours for emergency services to retrieve and escort us to safety if the volcano erupted again that day. I found humor in the irony of the situation but that statement would come to prove a rather scary thought. Distracted by the touch of volcanic rock, the aerial view of the jungle below, and the guide’s assumed protection, I felt at peace. The fact that a dozen people ahead of me, including the guide, all missed this lurking danger on the trail may be the most shocking element of this tale, but it wasn’t until I stepped not an arm’s length from the most dangerous snake in the country did the threat become known. For this was a baby fer-de-lance, a creature so inexperienced with recognizing threat levels itself that it would have unleashed its entire arsenal against me, two hours away from the nearest hospital. 

I was so relaxed, so entranced by the world around me as I appreciated the little things, that I simultaneously became unaware of the world around me. I had let my guard down. The snake never struck at me and a literal near-death experience never took place but it did challenge that concept of a “Pura Vida” life, essentially killing some inner part of me. This death, and the one that follows, are both what I’ll call hindsight deaths, their impacts not felt in the moment but discovered upon reflection after returning to the states. 

The second death occurred on a kayaking excursion along a river that led us through the jungle. Now, I have had sufficient practice on a kayak; my parents bought a pair more than a decade before this trip and we’d find at least a few days every summer to take them out. I’ll admit, however, that I wasn’t certain exactly how much practice my companion had, despite his claims of experience. I thought it’d be a fun new experience to try out a double kayak. Unfortunately when you combine two (potentially) experienced kayakers, that does not guarantee a smooth journey. For some reason we struggled to coordinate efficiently, our steering continuously trapping us by shallow water levels. Several times that journey I’d have to step out of the kayak to free us. On one rescue attempt, I spotted a crocodile (or alligator? I should really learn the difference between the two) across the river and it occurred to me that I had no idea what wildlife lived in those waters, the danger I put myself in every time I stepped out of the kayak. I made sure we mastered our coordination after that. I made sure I acted a little less recklessly for the duration of the trip and researched more deeply into potential threats on trips going forward. 

Upon return to the AirBnB (did I mention the divine views witnessed stepping out its front doors, with the towering Arenal over the horizon?), we ventured off to a much less life-threatening activity: exploring La Fortuna city. There I met, outside a grocery store, a man I am 70% confident referred to himself as Jose (the other 30% perhaps influenced by its association with common names of the region). This snippet admittedly has little to do with this overall tale but due to its exploration of a second lesson, I felt useful to include. Jose approached me as I departed the store, begging me for money or food. Normally, such requests go ignored, but I thought to myself the minimal impact it’d have on my finances and the potentially major impact it could have on his entire well-being. So, to ensure my finances went to the intended cause and not scammed out of me, I re-entered the store and purchased the items he claimed he would have spent my money on anyway. What’s $20 for me compared to the life this guy must live everyday? This may not be what people have in mind when they suggest more spontaneity but there is value even in such minor acts of kindness. 

There are advantages to plotting every element of a vacation. There are advantages to allowing spontaneity to naturally influence the trip as it develops. But there are also disadvantages to both. Finding a balance between the two has become a challenge for me when planning a trip. Once I have mastered that dynamic, I can only imagine the enhanced thrill of traveling.