The moment I landed, I was greeted with the unmistakable hug of thick humidity. This was what I was looking for. The downpour, which began while I waited in the customs line, had even this rain-forest-living Pacific West Coast girl in awe of the intensity, and oh the humidity; instant sauna.
Once through customs with my backpack slung over my shoulders I tracked down the airport cafe/outdoor deck for a cold drink, perfect while waiting for the local bus to Samara; a small bohemian beach town on the Pacific side of Costa Rica.
The rain subsided and I could barely wait to get outdoors into the humid Central American climate. I made a hasty dash for one of the few tables outside. The Texans happily worshipping the indoor air conditioning couldn’t help but giggle at my jovial excitement. I told them I’m from Canada.
As I stretched my arms straight out to absorb it all, the slight scent of volcanic sulphur mixed with Costa Rican humidity had me fall in love instantly. I was swept away before even leaving the airport grounds.
We may have just met, but I knew the first 5 minutes that Costa Rica would steal my heart. I exhaled; I could relax while sipping on my iced cold beverage.
A few hours later our bus arrived in Nosara, my connecting town, a busy hub of small shops and eateries. Happy to exit the crowded warm bus I struggled to find my bus stop. With the direction of friendly locals, I waited at the bus station where just myself and two local drivers were treated to the most intense thunderstorm I have experienced. The corrugated metal roof intensified the sound of pounding rain and the pitch-dark station rumbled with thunder.
Did I mention we were outdoors?
None of this bothered me, my fondness for the country grew with each jagged streak of lightning in the sky.
The storm quickly subsided, as we drove through dark windy roads to my jungle/beach destination. After a long and breezy bus ride into Samara, I finally made it to my Airbnb. I fought with the fence, greeted the ferociously loud but friendly barking dogs, trekked up a steep dirt road, and made my way cautiously down unlit treacherous wooden stairs (far scarier than the dogs) and into my treehouse sanctuary. It wasn’t fancy, but it was perfectly rustic and mine for the next 4 nights.
I put my bags down, made friends on the outdoor deck with my visiting guard dog companion, put my feet up and relaxed. I felt at home.
It was while planning my next day and creating a masterpiece with oil pastels that my heart skipped a beat.
I heard — for the very first time — the howl of my beloved howler monkey.
It echoed through the jungle setting. This is what brought me here. This was what I’d been waiting for, and he welcomed me with his guttural roar into his environment. I sat in silence on my first solo night in Costa Rica and continued listening to the sounds of the jungle knowing I was forever changed.
Thank you for reading!
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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From The Good Men Project on Medium
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Photo credit: Outward Bound Costa Rica on Unsplash
