BartlettCambeyDuvallElssnerEmerGreenwoodHarrisonHopkinsLodayaOlesPatwardhanPiercePuriRobertsonScottonSherman JollisSpruillThompsonZhuang

PeeplesBenEloyFrancoPopi

Colette CambeyEmma BartlettTrey Duvall

William OlesEmily Greenwood

Emily Greenwood Mack Harrison

Lauren Emer

Kunal Lodaya

Allison Hopkins

Isabel Elssner

PatwardhanPiercePuriRobertsonScottonSherman JollisSpruillThompsonZhuang

Tejal Patwardhan

Edward Zhuang

Jack RobertsonEmily Pierce

Sarah Thompson

Vibha Puri

Avianna SpruillNatalie Sherman-Jollis

Anna Scotton

Frank Garita Jose “Popi” Luis Eloy Castro

Ms. PeeplesBen Robinson

Atenas Paradise Emily Greenwood

American ExceptionalismTrey Duvall

Before my arrival in Costa Rica a week or so ago, I understood the concept of American Exceptionalism. American Exceptionalism is the idea that America and Americans are better than the rest of the world and are superior in every way. We find this apparent all throughout America when people say ‘Merica and inherently put themselves over every other country. I have acknowledged that this is an idiotic idea and that Americans aren’t actually better than the rest of the world in every aspect. It wasn’t until we landed in San Jose and we began driving to Atenas that I realized I believed in this philosophy. I subconsciously began judging the architecture of the homes, the quality of the infrastructure, and the view of the country in general. I compared homes to those in America and I couldn’t stop myself. Once I realized what I had been doing I took a step back and reflected.

Driving down the street and looking out the windows was one of my favorite things about exploring Costa Rica. Opening my eyes to the differences between Costa Rican and American life on the basic level of infrastructure was quite interesting. After my innate and ignorant judgments, Eloy told us a story about a friend who bought a new house. He talked about how his friends put barbed wire around their houses and bars on their windows not out of necessity, but for the sake of style and to stop a problem before it could arise. Costa Rica doesn’t necessarily have a crime problem; it’s just how things are built. When I saw barbed wire and windows with bars on them I assumed crime was a large problem and had the worst thought possible: “This doesn’t happen in America”. As the trip progressed however, my thoughts as we passed towns and houses changed. I went from thinking down upon what I saw to appreciating what I saw. As we drove through Liberia and Guanacaste, I was able to appreciate the society and the things they built for what they are without comparison to what I knew growing up. This experience is crucial to my development, as I want to pursue a career in International Relations. Even though I considered myself a person who didn’t believe in the concept of exceptionalism, it was still ingrained in my head involuntarily. It took full immersion in another country to break this chain and I couldn’t be more grateful.

Home by Sarah Thompson

Soccer Field by William Oles Doorway 2 by Anna Scotton

Real Life ExperienceBy Emma Bartlett

In Costa Rica, toilet paper doesn’t go in the toilet. Instead, it goes in a trash receptacle next to the toilet. This was one of the first things we were told when we arrived at the chaotic Juan Santamaria Airport.

We walked out of the airport and I saw brown: brown grass, brown trees without many leaves, and light brown dusty dirt covered the landscape. This was the last thing I expected; after all, we were going to COSTA RICA, the land of daring jungles and luscious sceneries. I didn’t know then that I was simply in one of Costa Rica’s six ecosystems, the dry forest. This is not the Costa Rica I was expecting, and while I was stunned that I was there, I was also slightly disappointed. I inadvertently expected to see picturesque views everywhere.

Later in our trip, on our way from Atenas to Montserrat, we drove through Coronado, a small city in the province of Puntarenas. We visited a gothic-styled cathedral, a small supermarket, and a thrift shop, which were equally fantastic, but in different ways. The cathedral was huge and had an obvious appeal with its extraordinary architecture. The thrift store was very small and was jam-packed with clothes donated from the USA. As we walked around, we saw some of the houses in which people lived, most of which were small, one-story houses with metal roofing and concrete-slab walls. They all had bars over the windows, and most didn’t have windows or window screens.

I gained more insight into the lives of Costa Ricans—also known as ‘Ticos’— when we visited Las Brisas, the elementary school in Veragua. I learned about the unique issues that children seeking a primary education face in rural parts of the country. The education system did a great job in most aspects, but struggled because students had to find their own transportation to school, which left most students walking up to two hours to school in the morning and back in the afternoon. The school only had one teacher, who also acted as a principal and custodian.

While it is true that Costa Rica is home to many wonders, it is much more complex than the postcards make it seem. Costa Ricans live differently than we do, in a way that many Americans would probably look down on, but their lifestyles aren’t worse than ours, just different. The less scenic parts and the portions that get covered up are just pieces of the whole picture of Costa Rica. They are what makes Costa Rica real. They don’t take away from the beauty, rather, they enhance Costa Rica’s beauty, because it is realistic and believable.

Gothic by Emma Bartlett

House by Edward

Casa de Francisco by Trey Duvall

Agua PuraSarah Thompson

Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat. The rain is falling with annoying frequency on my

head. Pit. Pat. I look around at the lush greenery of the Costa Rican cloud forest and wonder how on earth it can be raining when I’m am standing in a cloud. Soon I hear a call from our guides to remember to drink water. I sigh. I suppose rain absorbed through my skin wouldn’t suffice in keeping me hydrated. All of this water, all the same molecular structure, all different kinds. Water is everywhere. It’s in the rain, the rivers, clouds, waterfalls, oceans, lakes, and it’s what we drink, but more than that it is intertwined with the flora, the fauna, and the vast amount of ecosystems alive in the world. Water is what life is based on. It connects everything on this earth.

On a smaller scale, we can see how different sources and frequency of water shapes nature. In Costa Rica, there are several types of forests: the cloud forest, the rainforest, and the dry forest to name a few. The cloud forest sits on top of the mountains, rarely peeking through the clouds that hide them. Here, the plant’s leaves are wide, soaking up every ray of sun that manages to shine through the layer of fog. Water, ever present in the atmosphere of this ecosystem provides the plants with the nourishment to try and grow beyond the clouds. Then the rainforest, with rainfall and wildlife a constant concert for all those who reside there it’s an animated place where rain can only increase activity. Here though, the multitude of rain, after bouncing through the towering trees, assumes the forms of

flowing rain, after bounding through the towering trees, assumes the forms of flowing streams and rivers, allowing fish, frogs, and other aquatic animals to flourish. The dry forest, however, just as its name suggests, lacks the amount of water the other forests receive. The trees are shorter and skinnier, and the soil dry and dusty. Due the scarcity of water, the trees actually shed their leaves in the dry season, conserving as much moisture as they can. They are trying to hold on to what gives them, and everything, life: water. Water flows through the world constantly changing its shape and consistency, yet in every form, it lets life flourish.

Underwater by Sarah Thompson

Hopeful by Vibah Puri

Roadside View by Anna Scotton

Montserrat

Ode to a Costa Rican Roof-CatAllison Hopkins

You were so far from my reach, yet I can't forget you, oh Costa Rican Roof-Cat. I was so envious of your lounging, as I was in the middle of an uphill hike and could hardly stop to bask in the sun. What I could do was stare at my feet and think as I trudged along, and I thought much of you. I was following a well-marked road through a territory I'm sure you know well, for unlike my own cats, the outside world is yours to explore and conquer. It was interesting to me that even a cat that lives in a Cloud Forest has time to relax, as is evident by your lazy stretches on the roof. I certainly do not work as hard as a forest roof-cat, as my food is provided and I hardly have to worry about being preyed upon in my daily life, but seeing you made me decide to value my downtime in Costa Rica, to appreciate silent relaxation and reflection. Because of this, though I did use some free time in subsequent days to nap, I chose to journal and spend time sitting and thinking, "what choices have I made in my life so that I ended up here?" I may have been jealous of your sunbathing while I was hiking, but I believe I am the lucky one for my travels. It is oddly comforting, however, to have seen you, because familiarity is valuable in a place where everything is new and different. If you can fit into this country’s landscape, maybe I will also be able to make a place for myself. Though our eyes met for only a mere few seconds, you are a part of this trip I will not be able to forget.

RepriseAllison Hopkins

Yet another, beyond the reach of my hand. I have spent seven and a half days in Costa Rica so far, and have still not forgotten the first of your roof-brethren. As I call out to you, I find myself thinking, "this cat has never paddled in Lake Arenal until it thought its arms would drop off, and then had to go a little more" and to my surprise, the subsequent feeling is not envy, but triumph. You may look smug, clean, and happy, lying in the sun, yet you have not known the choices and challenges I have faced to get myself to where I am today in Costa Rica.

Let Sleeping Cats Lie by Mack Harrison

Authentic by Vibha Puri

Small by Allison Hopkins

Smol

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Pur

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Verde by Jack R

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Maybe Even MagicAnna Scotton

I can’t exactly pinpoint what it was about Costa Rica that made it so magical yet feel so much like home. It may have been the recurring images of Christ or the abundance of hydrangeas that induced the feeling of being back home in North Carolina, but I’m not entirely sure. The feeling was strongest on trail hikes in Montserrat. The Cloud Forest’s cool, foggy air, dense vegetation, and constant avian cacophony drew parallels with my grandparents’ home on the Blue Ridge Parkway in Southwestern Virginia. It seemed odd to me to immediately feel so at home in a foreign country. My level of comfort and nostalgia peaked when our group milked cows on our second day in Montserrat. We gathered on a hillside around three storybook-worthy cows and took turns milking. While I waited, I took in the scene around me. I felt as if I were in two places at once. The cows, rolling hills, blooming hydrangeas, and perfect temperature all indicated that I was at my grandparents’ house on a lovely July day, and yet I was in Costa Rica in late February! I began to question whether there was a secret tying ecological factor between the Americas of which I had never before known, or if there was simply a particular feeling that nature and rurality triggered within me. The former seemed unlikely, so I kept my mind open and hopeful to experience the feeling of nature throughout the remainder of my time in Costa Rica.

The mood that nature created within me that felt so much like home was defined and developed in Montserrat. While there were parts of the Cloud Forest that felt very familiar, other parts were extremely foreign to me. Much of the vegetation was oversized, including a broad leafed plant nicknamed “the poor man’s umbrella,” as it was large enough to protect a person from the frequent rains of the Cloud Forest. One section of our first hike in Montserrat was called “Tierra de Gigantes,” or, “Land of Giants.” The name of this section along with its odd vegetation and spectacular views stirred a new feeling within me. That of a belief in magic, or at least, a hope to believe in all that is usually labelled illogical. This feeling grew when we came upon a tree that, according to legend, is the home for a gnome, and when we arrived at a labyrinth made of hand-painted stones. Gnomes and labyrinths don’t usually float in my mind for long, but in the forest anything felt possible. Coupling my previous sensation of nostalgia with this feeling of belief in the unknown began to encapsulate the effect that being fully immersed in nature had on me.

As we moved away from the region of the Cloud Forest and into the rainforest, my surroundings became ever more foreign and yet my level of comfort and feeling of home remained. Wading through a creek in the Veragua Rainforest exposed me to all sorts of plants that I could not identify and fantastic creatures that appeared out of the blue. Pausing under some low hanging vines, the feeling of magic engulfed me. One of our tour guides, Eloy, told us to feel the energy of the forest and the magic all around us. This was not hard to do as the rainforest is truly full of magic.

One of our last hikes was to a tree over five hundred years old called “El Ceibo.” My eyes examined its ginormous roots that looked wrinkled like the skin of an elderly man. I rested on one of the roots and pressed my hand into the wrinkles. So much life energy radiated from this tree and I was sure that a spirit lived within it. No doubts or scientific theories could push this belief away.

I came away with two realizations about my feelings within nature. I realized that I felt so at home all the time because I was the closest to nature that I had ever been, and my true home is the Earth itself. I also realized that being in nature makes me believe wholly in ancient ideas. I feel connected to all of humanity, past and present, because the experience of living on this Earth is one thing that we all share. Believing is easier when you are already surrounded by the unknown. The diversity of the forest and the life energy it produced had a profound effect on me and revealed to me a new spiritual part of myself.

Hanging by Edward ZhuangMother’s Love by Trey Duvall

Patience is a Virtue Mack Harrison

My mother has a habit of delivering what can only be described as pithy wisdom. I gleaned from her the phrase “patience is a virtue,” which bounces around my head this night during winter exam week of my senior year of high school. I am out of time and, worse, out of patience. The laws of simple harmonic motion are scrawled across the paper in front of me on the floor, and they are anything but simple. I ball up the paper and toss it in the overflowing wastebasket, shelving my hopes for an A and reaching instead for the comforting familiarity of a P, for “pass.”

* * * I am hiking along a trail in a cloud forest in Montserrat, Costa Rica, two weeks later. I am exhausted, muddy, and sore. Gorgeous views appear spontaneously from the trees, blinking into my mind and onto my camera screen and disappearing from my sight seconds later. They are some of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen, and yet my mind’s eye retains them as well as a sieve holds water. My mind wanders, and suddenly my foot hits a root and I am close to pitching over the edge of a steep ravine. “You still back there, Mack?” “Yep….”The trail ends, and we are back on the road we had hiked the night before, in the dark, searching for owls. “Road” is perhaps a dignified term for a wide lane strewn with rocks. We all marvel at the fact that nobody broke a limb, but in perhaps forty-five minutes of walking, we covered a few hundred yards of the lane. Parts of the road dip into huge mud puddles, and we tiptoe through them, trying to keep our ankles out of the stinking brown slime. I take one more confident step, and, as my foot moves forward, the rest of me flies backwards. I haul myself to my feet and regret the physics lessons I slept through.

* * * Around me is more stinking mud, but of a different, more sulfuric, variety. I am ankle-deep in an artificial frog pond, shoveling leaves out of the bottom and replanting ferns on which the frogs will, supposedly, lay eggs. I’m filthy, you’re filthy, and we’re all filthy; I attempt to push my glasses back on my face with my elbows. Finally, this pond is finished, and we traipse to another pond. After sliding down a muddy trail, grabbing roots and praying fervently that they don’t contain bullet ants, we arrive and swiftly discover that this pond is actually five, and that we’ve had it easy for the past hour. Here, it takes several minutes to simply remove oneself from the mud, which behaves like cartoon quicksand. Half an hour later we wearily ascend with pickaxes and shovels, grubby with mud and sweat.

* * *Finally, I think, I am comfortable. I am sitting atop a kayak in a suffocating orange life vest, with the wind at my back and the sun at my face. Small waves lap the keel of the boat as herons take off from the shore. It has been a long and difficult week. I have survived huge green beetles, spiders, long bus rides, food poisoning, vile herbal remedies, and exhaustion, and now I am floating on a lake in a scene that belongs in Carnival Cruise commercial. Far from an expert kayaker, I paddle along, feeling no desire to get too far ahead of our guide. Perhaps, I think, I have finally gotten the hang of this whole “patience” business. Upon our arrival to our hotel after the relaxing kayaking adventure, I peel off my sandals and discover their pattern burned into my skin. I had forgotten to sunscreen my feet.

* * * I sweat profusely in the heat of a supermarket in Liberia. We are about to depart Costa Rica, with its miraculously slowed time, for North Carolina. I am facing many uncomfortable hours aboard planes. I shift my stance as the person in front of me in line finishes paying for their groceries. Hoping that my sweaty hands haven’t melted my purchases, I place yet another bag of coffee and a package of Chicky on the counter. The cashier rings them up for me, and I stare blankly at the screen, which displays the price in colónes. She registers my blank stare and pulls out a calculator to show me the price in U.S. dollars, as has every other cashier in Costa Rica.

* * * I’m no longer in Costa Rica. I’m in Houston and our flight back to Raleigh still hasn’t boarded, although the already delayed departure time has long passed. We take up a huge amount of real estate on the floor next to a charging station, lying in a puddle of sweaty, tired bodies. I keep expecting passersby or airport personnel to yell at us, but they simply let the sleepy teenagers lie. In some small, quiet part of my brain, I am frustrated by the delayed flight and the fact that we’ll be arriving to school at 1:30 in the morning, but that part of my brain has become a little quieter, and a little more distant, in the past week and a half. Patience may be a virtue, but I’m still far from a paragon of morality. I stare at the notebook page in front of me, covered in bits and pieces of a story rather than physics formulas, and I close the notebook and place it back in my backpack.

Young at Heart by Mack Harrison

Shelter by Vibha Puri

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The Glory of a Warm ShowerColette Cambey

The chilly night air in Montserrat, Costa Rica bites my bare legs as I briskly walk from my dormitory to the shower. After a long day of hiking, rock climbing, shoveling gravel, and adjusting a trail of tires, my sweaty hair sticks to my neck and mud cakes my legs and arms. I quickly step into the shower stall, hanging my perpetually moist towel and clothes on the hooks and turning the knob labeled “H” all the way. A moth flutters around my head as I stand with one hand under the flow of water. After a minute or so, I give up the little hope I had that the water would increase in temperature, and I submerge my body in the frigid flow. The cold pierces my skin as I attempt to wipe away the sweat and dirt accumulated throughout the day, while also avoiding the scattered parts of a moth that found an unfortunate end– probably the work of one of my bug-hating peers. I lather shampoo and conditioner into my hair, knowing full well that it won’t all wash out before I can no longer take the chilly conditions. As I turn the falsely labeled hot water knob, the sounds of the cloud forest at night become audible again, and I pause for a moment, listening to the hum of unseen crickets, cicadas, and perhaps an owl.

It took me 10 days of showering in cold showers, experiencing withdrawal from internet access, and learning about conservation and sustainability from the eyes of a Costa Rican to be able to form a coherent conclusion about my experience. In my life, I have been extremely privileged. Never before have I questioned if turning the hot water knob would result in hot water. Never have I been incapable of connecting to the internet. Never have I lived in a culture where caring about the earth is considered normal. All three of these experiences happened to me over the course of my time in Costa Rica, which surprised me– I had never considered what copious good fortune I have in the life I do. Coming from a family of a single parent in a household with only a teacher’s salary as income, I have always viewed myself as a little unlucky. I have always had from friends richer, easier lifestyles, and I unwittingly compared myself to them. For me, Costa Rica was a startling wake up call. For the first time in my life, I saw firsthand how much I take for granted– especially in our visit to Las Brisas School. I saw children who had to walk up to an hour to get to school, who had one classroom and one teacher to learn all the material from, and who couldn’t have been more proud to show us the newly-installed toilets. These children had so much gratitude for the small things they had, when I have never felt gratitude for access to a toilet.

After reaching this conclusion through my experiences in Montserrat and Las Brisas School, I visited the Veragua Rainforest where I was lucky enough to get to talk to and learn from two researchers named José and Wagner. While we were on a night insect walk, I struck up a conversation with José and asked him what his favorite word was in Spanish. He responded “Verde,” or green, “because it is the color of the earth.” This simple response resonated within me, and helped me come to another conclusion. When you truly appreciate everything you have, it transforms how you treat the people around you, the earth, and thus transforms the culture. In Costa Rica, all the people I interacted with seemed to care so much more about being kind to me and each other, as well as for the earth that we all share.

It was the last night before my return to the US, meaning I had one more shower left in Costa Rica. At this point, I had no expectations for a warm shower. I turned the hot water knob one last time and stepped into the shower’s ebbing flow. My skin prickled, but I had acclimated to the sensation over the trip, and in moments I stopped thinking about it. To my surprise, the water’s temperature slowly began to rise and before I knew it the water was burning my skin and I had to turn the cold knob a little bit. I felt the sweat, dirty river water, excess mud, and sulfur from our last day in Costa Rica drift away. Afterwards, as I sat in my bed, the cleanest I had been since touching down in San José, and reflected on my time spent in moderate cleanliness. Costa Rica taught me to value the little things in my life, the earth around me, and to not lose hope in a culture that lacks adequate respect for each other and the earth.

End of the Road by William Oles

Montserrat Sign by Emma Bartlett

Macro? by Mack Harrison

Function by Vibha Puri

Veragua Rainforest

Up Up and Away by Vibha Puri

Shattered GlassEmily Greenwood

I stand holding a vine snake for the first time, watching as it effortlessly moves across my hands. This is an animal that I have feared for so long, yet as I think back to a few hours earlier when I viewed this creature behind the piece of glass of Veraguas’ serpentarium I realize that my fear was amplified when there was a piece of glass separating me from the snake. Now that I have personally experienced the nature of a snake, my fear has been replaced with feelings of admiration. I question why this transformation happened. As I think back to similar experiences with feelings of fear, I begin to realize that even though fear comes in many different forms, it is all derived from the same place: the unknown. Just as I experienced, familiarity creates a sense of comfort while newness yields caution and fear.

This was not the only time I observed this development of fear, for I also saw it in every aspect of the tourism industry. For example, while passing by the school of Las Brisas and heading into the gated tourist attraction known as Veragua Rainforest Park, I was shocked at the differences between the two places. The school and the other homes in the town have dirt floors and barred windows. However, five miles down the road the Rainforest Park has steel structures and gift shops. I was appalled that tourists come to Veragua and only experience a sheltered version of the reality that lies just beyond the gates of the Park. I ask myself why anyone would come to another country and only experience the facades placed in front of them? Then I realize it all has to do with fear.

I used to think snakes stalked their prey. That they were waiting at every bend in the river and under every rock, ready to transform their fatal venom to me. However, it became clear when holding the vine snake that the characteristics I feared the most are just their defense mechanism. They were not going to seek me out, they just wanted to keep themselves safe. Just as my irrational fear of snakes was derived from my ignorance about their nature, tourist simply do not know the beauty right outside of the comfort they find in zip lines and air trams. People are so caught up in the uncertainty of developing nations that fear of water, food, and disease creep in, making them content to stand behind the piece of glass.

But if people were to shatter the glass and experience the real world with all of its imperfect truths, the fear of the unknown would fade, just as mine did. People would then be able to visit schools like Las Brisas and fall in love with the children there, and they would learn to enjoy eating rice and beans for every meal. Countries would not have to live up to the expectations of tourists because people would simply be encountering it for what it is: different, unique, and valuable.

Pinned by Mack Harrison

Fresh Out by Aviana Spruill

DirtJack Robertson

I remember the walk pretty well – out of the house, a left on Charnay, a right on Colony, a left on Carmel, and a right on Camilla. From there, my walk to middle school was a straight shot. In total, it was probably a half mile walk, five times a week for three years. At one time, this seemed like an inconvenience. This was the epitome of my cultural ignorance. I looked at what was in front of me – a cleanly dressed child in a nice uniform with carefully prepared hair. It was then that I saw the dirt. I do not know exactly why, but it was like it jumped out and shook me. There was a layer of dirt caked on the kid’s shoes and pants. I began to imagine the journey that brought about the layer of dirt. Some kids walk up to two to three hours in the mountains to get to school, each way. As the miles drag on, the dust collects. This distinct gap between American and Costa Rican culture – big yellow school buses as compared to two hour hikes – was just one example that defined the differences between priorities in each country. Costa Ricans considered it a great privilege to go to school and get an education. It was of utmost worth to them to learn all they could, despite the fact that they would likely not go onto college. At home in the U.S., however, the opportunity of education is often underappreciated. Americans are often times too entangled by other worldly matters. They are concerned with the latest fashion in stores or the most popular movie in theaters at the time. The version of Costa Rica that is lacking in Americanization could not be any more of a polar opposite. The people are utterly unaware of these seemingly simple and unimportant matters. Instead, their attention is directed to day-to-day life. The less touristy the destination, the more inherently “Costa Rican” the focus. With Montserrat, came environmental passion. The only worries contained in Montserrat were whether or not there would be owls to observe or tires to fill with gravel. Time was spent milking cows, watching birds, and hiking through the cloud forest. Any traces of Americanized society that pervaded my mind perished once I immersed myself in my surroundings. One might think that civilizations such as these, particularly prevalent in Costa Rica, are hundreds of years behind America when day in and day out they are focused on tasks such as milking cows. But would one dare to think that they are not in fact behind at all, and instead altogether the more knowledgeable?

Las Brisas by Jack Robertson

Pato Pato Ganso by Jack Robertson

La Lengua de las RanasIsabel Elssner

We woke up at 6:30 am on the 5th day in Costa Rica and had our first meal since arrival without any variation of rice and beans, which was almost a disappointment. Right after breakfast we were ushered to a room where two young biologists presented us with a brief summary of their research focusing on frogs as bioindicators for the rainforest. Before listening to their lecture I had never really been interested in environmental science, but upon listening to how they study the frogs I suddenly felt a wave of excitement wash over me and I resolved to spend the rest of my time at the Veragua Rainforest learning as much about frogs as I possibly could. After the lecture we all returned to our rooms and quickly got ready for a hike with José, one of the biologists. We all packed our backpacks, got rubber boots, and sprayed lots of bug spray on ourselves. Then we got into a single file line and descended into the rainforest. I made sure that I was very close to the front so that I could hear everything José had to say. As we were walking down the slippery (and sometimes treacherous) path, José would occasionally pause to listen to the forest that had now enveloped us. He would then point out a particular animal call and identify the exact frog species it belonged to, which completely blew my mind. Not only could he identify the frogs specific to his research, but also different bird species and various other animals. This led me to wonder about how much time you had to spend in the rainforest to reach such an amazing and profound connection to its inhabitants. As we walked further, we saw a few frogs, which José picked up and discussed with us. Unfortunately, as I had bug spray on, I could not hold any of the frogs. After a 45 minute descent, we made it down to a small creek splitting the canopy in two. There we waded in our rubber boots while still listening and searching for frogs until we got to a fork in the creek and we were let loose to explore. I chose the left branch and waded forwards for a while until fallen trees made it almost impossible to continue. There I sat down and became really quiet until I could hear only the rainforest’s sounds engulf me. I listened hard and heard bird, frog, and insect calls, but every sound seemed like a foreign language I had not yet learned to decipher or interpret. Finally a language I did understand called and said that we had to leave again. So we waded back up the creek and up the muddy slope back to our rooms.

Around 9:00 pm, when darkness had fallen on the rainforest, we embarked on another hike down to the stream. This time I had only worn a little bug spray and washed my hands thoroughly afterwards so that I could hold the animals. The pitch black path was only illuminated by our single file line of bobbing flashlights. This time Wagner, another biologist who could also identify all the frog calls, led the walk. I was again towards the front of the line because I did not want to miss anything Wagner had to say. We were about halfway down treading very carefully and quietly when I suddenly saw something jumping across my feet! It turned out to be a toad and after Wagner caught it I got to hold it and then release it. Mission accomplished: I had found an animal by myself and got to hold it. Walking through the rainforest at night was a surreal feeling. The rainforest was so awake around our tiny bubbles of light and it felt humbling walking through its unknown sounds and sights. This time when we came to the creek we found many animals right and left; frogs jumping and lizards scampering on the banks, snakes slithering through the overhanging branches, and even tarantulas lazily crawling through the mud. I got to hold each of these animals (well, except for the tarantula). At one point we found the Costa Rican gliding tree frog, the exact frog of which I had a poster of in my room when I was younger. I excitedly got to hold him the whole time Wagner discussed the frog. This frog was so big and beautiful with its yellow webbed feet extending to well below my palm as I cradled him between my hands. At that moment I knew for sure that I would be forever hooked on frogs and their rainforest environment. Just holding this handsome creature in the middle of the night made something click inside me and filled me with peace.

Perhaps what astounded me most about the whole experience was both José’s and Wagner’s intense connection with the rainforest. José told us that just a day after first coming to Veragua 6 years ago, he discovered a new species of frog simply by listening to the forest around him and noticing that a certain frog had a different call in Veragua than the one he had heard previously in other parts of Costa Rica. Languages have always fascinated me as I grew up bilingual. Now after staying in Veragua, I have finally realized that human languages make up only a small fraction of the universe’s voice. Everything from frogs to rainforests and beyond has their own unique language and deserve to be listened to and appreciated. For me, as I continue learning Spanish and other human languages I hope to expand my mind to learning the nonhuman languages, specifically the Costa Rican frog language.

Firm Grip by Colette Cambey

Air Tram Waterfall by Emma Bartlett

Frog Creek by by Isabel Elssner

Outside the BoxLauren Emer

Peering into one glass window after another, I was amazed by the frogs and toads I had only ever seen in pictures. However, as I looked into the exhibit of the gliding tree frog, one of the mascots of Costa Rica, my amazement was replaced with disappointment. The frog was nowhere to be seen. I thought that because the rare frog was safely inside the glass box, I would definitely get to catch a glimpse of it. Unfortunately, I was wrong, and had to move on.

The next day, I followed behind my classmates on a quiet night hike through the rainforest. We were looking and listening for any creatures that called the forest home. Rain fell in waves as we ventured down to the creek at the bottom of the trail. Guides pointed out animals as we followed along, carefully pulling snakes from branches and frogs from leaves. As we made our way down the creek, I observed commotion ahead of me. I quickly approached the front of the group to investigate. The guide was holding a slippery green frog in his hands. Orange webbed feet poked out between his fingers and huge eyes peered into the night. I was overcome with the excitement I had felt the day before. I was looking at the Gliding Tree Frog, an incredibly rare creature found in very few places. The frog was passed around to curious students, studying it’s markings and taking photos. Eventually, the animal I had wished to see so much was sitting neatly in my palm, its small bright orange feet stuck to my hand as I stared in awe. Students behind me came to stand by my side and take pictures, but quickly left to catch up to the rest of the group. I set the frog on a leaf near the creek and continued on my way as well. The frog settled onto its surface and became a member of the rainforest once again.

The main goal of an animal is to stay alive, and staying hidden is a great way of doing just that. In a rainforest, the dark allows for more hiding places than are usually available. The night allowed us to invade the home of thousands without being known. When entering a zoo, one would assume that every animal on the premises will soon be seen. However, this is not the case. Placing something in a box does not guarantee it will be visible for one’s viewing pleasure. This animal does not know its every move is studied by every man, woman, and child who happens to walk by. It does not move in front of the glass to be in the spotlight. It simply lives. When I walked through the rainforest that night, I was able to see so many animals. I was able to become a member of the forest so many creatures call home. Experiencing nature does not require a zoo, a cage, or tank. It requires an immersion in nature.

Landscape by Edward Zhuang

The Fall by Mack Harrison

La FortunaPantene by Vibha Puri

UrielEdward Zhuang

Under the consistent humidity of Costa Rica, a worker led us through the fields of Don Juan’s farm. Uriel wasn’t like the other tour guides. His composure was more free spirited than Fabio and he spoke with a casual tone, unlike the Veraguan researchers. With each step, Uriel bounced a little, as if there was always excess energy he needed to dispel from his body. After showing us the fruits of the cacao tree, Uriel brought us to the banana plant. In one fluid motion, he unsheathed his machete and slashed through a rigid stem. He proceeded to pick up the stalk to use as ammo for his homemade firearm. Quick strokes of the plant against the horizontally fixed machete sent chopped pieces of the stalk flying into the mass of banana trees. Uriel’s face glowed with excitement after seeing our impressed reactions. “I used to do this for fun as a kid,” he reminisced. Without warning, nostalgia washed over me. I was brought back to memories of my own, where I tried to find y-shaped sticks to complete my slingshot and rocks for ammunition. Uriel and I were different people from disparate cultures, but we had found a commonality to bond over. Continuing the tour only presented myself with more comparisons. As Uriel mentioned days in his youth picking out oregano from the farm, I reflected on my happy moments picking tomatoes with my grandmother. Though no memories were exactly the same between the two of us, I drew many parallels. Soon, my focus had drifted from the farm to Uriel. I noticed all his behaviors which complemented his energetic body. While others would soon use the work “awkward” to describe his mannerisms, Uriel was captivating. After our tour ended, I talked to him along the dirt trail. A suburban teenager and a young farmer didn’t seem like the most compatible duo, but we became friends quickly. With my basic Spanish I shared my own gardening memories, and Uriel smiled widely. Our conversation flowed seamlessly and transcended the language barriers present. Uriel’s life story was fascinating, and I learned about his minute intricacies. For a second, I put myself in his perspective and realized the thousands of experiences he had. It’s hard to consider the vast complexities of a life other than your own, and doing so makes you feel incredibly small. At the same time, however, two lives had been branded with a common experience. While Uriel’s life and mine were only miniscule stories in relation to the library of human experiences, we created a connection of memory from our interaction. I contemplated the beauty of this unlikely friendship as Uriel returned to work.

Green Giant by Edward Zhuang

The next day we woke early to the moos of the diabolical cow. After packing my suitcase half asleep, I trudged to the breakfast area, where a familiar face met my eyes. Even at 6:30 AM Uriel was expressing his usual liveliness. Realizing this would be the last time we would meet each other, we exchanged a few more phrases of broken Spanish and English to each other. I shook his hand and watched him stride to the fields. A few days later, Eloy would tell us to not only cherish our experiences with the beauty of the ecosystems but also the beauty of the people we had met. In La Fortuna I had found something more than sugarcane and banana leaves - I discovered an improbable connection.

Views from the Juan by Edward Zhuang

A New LoveKunal Lodaya

“¡Hola, Paolo! Me llamo Kunal.”

“¿Me permites jugar contigo?” (Could I play with you?)

“¡Claro que sí!” (Of course!)

My 6-year old brain could do multiplication tables like they were nothing, and sped through Harry Potter - but Spanish? Spanish was incomprehensible. I dreaded the half hour of each day dedicated to basic greetings and phrases in this alien language. As the years went on, my instruction in Spanish progressed in complexity, presenting me with passive voice sentence structure, subjunctive verb conjugation, and various other grammatical terrors that frustrated me to no end. Aspects of these classes appealed to me; I enjoyed learning about Spanish and Latin American cultures and histories, and conversing in Spanish brought the thrill of unlocking a new world of almost 400 million people to talk to. Despite these interests, by the conclusion of my junior year of high school, I was worn down by the rote memorization and repetition that had characterized much of my Spanish-speaking career. My senior year was the first year that I was not required to take a Spanish class since I had begun at the age of 6; I readily signed up for a physics class, and cast my Spanish skills into oblivion.

Fast-forward 6 months, as I stepped off a plane into the humid capital of Costa Rica. Our group loaded onto a (thankfully air-conditioned) bus, and we met our tour guides, Eloy and Franco, for the first time. Every student was asked what they hoped to get out of this trip, and I expressed that our ten days in Costa Rica would be an opportunity to practice my Spanish skills. Even as I said that, I doubted myself; I had truly believed that my time with Spanish was over. In Costa Rica, I got a second chance.

I should not have been surprised to learn that Spanish was completely different outside of the classroom. Slang and colloquial phrases and structures took precedence over proper verb conjugations; it was no longer about saying things with exact grammatical accuracy. What now mattered (at least to me) was an appropriate accent and speaking hard and fast, without hesitation – speaking like a local. Throughout our travels, in interactions with our tour guides, the students at the Las Brisas School, shop vendors, and random people, I pushed myself to adopt this new approach. I realized that this was the Spanish experience that I had been missing, in all my years of instruction; truly, the core of learning any language is communication, and I was finally developing that skill to its fullest.

I realized one more critical thing – that I was beginning to love it. Every interaction brought a rush of adrenaline, a quick thrill as I drove myself to speak and to communicate. In the past, an incorrectly placed verb or misgendered noun was cause to revise and start over; now, I plowed through, with the sole objective of communicating meaning. My reward was the brief smiles and quick replies from native speakers, who recognized this foreigner attempting to speak their language and appreciated me for it. This understanding spoke volumes to me; and out of that understanding, was born a new love for their language. Spanish fluency is something that I now plan on pursuing in the next four years – so that I can experience more of these moments.

“¡Paolo, me tengo que ir ahora! ¿Me darías un abrazo?” (Paolo, I have to go now! Will you give me a hug?)

“¡Claro que sí!”

Kiss It by Mack Harrison Peligro by Aviana Spruill

Sights of the Forest

Aviana Spruill

Close your eyes and look around

I know, I know – sounds silly

But trust me

Sometimes you can see more without seeing

To your left is a tree frog

Calling out desperately trying to find a mate

And a sound that fills the vast forest

Comes from an animal no bigger than your hand

Beneath you are your rubber boots

Protecting you from the river as it twists and swirls

Propelled by a waterfall somewhere far away

From a mountain too large to imagine

To your right you hear faint rustling

From the animal moving with the cover of night

Avoiding predation or searching for a meal

You are in the midst of a battleground

Up above is your only source of light

Constellations that seem so close you could touch them

But are miles and miles away

Serving as a nightlight for the life around you

Open your eyes

And all around you there are trees

Realize that something this complex and dynamic

Cannot be appreciated with sight alone

Glow by Vibha Puri

Cloudy Overlook at Arenal by Emma Bartlett

Appreciation

Aviana Spruill

As complicated as nature itself is

Our relationship with it should be quite simple

But a lack of appreciation and respect

Is destroying what Mother Nature has created

In Costa Rica the natural world is valued

The beautiful plants and fruit trees

Are central to the everyday life

Making the culture unique and admirable

But in America

We rush to recover from years of damage

Tearing down ecosystems that took years to create

Living in the fast-paced material world

Ignoring the nature around us

We can learn from their lifestyle

Protect the ecosystems

Save the animals

And appreciate the natural world around us

Bird WatchingNatalie Sherman-Jollis

It was 6 am, I had 27 mosquito bites, and ankle deep mud lurked in every pothole. 48 stomping feet and 24 swishing rain jackets scared all but the dumbest birds away.

I wish I could say I experienced an awakening in nature. Instead I spent most of my journaling trying to convince myself that such an awakening wouldn’t be too cheesy. I’ve got Joyce Carol Oates’ “Against Nature” stuck in my head, and my brain is automatically splitting smile-worthy memories into pro-con lists.

When we stopped, everyone pointed in the general direction of the forest. Whispered shouts of “there, look there” gradually oriented me to a distant grayish blob, but by the time I remembered how to focus my binoculars the blob had flurried away.

It scares me how easy it is to make up cons. I remember feeling happy and magical on that bird watching trip, but these intangible emotions get squashed by reams of detail-oriented quantitative con lists. Analysis clouds the experience.

Admiring a Giant by Sarah Thompson

Every single bird chirp sounded the same, but we kept getting shushed to listen for them.

Do I find most of my after-the-fact analysis to be negative because I am human? American? A teenager? Trained to look for possible mistakes in scientific experiments?

As it turned out, my Science and Math peers were excellent binocular tutors. The dumb birds were pretty (and maybe they were brave for not being scared by us, instead of dumb?).

I’m not sure why it is so easy to be cynical. I’m not sure if nature wanted us there, or if it was ethical to enjoy lands the government forced citizens off of to attract American ecotourists like myself. I’m not sure if nature-inspired awakenings are legit or cheesy or if I should even be wondering whether nature-inspired awakenings are legit or cheesy.

We were intercepted by two cows and took turns trying to kiss them. Only one of us successfully kissed a cow. But then again, all of us got to watch the many attempted kiss-the-cow misses, which were funny.

I got to go on a private bird watching trek in the cloud forests of the Costa Rican mountains with a local expert. I met some cows and learned from my classmates. Today I make the conscious choice to not nitpick it apart and instead remember it as the positive experience as it was.

Maybe I’ve had an awakening after all?Iglesias by Trey Duvall

Uprooted by Edward ZhuangTexture by Anna Scotton

Peach Fuzz by Vibha Puri

The Vineyard by Mack Harrison

Surrounded by Vibha Puri

Natural Meets Artificial by Vibha Puri

Guachipelín

From Trash to TreesWilliam Oles

Golden rays of sunlight bounced off the top of cocoa trees, tin roofs, and rolling fields as the sun set on Don Francisco’s Cabins, signifying the end of the first day of our trip. As I stood on top of a balcony attempting to perpetuate the beauty of the image in my mind, I immediately began thinking about the cultural differences between the United States and Costa Rica that I had picked up throughout the last eight hours. Of course, there is the prevalence of Spanish, the chaotic but functional traffic patterns, and the optimistic atmosphere of the people and cities. As I gazed past the seemingly endless rainforest, however, my most prominent thought was about the trashcans. Upon our arrival to Costa Rica, we we were introduced to a simple yet vastly different disposal system. In nearly any Costa Rican residence or institution one can find a compost bin, separate recycling bins for paper, plastic, and metal, and a trashcan as opposed to the trashcan and occasional recycling bin found in the United States.

While this disposal system may seem like an isolated detail in the context of the spectrum of societal differences between the United States and Costa Rica, I believe it represents a much larger sentiment about the relationship between humans and nature that lends itself to the character of Costa Rica. After just ten days traveling the country, it is evident that Costa Ricans inherently emphasize their connection with nature; although there is almost always a tradeoff between urban development and sustainability or conservation, I realized that people in Costa Rica hold a mutual respect for the environment that allows conservation efforts to coexist with the growth of the country. In addition to a universally sustainable disposal system, we also saw solar panels that power utilities, a completely sustainable organic farm at Don Juan’s Cabins, anti-endangerment research, and a biodigestion system for gas production. In the context of increasing environmental issues globally, efforts to protect ecosystems could not be more important. In Costa Rica, these efforts are a product of an individual ownership and appreciation of nature and place within it, not above it.

These initiatives are not without results, and it quickly became clear why the sights I admired from the top balcony of Don Francisco’s cabin were so beautiful. I can still vividly picture watching clouds roll over the Montserrat forest as we searched for a clay-colored thrush, trekking down thin, dirt passes in Veragua while admiring the fragility of a passing butterfly and accepting the coalescence of calls and howls that together form a Costa Rican rainforest, and gazing up at a vibrant blanket of stars clearly present in the absence of light pollution. Immersion in these environments allows one to rise above the self and recognize a greater dependency between humans on nature and nature on humans. The extensive and beautiful biodiversity in the country would not be sustained without individuals actively practicing a friendly relationship with the environment – this is reflected in the simple and passionate lifestyles of the people that live there. Although there are systematic methods for sustainability already present in Costa Rican society, this inherent recognition of nature can be seen on a deeper level in the hearts of the people. Whether it is Wagner (an environmental biologist in the Veragua Rainforest) passionately describing the place of frog ponds in the larger effort to grow the population of tree frogs in Veragua, or Fabio (a farmer and biologist in Montserrat, Costa Rica) discussing how crucial recycling systems are to the health of the forest and the people in it, it is clear that self-awareness in the environment is a high priority. Although Costa Rica will always struggle with global environmental issues like pollution, I could not help but ponder how a simple change in perception, a change in sentiment about one’s place, could impact the the environment on a global scale as I watched the final, golden rays of the sun drop below the horizon on our last day in Costa Rica.

Light and Dark by Vibha Puri

Flower by Sarah Thompson

LostTejal Patwardhan

Strappy Chacos pounding the cracked Earth, our three bodies lined like ants, we were fulfilling our commitment to walk at least 7 miles per day. It had been over an hour when we approached a clearing amidst the trees, realizing that we had lost track of any semblance of trail. Dehydrated in the blisteringly dry Costa Rican forest, with no cell service, without telling anyone where we went, without any idea of our location, I realize the bleakness of the situation as the last rays of sunlight filter from the sky. We are majorly screwed. Anxieties crawl through my headspace. We should have been consistent with which side of the forks in the path we took. There is no reason anyone will notice our absence until dinnertime, after the sun had set. We should have worn bug spray.

We stand dazed in the clearing, instinct taking a few minutes to register the situation. The other girls brought nothing with them, and all I have is a day pack with my water bottle and a Chapstick. I pull out the water bottle, telling the other girls to drink up. There isn’t much there, so we’ll have to ration wisely to optimize the group’s water usage.

They argue about what our plan should be, whether we should try to retrace our steps or walk in a certain direction until we find a trail. Connection and individualism, two thin snakes, intertwine like tangled vines. Inseparable fears fester into rationalization, oration, and desperation. The webbed network of telephone wires that held our fragile souls in place dissolve into nothingness, just the empty field and the primal force of thirst, tripping in a race against the darkening sun. This is nature, genuine and spurious. The companionship is a soft veil hanging over a landscape of pure, unadulterated terror. I drown in fear, sharp and raw, amongst the undefiled landscape, each furrow clouding my thoughts. I once sought refuge amongst the diluted image of green republica, happy tourists too distracted by sweet pineapples and confectionary beauty to notice the looming shadows surrounding us on all sides. Processed, refined, and palatable, the irony of ecotourism consumes my thoughts as the end approaches.

Still, the life-or-death selfishness that Hobbes promised would overtake us ever arrives. The pack mentality is so natural, where our first thoughts are immediately to save the others, sharing supplies and pacing with one another. The fear of loneliness is so great that human connection and purpose become immediately necessary, the sheer insignificance of our petty worries crystallizing.

I pray. What was once a fun game of hot seat on a hike has turned into my worst nightmare.This is it. The end. We are goners, the cautionary anecdote of kids who should have let people know where they were going. I accept it. It’s peaceful, freeing, clarity. Just as acceptance settles in, we stumble upon the anthill we had passed over an hour ago, signaling the trail back to the resort. It’s strange, surreal, and nonsensical.

Maybe it was the prayer.Having dinner is funny. Thinking your life was ending really makes rice and beans taste a lot better.

Savanna by Isabel Elssner

The Long Journey by Vibha Puri Strength by Vibha Puri

Costa Rica provides a home for many things, but its rarest specimen is by far the most powerful. Visual beauty is a common creature - one that spreads its wings across the sky of a setting sun, one that creeps through every forest of brilliant green, one that hides in the smile of every friendly local, but a beauty that must be felt is not so easily spotted. This reclusive species has nestled into a niche in the Costa Rican jungle, prowling only in the cover of complete darkness, and touching only those who truly focus on its presence. While this endangered animal lurks only in the most remote locations, to be in its presence is life changing. Timid at first, the beauty is slow to introduce itself, barely tugging at you in the blackness of the nighttime forest. As you fully enter the creature’s den, you are assailed with sensations- you can feel the wealth of vivid life tingling at your fingertips, you can feel the panic tighten your chest as you drown in the vastness of the world, you can even feel a slight weight comfortably compress you as the completeness of the experiences seeps through your veins. The overwhelming power of a beauty that must be felt produces human emotions unique to all others; it is a power that must not be undervalued. Visual beauty can be caged and captured in its many habitats, but its preservation is not nearly as important as that of a beauty that must be felt. To protect this majestic creature from a bleak extinction, we must protect its habitats from the devastation of human invasion. Visual beauty can be photographed and immortalized, but no physical manifestation of such a beauty can compare to the pure intoxication brought about by a beauty that must be felt.

An Endangered PhenomenonEmily Pierce

Contrast and Feeling by Vibha Puri

Left. Right. Left. Right.

LeftA green snake on a brown branch – a pattern that if I lookclosely enough could be on my front step RightWater flowing, creatingcurrents against rocks as leaves drift downwardsto join; Putting my head under water feels less like drowning and more like finallybreathing. LeftI meet a man trying to meet himself.Questions of companionship – love – in progress – am I the only one fighting for myself?Jot this down: Find answers near tree roots. Stop.A line of leaf cutter ants embodies a better me. RightShy plants shrivel to the touch and slowly open up, like kids stepping outfrom behind their parents’ legs to meet their first friend. LeftSunlight seeps through tall branches and the world glows.People, plants whisperSlow and steady. Life is not about getting ahead but standing still.

RightCovert operations continue under the mask of nighttime. I grow accustomed to the silence that never truly is. LeftIn trekking through mud I findpeace, three blue bugs, and a story.A deep red color existsin the sky and in brown berries.Naturally we take it for ourselves.

RightA “pura vida” cannot be found unmatched with a smile. I hopeto hold on to this culture of kindness, of warmth and of patience. LeftAnimals—snakes, frogs, dogs, cats, bugs, toads—find a home in my hands.Do they bring love or malice? And does it make a difference?One foot in front of the other. Hold your own. Stand your ground. Right“We do not complain. This is what life is.”

Left. Right. Left. Right.

Walking in the Costa Rican JungleVibha Puri

Into the Jungle by Vibha Puri

H₂O by Vibha Puri

S₈ by Vibha Puri