There's baggage, and then there's baggage
I teach. More specifically, I teach dual enrollment English at a high school. So when a friend and coworker asked for chaperones on a Spanish immersion trip to Costa Rica I jumped at the opportunity. I had no idea how much I needed this trip when I first took it on. Yes, it was technically work because I would be chaperoning students, but I would be chaperoning students with my friends from work, and our students are a fun bunch anyway. So, at the end of March 2023 I packed an oversized LL Bean canvas duffle bag, kissed my wife and kids goodbye, and boarded a plane for Costa Rica.
In retrospect, this trip was necessary. Ten months prior, in May of 2022, my paternal grandmother had been diagnosed with liver cancer. Two days later my maternal grandfather died of a heart attack. A week after that our youngest son, Wes, was born. Five months later still, my grandmother succumbed to the cancer. Meanwhile, my wife had been struggling with her cousin's own fatal cancer diagnosis, and oh yeah did I mention the newborn? So to say that 2022 had been a trying year is to not give the gerund trying enough credit.
I had never grieved before. I had never experienced real loss. And in trying to keep my life together, I was doing anything but grieving. So, when I waved goodbye to my family at the airport, I didn't know who it was that they would be greeting upon my return.
I had only a few months earlier bought a very old digital Leica, the V-Lux 1. Many Leica enthusiasts will say that is more a Panasonic than a Leica. I say, "so, what?" I had started to take photography more seriously and wanted to photograph the people, places, and things I saw on this trip. So my approach for this trip was as a photo-journalism trip with the caveat that I'd need to ensure the safe return of a few dozen teenagers to their grateful parents. But it ended up being a trip of self-discovery the likes of which I never could have imagined.
We began in the capital city of San Jose, but didn't stay long. I was able to walk around a bit and make a few photos after we checked into our hotel, but we had an early start the following morning, so there wasn't much time. The little while I spent in San Jose, however, was delightful. I remembered my grandfather always speaking so fondly about Costa Rica and his love for the Costa Rican people. While I had traveled there many years before, I didn't have many memories of being there, but I was quickly realizing all that Opa, my grandfather, had told me about Costa Rica was, in fact, not hyperbole, as many of his stories often were. Disappointed over making so few photos, I turned in. In the morning we would head to Monteverde where the mountains are tall, the coffee is strong, and it is always wet.
David, meet Goliath
Our time in Monteverde got off with an incredible start. Some 5,600-plus feet into the stratosphere we zip-lined up and down the mountain range. This was a big deal for me as ever since I had broken my arm jumping off some monkey bars in the third grade I had experienced a near debilitating fear of heights. I had read our itinerary carefully and knew that this zip-lining would be there for me if I wanted it. A year prior I wouldn't have even entertained the idea, but I was finding myself. What I also found, moments before we were set to begin, was an observation deck, tucked away behind a hiking trail that wound itself away from the zip-line office. And as I stumbled upon the observation deck, the foliage giving way to a breathtaking view of the Monteverde mountains, I saw the rainbow. It was just me, the rainbow, a view that might just make someone believe in a higher power, and my camera. I brought the viewfinder up to my eye and saw the eagle in my periphery. If it stayed its course, it would move into the frame and complete the composition. As soon as I pressed the shutter release button I knew I had capture the moment. I thought to myself, "what's the big deal with this height; if that eagle is doing it, then so am I!"
The nerves were gone. I worried no longer about the zipping, the lining, or much else for the rest of the day. I was content in knowing that I had conquered a fear. It was still possible to do that. Did you know? Well, I knew then.
We spent the next three days exploring cloud forests, rain forests, hiking, and spending time with locals. The food was spectacular, the music was lively, and the people? Well, the people were the best. I was again reminded of how Opa used to say that Costa Ricans reminded him of how friendly and welcoming he found people to be back home in Cuba. In fact, I was finding it difficult not to see my grandfather in everything I did. His ghost was hanging over me and bringing an emotional weight to the proceedings that otherwise would not have been present. It was at once allowing me to reconnect with my grandfather and not allowing me to let go of him. But I wasn't ready to let go of him just yet. If I could have that presence with me a little longer, I was ok with that.
Heating up
After our days in the mountains it was time for a warmer and drier clime. We made our way from the mountains of Monteverde to La Fortuna. The volcano and hot springs found here are nothing like the region we had just traveled. In fact, it could have been another country entirely. The people, however, were no different. If the mountain folk's warmth had been at odds with the cold climate, the folks in La Fortuna felt like they fit in nicely. A trek around Lake Arenal, with its many windmills and roadside cafes, did the body some good. I wanted nothing more than to take a swim in the blue waters of the lake, but was promised the most amazing pool at a resort we were headed towards. So I set about to make some photos.
As soon we had gotten off the the bus we could hear a cacophony of howler monkeys. If you've never met these guys before, they are loud and their voices are instantly recognizable. I took off to find them and soon this beautiful creature sat and posed for me. I must have spent roughly ten minutes with it as it looked this way and then that way. I got the impression that mine was not the first camera it had posed for. After feeling like photography leftovers I thanked the howler and went on me way.
The cafe everyone had gone over to had some delicious smelling coffee, so I ordered a macadamia nut infused blend, had some chili powder covered chocolates and resigned myself to dreaming of that resort pool as we left the lake region.
We were greeted almost immediately with a torrential downpour. I mean, it was really coming down. I remember Hurricane Andrew's rainfall when it hit Miami in '92. This wasn't quite on that level, but it was close. So when we finally pulled up to El Tucano, where I had been promised the best pool of my life, I didn't know what to think...mostly because it was so hard to see between that damned rain and the darkness. And once we had all the students checked in and on the way to their carefully assigned rooms, I made my way to mine. It was an outward facing room not 20 yards from the pool! If only the damn rain...oh, hey it stopped. Just like that. Without pomp or circumstance the faucet was closed as quickly as it had been opened.
I took this opportunity to take the first hot shower of the trip - supposedly with natural hot spring water - and then capitalized on the strong and stable wifi connection to FaceTime with my wife and kids. It was late, but apparently the day had been a nice one. It was nice to finally see their faces after having only spoken over phone, the way Alexander Graham Bell intended, for the last few days. We spoke for a while before I said goodnight and then FaceTimed my maternal grandmother, Oma. And I'm so glad I did. Evidently, El Tucano was a resort that she and Opa had stayed at on their visits to Costa Rica. It was a favorite of his. The rooms had not changed, but were just as luxurious as they had ever been been. And look! The pool and restaurant had the same iconic looks to them as well. She was overwhelmed with emotion seeing this place that they both loved so much. I was as too. Remember about me ignoring my grief? There was only one thing I could do: I sat at the poolside bar and ordered a beer. I had almost finished the beer before my friends came over and lifted me out of my funk. I bought a round for them as well and as we all sat laughing it hit me! I've been trying to keep my grandfather with me by being in the past when what I should be doing is living life in the present the way he did. It had been almost a year and I hadn't moved on. I think that night was the first time I started to let go of the that pain.
I left the bar, jumped headfirst into the pool of natural hot spring water and felt genuine relief for the first time in nearly a year. The rain had started up again and splashed cool little droplets over me as I floated around the hot pool water. I could feel a change. It was the beginning of the rest of my story.
To be continued in part two.
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