Atrapasueños

by Mahlia Pope (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

I didn't expect to find Costa Rica

‘Atrapasueños’. Two months surrounded by the brisk, passionate sounds of Central American Spanish and this is about the only word that will breeze easily into my mind like the object it belongs to. This word was the spark which ignited our unusual quest, gifted to us on the journey back from a coffee plantation tour just outside of Monteverde, Costa Rica. At once Ellen and I both noticed a flash of multicoloured ribbons streak by, painted vibrantly across the beige of the mountainous road. Pressing our noses against the window, we were just in time to see a whole family of them – intricate and careful, their tendrils billowing in the moist heat with beckoning fingers; offering gemstones and seashells which joined the ribbon dance. “What are they called in Spanish?” I asked Ellen, delighted. “Atrapasueños.” she replied easily, barely glancing away from the rush of Monteverde’s outskirts. Convinced that the quaint store we had passed was not far, we planned to hike down, purchase some unique souvenirs and then head back to our cabin in time for dinner. We didn’t hurry; once the tacky tourist stores and adventure billboards had faded away from town, it was an endless stretch of intriguingly contrasting scenery. To our left, the crumbling brown rock sulkily followed the highway’s curves, limply holding the last of the remaining signposts for hotels and restaurants; the occasional shrivelled tree or telephone wire. But close one eye and glance right and there was a sheer drop down, overlooking miles of thick rain forest; the tallest trees I’ve ever seen, with vines creeping through their branches and shrieks and caws and cries echoing from every inch of the shadowy green. The jungle was an organism itself, the valley of life stretching its blanket as far as the eye could see. It was mesmerising to witness, and, combined with the intoxicating buzz of Ellen’s stories, her energy infectious and an increasing awareness of this electric new friendship in the air, it was two hours before we started to doubt our navigation. I could picture the glimpse of the shop we had seen, and I replayed that steep path in my mind. But there was nothing out there, just mountain and sky. Cars had stopped making their way back to town some time ago, and the further away we walked, the more likely it became that the sun would beat us to her destination before we reached ours. But somehow, we didn’t want to quit; every bend we approached could have been that golden turn that would fill us with excitement. Another hour passed, and the treasure hunt had quickly turned from hopeful to disappointing, and had finally reached comedic. “We should really turn around.” One of us would say. “Yeah.” The other would reply, and we would giggle and keep walking. We passed one sole man, his old hat and weathered skin glowing in the orange burn of the new sunset. Ellen asked him in Spanish if he knew the shop, and I recognised our new word. I didn’t understand his reply, but his burst of toothy laughter was enough to confirm our suspicion that we were, in fact, completely lost. At the exact point we paused to take a drink and discuss giving up and heading back, a white jeep pulled up opposite us. Two men, one ancient and one in his teens, clambered out and something about their faces struck me. Ellen realised a second before I did, and we laugh in astonishment. This was the same family that had lead our horse riding expedition just days earlier! They recognised us, with matching disbelief – stranded in the mountains, searching for a shop which didn’t seem to exist. Ellen hurriedly explained how we had ended up there and we were, again, met with fits of laughter. This was because, we discovered after a bumpy ride back into the main square, the shop had been in town all along. The dream catchers, ‘atrapasueños’, we had been looking for turned out to be overpriced and average. But the teal ribbons which float above my bed are a forever reminder that sometimes you have to get a little lost to catch a dream.