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When I was a young and fresh 18-years-old I went on my first-ever adventure. Hopped on a flight from Ottawa, Canada to San José, Costa Rica. This will be a great experience; I’ll practice my Spanish and get some volunteering in in city schools – or so I thought. Sometimes, it’s along the way that you discover that you really, truly, are not a city kind of gal. What does any sensible 18-year-old girl solo in Central America does? She takes a bus to the middle of the jungle by herself – during mudslide season. My mom wasn’t particularly thrilled when she got the call: “hey, heading to the jungle, will call you if I ever get service again, cheers, bye, love you!” I finally get to Limón where I am set to go volunteer in the middle of the rainforest. Get off the bus, use my limited, survival Spanish level and get myself on a cab. People in Costa Rica view traffic lights as suggestions. It’s fine. Totally OK. No worries. We chat a little and I eventually mention that I’m studying Criminology – shouldn’t have done that. The lovely cab driver starts pointing at different houses along the way and tells me what crimes have happened there. Ah. Ok, we’re still fine. He then proceeds to park – we are not at my destination. Cool. This is where I die. Obviously, I’m writing this from the comfort of my apartment in Australia, so this ends well, I promise. Turns out, lovely Jesus here, just wanted to give me his phone number for any future cab needs. We’re good! Onwards we go! I finally make it to the animal sanctuary with a few new gray hairs. This place is wild. Literally. And the most beautiful place I’ve ever been. It’s green, lush and 100 meters from the beach. (Did you know that in Costa Rica they call a block “100 meters”? It’s never actually a 100 meters, but hey, once you figure it out, it works.) There’s butterflies fluttering about, howler monkeys singing their songs, colourful birds flying a few inches from your face and there are enough hammocks for all. Paradise. I spent my days doing the most amazing things: “babysitting” baby monkeys, napping and running with them; snuggling orphaned sloths in hammocks; learning the diets of tropical animals I didn’t even know existed – and putting their breakkie together every morning; getting kisses from a deer who could never be back into nature as it simply loved humans too much; feeding raw meat to big-eyed owls; rehabilitating kinkajoos; and chilling in the pool after a long day of goodness. … There are a few drawbacks to living in the middle of the jungle, however. No hot water, OK, that’s cool. Bats in the bathroom? Chill. Venomous snake in the kitchen? Just a regular Tuesday. Getting bit by a spider in the middle of the night with literally no way to get in the city? I mean, I woke up the next morning so, in retrospect, totally fine. Rats in the ceiling scurrying above your head while you sleep? I can live with that. Opening your suitcase to find one of those rats and it then proceeds to jump directly on your chest? Yeah – that was a bit much – but hey, we all hit that moment in life where you go: “well, nothing can bother me anymore!” That was my moment, and life has only gotten better. No trip is like what you see on social medias. Was it an amazing trip? Absolutely. Do I find the mishaps pretty hilarious now that’s been a few years? Obviously. A little discomfort is great for the soul and gives you perspective. Costa Rica was the hardest and best trip I’ve ever taken. It was the first of many and gave me countless stories. If we didn’t have any crazy bad stories, we would never know how good the good is. Are you willing to brave venomous snakes, creepy crawlies and jumping rats to get to a sloths’ cuddles? I sure am.