A gust of cold, winter air brushed past my skin from all sides as I stepped through the space between my aircraft’s door and the xylophone-like ramp leading down into the terminal, sending a chill down my back that, for a moment, gave me the need to concentrate on the worn pattern of the carpet in front of me in order to retain my composure. This snap of harsh sensation, however, was neither sudden nor unexpected, as thought of this first frigid blast had broken my otherwise unvarying euphoric attitude from time to time. Had I not gone off and left my rain jacket in a cabby’s red taxi in route from Nicoya to Monteverde I may have had a little buffer between my skin, still wearing the thin, quick dry clothing and sandals I had put on this morning in Heredia, and that enevitable first chill. Though, in the end it had not been merely the cold’s brief blast which had occasionally captured my attention. More, it had been what that blast seemed to somehow symbolize. The past 93 days had given me the opportunity to take off and explore a place which has become so special to me. Each day had been filled with new experiences that tapped and educated my senses, and challenges which had enriched my mind. The total submersion had significantly improved my language skills, allowing me to better see through cultural differences and to connect on deeper levels with local people. I had met other travelers as well and made friendships which seem as strong and valid as any time weathered camaraderie. For two months my camera and I had had free range of a tropical wildlife refuge which rested on seven kilometers of protected ocean shore. I had seen countless monkeys, sloths, birds, insects, snakes, iguanas, spiders and frogs. In short, it had been a great time. Yet, it had dawned on me several times that passing though the cold ring of blowing air would be the last thing I did before my adventure came to a close.

There had certainly been a deep feeling of emptyness which came from the thought of no longer taking part in a project I had began over a year before and that had kept my excitement level at full throttle for most of that time. Playing witness to the birth of tens of thousands of hatching Olive Ridley sea turtles, and taking a brief moment of my life to exist inside such a fragile moment of theirs had truly helped me to understand the frailty between us. The dedication to the turtles and to the abundance of life in general on the reserve displayed by many of the volunteers had repeatedly inspired my own urge to do more. I had enjoyed interacting with the students and travelers, the children from the surround schools, the rangers and locals, and all the people who came to participate in the conservation efforts during my two months on the reserve at Punta Judas. My melancholy mood had manifested itself out through the absence of these people and the life I had become a part of there in that secluded wilderness.

Eventually, I knew, the pressures of the fast paced, ultra modern world which was sitting on the other side of the baggage claim would push these fresh memories far to the vague stretches of my mind and I would once more be assimilated back into the grind of American livin’. It would not be long before I forgot how amazingly delicious fresh tropical fruit is, and the grocery store varity would again become tolerable. I would not notice that no one stops in the streets to talk about the day, or that our vehicles are incredibly large. I would forget the smiles and the helpful words from people who seemed to appear from nowhere at the mere hint of trouble. Soon, my Costa Rican adventure would be a story of my past. I had made this realization, however, under a great surge of accomplishment. Collection of data for the project itself had been a success and it would soon be time to compile that data into a more formal paper. I was equally pleased with the additions I was able to make to my photographic portfolio; spending so much time in such a beautiful and dynamic atmosphere had played a huge role in my creatively motivation. It is difficult to picture myself just as I was before I left. And, I don’t think that I could ever really lose touch with all the experiences which had made the journey so special. Still, I know that soon they will become part of that fabric of the past, and it makes a part of me long further for the pure life, the pura vida.