Prologue (in which I thank people who have no idea that they are responsible for me wandering into a jungle)

The van’s exhaust was thick, black, and menacing but it smelled pleasantly like doughnuts and French fries. Gabe’s “Veggie Van” ran on used cooking oil and was careening down I-95 carrying it’s owner, our friend Tim, my son Isaac (henceforth to be referred to as “The Boy”) and myself.

We were on our way to Gainesville to see a football game the week before Thanksgiving. During the 8 hour drive, Gabe told us a story about a trip he had recently made. It was a good story. He told about a place where he drove from the Atlantic to the Pacific in four hours crossing through rainforests and passing volcanoes. He stayed in small hostels on the beach which cost less than $20 a night. The water was safe to drink. The locals liked Americans. The surfing was world class. There were monkeys, sea turtles, and prostitutes everywhere. Costa Rica sounded like it had a little something for everyone.

I love the show “The Amazing Race” and am enamored with the idea of going on it with my friend and pastor Michael. When I watch the show I often imagine how I would react in certain situations. The exotic scenery and people would certainly be thrilling, but I don’t know if I would ever make it out of the airport. My brain could not handle something that was both so immediately familiar and foreign at the same time.

This is not to say that I don’t have experience in international travel. As a child, my parents once took us in to deepest darkest heart of Canada. Shortly after arriving, to the village that the locals called “Niagara Falls” we hired a local guide to take us on a tour. We loaded onto a powder blue school bus with several other frightened American families and drove to see what the site that the city was famous for. That’s right, we went to the “Niagara Falls School of Horticulture” home of the world’s largest floral clock (I would just like to point out that my mother and sister will verify that this story is entirely true. My father does not want to talk about it.)

In the middle of the night some Canadian hoodlum tried to break into our empty luggage trailer. We fled the country the next day and barely made it out alive.

I tell that story just so you don’t think I am some naïve yokel. Oh yes, I have international travel under my belt. In college I also went on a mission trip to Jamaica because most Jamaicans have never seen a mostly white group of college kids sing along to pre-recorded to tapes about Jesus. I like to think we made a difference.

I have also been on several day visits to exotic countries while on cruise ships. I spent almost six hours each in Grand Cayman, Cozumel, Nassau, Pirate Island (a subsidiary of Disney), Key West and New Orleans. This would explain the “world weary” look in my eye that those who know me well often comment on.

I have a friend Jeremy O who has hiked the Appalachian Trail, and backpacked solo around New Zealand. He thinks nothing of wandering by himself to a desolate part of the world just to see what is there, no matter what hardship he has to overcome to get there.

Last year, we spent a week at Dollywood.

My friend Roland who is in his sixties has recently spent months teaching English in Mongolia and Mauritania. He fell in love with one country, and was pleasantly surprised that he wasn’t abducted and sold as meat in another.

I’ve been to Germany in Epcot and Busch Gardens.

I love the idea of travelling to a place where I don’t speak the language and instead of squirrels they have monkeys, but I need to get back on to the cruise ship by 6:00 so I don’t miss the early dinner.

Back to the veggie van.

During our Thanksgiving week in Florida, I took the boy to Disney and Universal Studios. We had a great time on the rides, but the families who were there were incredibly mean to each other. On top of that, the theme parks found every way possible to get as much money from each tourist, even selling tickets that let you skip the lines. The tourist parents pushed as hard as they could to get every last ounce of fun out of their overtired, heat exhausted families, and if they missed anything, the exact same “adventure” could be had the next day, at 11:00, 3:00 and 5:30.

It was a little depressing. Nancy and I were in the planning stages of a California vacation for this summer, but I didn’t want to have the same experience that I saw the miserable families in Orlando having.

Christmas came and went quickly like it does every year. Nancy and I had no firm plans yet for summer vacation. The previous year’s trip to Key West had been abruptly cancelled when several family emergencies made it impractical to go.

The sensible vacation would have been to rent a place at St. Augustine Beach for a week in the summer so we could see family and see the same sites we saw since we were kids, but then my mother in law went swimming with sting rays.

After going through a really rough year of family turmoil, my mother in law went on a cruise with her sister to get away from it all. During her cruise she took an excursion to swim with the stingrays (something I would never in a million years have expected her to do voluntarily), and she loved it. Since then she has seized life and I am grateful that she has found her footing once again.

If my mother in law can jump in with the sting rays, we can do something bold as well.

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. Security does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than exposure.- Helen Keller

We declared our intention to go to Costa Rica. We had no idea where we were going or how we would get there, but we were going. Shortly after we made our decision, our friends Kevin and Lisa (who actually are regular world travelers) offered to transfer a week at a timeshare in Cost Rica to us.

It is one thing to say that you want to go to a foreign country, it is quite another to have paid for a real honest to goodness resort with real hard and fast dates (no address though…Ticos don’t “do” addresses.)

After paying for the resort and the airfare we had that exciting and panicked thought “What have we done?”. The day the passports came in the mail, I texted Nancy a picture of them at work. This was real

At work, conversations would drift to the “What are you doing this summer?” variety. Most were going to the beach: Myrtle or the Outer Banks.

“How about you Matt?”

“I think we are going to Costa Rica.” I was surprised at how often the next question immediately followed.

“Are you going on a mission trip?”

“No. I am going with my family.”

“You are taking Isaac?”

“Technically yes he is part of the family, and please…call him “The Boy”.

A good number of people that I told about out plan had never left the country. Some had never been outside of the Carolinas. One had never even been on a plane. It wasn’t because they didn’t want to. On the contrary, most of them wanted to go somewhere exotic, they were just afraid. I will be honest. I am nervous as well, but I do not want to be old and think about all the things I was afraid to do. I do not want to set an example to the boy of living a life controlled by fear. Our grandparents travelled all over the world before they were in their 20s either serving in armed forces or searching for a better home for their families. I’m sure that they were afraid as well.

I almost didn’t go to one of my dearest friend’s wedding in New York City because I was certain that I would be mugged and quite possibly raped the minute I stepped off the plane.

We bought a guide book and tackled the overwhelming amount of information available about Costa Rica. We narrowed down our excursions to a volcano/hot springs day trip, a river boat cruise where we get to deliver school supplies to a rural school (a moderate Baptist’s wet dream vacation trip “Not only is it a fun adventure but I get to feel righteous since I even help people on vacation!”), and a combination Horseback/zip line trip.

Quick story on the zip lines…after deciding we were going to Costa Rica, I had a vision of climbing through the jungle to the top of a zip line platform and Isaac flaking out and screaming that he was not going to do it. We went to a local zip line place in Asheboro for a test run and after the first few, we all had such a good time, we came back with about 60 of our closest friends from church to do it again.

We continued to research and study and read until we found the site “Visit Costa Rica Now.com” last night. It was different from the other sites in that it was hosted by an American who lived there and didn’t always paint the rosy picture from the guide books. Specifically we watched a video about a scam where villains (possibly Canadian) puncture the tire of your rental car and then offer to help you change it shortly before robbing you.

I told my friend “Little Matt” who is a veteran of numerous trips to Costa Rica that we were renting a car and he immediately laughed and said, “Good luck with that.”

There were also charming videos about Dengue fever and Costa Rican jails.

I was feeling extremely anxious this morning on the way to work, when I had a moment of clarity. I realized that if we always stay where we are comfortable and safe and know exactly what to expect, we never grow or evolve. It is precisely that element of danger or the unknown that make you rely on your own wits and common sense. At the end of your journey you learn that you could survive, or you learn how to do it differently in the future: two lessons you simply can not learn by sitting at home. This is the difference between going abroad, and exiting the log flume through the gift shop.

We leave at 4:00 in the morning. I know my mind is going to be racing as I try to drift off to sleep. I wrote this to try and clear my head so I can get some rest.

The Ticos have a saying “Pura Vida”. It is the equivalent of “Aloha” and can mean hello, good bye, cool, or let me help you change that tire. The literal translation is “Pure Life”. I like that. (At least now I do….ask me again in a week.) I hope we get an idea of what that means this week. I hope the boy gets a real sense that there is more to this world than America, and comes back with an appreciation for what he has and a desire to see what else is out there.

Until next time, “Pura Vida!”

Strength and Honor,
Big Matt