Linda said, "Well, it's either going to be really fabulous," she paused, "or really gross." She was talking about the trip to Costa Rica I would be chaperoning along with two science teachers, both men. I was told the school wanted a motherly influence to go along with them. What Linda and I were both a bit leery of was the fact that all of the students who had signed up turned out to be boys. High school boys.

It started rather inauspiciously when, on our way to our first destination our van clunked to a stop along the road. Light was waning as our driver searched for a wrench to fix the tire. No luck. As we waited for rescue, Douglas climbed on top of the vehicle, his camera always at hand. Below him lay the sun setting over the Pacific Ocean. Behind him, to the east, lay the beautiful cloud forests of Monteverde.

On that trip we climbed hillsides as the looming volcano popped an occasional 

boulder out of its caldera. We zip lined through clouds, soaked in scalding hot springs, and explored murky waterways while caimans slithered off the bank next to our low slung vessel. We even nearly killed ourselves whitewater rafting for which we unapologetically celebrated our survival with a taboo beer at dinner.

Roaches the size of your hand, hordes of mosquitoes, poisonous vipers, ants whose pincer bites mimic the pain of being shot by a gun, testosterone fueled iguanas and the random gecko found in one's pillowcase (mine) were much more serious threats than any high school boy.

I made that trip three times in total and those boys were my favorite charges. Not gross at all, totally fabulous.

Painting: Douglas: On The Road To Monteverde © Lissa Banks 2018