What the camera did not capture
11.11.2016 - 05.12.2016 21 °C
I started this memo on my first night in Costa Rica when the soft darkness of rainforest and its heavy, humid air gently enclosed me. It was one of those passing moments that just cry out for an impressionist painter or a poet. There were many such moments, low-key marvels, I call them. My non-native English won't do them justice, of course, but I'm feeling brave, so here goes!
When dusk settles on the forest pathway, hundreds of tinker bell lights flicker on and off. You can almost hear the fairies giggling.
A coconut rolls in the surf on a secluded beach, lulling you to sleep, until the tide rises to tickle your feet.
Geckoes of all sizes vanish with a flick of the bathroom light.
You feel the tinies breeze on your left shoulder. Hummingbird, he says smiling from the other side of the table. You stare at him, then over your shoulder, incredulously. I'm blessed, you think to yourself.
A whole fried red snapper seasoned in Caribbean style, served with calypso sauce and fried yuca (cassava). A glass of dark, smoky Malbec.
Hammock on every Caribbean porch. Rocking chairs up in the mountains.
There's a trail of ants carrying leaf cuttings on the pathway. It's feeding time in their fungal garden.
A very practical bit of rainforest wisdom: "hear the wind, open the umbrella".
A big, stunningly beautiful butterfly with iridescent blue wings. It's the elusive Blue Morpho. It'll fly past you, kind of dipsy-doodling, and flashing those brilliant wings. It won't stop to pose and it won't come back.
The moment you learn that the cold water pool next to the hot springs is +27 °C. Hilarious.
Out for dinner in the dark with rain pouring down, you suddenly have your flipflops sucked off your feet and end up anckle-high in the mud. And you find it amusing!