Zipping over Arenal
A bird’s eye view
Aurora, with her blond pigtail braids and safari hat that reads “Pura Vida” in embroidered letters, stands up and asks us, “Are you ready?” in a thick Spanish accent. We respond with a sleepy yet enthusiastic “Yes!” One by one we count off in Spanish, starting from the back of the bus and making our way towards the front to make sure we haven’t left anyone. This is our pre-departure ritual.
And we’re off! We travel down a paved road that quickly turns to gravel as we pass through the lush Costa Rican landscape, dotted with the occasional horse or cow. Arenal Volcano is partially obscured by fog, but still visible as I peer out of the window to my left. My heart beats restlessly inside of my chest, impatiently awaiting this new adventure with nervous excitement.
Just an hour or so before, I was sitting on a plump couch in reception along with a few of my new friends. The reception building is the only place where the Wi-Fi is somewhat reliable, so we tend to gravitate there like moths to a light in a dark room. Scrolling through its Wikipedia page, I gasp dramatically and announce to an audience of classmates that Arenal Volcano is dormant, but has been so for only seven years, since its last eruption in 2010. To my surprise, it was considered the most active volcano in Costa Rica until then, and one of the ten most active in the world. In volcano years, it’s a toddler; its estimated age is less than 7,500 years old. I glance up from my screen and gaze at it sitting there so ominously through the wall of glass in front of me, capable of so much destruction. Even though it is now considered dormant, I can’t help but imagine what it must have been like to villagers who witnessed its previous eruptions and did not live to tell the tale.
Before I know it, I am strapped into my harness with an orange helmet on my head and thick gloves protecting my hands. A young Tico introduces himself as Tony and gives us a brief safety demonstration, all the while cracking jokes and smiling jovially. We wait patiently to step into large metal boxes that hang from wires overhead, Sky Trams. These will carry us over the canopy of the forest to our destination in the sky.
I step into one with three other classmates, our English professor Dr. Spenser Simrill, and a guide with the name Didier spelled out with black stickers on his helmet. With a mouth full of braces and a kind face, he tells us a little about himself in Spanish. He says he lives by Lake Arenal with his family. It’s a man-made lake used for hydroelectricity and supplies 40% of Costa Rica’s power. I ask how long he has been working here and he replies “It’s my second day!” Before my brain has time to register what he has said, he chuckles and reassures us “No, I’ve been here for about a year.” All of this is said in Spanish.
We soon find ourselves exiting the swinging metal cage and stepping onto a lime green platform. I look out and am shocked at how high up we are. Glancing over the side, all I see are the tops of trees. We are above a sea of green that stretches out in every direction, farther than my two eyes allow me to see. It’s exhilarating.
I observe quietly as other members of my group are hooked onto the thick cable by friendly Tican workers, and then pushed out into the open air. Most don’t go quietly, and leave behind nervous screams or shouts of joy. Soon, one of the men motions me over. I’m next.
He reminds me of some of the safety tips and before I have time to mentally prepare myself for the massive drop ahead of me, I hear “¡Ciao!” and suddenly I am gliding through the air, quickly gaining momentum.
Wind rushes past me, ruffling my shirt and making my eyes water. The trees open up and my breath leaves me: I look to the left and see a mesmerizing view of the volcano in all its majesty. Mist floats up from the lake that surrounds it, giving the landscape an ethereal appearance. I am reminded of a scene from a dream or a movie, a grand sight I never imagined I’d see with my own eyes. Soaring through the fog, I find myself wondering if the Costa Rican birds take this view for granted. The wire shakes ahead of me and I prepare to stop, turning the metal handle back and forth and making sure my legs are out in front of me so I don’t scrape them against the wire when I come to a grinding halt. In an instant, I reach the platform and am brought back to reality. “Did you have fun?” I hear as I step down. Looking up, another smiling Tico face greets me. I’m impressed with how many of them know English. “¡Sí, mucho!” I say and walk to the back of the group for the next zip line, heart pounding ferociously from the adrenaline still pumping through my veins.
The next few zip lines are a blur. At one point, I am waiting in line and decide to ask Tony, who had given us safety instructions, “¿Cómo está?” He says he is doing well with a surprised smile stretched across his face and asks “¿Habla español?” We talk in Spanish for a minute or so, in between zip liners. I notice that many of the workers have asked for our names; even as a foreigner, I truly feel cared for in this welcoming country.
Being thrown into a foreign country with little prior knowledge of the culture has allowed me to both observe the lifestyle here as well as examine my own with a fresh set of eyes. In more ways than one, this trip has given me a new perspective on the world around me. When I board the plane back to the states, I wonder if my outlook on life — even the mundane, day-to-day things — will have changed. For now, I am a bird suspended between two very different ways of life.
As I am descending the stairs to the final zip line, I hear a familiar voice joke, “Watch out for the snake!” I reach the final step and Tony is smiling. “Your name is Abbey, ¿no?” he asks, and I am surprised. “You remembered my name!” He laughs and tells me “¡Sí! Because you speak Spanish.”
I tell him that I am learning — “Estoy aprendiendo,” — and he reassures me that I speak it well. This is a confidence boost for me because speaking to the locals makes me nervous. I’m afraid I will get the pronunciation wrong or conjugate a verb incorrectly. During my time here though, I have learned that the people here are friendly, patient and forgiving. They truly appreciate when we put in effort to speak their native tongue. Tony and I say “adios” and I am flying once again, soaring through the sky one final time.
