Dear Dr. Thacker,
Saturday, I went to Volcán Poas with Stephanie and Alexandra, two German girls who stayed at the house for a week. We got up early, ate breakfast, and took the bus to downtown San José. After nearly sprinting to the other bus station (one of gazillions in San José), we discovered that the bus schedule we’d found online was wrong and the bus actually left half an hour later than we’d thought. So we wandered around making sure that we were in the right place then settled down to wait.
While we were waiting, Alexandra pointed out a sign that said “Prohibido las Escenas Amorosas,” and asked me what it meant. I then proceeded to explain the concept of PDA in English, which they’d never heard of before. Quite amusing.
Then we got into a lengthy discussion about the differences between the school systems in the U.S. and Germany. Apparently in Germany, when kids are ten, their teachers decide which career they should take, and if they want to change later on, it’s hard. Interesting, indeed. When the bus arrived, we boarded, paid our fare, and settled in for the 2-hour ride to the Poas National Park.
Staring out the window of the bus, I was as enraptured as I always am when I escape the dirt and noise of San José and see the paradisiacal landscape that people generally imagine when they think of Costa Rica. It was a misty, rainy morning, but far from masking the beauty of my surroundings, the wisps of fog floating among the trees and mountains lent a mysterious intrigue to the shadowy rainforest. I spent the entire bus ride totally enthralled.
When we arrived at the National Park, we paid the $10 entrance fee and headed for the volcano. The rain had let up a bit, but the fog and mist had thickened, and it was much colder than I had anticipated. Stephanie and Alexandra were afraid that we wouldn’t be able to see the volcano because of the thick fog, but we hiked the short distance to the crater anyways, hoping to see the volcano.
Their fears were confirmed when we reached the main crater. The fog was so thick that we couldn’t see more than a few feet into the crater. We stood in the rain for a couple of minutes, wondering what to do.
We saw a sign for a trail that said it led to a beautiful lake created by the volcano. Since we couldn’t see the volcano, we decided to hike the trail and see if we could catch a glimpse of the lake. However, after the short, wet hike to the lake, all we could see was fog. Disappointed, we stood around for a while trying to stay dry under a shelter house. Then we decided to hike through the rainforest, since there was nothing else to do.
Stephanie and Alexandra were ahead of me, occasionally lamenting the fact that we couldn’t see the volcano. At first I shared their disappointment and prayed hard that God would let the rain stop and the fog clear just long enough for us to see the volcano.
Suddenly however, I realized that the very fog that was preventing us from seeing the crater was just as much an intricate work of art as the volcano itself. Once I stopped praying that God would part the fog and started just thanking Him for the fog, the rain, and the beautiful rainforest, a whole new world opened up to me.
I began to just be thrilled that I had this opportunity to hike through one of God’s most amazing creations. The huge trees twisted their trunks and branches together over my head to create a long, dark tunnel. Rich greens and browns seemed to saturate the very air. I felt like I was breathing in the color green.
It was raining harder now, but the giant leaves overhead drank up most of the cool water before it reached me. The drops that did make it to my upturned face were far from annoying. They just made me feel even more a part of this world of exuberant life. Far from being a wasted trip, I felt incredibly privileged to be there.
The only way that I know to describe the rainforest is to say that it is incredibly alive. The life-giving rain falls on every surface and allows an unfathomable number of plants to flourish in even the smallest spaces. Even the rocks are alive with mosses and ferns.
I didn’t see the rainforest; I felt the rainforest. As I realized that the swirling, dancing, passionate life of the rainforest is only a dim reflection of the Life that created it all, I felt an incredible awe of God. I rejoiced in the fact that this incredible life is the same life that God blesses me with every single day. I felt like I could explode with the same exuberance that I saw all around me. By this time I was soaking wet and cold, but I’ve never felt so alive.
After this incredible hike, we reached a fork in the road: we could either go back to the park’s gift shop or back to the crater. Stephanie and Alexandra suggested going back to the gift shop since we wouldn’t be able to see anything at the crater. However, I had this feeling that if we went back to the crater, God would let us see it. So I suggested we try one more time, and they somewhat reluctantly agreed.
As we approached the crater, I knew it was going to be different this time. And sure enough, just as it was coming into view, the fog cleared and there it was: the huge, smoking crater of the active volcano. It was an incredible sight. People around us were saying “How lucky! I was sure we wouldn’t be able to see it today.” Stephanie was shocked; she’d read that it’s very unlikely to be able to see the crater clearly after 10 in the morning; it was about 1:00. “We got lucky!” No, we got blessed.
The crater stayed clear for about 15 minutes: just enough time to get tons of pictures and take in the glorious view of the majestic volcano. As the fog started rolling back in, we turned around and headed back to the gift shop. By now we were thoroughly freezing, so we got some café con leche and queque de vanilla y chocolate at the coffee shop. Then we wandered around the art gallery and the museum until it was time to get back on the bus and head back to San José. I came back soaking wet and cold, but it was a fantastic day nonetheless.
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