Published: July 6th 2010July 6th 2010
We all but had to be forcibly removed from our hotel room at the waterfall gardens, we were so in love with it and its surroundings, but it was time to go back to nine dollar a night hostels and other adventures. So off we went to Monteverde, which is always pronounced by the locals with great gusto (and by Molly and Laura who have a penchant for the dramatic), with an emphasis on the middle two syllabals. How you might imagine an enthusiastic Italian pronouncing fettUCINe! Monteverde translates to green mountain, which I must say, although simple as can be, is a rather appropiate title for the area of Costa Rica tucked away admist endless cloud-laden hills of leafy green. You can´t take a 4by6 photo of Monteverde and do it justice, at least not unless you take another few hundred photos while turning around in a circle and at different distances, because what you have to understand is that, in Monteverde the green is neverending. It surrounds you on all sides, envelopes you, reminds you how small you really are in the grand scheme of things, and almost seems to chuckle at your attempts to capture is grandeour with
your tiny little camera lens. I tried, and simply did not do it much justice.
I also tried ziplining, which turned out to be (much to Ryan´s suprise and delight), great fun, and not too terribly scary, once you stopped worrying about how high you were above the treetops and actually enjoyed the view. Our group of ten or so (five of which randomly happened to be from georgia also...smallsmallworld) were all first timers and as we walked toward the first platform, everyone started to edge there way toward the back of the line so as not to be the one to go first. Everyone, that is, except for space cadet me, who was doing who knows what lollygagging and daydreaming and staring into the forest while all this conspiring was going on behind me, and by the time I realized what had happened, there I was, being fastened and roped and hooked onto the wire, and then off I went. Ryan and I both seemed like natural zipliners (that is, we managed to not twist ourselves around backwards, slam our ankles into the oncoming platforms, get stranded, or die), but towards the last line, they started sending us
out even faster than before (guess zipline employees have deadlines to meet as well) and somehow (I guess I was going too slow, and he too fast) a guy collided into me from behind, leaving us both to act as deadweights, stranded on the line. One of the guides had to pull himself hand over hand out to rescue us, and then I had to wrap my legs around him, and the guy behind me had to hook his legs around my waist. Talk about an intimate introduction. I felt like if I was going to be sandwhiched in between these two, I should at least know their names, or get a handshake, a nice to meet you...something! lol. The poor guide look plum tuckered out by the time we reached the platform from having to pull all of our weights, but I suppose for him its just another day in montE VERde.
After ziplining, we walked down to the tarzan swing, which is essentially a giant rope swing for you hook onto, grab hold of, and use to swing off the edge of a very tall platform with. It was great fun, but the scream that escaped from
my mouth as I stepped off was a noise I wasn´t even aware I could make. It´s good to know that I can scream like that however, as I´ve always wondered if I´d be the silent, terrified, frozen type when fear hit. Good to know I can belt one out like that if the situation ever calls for it.
There are more photos below