Navigating language barriers, health issues, and finding comfort in the unspoken language between us and wildlife
After unexpected health complications hindered my ability to explore the more remote wildlife of Costa Rica, I had to become more intentional about seeking out the beauty within the city of San José and my host home.
Hissing and withdrawn, this ferocious feline welcomed me into San José and stood as a reminder that all places take some getting used to. Despite our initial meeting, we quickly warmed to each other, and the cat became an integral part of my commute to Universidad Veritas.
Pith, the murderer. During my first dinner with my host mother, I asked – through Google Translate – about her pet fish. I was not expecting to hear the harrowing story of how Pith ate all of the other fish in his tank, sending my host mother and me into a fit of giggles that, to my relief, needed no translation.
Sticking close to my homestay, but hopeful to encounter some wildlife, I took a short Uber ride to Parque Nacional in downtown San José.
By far the most exciting find at Parque Nacional – the iguana. Scuttling around on a warm summer day as soccer matches took place on nearby fields, this beloved reptile posed elegantly in the sun.
Walking through the Parque Nacional, I kept my eyes peeled toward the trees to catch birds that I might never come across back in the States. Fortunately, this lineated woodpecker's vibrant headpiece stole my attention.
While searching the trees, I also came across this contemplative tropical kingbird. His yellow belly and thoughtful eyes drew me in and left a lasting impression.
Wandering to what was supposed to be a manmade lake in the center of the Parque Nacional, we stumbled upon a dried-up marsh. To my delight, a flock of Northern Jacanas pecked around the squishy mud and brandished their horned wings.
During my time abroad, I began to feel ill, resulting in canceled plans and weekends resigned to my homestay. Eager to get good use out of my camera, I had to become incredibly aware and intentional to get the most out of the situation I was in.
Intent on capturing even the smallest of creatures, my friends and I discovered a 15-foot trail of ants diligently carrying supplies back to what we would assume would be their home.
While at my homestay, I ventured out into my mamatica’s garden, snapping shots of purple snakeweed, a skipper butterfly, and an unpictured blur of a hummingbird. This colorful courtyard was always in view during our meals and was an oasis I always relished.
While spending a weekend in bed, I was fortunate that the wildlife came right to my sliding window. This white-winged dove perched beautifully beside me as I marveled at its red eyes and peaceful cooing.
Family is a cornerstone of Costa Rican culture, and I was fortunate to experience a multigenerational household as my homestay. My mamatica, Maria, is an abuela to two spirited grandsons whose voices would carry through the house from the garden. The quiet scene of a children’s bucket and shovel resonated with me as, like their grandmother, the toys would always be waiting for the boys after school.
With nearly a foot in wingspan, this horrifying creature, the “mariposa de la muerte,” visited my homestay on one of my final days in Costa Rica. When I woke up with this culturally revered omen of death spread out on my bedroom door, I admittedly panicked and Googled what spell this could have cast on my bloodline. Despite my fear, the ornate detailing of the Black Witch Moth, coupled with the nearly face-like image on the wings, mesmerized me to no end. These butterflies of death are sadly (but ironically) the final pictures on my camera before departing from Costa Rica.
Perhaps in better health, I can one day return and fill my SD card with tapirs and sloths. Until then, I cherish the hidden creatures that occupy San José and the small moments that made the experience memorable.