The morning began with yet another tropical breakfast—this time featuring some of Toucan Sam’s finest Froot Loops. After eating, I headed back to my room to pack up my suitcase and noticed my hand was finally feeling better. The ace wrap had done its job, and the palm was healing nicely, so I decided to go without it.
When I returned to the lobby, a few of the others immediately noticed my bare hand and asked what had happened. I launched into an elaborate story about a recent sea lion attack during my trip to the Galápagos the week before. The tale didn’t last long before someone called my bluff, at which point I confessed the real (and far less dramatic) story—a reminder to watch out for tall curbs and reckless drivers, something we’d already encountered plenty of the day before.
Not long after my cautionary tale, we boarded the bus and headed out for our first official activity: white-water rafting on the Sarapiquí River. Most of the group had signed up, and after a quick rundown of rafting do’s and don’ts, we were on the water. The stretch we tackled featured Class III rapids, made even more intense by heavy rainfall over the previous few days. Our rafts were tossed around at nearly every bend, but thanks to solid teamwork, my raft managed to stay upright the entire time. I cannot say the same for some of the other rafts in our group.
About halfway through the run, we pulled over near a rock wall for a chance to cliff jump. I somehow ended up first in line, and if you know me, then you know that wasn’t by accident. I wasted no time yeeting myself off the eight-foot drop into the river below—then immediately swam back for round two. Feeling bold, I attempted a front flip the second time and narrowly avoided a full-on belly flop after mistiming my spin. With laughs all around, we climbed back into the rafts and finished navigating the remaining rapids.
Once we reached the end, we hauled the rafts back to the trucks, changed out of our soaked clothes, and headed off for lunch. The group that skipped rafting had already gotten a taste of Costa Rica’s wildlife, sharing a photo of a toucan they’d spotted. In return, we shared proof of our survival on the river. Chicken and rice—now my default meal after three weeks in Latin America—hit the spot yet again.
After lunch, we made our way to La Fortuna, where we’d be spending the night, with a quick stop at a supermarket to stock up on snacks. We had some downtime before the evening plans so I took full advantage of the opportunity for a much-needed hour-long nap.
Refreshed and reassembled, we boarded the bus once more—this time for a home-cooked dinner with a local family. When we arrived at Ellie’s house, we were warmly welcomed and immediately handed a shot of moonshine to toast Pura Vida. The phrase, meaning “pure life,” is heard everywhere in Costa Rica, but it represents something deeper: an appreciation for life’s simple joys and a mindset rooted in gratitude.
Dinner was a generous spread of roasted chicken, rice, and vegetables, and we even got to make our own tortillas. As the evening progressed—and more moonshine was poured—the energy shifted. Music filled the air, singing turned into dancing, and Ellie led us through salsa steps with ease. David fully embraced the moment, and the two of them put on a performance that had everyone cheering. Before long, salsa gave way to limbo, which eventually turned into full-blown Latin club hits.
We danced for what felt like hours until the energy finally began to taper off. As the night came to a close, Ellie serenaded us with a few of her favorite songs—a perfect, heartfelt ending to a day defined by adventure, laughter, and the true spirit of Pura Vida.
No Regrets: The Only Way To Live 