Costa Rica – Poor Fashion Decisions

We had a spare afternoon in the resort and Ollie and I decided to do some zip lining, Dave, Louise and Mike also joined us. We left the port to head across the river to the zip lining. All was well, until the little boat chugged and chugged and spluttered until it went silent. Badger’s luck strikes again. We found ourselves sitting like ducks in the middle of the wide river, wondering what was happening, when the lovely Costa Rican fellow who was driving our boat turned around with a cheeky grin and said “Time to swim, my friends”. 

I looked down and saw water around my feet (from when we got in the boat) and perhaps a little insensitively, given that my husband had only just learned to swim after overcoming his fear of water, and to be honest at that point would probably have rather died than had to swim in that river with the possibility of crocodiles sucking our toes, announced to the boat that we were letting in water. The driver then turned around with the same cheeky look on his face and said “Its’ like Titanic,” and I proceeded to play my imaginary violin.

But luckily, thanks to walkie talkies, our knight in a shining life jacket came with a tank of fuel and it turned out we had only run out of gasoline (as the Americans say) so we were off on our way to the zip lining once again.

Before we left for the zip lining, I found myself in the females age old dilemma of what to wear. To be honest I wasn’t fancying trousers as it was so hot, so when Ollie pointed out that on the leaflet advertising the excursion, they were wearing shorts, I went with that. Turns out that wasn’t my brightest idea. I have done zip lining, rock climbing etc. in the past and knew where the harness would sit, I thought my shorts were long enough but when I was being fitted in the harness and the man looked at me and said “Looks sexy, may not feel sexy,” I immediately began to regret my decision.

Still, not one to admit defeat I climbed up the ladder to the first zip line and whizzed through the jungle to the sound of howler monkeys (perhaps laughing at me for my choice of clothing) after a few zip lines we found ourselves at the Tarzan swing. The man who worked there saw me trying to get my shorts under the harness and proceeded to help me. He looked at Ollie and said’ “Is this your wife?” Ollie said “Yes” (so exciting he can say yes to that now and not “no, it’s my girlfriend”) and he said “Sorry man, it’s just my job, good job huh?” as he adjusted my shorts.

My turn to swing on the Tarzan swing came, I had done a Tarzan swing at Go Ape in the UK and it didn’t feel as scary. Maybe it was higher in Costa Rica or perhaps deep down (and unduly so) I didn’t trust their carabiners as much. But I swung on the Tarzan swing, all the same. It was nice, I could feel my tummy doing somersaults, like on a normal swing, but I still didn’t know if I would fall and splat on the jungle floor.

After a few swings, I found trust in the equipment and after some persuasion, did it with no hands, not for long though! As I swung up to the man who worked on the ropes, he pushed me by my knees and swung me around like a diablo and said ‘Let’s dance!’

My time on the swing came to an end and the worker had me perched on the edge of the platform, with his hands just touching my waist and said. ‘Now, titanic’ I obediently put my hands out, like I used to do with my friend Tommy at primary school atop the wooden playground, and then realised what was happening. I thought oh dear, I said ‘You’re going to drop me now, aren’t you?’ All the plans I had to do a bungee jump flashed before my eyes, when I realised I probably don’t have enough bottle to do it, and suddenly he dropped my waist and I found myself free falling (all be it for a second) to the jungle floor before the harness took my weight, I grabbed the rope and I found trust in the carabiner once again.

By |2017-01-08T21:09:57+00:00January 10th, 2017|Travel|