Amy Lu's View

“Pura Vida” is emblazoned on t-shirts and a plethora of other souvenir items in Costa Rica. It’s a popular saying/greeting/slogan/mantra/catch phrase/philosophy that literally means “pure life.” To pay tribute to the popularity of “Pura Vida,” I want to reflect on my Costa Rica experiences through that lens.

“Pura Vida” usually has a connotation of being relaxed and care-free, but for me it’s more meaningful to think about experiences that were pure and unadulterated by distractions. Experiences where I came closer to being in the present.

When I think about Pura Vida this way, what comes first to my mind is my adventure in zipling: Pure Terror/Exhiliration.

Before we went to Costa Rica I was relatively set on ziplining, something I had never done before and that I found moderately scary. It had the appeal of novelty and excitement. Since I had been very casually toying with ziplining for years, how cool would it be to do it in Costa Rica? It seemed the perfect stretch activity for vacation, something new that would challenge me but not paralyze me with fear. (AND something that didn’t involve water…as I can’t swim— yes I know, gasp, gasp, what?!— I can’t swim so even snorkeling— which I did do in Belize and am glad I tried but don’t really want to do again— is too scary).

Wisely, we committed to a zipline tour early on in our vacation (Day 3) so I didn’t have a chance to chicken out or get too hungover. And it was everything I hoped for: I WAS scared, but as I was ziping through the trees, I was mostly in the moment (beyond the relatively quiet internal voice chanting “You’re going to die, you’re going to die” and then, as I got more confident, the voice chanting “This is going to make an awesome Facebook post/blog!”).

We had the choice of a zipline that would be one long, high zip over the ocean, or a series of shorter, lower zips through the trees. We chose the series of short zips (11?), so I had the chance to freak out during the first few (the downside being that at one point early on I wanted to walk away and I didn’t want to do any more) and then to settle in and enjoy the later zips.

In addition to fear, I had to push through my embarassment: embarassment about my fear, and embarassment that I couldn’t reliably remember from one zip to the next what I was supposed to do. How was I supposed to jump up and get on the line? Why was it so hard for me to jump up—okay, I’m not a body builder, but shouldn’t my upper body strength be more or less in proportion to lifting my body? Why couldn’t I remember which hand was supposed to go where when only 10 minutes had elasped between zips? I even did one of the last zips with my hands in the wrong position, so that I was breaking with my left hand instead of my right (obviously not a fatal mistake).

And why did it make me even more embarassed that the the staff were young, cute, nice men—Young enough to be my sons? Probably because no matter how old I get, I’m always going to carry the awkward 13-year-old girl I was around inside myself, and honestly, I’d miss her if she went away. Despite my/our embarassment, my 49 AND 13-year-old selves really appreciated how patient and competent the zipline tour guides were. Most importantly of all, they were very willing to take photos of us.

The guides also imparted the key lesson of ziplining: It’s important not to go to fast or too slow. It seems obvious that going too fast would be a problem, as one doesn’t want to smack into a tree (okay, more likely a guide, but still not cool and definitely embarassing). But I had to fight my inclination to go to slowly because I was scared and overcautious.

Although going slowly sounds harmless (at least to me), it turns out that in ziplining, it can lead to getting stuck. You could literally end up “trapped” on the line between your starting point and your destination and have to climb backwards up the line. I can’t even imagine how scary, difficult, and embarassing that would be.

I don’t think one has to be an English or Religious Studies major to see the possibilities to turn this ziplining wisdom into an analogy or life lesson.