The experience is tough. With the intense bouncing comes waves of exhaust filling the passenger area as the driver downshifts to make it up the steep inclines. The clatter of the truck with its makeshift implements is near deafening. Dust is everywhere, coating everything. And, for those of us born with testicles the colectivo can be particularly painful, as genitals are pounded by the hard benches if not sitting in just the right position. The smartest travelers on the colectivo use bandanas or buffs to cover noses and mouths, sunglasses to protect the eyes, and loud music playing in ear buds to help muffle out the ear-splitting racket as the truck smashes down the rocky path.
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Arrival-Choosing My Own Reality
Today I have arrived back in Costa Rica’s Osa Peninsula after leaving it over 8 months ago. Many forces drove me back here, but the two that pushed hardest were, one, the disconnection I feel from my own society in the U.S., and secondly, my desire to live a life motivated by something more powerful than a paycheck; a sense of wonder and purpose.
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