a sensory experience in the jungle
the body adjusts to the unregulated temperatures in the jungle—cold morning showers and hot humid afternoons. Nothing in between…
Taking time away. Away from the day to day. Away from the mundane. Away from the responsibilities. Away from family. Away from friends. Away from routine. Away from the roles, the constructions, the expectations, the feelings, the emotions, the habits, the familiar, the comforts, the rituals, the paths, the streets, the sounds, the community, the groceries, the treats, the dishes, the pillows, the lights, the smells, the noises, the sounds, the phone calls, the texts, the emails, the music, the washing machine and the dryer, the napkins, the soaps, the hot water, the towels, the swimming pool, the patio, the cool breezes, the dry air, the garbage truck, Uber Eats, the mirrors….
But not the sound of the motos…Motos are alive and well in the jungle. People in the jungle have to move around, too. Motos are omnipresent in Costa Rican culture. They are affordable and efficient, and the sound is as annoying in the jungle as it is in the city. But, even more in the jungle. I expected the jungle to be peaceful. It is not. There is much going on in the jungle.
The narrow winding path of gravel butts up against the grass or dirt or intricate root system exposed to the light of day and covered by fallen leaves. The branches of the many varieties of trees and plants reach into the path brushing against the body—not enough to startle you but just enough to heighten your awareness of the presence of this place. The presence of the jungle makes itself known in so many ways. The presence excites the senses.
The moisture in the air lands heavily warming the body and softening the skin. The air is thick on most days. The times when a cool breeze blows through delights. But the body knows to expect the return of the warm blanket of moist air. It is at once oppressive and comforting. The body makes friends with the humid air. It is one of the parts of the whole of the jungle. The moisture and dampness fill the nostrils. The smell of wet earth and biomass permeates alongside an occasional whiff of a fragrant plant. On some rare (or not so rare depending on where you are) occasion, the heavy musk of a group monkeys, a trio of agoutis or another jungle dwelling animal passing by floats beneath the nose reminding you that you are not alone.
The natural sounds of the jungle are the most notable, the most evident. The ears stand on high alert awaiting but never really seeing and always hearing—something. Chirpping, buzzing, howling, cawing the slow trickling of water from a nearby river or stream and if you are lucky the sound of water falling over the hills, the rocks, the mountains….The sounds differ at sunrise and sunset. The sunrise brings the not so gentle sound of the rooster on the neighboring land, our first signal that there is a day of work ahead. Then the birds gently bring us into an awareness of the morning light singing the welcome song of the day. On the other hand, as the sun sets and finds rest for the night, the sounds become more ominous as the darkness blankets the jungle creating mystery. Is it possible for one small creature to excite the night sky with its song: a secada, a cricket, and the gurgling of a frog? Each individual sound adds to the cacophony that creates a composition that fills the night. What initially kept me awake, eventually lulled me to sleep. The sounds become the lullaby which becomes the precursor of our dreams.
What do we see in the jungle? The sights of the jungle are a mix of what is actually there and what is in our minds. What stories were you told about the jungle as a small child? What books did you read that shaped your mind’s eye? Rudyard Kipling’s The Jungle Book or Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness? Neither of which tell the full story of the jungle. The true story of the jungle can only be witnessed from a subjective first-person point of view. In fact, the true story of the jungle can’t be told; the jungle must be experienced. It must be tasted. The jungle ranges from the sweet sweetness of the zapote to the sour tanginess of the carambola and everything in between.