There are many possible stories to tell from my recent travels down into the rainforests of Central America, but the one that's sticking out in my mind right now has nothing to do with the flora and fauna I was there to see nor the rice and beans that I ate during every single meal on every single day.

One of the many places I stayed was in Tortugero, Costa Rica. It is an hour boat ride to get to this place, which is right along the Caribbean Sea. The housing we slept in had partial walls, but much of the side was actually just screens - screens with holes. There is electricity and plumbing, but as with many weaker septic systems, flushing paper (any paper) is not allowed. Needless to say, this is a good experience for anyone who complains about how far the 20 minute drive to the nearest grocery store is.

Anyway, one of the afternoons in Tortugero, Faren and I were walking along the beach, watching a rather large storm system approaching the Costa Rican coast (yes, that's a little redundant). It was an awesome sight, and we had a blast romping about in the rain as we travelled the half mile back to the lodgings. At this time, it was really starting to get dark (setting sun plus thickening clouds equals lack of light). We escaped to the rooms eventually, ate dinner with our comrades, and enjoyed the rest of the evening.

That night, us two, along with most of the other members of our group were sitting on our beds on the veranda-like walkway of the cabins (our group leader had told us that there were to be no boys in girls' rooms or girls in boys' rooms, so we just brought the furniture to a place that wasn't a room and sat and talked through the night anyway). I also took all of our containers and started to collect water samples. I was actually filling one 350mL glass in 40 seconds. That's incredible for rain (at least from what I'm used to).

Around eleven, however, all of the lights suddenly extinguished and the wind started going horizontal. Needless to say, we were starting to feel a little wet. Fell sounds came from the forest. Some of the girls (and Chris) wanted to go inside. So, in the dark, with light from only iPods and otherwise useless cell phones to guide us, we piled the stuff all into one room to weather out the night. No adults came to check on us, which was a little odd, but then again, most of them were probably already asleep.

A few minutes later, Chris gave out a loud shriek. Something was on him; something. He turned on his flashlight (we were in his room, so he had grabbed the flashlight from his luggage) and saw a decent sized rhinoceros beetle on him. Calmer now, he moved to knock it gently away, but flew to floor instead (at which moment the girls still standing on the floor leapt to beds). Just a beetle, I know, but in the dark, windy, raining, howling night, people get scared.

Soon after, a crash of one of my glasses resonated through the air, giving everyone further fright, but we eventually got to sleep.

The next morning, we had to awake before dawn and pack up to leave for the next station. It was still raining hard, and there was still no power. I grabbed my shampoo and soap and showered in the rain. Alex did, too, but everyone else seemed to find it odd and dirty. I don't see why; it's probably just as clean, if not cleaner, than the rain that falls up here. And heck, we drink from well water up here.

Then it was an hour and a half back to the landing in small, open boats. I actually emerged quite dry, having strategically sat behind a very large woman. Everyone else was soaked to the skin.

I personally enjoyed is episode thoroughly. I felt much closer with nature showering in the rain, even if I was using commercial shampoo from the corporate north.