Tropical Rain Forest

My boss just got back from eight days in Costa Rica where she and her daughter had a blast. Her daughter sent a bunch of pictures of the rain forest, monkeys, crocodiles, butterflies, beaches, yachts and waterfalls. But my favorites were those of my boss, post zip-lining in the rain, with her face absolutely covered in grease and monkey poo. I used one as the background on the main office computer because it's hilarious.

Many years ago, I left my girlfriend Bridget in Tasmania where we were working, and went to travel Australia alone. I made my way from Melbourne up to Alice Springs and Ayers Rock over to Cairns and up to Cape Tribulation before heading back down to Byron Bay and ultimately Sydney where I arrived, penniless. I then borrowed money from my girlfriend Kris' now husband John so that I could afford two more weeks in Tahiti on my way home. Shameless! During my travels, I barely ate and spent my nights in backpackers' hostels that were, at times, covered floor-to-ceiling in geckos. I met heaps of great people, and literally ran into a couple I knew from Tasmania on the beach in Byron Bay, but really just wanted to be by myself for the most part.

I was thinking about all of this yesterday when leafing through the photos because one morning, while in northern Queensland, I awoke early so I could take a long hike through the rain forest. It was vibrant, green and lush. The ferns were dripping with moisture and the sounds were indescribable. It felt so otherworldly and luxurious to me. As I got further and further into the forest, I began to get a little fearful until one point where there was this gigantic lizard blocking my path forward -- which totally unnerved me. I didn't know what to do. Could I step over it? Was it a man-eating lizard? Would it please move? I somehow made my way past it but by then I was freaking out. I felt so alone and knew that I could be the only person in this part of the world for miles. Who would find my scattered remains? And when?

A second later, I entered a clearing that was littered with empty cases of beer, potato chip bags and other remnants of a recent party.

So much for the feelings of isolation and grandeur. My exotic rain forest experience vanished instantly on the heels of an Aussie frat party. And, to make matters worse, I arrived a few hours too late.