This is an extensive diary from my time in Costa Rica from January to May 2001, sandwiched between two more recent reflective entries. I recommend reading this if you are interested in exploring Costa Rica, in what Moneteverde, Costa Rica was like in this particular time period, before much of the modern development, or if you are interested in hearing a first hand account of a young woman with bipolar disorder in between severe swings and culture shock.In Costa Rica I lived with my sister, a botanical artist who was determined to add meaning to my life. She encouraged me to pick up fallen epiphyte flowers scattered on the path from fifty feet up in the canopy. I was her assistant. I ended up in her artwork, sometimes positing, other times unexpectedly, gazing over the edge of the continental divide. There were places where we could stand and visibly see the Pacific Ocean to our left and the Atlantic Ocean to our right. The beauty of places such as that, and many Appalachian locations quite honestly, are so stunning, they harbor a home in the human soul. My identity is composed of scenes like those: reasons for fighting, for gripping onto nature, grappling with factors that make the environment unhealthy.Everyone who ever has spent a week in Monteverde seems to have seen the Howler Monkeys there. But Anna and I experienced a deeper wilderness. We spent all day wandering paths that Anna navigated like an expert. At one point hundreds of migrating white faced monkeys converged with our path. Anna told me to sit tight, knowing the wild animals could grow defensive if they felt threatened. I sat tight. They swung through the forest for almost an hour. They left me shaking, quaking quite literally, and trembling at their power.I mention these things because this trip changed my life, my world view, and my experience of nature. For the longest time after this trip abroad, I was hyper conscious of limiting my use of material possessions as a personal attempt to boycott the behaviors that hurt the environment. Today I think I could use a refresher trip to Monteverde. Many people who go abroad get an understanding of the global meaning of poverty. I must say I too gleaned that understanding. But I walked so much, I spent every waking moment in the woods, spotting flocks of parrots and rare animals, I learned so many plant names, I became so familiar with the wilderness and these things are so distant for me today. In fact I write this in a coffee shop, noisy with voices and music, cluttered by spinning fans and food people would be better off not eating. Maybe there is a coffee here from Costa Rica; maybe it is fair trade. But my memories in me are fading. I can write down what Costa Rica means to me, but I need a refresher course to infuse it in my soul.