by Jillian Dodd
DAY TWO
Camille
I wake up groggy. It takes me a minute to realize where I am, but slowly I remember that I’m in Costa Rica on my first official assignment. I hop out of bed with a spring in my step and pull out my schedule. On the agenda today is a visit to a school and a butterfly farm.
I head into the bathroom and turn on the shower. I turn the nozzle all the way to the right making sure I get it nice and toasty. Even though I went to bed sweaty, the morning breeze has cooled down the room. When I look up, I notice the ceiling is high and features a skylight. While the water heats up, I lay out my clothes for the day—an adorable white mid-calf skirt, a pink peasant top, and funky wrap sandals with an adorable pompom adornment. I put my hair up into a clip, set out a towel, and then hop into the shower.
As I go under the water, my eyes fly open. “Ahhh,” I screech.
I jump out of the shower and grab the towel. As I’m wrapping it around me, the door flies open.
“Are you okay?” Adam pants out. “What happened? I heard you scream.”
“What are you doing in here? I’m naked!” I quickly look down at myself, making sure the important parts are covered by the skimpy towel. Adam smirks as his eyes trail down my body.
Which for some reason, gets me flustered. “And, no, I’m not fine. That water is freezing. I turned it on high, but it was ice cold!”
He gets an amused look, his lips turning up into a smile. “Sorry, city girl. No hot water here. Most of your showers will be cold.”
“Are you kidding me?” I’m upset, tears threaten, and I am starting to feel like I’m going to lose it. Adam hesitantly places his hand on my shoulder.
“Calm down, Camille. It’s no big deal. The cold water was a shock but, trust me, after a long, hot day outside, a cold shower will feel amazing. Just start showering at night.” When I nod in agreement, he removes his hand from my shoulder and says, “Get a move on. We head out soon.”
I mentally calm myself down. I have to stay positive. So what if it isn’t what I was expecting, I’m going to be published. I turn the shower back on, use a washcloth to clean my skin, then slather on the lavender lotion I brought. I pull the clip out of my hair and quickly straighten the ends. After final makeup touches, I put in my contacts, change into my planned outfit for today, and spray my hair, hoping it will keep the frizzies at bay in this humidity.
I zip up my luggage then put my wallet, notebook, water bottle, and camera into my favorite Henri Bendel backpack. I use it so often that Lexington calls the bag my boyfriend and named it Henri. The thought of my best friend cheers me up. She would understand why the lack of AC and warm water would be upsetting to me. Unlike Mr. Know It All. He’s not that much older than me, but he acts like he’s been there and seen it all. His smugness drives me nuts. I mean, I’m on the same assignment that he is. I don’t know why he has to be such a brat. But when he put his hand on my shoulder, his touch calmed me down. Which is even more annoying.
I grab Henri, put a smile on my face, and vow to make this the best trip of my life. I float down the hallway, making my way into the kitchen where there is a huge amount of food displayed on the counter. My eyes wander over the fresh fruits laid out—papaya, banana, and watermelon. The cook has prepared scrambled eggs, beans, and salsa. I pile my plate up with fruit and add a scoop of eggs.
Diego comes up next to me. “If you’re going to eat eggs here, you have to eat them right. Top them off with a little salsa and some hot sauce. They’re delicious,” he says, while getting himself what looks to be a second helping.
I smile brightly at him. He’s so nice. “Alright, I’ll try some your way.” I add a teaspoon of salsa and a dash of hot sauce to my eggs. As I continue down the buffet line, I find an assortment of fresh juices. I fill up a cup and then make my way over to sit next to Diego.
“So, we get to visit a school and a butterfly farm today. That sounds like so much fun. I love butterflies. I totally almost got a tattoo of one on my wrist when I turned eighteen, but I chickened out.”
Diego chuckles at me then says, “The magazine donated supplies to the school we are visiting.”
“What kind of supplies?” I ask, thinking maybe it was iPads or something.
“Basic things, like markers, textbooks, and chalkboards.”
“They still use chalkboards?”
“They do, and they are very grateful for the donation, so they wanted to meet you. Adam will take photos of the children and you together. And they may have a few surprises for you. And, just a reminder, be sure to bring your bottle of water and only drink filtered water while you are here, so you don’t get sick.”
“Yikes. I don’t want to get sick. Is the Johnson family coming with us today?” I ask while taking a bite of my eggs.
“They will be joining us at the butterfly farm, but we will go to the school alone.”
“Oh my goodness, Diego. You were so right. The eggs are delicious with salsa. Why have I never tried this before? I eat tortilla chips and salsa all the time, but I’ve never thought to put it on my eggs. Thanks for the suggestion.”
Diego looks pleased and excuses himself to start loading the bags.
When he gets up, I grab my video camera and speak into it.
“How are all my Effortless Girls? I’m so excited to be talking to you today from beautiful Costa Rica, and I just wanted to give you a little update. Yesterday, I arrived just after sundown and had a delicious dinner at this ecolodge.” I pan the camera around the common room so they can see the pitched ceiling and wood beams. “After that I took a swim with a lovely family who is also staying here and met my photographer, Adam. I’ll introduce you to him later. On today’s agenda is a butterfly farm and a school that Fashion Forward donated supplies to. I just finished a breakfast of beautiful fruit and “Costa Rican style eggs” which have salsa on top. Alright, that’s it for now.” I blow my viewers a kiss. “Pura Vida, everyone! That means pure life and is said as a greeting in Costa Rica.”
Even though I have to wait to post these until after the article comes out, it will be fun to compile and share videos of the trip on my channel.
As I put my camera away, families start trickling out of their rooms and into the kitchen. Then Adam comes in through the front door. He has on a pair of khaki shorts, a yellow t-shirt, and a camera is draped across his body, but something about him looks different. I study him some more, trying not to let my eyes linger over his muscular arms or notice the way his shirt is stretched tightly across his chest.
Wait. I know. He shaved. And, well, dang, he looks good. Really good. His hair is damp, but still tousled and crazy, curling slightly at the ends. It’s the kind of hair that makes a girl want to run her fingers through it. Not me, of course, but some girls might find him attractive in a know-it-all kind of way.
I watch as he takes photos of the beautiful displays of food, constantly repositioning himself to get the perfect shot. Not only does he get shots of the food itself, he also convinces the chef to let him take his photo as well.
I finish eating, the bags get loaded up, and we’re told to head down to the bus.
Adam
I get loaded into the bus, making my way toward the back, and sit down. I slide across the seat next to the window and put my backpack on the floor between my feet. I see the other family we’re traveling with trickle on and decide that I should introduce myself. Just as I’m ready to get up, Camille plops down next to me on a seat barely big enough for one and says, “You shaved. It looks great. I didn’t think you would ever look so clean-cut.”
“Uh, yeah, thanks,” I say, nervously rubbing my bare chin and wondering if it’s a compliment or an insult.
She must read my face because her eyes get big, and she holds up her dainty hand. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it didn’t look bad before. Clean shaven just suits your bone structure and makes you look more pulled together.” She laughs then slips her hand through a curl at the back of my neck. “Wel
l, except for this hair. But you’re an outdoorsman, right? And you guys want that rugged look.” She’s got a big smile on her face. She’s annoying, but her smile is so sincere, it’s hard to stay mad at her. Plus, her eyes kind of sparkle. I’d love to get a close-up of those eyes. The colors in them are amazing, hazel with flecks of blue and gold.
“Uh, huh, very funny,” I tease her back. “So, are you excited for today?” I genuinely want to know, because my first impression is that she’s way too high maintenance to enjoy a trip like this.
She scrunches up her button nose, thinking. Finally, she says, “You know, I really am. I cannot wait to meet the children and see their school. I love kids. I always wanted a sibling growing up, begged my parents endlessly for a baby sister, but didn’t get my way.” She sticks her bottom lip out in an adorable pout, and I wonder how anyone ever said no to her. “What about you?”
“I’m an only child, too,” I tell her. “Although, I grew up with a lot of kids around me.”
“Like at school?” She leans her hand on her chin and stares at me expectantly, like talking to me is the most interesting thing in the world. Although, we are stuck on a bus in the middle of nowhere. Right now, I probably am.
“Not exactly. My dad is a photographer, and my mum is an anthropologist, meaning we traveled a lot. With my dad’s job, we’d usually only be gone a few weeks at a time. His work focuses on nature and the environment, like mine. But when we traveled for my mum’s work, we would be gone for longer periods—anywhere from a few months to a year. She studies women in indigenous communities, so we would normally stay in the area while she conducted her research. In places like that, the kids are all sort of like one big family. I seemed to always be able to fit in anywhere we went. It was fun.”
“So, you never went to school?”
“I was homeschooled and got a lot of education by traveling.”
“Wow,” she says, her eyes sparkling. “That is so interesting. I’ve never known anyone who grew up like that. That had to have been hard always being on the move. But so fun and exciting. I just love adventures. Well, the idea of adventures anyway. I haven’t really been on too many. I mean, my parents took me to Paris when I graduated high school, but that’s a little different. It’s one of the reasons why I was so excited to come on this trip. To experience something completely new. Out of my comfort zone,” she says. “Have you ever heard that quote about life beginning on the edge of your comfort zone?”
I narrow my eyes at her. I can’t picture her anywhere but in her comfort zone. “I have heard that quote before and agree. You have to go off the beaten path to find the good stuff in life, and pushing ourselves to try new things makes life more exciting. My childhood was definitely an adventure, and my dad probably had a camera in my hand before I could walk.”
“Have you ever lived in the city?”
“Yes. My mum is a professor of anthropology at Oxford, but she taught at NYU for a while.”
“Really? I go there. I’m studying in their Media, Culture, and Communication program. Have you ever taken one of her classes? Are you in college? Do you live with your parents? And if not, where do you live?”
I can’t help but laugh. “You sure do ask a lot of questions. No, I don’t live with my parents. I share a loft with a couple friends, and I go to the University College London. I’m in their Fine Arts program. So what made you go to school? I figured you just blog or whatever. Didn’t they choose you for this assignment because of your social media presence?”
“Yes, they did, but I want to get my degree. Plus, I love learning new things. Who knows what I’ll end up doing for the rest of my life, but I love marketing and my classes will help me get better at fine tuning my social media presence. It’s also sort of a back-up plan in case I ever need to get a corporate job, and my parents were crazy insistent that I go,” she explains. “My dad is an insurance executive, so getting a degree is important to him.”
“I can understand that—” I start to say, but Diego interrupts me to address everyone.
“As we approach the butterfly sanctuary, I thought you might like to know a little about your tour guides. So, I’m Diego. I am from the city of Cartago, which is about fifteen miles east of the capital of San José. I have been a tour guide for about eight years, since I was twenty-eight, and I have a wife named Mariam. And this is Manuel,” he says, pointing toward the driver, who gives us all a little wave. “He is from Limon, which is located along the East coast, and has worked as a travel guide for three years now. If you have any questions, feel free to ask either of us.”
I get my camera out and ready. Camille pulls her backpack off the ground and sets it in her lap. Her knees are bouncing up and down, and her excitement is actually a little contagious.
Camille
As we pull onto a dirt road, a faded blue house at the butterfly farm comes into view.
When we exit the bus, little Jimmy pulls at my side. “Camille, Camille, I’m so excited. Butterflies are so pretty, and I love insects. They’re my favorite!”
“I’m excited, too. I’m sure they will be so beautiful.”
We follow Diego into the house, where we find wood-paneled walls covered with charts and posters. There are framed butterflies in glass boxes everywhere, and the room is overflowing with things to look at. I can hear Adam clicking away on his camera, getting shots of everything.
As I’m looking at a poster explaining the life cycle of a butterfly, I hear him come up behind me.
“It’s pretty interesting, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, it’s cool how they can go from being sort of ugly looking caterpillars to such colorful and beautiful butterflies.”
“Their transformation process is incredible. Come look at this,” he says, directing me to a poster of all the different butterfly species. “Which is your favorite?”
“Hmm.” I survey the poster then point. “This one. The glasswinged butterfly. I love that its wings are nearly transparent, almost iridescent. So beautiful. What about you? Which one is your favorite?”
Adam looks straight into my eyes rather than at the chart. “You like beautiful things, don’t you?” I can’t help but stare into his gorgeous blue eyes and think that I sure do.
“Is there anything wrong with that?” I ask. “I think all the butterflies are beautiful in their own way.”
“There’s nothing wrong with it. I just find it interesting.” He studies the poster intently then points. “My favorite is that one. The owl butterfly.”
“And why is it your favorite?”
“Because the design on the bottom of its wings looks like an owl’s face. Maybe we will get lucky and see one today.”
“If I could have everyone’s attention,” Diego says. “Please take a seat on the floor.”
Adam and I plop onto the ground as a man walks to the front of the room and introduces himself. “Hola, my name is Gabriel, and I am the owner of this butterfly sanctuary and research facility. Before we take a walk through the sanctuary, I want to give you a little background information about butterflies.”
I quickly scramble, unzipping Henri, and getting out my notebook and pencil.
Adam glances at me, and a smile tugs at his lips.
Gabriel continues. “In Costa Rica there is a large diversity of tropical habitats resulting in an abundance of butterflies. Ninety percent of the butterfly species in Central America exist here, sixty-six percent of neo-tropical butterflies, and eighteen percent of the world’s butterfly species. The best time to observe butterflies in Costa Rica is during the rainy season, which extends from June to November. Do any of you know what the most famous butterfly in Costa Rica is?”
Jimmy raises his hand high and jumps up. “I do. It’s the blue morpho! It has bright blue iridescent wings that span fifteen centimeters.”
“You are very smart,” I whisper to him.
“I know,” he says. “I have been studying for this trip.”
“What abou
t the largest butterfly?” Gabriel asks.
Adam elbows me and mouths, “Mine.”
So I raise my hand. “Is it the owl butterfly?”
“Yes,” Gabriel says. “The owl butterfly has a wingspan up to twenty centimeters. Its name comes from the owl-like eyespots located on the underside of its wings that help ward off predators.”
As he says this, I glance at Adam and give him a little poke in the side. “Your favorite,” I whisper, smiling.
His eyes sparkle a little as he gives me a nod. “Mhm. Now pay attention.”
He turns back to Gabriel, who lectures us more.
“A butterfly’s life varies by species. A blue morpho can live up to four weeks, while some only live for around a week. Alright, let’s go ahead and get you in to see the butterflies.” As he finishes his speech, I give him a little clap then follow everyone toward a glass door.
