I never wanted to visit the tropics.

Throughout my life, the threat of heat, humidity, and who-knows-how-many venomous snakes, spiders, and insects lurking in the foliage were all reason enough to keep my wanderlust-filled heart far away from any equatorial rainforests. Even as a child, I imagined poison dart frogs leaping from the trees to wriggle their toxic slime all over my skin. It was an environment ripe for worry and hypochondria, and with so many global destinations on my travel bucket list, it was an environment that I was okay letting settle to the bottom.

That all changed in December, when I had a last-minute opportunity to travel on an international trip for work as a staff representative. I knew I couldn’t pass up my chance to explore and expand my horizons. The destination: Costa Rica.

For 10 days I supported a group of our members on a guided journey throughout the country, from cloud forests to clear ocean waters and volcano craters. When your lodging, activities, and meals are planned, your kid-at-heart attitude can come out to play in full force. Lucky for me, I have always loved to learn, and not worrying about the stressors of constant travel decisions allowed me to soak it all up as much as I could.

Our guide, Jimmy, grew up in the small village of Puerto Viejo de Sarapiqui, one of our stops along the trip. Today, it’s a small town with a single strip of businesses and supermarkets. Forty years ago, there were no cars and people used horses to get around. We were lucky to have someone so knowledgable to teach us conservation, ecology, economics, history, and culture on hikes, bus rides, and at meals. His dry sense of goofy humor sent the group into hysterical laughter more than once, and at the heart of everything Jimmy taught us was a pure and deep-rooted love for the land and people.

Most of our nights were spent in eco-lodges nestled in the rainforest lowlands and highlands. Ferns and palms grew taller than me and vines dropped from the high canopy overhead to the ground, the plants reaching for nutrients in the soil. The food was amazing, typically “casado” plates with rice, beans, chicken, and fried plantains. I found that I loved the mild and comforting flavors of the whole foods.

And then, there was the wildlife.

Howler monkeys roared from the canopies like lions every morning. We found capuchin monkeys, two- and three-toed sloths, poison dart frogs, basilisk lizards, geckos, and iguanas. And in the past few years, I had started to realize the one thing that could pull me to the tropical rainforests of Central & South America: the birds. They did not disappoint.

Every destination had its own unique assemblage of birds, and before long I was sailing past 100 lifers and more than 500 birds on my life list, a milestone I won’t soon forget. Highlights included the resplendent quetzal, famously dubbed the most beautiful bird on earth with its 30+ inch tail feathers, the keel-billed toucan, and the scarlet macaw.

Throughout the trip, we bussed over mountains on roads that were ox cart trails less than half a century ago. We boated on the narrow Sarapiqui River to the east and the crocodile-filled, mangrove-lined waters of the Tarcoles to the west. I was stung by jellyfish larvae while swimming in the Pacific Ocean, learned how to hike safely and watch out for venomous snakes, and learned that the jungle is not that terrifying after all.

It was another adventure that reminded me that taking risks is worth the discomfort. That it’s okay to feel unsure and afraid as you head into something new, as long as you can do so with an open mind. My perspectives and understanding of the world has yet again shifted, and connecting with other ecosystems, people, and cultures from around the world reminds me that we are all part of the same community—Earth. A planet full of diversity and beauty, from the highest mountains to the most humid equatorial beaches. If I love any part of our planet, I need to love it all. Many of my favorite Wisconsin birds would cease to exist without the tropical rainforest awaiting them each winter, and birds are one of the most visible ways to see how connected we all really are.

Long ago, I may have never wanted to visit the tropics, but now…

I hope I’m lucky enough to go back.