So starts the first foreign adventure with my family: driving to New York City at 1 in the morning, overburdening our van with luggage and Isemans. I’d pushed for a family trip to somewhere better than the norm of New Jersey and am now seeing success, with my 4 siblings having their first flights ever via Costa Rica.
We should have a blast, provided I learn to stop sweating the “small” things like Mia trying to bring sparklers in her carry-on, my dad only half-joking in encouraging the family to “try and be as loud as we can the whole time,” and everything taking multiple times longer than it would if I was traveling alone. The day ends with a tired Swiss family Iseman among the few gringos waiting to board the 6:30 flight to the jungle, eager looks of anticipation and nervousness mixed in with exhaustion on my sibling’s faces as we all await what should be one of the better possible adventures.