If a Picture is Worth a Thousand Words, Why Not Write Two Thousand?

I’ve never really been the reflective type. I had a journal during the summer of 2023 hoping to start a habit, but I barely made it through two weeks before I threw it aside, assuming I wouldn’t use it again. I like to live in the moment. Taking time to journal just takes me out of it, right? However, upon arriving in a country I had never been to before about to embark on a likely once-in-a-lifetime experience, I felt that a revival of this journal may be in order. From the first information I saw about ACE to our pre-program meetings, ACE was always presented with a focus on both internal and external reflection. Thus, I felt this experience was the perfect time to restart my journal providing a way for me to truly remember the ways the trip made me feel – much more than a simple photo ever could.

Over the two weeks, I filled up 32 pages in my journal. I documented every detail of every day I remembered that left a lasting impact on me. Sometimes the things that help one remember the experience aren’t the planned activities for the day but simply one joke someone told or a specific meal that was served. The 32 pages in my journal (hopefully) tell a nearly complete story of my experience in Costa Rica, a truly unique memoir.

Taking a small excerpt from one of my favorite moments of the trip, the day we went to an organic farm, I wrote:

To really be one with nature was really cool to see. The way that rather than seeing weeds/nature as a hindrance to the plants and fruits, they embraced it and used it to boost the plants’ health was a unique sight.

And later that day, when we saw a hatching of baby turtles:

They tipped the bucket and the race began. They scurried towards the ocean on their little flippers. Some got a little confused and went the wrong way, but they all made it there eventually. They left little marks in the sand as they lunged themselves towards the water. Although they had just been brought into the world, they had an innate clear mission of making it out to sea.

These two descriptions from Day Ten of the trip may not seem too descriptive or emotional. But to me, they paint a picture far clearer than any one image could capture. Reading my own handwriting transports me back to the farm where we ate various appetizing, yet quirky herbs. It brings me back to the beach where we moved the debris to help the babies make it to the ocean. The words on the page act as a vessel for all of my senses, acting stronger than memory alone.

I made a lifetime of memories over my two weeks in Costa Rica. I know that I will have trouble forgetting main events such as the soccer tournament, the hike to Manzanillo, or even the hatching of the baby turtles. Instead, I worry that the little things will fade from memory: the way the beach felt, the number of bugs, or even just the card games we played. Whether these little memories be joyous or slightly troublesome (like the number of times I lost to Alaina in Rummikub), it is important to me that I remember the feeling of being in Costa Rica, not just the events.

On the cacao farm, it wasn’t the harvesting of the cacao beans or the separating of the shells, the cutting of the sucker branches or even the raking of leaves. It was the laughter and joy that I felt from the people that I was there with. The little jumps every time we saw a snake, the conversations we had as we were walking through the jungle. These little events are so much harder to keep in memory, but they are so much richer than one simple overarching photo of the event. I plan to continue journaling now that I am back in the US, documenting the little things that otherwise would fade out of memory. I’ve learned that I can live in the moment while still taking time to journal. In fact, journaling has helped me preserve these present moments that I am living in, allowing me to live and re-live the present again and again.