On our way out of the National Park, we encountered a young couple hesitant to cross a bridge. A family of white-faced capuchins—small but known as the most aggressive monkeys in Costa Rica—was leaping along the handrails and into the trees surrounding the bridge.

The dominant male was separated from his females and juveniles by the bridge, and we four stood at the bridge’s entrance, in his view, blocking their path.  We hadn’t even stepped onto the bridge, and he was already yelling at us.

The male monkey intimidated the couple, but my husband and I had already had close-up experiences with these monkeys throughout our Costa Rican adventures. We always respect them and their habitat and know how to walk past without incident.

I was alarmed to see a brown appendage slowly move into the fold of the white bath towel on the rack before me. I thought it was a tarantula, and I had seen one of its eight arachnid legs.

Despite my urge to pee, this seemed more important to tend to. I crept out of the bathroom and woke my sleeping husband.

He looked at me sleepily as I explained that something was on the bathroom towel. I described what I saw and exactly what I needed from him: bravery to move the towel and see what we were dealing with.

My darling husband is not used to me asking for help with these things. At home, I take care of spiders, geckos, snakes—anything other than roaches—on my own. But this was different. We were in Costa Rica.

We woke early the next day to the distinct and loud call of yellow-throated toucans right outside our room. I leapt out of bed and ran to the patio—completely naked. My husband, long used to my spontaneity, handed me a robe and joined me to admire the birds.

My husband froze. His eyes glazed over—no doubt flashing back to every time I’ve tripped, stumbled, or face-planted over the years.

He didn’t want to go any farther. But the girl had already marched up and was waiting politely. I wasn’t about to be rude. My loving husband knew better than to argue when I’ve set my mind to something, so he asked me to leave my bag on the first step before climbing. I did, and carefully ascended, him right behind me, ready to catch me if I fell.