I was really, really, really apprehensive about going zip lining. Let’s just say my fear of heights combined with a perceived lack of safety concerns in Ecuador did not exactly have me rushing to propel myself across the jungle on a steel cable. I even skipped out on zip lining on an earlier trip to Mindo — a misty, mountainous jungle town set in what's known as the "cloud forest" — but the second time around I had no excuse. So up I went.
After we paid our $10 and got suited up (hellooo man crotch and helmet hair!), my friends and I were shuffled onto a platform along with an Ecuadorian family. As we stared down on the forest canopy, our group was given the lowdown by one of the zip line guides. The only problem was, he was giving his safety spiel in Spanish, a language my friends and I only have basic knowledge of. As he relayed what seemed like very important information my friends and I exchanged more than the occasional nervous glance. This was well beyond my ability to translate menus or stumble through giving directions; based on the Ecuadorian family's intense listening and nodding, I could tell he was advising us on what to do and what absolutely not to do. But what, exactly, the latter was — well, I could not comprehend that for the life of me.
Fortunate for us, at the end of his speech he did say one word I know: “preguntas?” (in English, that's "questions?"). Nervously, I spit out “Sí, hablas inglés?” (Yes, do you speak English?). I'm pretty sure my voice even cracked a bit. The guide and the Ecuadorian family we were about to defy death with erupted in laughter. Mercifully, the guide ended up knowing enough English to direct us on how to save ourselves from an untimely demise — or at the very least, getting stuck hanging in the middle of a line high above the forest canopy. Before I knew it, we were laughing and joking and the sassy Ecuadorian mom was proclaiming “I’m 50 and this is my first time zip lining!” Well, if she can do it, I guess I can give it a shot.
