The first bathroom was tiled in beige with green decorative borders. The toilet and single sink were cream porcelain and a two-light sconce topped the frameless vanity mirror. The upper walls were spearmint, a hue acceptable for sticks of gum perhaps, but nauseating when coating anything larger. The emerald trashcan, countertop and towels all …

The second bathroom was in Salon Delia, a tiny bar in Bananito Town where we waited for our transport to Selva Bananito Lodge. The bathroom smelled like a portable toilet, and had no sink. Just outside the door, cases of beer were stacked, unsupervised, from the cement floor to the ceiling.

“Never’d last the night in a New York …

Our third bathroom didn’t belong to us. It belonged to Bertie, at least at night. During the day he begrudgingly left the room to us, thank goodness, as we desperately needed the shower stall. I took three showers that first full day, one in the morning, one after the horseback ride, and one after tree-climbing. Each time, before I had even …

I’m blaming the day on my shoes. Watersocks, to be specific. Neither Alan nor the intern, both outfitted in knee-high battle-ready galoshes, were thrilled about my choice to wear rubber slippers with cotton socks on the hike up the creek to the waterfall rappel, but as I saw it, I didn’t really have a choice – I still had five …

The next morning was not one for ultra exertion. A post-breakfast jaunt to meet Pedro the Wild Boar, a smelly, mud-covered, spiny, black thing with tiny eyes and then a horseback ride to the zip line course. Jeffrey was all for an activity that required nothing more than sitting in a harness and letting gravity do its work, but he was a bit more …

On the sixth day, we rested, as agreed.

Billiards score – Jeffrey: 1, Stephanie: 2.

Bathroom Number Four deserves a capitalized name. Bathroom Number Four (not really the fourth, but the ones in between hadn’t been worth mentioning) came very close to realizing my ideal bathroom. Bathroom Number Four, our own at Pacuare Lodge, gets top marks.

Fashioned of almost full-length screen windows, the bathroom seemed barely an …

I grabbed the front seat in the raft before anyone else had the chance. If I was going to tumble down a river, I wanted a first-class view.

“Maybe someone else wants to sit in the front,” Jeffrey suggested hopefully.

“They don’t.” I waved behind me. Phil and Priscilla of Florida, who were celebrating their 15th …

After a too-early flight, I am back in my own bathroom. The fluorescent bar over the medicine cabinet harshly lights the room with a slight buzzing. The bathroom, aside from the avocado toilet, is white, painted so by the previous owner. She painted everything – the walls, the door, the vanity, the tiles, the bathtub, the garbage can, the …