[The World Tour of Oopsies is an ongoing series of travel stories about my first decade of travel. During these adventures and misadventures, I had to unlearn many things I thought I knew about life. Welcome to my miseducation.]
Videos by TravelAwaits
Catch up on the World Tour of Oopsies:
- Chapter 1: The Scorpion
- Chapter 2: The Bucket Shower
- Chapter 3: The Goat Sacrifice
- Chapter 4: The Idol
- Chapter 5: The Boot
- Chapter 6: The Monastery (Part I)
- Chapter 7: The Monastery (Part II)
- Chapter 8: The Ujjayi Breath
- Chapter 9: The Secret of the Universe
- Chapter 10: The Frenchies
Part I / The festival
Halfway through my freshman year of college, I’d yet to experience a frat house or a block party. Instead, I was meeting Frenchies and learning about the spirituality of surfing (see: Ch. 10) and learning beautiful secrets from terrifying artists (see: Ch. 11).
And that’s how it would go all four years of my college career.
I’d trade off traditional experiences for novel, unforgettable moments.
But have no fear—my thirty or so classmates and I still knew where to find a party.
Enter Envision Festival, one of Costa Rica’s premier hippie-dippie, sustainability-minded, and dance-all-night-in-a-fairy-costume weekend-long parties. (These are sometimes called ‘burner’ festivals after Burning Man.)
From what I can tell, Envision Festival is still going despite high production costs and the fact that not too many people can afford to fly to Costa Rica for a weekend-long event.
When I attended back in 2012, the festival was in its second year of operation—meaning it was full of spirit and cool ideas but hadn’t caught its production stride yet. In other words, it was a striking, psychedelic mess set in the tropics.
One that progressively became more dangerous as the weekend went on. (Don’t worry—nobody died, and I even managed to fall in love.)
Part II / A world tour of thieves, drought, crocodiles, & riptides
After clinching tickets to the festival at the last minute, a group of five or so classmates and I packed our bags, borrowed tents, and headed to Costa Rica’s Pacific coast near Uvita.
We were on the hunt for an unforgettable party. Having already ingratiated ourselves into the Tico electronic music scene (think: Latino mountain raves), we were now heading into the ‘burner’ territory I mentioned before. (You can find an actual lineup and setlist of the 2012 Envision Festival, if you’re interested.)
Although these types of boho music festivals, which combine ideals like sustainable and alternative living with electronic DJ sets with dizzying visuals, are now par for the course, it was a pretty mindblowing concept at the time.
After a short bus ride, we arrived at the festival grounds. The area was beautiful and surrounded by lush forest. There were multiple lounges where we could hang out, chat with others, grab a bite to eat and drink, and sleep through the hottest portions of the day. These were framed by small stages where the music never let up, apart from a few midday hours.
The first day, we were in awe of everything we saw. The performers, the interactive art, and the general ambiance were alluring. Within hours, we felt right at home.
The next morning, the vibe began to change.
Costa Rica is a small country, and festivals like Envision aren’t well-kept secrets.
On the second day of the festival, my crew and I woke to realize most of our tents had been opened and rifled through. Anyone who brought anything of value lost it that night; a DSLR camera, a handheld camera, and a passport. (We didn’t have eSIMs or iPhones, so we all used old school cellphones with local SIM cards.)
We rallied, not having lost anything too essential, like a wallet or a credit card that would help us get home.
Then we trudged to the showers, eager to scrub ourselves from a night of dancing, sweating, and shouting conversation over the music. That’s when we learned the festival was facing a water shortage—already. The showers were shut down to preserve potable water for drinking.
No worries—we rallied again, had a bite to eat, and decided to head for the beach.
Which was located across a tropical little lagoon where large logs had been laid in an impromptu bridge.
On our approach, we found a few frantic staff members who ushered us back toward the main area. They pointed to a very long round-about path for us to take, then cryptically admitted, “The lagoon is full of crocodiles.”
(How do you know an event wasn’t organized by locals? The presence of a beast like a crocodile; locals usually know where the larger predators live, and wouldn’t advise anyone to plan a festival there.)
Again, no worries—we turned around and found another path to the beach. We were diverted to another series of logs that extended over the little lagoon, and this one was being manned by several staff members, who were (I guess) ready to grapple with a crocodile to keep us safe.
Finally, we made it to the beach.
But not long into our lounging, there was a commotion toward one end of the beach. One of the festival-goers had gotten caught in a riptide, and one of our friends (shout out to Forrest) had leapt into the water to save them. While I didn’t see the rescue in action, it topped off maybe one of the most eventful days of my life.
Let’s just say that, in 2017, when news of a doomed Fyre Fest hit the airwaves, I wasn’t surprised to learn that would-be partiers found themselves in a survival situation. Envision wouldn’t be my first or my last hectic festival on my world tour.
Part III / First love
I’d hate to make my adventure at Envision seem like a dangerous letdown.
First, the festival was relatively new, and operating those types of events was a pretty novel concept at the time. Staff were adaptable in the face of (several) disasters.
Second, I was nineteen, meaning a lack of water and presence of crocodiles and riptides wouldn’t keep me from a good party.
Third, and most importantly, I was falling for someone in our group.
The festival’s risks and rewards were the perfect stage for a fledgling romance to play out, offering excitement, a touch of danger, and really cool outfits. I mean it—that someone is still in my life almost fifteen years later, and we still go to festivals where mini-disasters happen like clockwork.
