I had spent six months in my very first “serious” relationship. I was elated, but alas, this relationship was not meant to be and when it ended, as it was surely bound to, I was left more alone than I had ever felt. My friends and family didn't understand, and all I could I longed for was to get away from everything.

I craved adventure in a place where no one knew my name, and that was how I decided to take my first “vacation” alone. I browsed a volunteer site and found the perfect trip. It was called Surf and Sea Turtles and would give me an opportunity to save the world—or at least the sea turtles—while indulging in my love of surfing that summer.

Fast forward two months later to my summer vacation, and I anxiously strained my eyes to look for my ride in the San Jose International Airport in Costa Rica.There was no turning back now, and my fear of going-it alone mingled with excitement gave me the biggest butterflies I'd ever felt.

Just then, Nikki, my ride, called my name, and whisked me off to the first hostel that I would ever stay in. For two days, I stayed there while they gave us volunteers an orientation and last-minute instructions.

On my thirdday, the other volunteers and I traveled five hours to get to Playa Buena Vista. The truck stopped at the edge of the river and we met Roy, the camp director, who helped us cross the river that blocked off the beach. The water was shin-deep and felt refreshing against the heat.

At the top of a little crest, my jaw dropped at the absolute beauty. The only way I can possibly describe it is to say that it looked like a scene from Lost. The waves were crashing in, and driftwood was scattered around. The cove was surrounded on both sides by mountains and the background was a lush, green jungle.

Roytold us to pick up our bags and make the trek to the camp. My flip-flops kept getting caught in the sand, so I removed them and my sweaty shirt. My skin was slick with perspiration; the rocky sand felt harsh against my feet and my strap dug into my skin and pulled at my bikini top, but we all walked on. After a half-mile walk through the rocky sand we finally reached the camp.

I don’t know exactly what I'd been expecting, but it certainly was not this. The camp was situated in the middle of a private beach. It was made out of wood, and the top, sleeping area was covered by a tarp. The bottom was open and included a kitchen and dining area. To the side were the bathroom—which luckily had plumbing, and the shower, which got cold water from a giant barrel.

The hatchery in front consisted of some posts, chicken wire, and lots of sand. After we had gotten our things settled, we all sat down and Royexplained to us that in the mornings, we would go into Samara (the nearest town) to surf, in the afternoons we would work on the hatchery, and after dinner we would go to bed until our night shift. The night shifts consisted of monitoring the sea turtle eggs in the hatchery or walking down the coast looking for nests in the dark.

And oh yeah, we learned there were salt-water crocodiles who liked to hang out by the river we'd crossed earlier, so we should avoid that area after dark and at high tide. I'd heard about the crocodiles previously, but hadn't taken it seriously until now. So the river became my biggest fear for the rest of the trip.

That day, he put us all to work pulling weeds from around the hatchery and lugging hefty sand bags. We worked for a few hours and then went back in.

The following morning, we ate breakfast, and then made the hour long hike into town, including back across the river. As we walked through the murky water, every mossy rock or piece of driftwood made me think of the crocodiles. When we got across, we hiked through a dirt road that was surrounded by giant trees with black monkeys that howled at us as we passed by.

The heat was unbearable, and my legs ached, but my amazement at my surroundings far surpassed any of that and I felt like Tomb Raider.

Suddenly we arrived at the C&C Surf School and I was in paradise. The abundance of palm trees that lined the entrance created a tunnel for the ocean breeze and cooled me down. Our instructors came out and then the real fun began. That day, I caught my first wave while standing and felt so proud.

When we got back, Roytold us that we needed to bring bunk-bed supplies and food back to camp from the river. I was scared to cross the river, but managed to ignore my fear of the crocodiles enough to cross the river at least six times that afternoon with everybody else. We hiked across the sand carrying wood, mattresses, and heavy bags filled with vegetables.

That night I did my first night-watch and was amazed at how dark the sky was and how bright the stars looked—I could even see the constellations. Our only light was a candle and the breeze was cool.

As I swung on the hammock and was thankful that I had decided to go on this trip.

The next days were similar. I slept better than I ever had because the manual labor, mingled with the surfing tired me out so thoroughly that not even the heat and itchy mosquito bites could prevent me from passing out.

On our fifth night there, one of the nests hatched around 4am. There were about 100 adorable little squirming turtles. I got to hold one, and it was smaller than the size of my palm. The whole group was there and we walked to the area where the nest had been found to release them into the ocean.

Although I did more manual labor than I have ever done in my life, I only have good memories. The work paid off and we managed to get a few nests that hatched and were then released. I made some great friends that I know I will be in touch with for years to come, and I was forced to face some of my greatest fears in order to survive on a daily basis. I feel that I became a stronger woman, but I also think that I discovered a strength that I never knew I had. I can now truly empathize with people in harsh living conditions and I have acquired a love of service. I don’t think that you need to go to a shack on the beach in the middle of the jungle to learn these lessons, but it certainly helped me.

Oh yeah, I got over the boy. ■

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Silvia Sanchez is a recent Stanford University grad where she wrote for the Stanford Daily. She has been obsessed with traveling since she was a little girl and some of her adventures include travels to Mexico, Guatemala, Costa Rica, Spain, Morocco, England, and France.

Her goal is to explore the world in a non-traditional fashion and to pursue a career that combines her loves of traveling and writing.