Walking along the volcanic rock trails of Arenal Volcanoes National Park, a slight tremor from the depths of the earth resonated in my shoes. The smell of sulfur mingled with the damp rainforest mist, and suddenly, the cry of a howler monkey pierced the air from the treetops. I held my breath on the viewpoint—and as the clouds parted, the cone-shaped crater slowly emitted smoke rings, the setting sun painting the steam into golden-pink ribbons. The most magical experience was visiting the lava field at night: dark red heat flowed like the earth's veins through the cracks in the rocks, illuminating the phosphorescent spots of arrow frogs on the leaves. The guide whispered, "The volcanic ash teaches the soil to feel pain, which is why the flowers here bloom so wildly." On the way back, I touched the dew on the moss on the rock wall, and it was as warm as tears.