A Night in the Glass Forest at Mashpi Lodge – A Sanctuary of Birds Breathing in the Wild Mist
🌲 Mashpi Day 1 – Gazing at the Still Forest, Separated Only by Glass
🕔 05:00–07:00 | Mindo’s Final Mist, A Quiet Goodbye
I opened the window of La Bicok,
and through the veil of mist tangled among the trees,
soft birdsong echoed low and far.
The temperature was 16°C—cool and crisp from the night.
I checked my bags one last time
and slowly sipped a chilled chamomile iced tea.
Soon, the reserved SUV pulled into the driveway.
I opened the trunk and placed my small luggage inside.
“Mashpi Lodge, por favor,” I whispered silently to myself
as I settled into the car.
Cutting through the quiet wind,
Mindo faded slowly from view—
without a single word of farewell,
just drifting away, like breath on glass.
🕖 07:00–09:00 | Nanegalito – The Village Where the Wind Changes
Driving northwest along Ruta E28,
the car sliced through the wind.
From the open window,
the scent of wild grasses and the fresh tang of mango leaves
danced in the breeze and gently brushed my nose.
The temperature was a cool, crisp 18°C.
After about 50 minutes on the road,
we arrived at Nanegalito—
a quiet village where a small bus stop stood
between damp brick houses,
and a lone coffee vendor offered steaming cups.
The driver brought back two coffees in takeaway cups,
and for a short while,
we simply sat there—
sipping together in silence.
Once we finished,
the car resumed its journey.
The road grew narrower,
and the trees crept ever closer to the windows.
🕘 09:00–11:00 | Via a Pacto – Where the Forest Becomes the Road
Past Nanegalito,
we turned onto Via a Pacto.
The car rattled violently as gravel jumped beneath the tires,
and the breeze, still cool at 21°C, brushed past with quiet insistence.
Following a brown sign that pointed toward Mashpi Lodge,
we began the final climb—
a winding path paved with moss-covered stones,
each bump echoing softly under the car’s weight.
The road narrowed into the forest,
until it vanished entirely—
and there,
through the slivers between trees,
gentle sunlight began to spill in,
filtering through leaves like honey through glass.
At last,
a building emerged—
its walls made entirely of glass,
shimmering with reflections of the sun,
as if the forest had cast a spell
and turned its breath into light.
🕚 11:00–13:00 | Check-In – The Moment the Glass Door Opens
Mashpi Lodge rose before me—
a three-story sanctuary built entirely of transparent glass,
suspended between sky and forest.
I had booked the Yaku Suite on the second floor,
a stay that cost around US $1,450 per night,
including all meals and guided forest excursions.
From the lobby onward,
every inch of the twenty or so rooms
was enclosed in floor-to-ceiling glass,
creating the illusion that the forest had stepped inside
and taken up residence with you.
Depending on the tilt of the sun
and the shape of passing clouds,
the trees outside painted moving portraits
upon the walls, the ceiling, and even the floor.
As I sipped a chilled passionfruit and ginger soda,
the shadow of a dew-drenched giant papaya tree
spread across the ceiling—
not as a reflection,
but as a quiet performance of the forest itself.
🕐 13:00–15:00 | Glass-Walled Room – When the Forest Steps Inside
My room—the Yaku Suite on the second floor, about 46 square meters wide—
was wrapped from floor to ceiling in pure glass,
designed like an endless panoramic window
that invited the entire forest to stay with me.
From my bed, the silhouette of fern leaves
stretched long and delicate across the walls,
and the bathroom, crafted with stone and bamboo,
whispered a quiet, earthy elegance.
A blue butterfly fluttered against the small pane of glass,
then danced away,
while the soft murmur of birdsong slipped in
through the barely opened window and never stopped.
I hadn’t even unpacked yet—
but my eyes, my breath, and every quiet space inside me
had already surrendered
to the stillness.
🕒 15:00–17:00 | Lunch – The Forest Served on a Plate
Light streamed through walls made entirely of glass,
casting the forest’s shadows in sharp relief across the room.
The high ceiling seemed to echo the sky itself.
On my table—
crispy plantain chips,
a soup made from cassava root,
and steamed fish drizzled with lime-yuzu sauce—
each dish holding the breath of the forest in form and flavor.
The temperature was a soft 23°C,
and the clouds above, painted in vibrant blue,
seemed to shimmer with the day’s quiet brilliance.
Even before tasting, the scent had already reached me,
slipping deep into my senses—
and when I did finally take a bite,
the flavors melted into my mouth
like a memory unfolding in slow motion,
leaving behind
a vivid, lingering echo.
🕔 17:00–19:00 | First Trail – The Breath of Cucharillo Trail
Wearing rubber boots,
I stepped into the forest
with a small group of fellow travelers.
Above us,
a large bird streaked through the trees—
its wings painted in blue, yellow, and red.
Around us,
moss-covered trunks stood tall,
their bark soaked in the forest’s ever-present humidity.
The trees and earth always held moisture—
as if the rain never truly stopped.
Our guide spoke little,
but his gestures and glances told the story.
We followed him deeper into the greenery,
into what felt like a living jungle.
Then—
a pond, fed by a gentle waterfall, came into view.
Flashes clicked rapidly—
tourists raising cameras toward the cascading water.
There, through the thick trunks,
I finally saw it—
a panoramic vision of the jungle:
towering trees tightly woven together,
framing a wild, breathing cathedral of green.
Peering through my sunglasses,
I spotted flutters of color
among the branches—
birds of yellow, red, blue, and green,
each with its own shape and rhythm.
I dipped my feet into the pond,
splashed my face with the cold stream.
The water was fresh, clear,
and alive with small fish dancing beneath the surface.
I pressed the shutter again and again—
not with my hands,
but with my heart.
By the time the sky began to blush with dusk,
we were already retracing our steps,
guided once more by the silent signals
of our soft-spoken guide.
🕖 19:00–21:00 | Dinner – Candlelight, Forest, and Soft Conversations
There didn’t seem to be many guests tonight.
At each small wooden table,
a single candle stood quietly, flickering.
Beyond the glass walls—
which wrapped the entire dining space—
the forest had surrendered to darkness.
It was truly pitch black,
except for the stars and moon,
scattered above like jewels.
Surrounded by wilderness,
in the heart of the rainforest,
we were having dinner
with only a candle
to hold back the wild night.
Grilled salmon with a wild herb sauce,
and soft cassava gnocchi—
the meal was delicate,
subtle in its richness.
Outside,
fine droplets of misty rain
tapped softly on the glass ceiling,
a whisper of the jungle’s constant breath.
Conversations were quiet,
interspersed with laughter.
The air was full of gentle joy.
Our guide smiled and said,
“Tomorrow, we go deeper into the forest.”
And at that moment,
a quiet sense of anticipation bloomed inside me—
wondering what wild creatures
🕘 21:00–23:00 | On the Bed – Beneath the Shadow of Leaves, the End
I returned to my second-floor suite.
Soft exterior lights traced the frame of the glass-walled lodge,
glowing gently beneath the moonlight and starlight.
Through the transparent walls,
the silhouettes of the forest fluttered with the breeze,
as if the trees themselves were exhaling.
The temperature was a brisk, fresh 19°C.
In the air, faint notes of rosemary
mingled with the soft sweetness of orange—
a subtle perfume that drifted throughout the room.
I stepped into the stone-and-bamboo bathroom,
drawn into the cozy, earthy textures.
I filled the tub with warm water,
adding lavender bath salts
and lighting a candle beside it.
As I sank into the warmth,
a strange thrill rushed over me—
as though I were being watched by
birds asleep in the dark forest
and others wide awake,
hunting with moon-bright eyes.
Separated from the wild jungle by a single pane of glass,
I soaked in lavender-scented water,
my body slowly softening,
melting into a kind of peace I’d never known in the city.
After about thirty minutes,
I stepped out and sipped a warm cup of milk cocoa
that I had prepared earlier.
I opened a poetry book.
The book was a light collection—
a series of prose poems
that personified forest birds as if they were people,
wandering, speaking, dreaming.
As I read,
the birds I had seen earlier in the jungle
came vividly back to mind.
Before I even realized it,
my eyelids gently closed.
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