Barefoot and Borderless

The cool metal grate was digging in to my bare toes, heels balancing over a seemingly bottomless gorge. Heart pounding so loud I could barely hear the words shouted at me, a blustery wind whipping the encouraging words away from the man's mouth.
He was telling me to relax, to lean back, to jump. But the silvery ribbon of rushing rapids hundreds of meters below had locked every muscle in my body in place, and my toes were gripping the edge of the bridge for dear life, because, that's all that I had left to hold on to.
How did I end up here?
It started half of a year ago, while I was scrolling through pictures of the lush jungle on Volunteer Eco Students Abroad's website. I clicked the seemingly harmless “apply” button and was launched on a crazy trail of endless vaccinations and swearing blood oaths to doctors that, under no circumstances, would I swim, consume, cook with or even TOUCH any of the local water in Ecuador.
A couple of flights and generally losing touch with what time zone I was in later and I found myself waking to the sound of chickens calling to one another and insects humming in the early-morning humidity at a hostel in Tena, Ecuador.
What followed was three-weeks packed full of hiking, swimming in shady lagoons, learning to salsa after sunset, shampooing my hair in muddy swollen rivers, eating peppers so hot that I lost the ability to taste anything for days, playing soccer with the locals and sipping beer while floating down rivers in large inner tubes.
The last day of adventures I had with new friends found us in Baños, a town of pulled taffy and cobbled streets high in the Andes mountains. Giddy with nerves we signed up for Puenting, a sport similar to Bungee Jumping but with the intent to swing instead of bounce.
When it was my turn the harness was tightened around my legs and arms, and I stepped barefoot up to the edge, intending to dive backwards into the abyss.
But when I got there the small amount of courage I had scrounged together failed and I was frozen and whimpering, heels jutting out over the edge. The wind whipped at my face and the harness holding me suddenly seemed frail and worn.
The man who had bucked me in called my name again and I locked eyes with him, terror making me wild. He smiled such a warm, crinkly and confident smile that said, despite everything screaming for me to not, to "trust him."
And I must have, even just for half of a second. Because I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and, somehow, jumped.