"you think i'm unkind
but people aren't the way you think they are
they can't remember all the time
what it was you wanted
. . .
you think i'm mean 'cause i call you out
you don't know what you're about
the worst part's almost over now"
In the last roughly two months of travel I have met many people, both other tourists from all different countries and local people in the countries I have traveled through. Some people I like more than others, some people I want to travel with, others I don´t, some people I am very comfortable with, others I am a little uncomfortable with, but all have been worth meeting and none have been terribly problematic. Except for one. Please excuse me while I vent.
In Pisaq, Peru, which is a small town in the Sacred Valley near Machu Picchu, I met a Venezuelan man currently living in Miami. We had lunch together and had an interesting and enjoyable time talking about life in the U.S., politics, and so on. Later, back in Cusco, Iran into the same man. We arranged to meet up for coffee later on in the evening.
While having coffee that evening, Luis met a French woman and invited me to come to her table to join the conversation. Now, before I continue, I want you, dear reader, to forget that I have mentioned this woman is French. I mention it for two reasons: because you would undoubtedly be curious and because I feel that it is important to point out that she is from a first world, western culture. Now forget that she is specifically French. I don´t want this to be a criticism of the French, as I have met many very nice French people while traveling.
Luis and close-minded, naive, childish, middle aged, new-age hippie woman, or Aelfreda as I will call her, where having a conversation about meditation or something quasi-spiritual which I therefore have no interest in. Luis had just returned from somewhere in the hills where he was taking part in rituals with some sort of hallucinogen, so he was really interested in Aelfreda´s meditation. However, as soon as I arrived, the conversation quickly changed to travel, tourism and foreigners. I didn´t talk much, so my mere presence incited this change in topic. Whoops.
Now, I have no problem with constructive criticism of the United States -- I do it all the time; however, I do have a problem with unfounded, nonconstructive, nevertheless serious criticism of the U.S. by a foreigner. Aelfreda talked about how she had finally "discovered" herself as a person, found her true love, was finally living life for herself, bla bla bla. In short, she was claiming to have figured out how to be a "good", "happy" person -- whatever that means. She then goes on to tell me that she gives every new person she meets a fair chance. She then immediately follows with "but I hate 99 % of the Americans I meet" (yes, she knows I am from the States). This doesn´t really give me good odds, does it? Her reason for hating people from the U.S. (a more correct term than "Americans" especially when traveling in South America)? One time she went on a business trip to the U.S. and a local man told her he could take her to a place to buy a big bottle of Tabasco sauce the next day. But then he forgot. That´s right, forgot, as in, she never asked again, never reminded him. That was her reason. I wish I was kidding, but I am not. There are so many good reasons to hate people from the U.S. -- that is not one of them.
I decided that arguing with this woman was futile, and even counter-productive as she would just decide to add me to the 99% of "Americans" she hated. Instead, I calmly explained that one needed to understand cultural differences. She had claimed that a European would never offer to do something and then forget. I find it hard to believe that she knows the nature of all Europeans, or even French for that matter. I explained that in the U.S., people are often more punctual than in South America and that if I didn´t understand this difference and accept it as a cultural difference, I might not like people from Latin America. Luis at this point laughed because he had indeed been an hour late to meet me for coffee. He backed me up saying he was glad to see that I had just waited and not even brought up the fact that he was late. This really didn´t seem to change Aelfreda´s mind.
She said many other things in two hours that were naive, close-minded and often contradictory. I wont bore you with more details. At the time I was talking to her, she didn´t aggravate me too much, but that night, I couldn´t fall asleep because I was so frustrated by her. The next morning too, she was all I could think about. Now, a week later, she still pops unpleasantly into my mind. It frustrates me that I am so frustrated by her. I think I am most frustrated that she believes she is something that she clearly is not. She believes she is open-minded and a productive member of society, but she will never see that she is not. Upon leaving, Luis asked if we had become friends (jokingly, as he could sense the tension). I replied that I had tried. I told Aelfreda that it was nice to meet her and left. What I wish I had said was, "I think you are childish and naive, but I know that you will never realize this and for that reason I feel very, very sorry for you". But of course then I would just be a rude "American".
Because of this experience, I am no longer even going to joke about being Canadian. I am from the United States, dammit, and if you don´t want to give me a fair chance as an individual, that is your loss.
Rothschild Giraff Breeding Center
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Thursday, April 19, 2007
News From Home
I checked in on Rula's blog, another Bonderman traveler, on Tuesday and she alluded to the Virginia tragedy, but without saying what had happened. I had a moment of panic, knowing something very bad had happened, but not knowing what. I have had the experience of knowing something very bad has happened before, but not knowing exactly what -- it is a very bad feeling.
I quickly found out via the internet, then walked around Aguas Calientes in a daze. Life went on as normal around me. Very strange. I think being gone almost makes me feel this tragedy more because I feel more connected to the States than the others around me. Perhaps it is better here though -- I am listening to CNN radio right now on the internet and they never stop talking about the shooting. I am not sure what that accomplishes. We, as a society, are obsessed with sensationalizing violence.
Mostly, I am sad for our country and for humanity. Now I am in a country where people die each day due in some way to poverty. We live in a country that is so wealthy, no one needs to die of disease, hunger or thirst. Instead we shoot each other senselessly.
My friend Elliot, put it harshly but perhaps appropriately: "Dear Psychos, If you are going to go on a murder/suicide rampage, please do the suicide part first. Thanks! Sincerely, Elliot"
You get a whole song here. Read the lyrics and think about them. It is an interesting commentary on our culture. I was not a huge Bright Eyes (oops, gave that one away) fan before leaving the country. Now I cannot listen to this song without wanting to cry.
We must talk in every telephone, get eaten off the web
We must rip out all the epilogues from the books we have read
And to the face of every criminal strapped firmly to a chair
We must stare, we must stare, we must stare.
We must take all of the medicines too expensive now to sell
Set fire to the preacher who is promising us hell
And in the ear of every anarchist that sleeps but doesn't dream
We must sing, we must sing, we must sing.
And it'll go like this
While my mother waters plants my father loads his gun.
He says, "Death will give us back to God,
just like the setting sun is returned to the lonesome ocean."
And then they splashed into the deep blue sea.
It was a wonderful splash.
We must blend into the choir, sing as static with the whole,
We must memorize nine numbers and deny we have a soul,
And to this endless race for property and privilege to be won
We must run, we must run, we must run.
We must hang up in the belfry where the bats in moonlight laugh
We must stare into a crystal ball and only see the past
And in the caverns of tomorrow with our flashlights and our love
We must plunge, we must plunge, we must plunge.
And then we'll get down there,
way down to the very bottom of everything
and then we'll see it, oh we'll see it, we'll see it, we'll see it.
Oh my morning's coming back
The whole world's waking up
Oh the city bus is swimming past.
I'm happy just because I found out I am really no one.
I quickly found out via the internet, then walked around Aguas Calientes in a daze. Life went on as normal around me. Very strange. I think being gone almost makes me feel this tragedy more because I feel more connected to the States than the others around me. Perhaps it is better here though -- I am listening to CNN radio right now on the internet and they never stop talking about the shooting. I am not sure what that accomplishes. We, as a society, are obsessed with sensationalizing violence.
Mostly, I am sad for our country and for humanity. Now I am in a country where people die each day due in some way to poverty. We live in a country that is so wealthy, no one needs to die of disease, hunger or thirst. Instead we shoot each other senselessly.
My friend Elliot, put it harshly but perhaps appropriately: "Dear Psychos, If you are going to go on a murder/suicide rampage, please do the suicide part first. Thanks! Sincerely, Elliot"
You get a whole song here. Read the lyrics and think about them. It is an interesting commentary on our culture. I was not a huge Bright Eyes (oops, gave that one away) fan before leaving the country. Now I cannot listen to this song without wanting to cry.
We must talk in every telephone, get eaten off the web
We must rip out all the epilogues from the books we have read
And to the face of every criminal strapped firmly to a chair
We must stare, we must stare, we must stare.
We must take all of the medicines too expensive now to sell
Set fire to the preacher who is promising us hell
And in the ear of every anarchist that sleeps but doesn't dream
We must sing, we must sing, we must sing.
And it'll go like this
While my mother waters plants my father loads his gun.
He says, "Death will give us back to God,
just like the setting sun is returned to the lonesome ocean."
And then they splashed into the deep blue sea.
It was a wonderful splash.
We must blend into the choir, sing as static with the whole,
We must memorize nine numbers and deny we have a soul,
And to this endless race for property and privilege to be won
We must run, we must run, we must run.
We must hang up in the belfry where the bats in moonlight laugh
We must stare into a crystal ball and only see the past
And in the caverns of tomorrow with our flashlights and our love
We must plunge, we must plunge, we must plunge.
And then we'll get down there,
way down to the very bottom of everything
and then we'll see it, oh we'll see it, we'll see it, we'll see it.
Oh my morning's coming back
The whole world's waking up
Oh the city bus is swimming past.
I'm happy just because I found out I am really no one.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Northern Peru: of Mud and Buses
"packs of dogs and cigarrettes
for those who aint done packing yet
my clothes are packed and I want to go
Idaho, Idaho"
Just before I left the Galapagos, I began to plan my route to Lima. If you are thinking, wow, there is a lot of land between any place in Ecuador and Lima, you are correct. And I am a poor planner. I knew that I would have some long days on a bus, but I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I could have been smart and taken a fancy long distance bus from Guayaquil or Cuenca, Ecuador to Lima, or better yet a plane, but there is so much I would miss! So I set out on (relatively) short buses. First I went to Cuenca, a beautiful Spanish colonial town in the south of Ecuador. Then I easily crossed the boarder into Peru and was dropped off in a town called Tumbes. I quickly discovered over the next half week that most towns in Peru do not have a central bus station. Considering I would be taking many buses, changing buses and companies frequently, this was a VERY BAD THING. Not only was it difficult to find the next company I needed (inevitably the bus company I had just used did not go to the next town I wanted to go to), but it was equally impossible to figure out where I had been dropped off. In Tumbes, I was intentionally (I assume) told the wrong direction to the next bus station by a cab driver, who then proceeded to follow me and repeatedly ask me if I wanted a taxi. Eventually another man on the street took pity on me, told me I was indeed going the wrong way, and offered to walk with me to the correct station. In Chiclayo, I broke down and got a hotel room just for the day, because I arrived at 5:30am and didn´t leave again until 7:45pm. I finally made it to Chachapoyas, after what I believe to be 2.5 days of travel, though I lost track. Apparently I slept through a 1 hour mud slide delay as well. It was worth it though, as Chachapoyas is pretty far off the beaten path. My new friend Jo and I spent a great morning at Kuelap, the largest stone structure in South America which was built by a pre-Incan society, without another soul in sight.
I then spent another day and a half traveling to my next destination, Huaraz, which is a nice mountain town in the Cordillera Blanca. This trip wouldn’t have been so bad had I not made such bad decisions. (Maggie, I definitely should have listened to you and just taken the night bus). I decided instead of spending another full day in Chiclayo, I would continue on to Chimbote and see if there was a different bus to Huaraz. I knew there were two roads to Huaraz, but failed to pay attention to the fact that one road is much, much worse than the other. Inevitably I ended up on the very bad road in a very bad bus. I now know what sleep deprivation as torture feels like. I had not slept all day, as I was stuck in a bus station, which is not really a safe place to fall asleep. I was counting on sleeping all night on the bus ride, however, the bus was tiny, crowded and unbelievably hot. I was in the back row of seats, right in the middle, with a guy sitting in the aisle practically sleeping in my lap. My eyes, and for that matter the rest of my body, hurt so bad from sheer exhaustion, but I was so uncomfortable and the road was so rough, I swear I might have died before actually being able to fall asleep. It reminded me of those experiments done on cats where the cat is forced to stand on a narrow beam above water and the scientists waits to see how long the cat can stay awake before it finally falls asleep and falls into the water.
Finally the bus stopped. But then I realized it was 2am and pitch dark. We weren´t supposed to get into town until 5am. Some people got off the bus to see what was happening. I could not possibly care at that point. When enough people got out of the back row, I laid down and fell asleep. I woke 5 hours later to see we still hadn´t moved. At this point, I finally had the energy to get off the bus and find out what was happening. I found one large truck stuck in the muddy road and lines of vehicles lining up behind it both ways. This was a one lane dirt road, definitely no getting around this truck. Despite the fact that there were now over 100 people standing around, many of them able-bodied Peruvian men, I was singled out and several people shouted at me, “Gringa, ayuda!”. I spent the next two hours unloading cargo from the stuck truck and loading up the other truck that would pull the stuck truck. Two hours, 50 long metal poles, 20 bags of potatoes that weighed more than I did and two burned out engines later, we managed to move the truck. We made it to Huaraz at 11am, only 6 hours late. I´ve heard of worse.
Huaraz was worth the horrendous bus ride though. It was more touristy than a lot of places I had been recently, but not in a bad way. It was comfortable – I was able to find good food, good coffee, a good hostel (despite getting locked out one night and being rescued by a Peruvian girl at a bar who happened to work at a second hostel and let me stay there for free after calling ahead to be sure that there would be someone there to let me in), and some new friends that I would be able to reconnect with in Lima. I went rock climbing one afternoon, which was pretty much the most frightening thing I have ever done as I had never climbed that far and my guide spoke no English. My camera, unfortunately, became a casualty of that climb. I also went to some great ancient tunnels – an absolutely astounding archatectual feat for an ancient culture.
I realized after a couple of days in Huaraz, that the area was receiving an unusal amount of rain for this time of year, which was contributing to things like the mud slide I had encountered. They just do not have the capability to maintain roads in weather like this, they (myself included) are at the mercy of the rain. Unlike some of the smaller towns I had been through, Huaraz shows the income gap more clearly. I was there during semana santa (holy week) so there were many Peruvian tourists. I saw more wealthy people, nice restaurants and more expensive cars than else where, but I also saw many despiritely poor people. While driving to Chavin, the underground ruins, we saw many children begging along the road. These children obviously knew where the tourists (both national and international) would come. Our guide stopped for none of them. However, on the return trip, we ran into a mud slide. Two boys, who could not have been older than 12, were just finishing clearing it for us. Our guide did stop to let us give these boys money. I tried to imagine this situation in the States, but could only imagine that this might happen in a rural community where older, stronger boys might do this out of curtosy and not because they were starving.
I apologize for leaving this on a down note, but being right in the middle of some of the problems that face these communities has really got me thinking and reflecting. Perhaps the most interesting, confusing part is knowing that I am often a phone call or credit card away from escaping these problems should they become really unbearable.
for those who aint done packing yet
my clothes are packed and I want to go
Idaho, Idaho"
Just before I left the Galapagos, I began to plan my route to Lima. If you are thinking, wow, there is a lot of land between any place in Ecuador and Lima, you are correct. And I am a poor planner. I knew that I would have some long days on a bus, but I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I could have been smart and taken a fancy long distance bus from Guayaquil or Cuenca, Ecuador to Lima, or better yet a plane, but there is so much I would miss! So I set out on (relatively) short buses. First I went to Cuenca, a beautiful Spanish colonial town in the south of Ecuador. Then I easily crossed the boarder into Peru and was dropped off in a town called Tumbes. I quickly discovered over the next half week that most towns in Peru do not have a central bus station. Considering I would be taking many buses, changing buses and companies frequently, this was a VERY BAD THING. Not only was it difficult to find the next company I needed (inevitably the bus company I had just used did not go to the next town I wanted to go to), but it was equally impossible to figure out where I had been dropped off. In Tumbes, I was intentionally (I assume) told the wrong direction to the next bus station by a cab driver, who then proceeded to follow me and repeatedly ask me if I wanted a taxi. Eventually another man on the street took pity on me, told me I was indeed going the wrong way, and offered to walk with me to the correct station. In Chiclayo, I broke down and got a hotel room just for the day, because I arrived at 5:30am and didn´t leave again until 7:45pm. I finally made it to Chachapoyas, after what I believe to be 2.5 days of travel, though I lost track. Apparently I slept through a 1 hour mud slide delay as well. It was worth it though, as Chachapoyas is pretty far off the beaten path. My new friend Jo and I spent a great morning at Kuelap, the largest stone structure in South America which was built by a pre-Incan society, without another soul in sight.
I then spent another day and a half traveling to my next destination, Huaraz, which is a nice mountain town in the Cordillera Blanca. This trip wouldn’t have been so bad had I not made such bad decisions. (Maggie, I definitely should have listened to you and just taken the night bus). I decided instead of spending another full day in Chiclayo, I would continue on to Chimbote and see if there was a different bus to Huaraz. I knew there were two roads to Huaraz, but failed to pay attention to the fact that one road is much, much worse than the other. Inevitably I ended up on the very bad road in a very bad bus. I now know what sleep deprivation as torture feels like. I had not slept all day, as I was stuck in a bus station, which is not really a safe place to fall asleep. I was counting on sleeping all night on the bus ride, however, the bus was tiny, crowded and unbelievably hot. I was in the back row of seats, right in the middle, with a guy sitting in the aisle practically sleeping in my lap. My eyes, and for that matter the rest of my body, hurt so bad from sheer exhaustion, but I was so uncomfortable and the road was so rough, I swear I might have died before actually being able to fall asleep. It reminded me of those experiments done on cats where the cat is forced to stand on a narrow beam above water and the scientists waits to see how long the cat can stay awake before it finally falls asleep and falls into the water.
Finally the bus stopped. But then I realized it was 2am and pitch dark. We weren´t supposed to get into town until 5am. Some people got off the bus to see what was happening. I could not possibly care at that point. When enough people got out of the back row, I laid down and fell asleep. I woke 5 hours later to see we still hadn´t moved. At this point, I finally had the energy to get off the bus and find out what was happening. I found one large truck stuck in the muddy road and lines of vehicles lining up behind it both ways. This was a one lane dirt road, definitely no getting around this truck. Despite the fact that there were now over 100 people standing around, many of them able-bodied Peruvian men, I was singled out and several people shouted at me, “Gringa, ayuda!”. I spent the next two hours unloading cargo from the stuck truck and loading up the other truck that would pull the stuck truck. Two hours, 50 long metal poles, 20 bags of potatoes that weighed more than I did and two burned out engines later, we managed to move the truck. We made it to Huaraz at 11am, only 6 hours late. I´ve heard of worse.
Huaraz was worth the horrendous bus ride though. It was more touristy than a lot of places I had been recently, but not in a bad way. It was comfortable – I was able to find good food, good coffee, a good hostel (despite getting locked out one night and being rescued by a Peruvian girl at a bar who happened to work at a second hostel and let me stay there for free after calling ahead to be sure that there would be someone there to let me in), and some new friends that I would be able to reconnect with in Lima. I went rock climbing one afternoon, which was pretty much the most frightening thing I have ever done as I had never climbed that far and my guide spoke no English. My camera, unfortunately, became a casualty of that climb. I also went to some great ancient tunnels – an absolutely astounding archatectual feat for an ancient culture.
I realized after a couple of days in Huaraz, that the area was receiving an unusal amount of rain for this time of year, which was contributing to things like the mud slide I had encountered. They just do not have the capability to maintain roads in weather like this, they (myself included) are at the mercy of the rain. Unlike some of the smaller towns I had been through, Huaraz shows the income gap more clearly. I was there during semana santa (holy week) so there were many Peruvian tourists. I saw more wealthy people, nice restaurants and more expensive cars than else where, but I also saw many despiritely poor people. While driving to Chavin, the underground ruins, we saw many children begging along the road. These children obviously knew where the tourists (both national and international) would come. Our guide stopped for none of them. However, on the return trip, we ran into a mud slide. Two boys, who could not have been older than 12, were just finishing clearing it for us. Our guide did stop to let us give these boys money. I tried to imagine this situation in the States, but could only imagine that this might happen in a rural community where older, stronger boys might do this out of curtosy and not because they were starving.
I apologize for leaving this on a down note, but being right in the middle of some of the problems that face these communities has really got me thinking and reflecting. Perhaps the most interesting, confusing part is knowing that I am often a phone call or credit card away from escaping these problems should they become really unbearable.
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
The Galapagos Islands
"Cause institution's like a big bright lie
And it blinds you into fear and consuming and fight
And you've been in the desert underneath the charging sky
It's just you and God
But what if God's not there?
But his name is on your dollar bill
Which just became cab fare"
I spent a week in the Galapagos Islands -- home of Darwin's theory of Evolution. Home to a great deal of what I studied for many years at UW. It was extremely thought provoking for me.
At first I debated whether I wanted to go out to the islands, because to see them properly requires quite a lot of money. I certainly have enough to afford the trip, I am just trying not to spend too much too soon or too much in one place. Nevertheless, the trip was absolutely worth it.
It all happened in a bit of a whirlwind at first, as I realized I needed to get moving through Ecuador and on to my next country. From the orphanage outside of Manta, I took a bus to Guayaquil. Guayaquil, at 2 million people, is the largest city in Ecuador and therefore quite different than the areas I had been in for the last week and a half. I was only there for one afternoon and night and managed to book a flight to the Galapagos the next morning. Things continued to work out from there, as I managed to snag a discounted last spot aboard a cruise around the northern islands for four days and three nights. I was able to visit the islands of Rabida, Bartolome, Seymoar, and Tortuga Negra Bay back on Santa Cruz. I saw amazing volcanic formations, great frigates, loads of finches -- all with specially adapted beaks -- sea lions, fur seals, sally light foot crabs, and of course the infamous blue footed boobies. I was also able to do loads of snorkeling (and I have the sun burn to prove it, despite swimming with a t-shirt on). While snorkeling I saw many amazing fish, sting rays, turtles, penguins, sea lions, and white tipped reef sharks! I felt that I spent just about the right amount of time on the cruise. Not only was the sun winning in my perpetual fight against it, but my guide was getting a little too friendly as well. Mostly, I began to feel isolated on the boat, because most people had come in pairs and because I really feel that being in the Galapagos brought out the academic side of me that only some people appreciate.
Often, I am a very adaptable, personable person. I get along with lots of different people and make at least casual friends easily. Other times, however, I fall into an awkward, inescapable part of my personality and therefore feel somewhat isolated from the people I am around. This part of my personality most often manifests itself as “overly serious nerd” or, more specifically, “overly serious science nerd”. For example, while undertaking a particularly arduous hike down a very steep, large hill in the Andes of Peru, I told the other girl I was hiking with about having pet beta fish in my neuroendocrinology lab at UW. I explained that we named the fish after chemical compounds and wrote the names and symbols on index cards under their bowls. When they died, we kept their cards on the wall with their date of birth (purchase) and date of death. This explanation was followed by a brief moment of silence on the part of my companion, followed by a comment to the effect of “wow, you are a nerd.” This was not a problem though -- we were the only people for miles around. She was stuck with me until we returned to town and she had already purchased a bus ticket with me for that night. Insert evil laugh on my part here. In contrast, there were enough other people on board the boat in the Galapagos that I couldn´t really get away with forcing myself on people. Me, being in my Galapagos-induced state of bewildered awe, forgot that not everyone wants to know, for example, that a fur seal is not actually a true seal (i.e. within the phocide family) but is in fact in the otaride family along with sea lions. The problem is, I forget that some of the knowledge I enjoy so much is in fact rather esoteric. So instead of just sounding really excited, I sound pretentious.
Once off the boat, I felt more comfortable reveling in my nerdiness by myself. Although I slept less comfortably as I was trying to save money on the expensive islands and agreed to stay at the apartment of the guy at the tour agency who set me up with my cruise. He was very kind, unassuming and didn´t ask for anything in exchange. He just wanted to make sure I enjoyed my self while on Santa Cruz. The day after I got back to the main island, I undertook what has remained my most proud achievement thus far on the trip. I went scuba diving at Gordon Rocks. For those of you who have not been diving in the Galapagos, this will mean little. To those that have, this will mean intense jealousy! I, myself, didn´t really realize what Gordon Rocks entailed until it was too late to turn back and didn´t get the full picture until after I had completed the dives.
Gordon Rocks is an underwater volcanic crater that is considered one of the best dive sites in the Galapagos. It is the best place to have a chance at seeing hammerhead sharks. It is also a site for advanced divers only, due to it´s strong currents. My dive guide figured out I only had four dives, but decided that since I had learned in the Puget Sound, I would be fine. We did an initial "test dive" in which my mask leaked a lot, so I felt pretty apprehensive, but tried to pretend everything was under control. My dive guide bought my acting, but also gave me a better mask before the first real dive. The dives went spectacularly! Though I didn´t see any hammerheads, I did see lots of fish, turtles and a GIANT sting ray. I could definitely feel the currents, but didn´t have a problem with them. The problem with the currents there is not that they are difficult to swim against in a linear fashion, but that they can sweep you up or down quite quickly, changing your buoyancy dangerously. I was so proud of myself for the rest of the day!
During my last two days at the island, I ran into a few friends I had made in Latacunga -- Brian the Canadian and Lisa and Fanny, two of the girls from Holland. Brian was going diving the next day and told me that he wanted to dive at Gordon Rocks, but the company he was using wouldn´t let people with fewer than 25 dives go! Was what I did a little stupid in hindsight? Yes. Was I still ridiculously proud? Yes! We celebrated my last night on the islands that evening with my original group of friends, some new people they had met on a cruise, two Swedish boys from my cruise, and a German guy I had met on Santa Cruz. The Swedes succeeded in getting into a fist fight with a local drunk guy, but they didn´t really start it and luckily the bartenders realized this. Exciting, but sad in a way because we Gringo (or at least Gringo-appearing) tourists are always stirring things up whether we mean to or not.
I left the Galapagos a day early, only because I have so many more places to go and people to see. I was and still am filled with the awe of witnessing text book examples of evolution and I continue to philosophize, for fun, about evolution, education, religion, god, my place in the world. And my cab fare leaving the island was indeed one U.S. dollar and god´s name was on that dollar bill.
And it blinds you into fear and consuming and fight
And you've been in the desert underneath the charging sky
It's just you and God
But what if God's not there?
But his name is on your dollar bill
Which just became cab fare"
I spent a week in the Galapagos Islands -- home of Darwin's theory of Evolution. Home to a great deal of what I studied for many years at UW. It was extremely thought provoking for me.
At first I debated whether I wanted to go out to the islands, because to see them properly requires quite a lot of money. I certainly have enough to afford the trip, I am just trying not to spend too much too soon or too much in one place. Nevertheless, the trip was absolutely worth it.
It all happened in a bit of a whirlwind at first, as I realized I needed to get moving through Ecuador and on to my next country. From the orphanage outside of Manta, I took a bus to Guayaquil. Guayaquil, at 2 million people, is the largest city in Ecuador and therefore quite different than the areas I had been in for the last week and a half. I was only there for one afternoon and night and managed to book a flight to the Galapagos the next morning. Things continued to work out from there, as I managed to snag a discounted last spot aboard a cruise around the northern islands for four days and three nights. I was able to visit the islands of Rabida, Bartolome, Seymoar, and Tortuga Negra Bay back on Santa Cruz. I saw amazing volcanic formations, great frigates, loads of finches -- all with specially adapted beaks -- sea lions, fur seals, sally light foot crabs, and of course the infamous blue footed boobies. I was also able to do loads of snorkeling (and I have the sun burn to prove it, despite swimming with a t-shirt on). While snorkeling I saw many amazing fish, sting rays, turtles, penguins, sea lions, and white tipped reef sharks! I felt that I spent just about the right amount of time on the cruise. Not only was the sun winning in my perpetual fight against it, but my guide was getting a little too friendly as well. Mostly, I began to feel isolated on the boat, because most people had come in pairs and because I really feel that being in the Galapagos brought out the academic side of me that only some people appreciate.
Often, I am a very adaptable, personable person. I get along with lots of different people and make at least casual friends easily. Other times, however, I fall into an awkward, inescapable part of my personality and therefore feel somewhat isolated from the people I am around. This part of my personality most often manifests itself as “overly serious nerd” or, more specifically, “overly serious science nerd”. For example, while undertaking a particularly arduous hike down a very steep, large hill in the Andes of Peru, I told the other girl I was hiking with about having pet beta fish in my neuroendocrinology lab at UW. I explained that we named the fish after chemical compounds and wrote the names and symbols on index cards under their bowls. When they died, we kept their cards on the wall with their date of birth (purchase) and date of death. This explanation was followed by a brief moment of silence on the part of my companion, followed by a comment to the effect of “wow, you are a nerd.” This was not a problem though -- we were the only people for miles around. She was stuck with me until we returned to town and she had already purchased a bus ticket with me for that night. Insert evil laugh on my part here. In contrast, there were enough other people on board the boat in the Galapagos that I couldn´t really get away with forcing myself on people. Me, being in my Galapagos-induced state of bewildered awe, forgot that not everyone wants to know, for example, that a fur seal is not actually a true seal (i.e. within the phocide family) but is in fact in the otaride family along with sea lions. The problem is, I forget that some of the knowledge I enjoy so much is in fact rather esoteric. So instead of just sounding really excited, I sound pretentious.
Once off the boat, I felt more comfortable reveling in my nerdiness by myself. Although I slept less comfortably as I was trying to save money on the expensive islands and agreed to stay at the apartment of the guy at the tour agency who set me up with my cruise. He was very kind, unassuming and didn´t ask for anything in exchange. He just wanted to make sure I enjoyed my self while on Santa Cruz. The day after I got back to the main island, I undertook what has remained my most proud achievement thus far on the trip. I went scuba diving at Gordon Rocks. For those of you who have not been diving in the Galapagos, this will mean little. To those that have, this will mean intense jealousy! I, myself, didn´t really realize what Gordon Rocks entailed until it was too late to turn back and didn´t get the full picture until after I had completed the dives.
Gordon Rocks is an underwater volcanic crater that is considered one of the best dive sites in the Galapagos. It is the best place to have a chance at seeing hammerhead sharks. It is also a site for advanced divers only, due to it´s strong currents. My dive guide figured out I only had four dives, but decided that since I had learned in the Puget Sound, I would be fine. We did an initial "test dive" in which my mask leaked a lot, so I felt pretty apprehensive, but tried to pretend everything was under control. My dive guide bought my acting, but also gave me a better mask before the first real dive. The dives went spectacularly! Though I didn´t see any hammerheads, I did see lots of fish, turtles and a GIANT sting ray. I could definitely feel the currents, but didn´t have a problem with them. The problem with the currents there is not that they are difficult to swim against in a linear fashion, but that they can sweep you up or down quite quickly, changing your buoyancy dangerously. I was so proud of myself for the rest of the day!
During my last two days at the island, I ran into a few friends I had made in Latacunga -- Brian the Canadian and Lisa and Fanny, two of the girls from Holland. Brian was going diving the next day and told me that he wanted to dive at Gordon Rocks, but the company he was using wouldn´t let people with fewer than 25 dives go! Was what I did a little stupid in hindsight? Yes. Was I still ridiculously proud? Yes! We celebrated my last night on the islands that evening with my original group of friends, some new people they had met on a cruise, two Swedish boys from my cruise, and a German guy I had met on Santa Cruz. The Swedes succeeded in getting into a fist fight with a local drunk guy, but they didn´t really start it and luckily the bartenders realized this. Exciting, but sad in a way because we Gringo (or at least Gringo-appearing) tourists are always stirring things up whether we mean to or not.
I left the Galapagos a day early, only because I have so many more places to go and people to see. I was and still am filled with the awe of witnessing text book examples of evolution and I continue to philosophize, for fun, about evolution, education, religion, god, my place in the world. And my cab fare leaving the island was indeed one U.S. dollar and god´s name was on that dollar bill.
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