Dar-Won Over

The first rule of thumb when traveling in a foreign country is to always book the first night´s hotel in advance so you have a purpose for being there - finding your room. The second rule is to read the chapter on said foreign country in the FootPrint Guide my Auntie Gayle gave me at Christmas. And the third rule is to always have enough money for instances when, for example, one might need $100 cash to pay for the entrance fee to the Galapagos Islands at an airport with no ATMs. But all of the above requires some degree of planning, something after only two months I´m tired of doing.

So I just bought a ticket from Quito to the Galapagos Islands and decided to wing it when I got there, finally reading the aforementioned chapter on the islands in the airport and boarding the plane last after reading that all-important chapter on ATMs and national park entrance fees. I knew things were going to be all right when, after I´d settled into my seat, the flight attendant paged me and the pilot, a friend of my Uncle George, came out to greet me and make sure I had enough ice in my Sprite. Oh, j´adore Ecuador!

Showing up here on these remote isolas off the Pacific Coast of Ecuador was really half the battle. A single lady with fab knees, traveling alone, looking for a snorkle cruise at the last minute? Discount! Finding a place to stay on the main island while waiting for first-class boat to arrive? Discount! Arriving on board and getting my own cabin when everyone else on board had to share?

My id is on fire, people.

For seven days I cruised with a boat full of 30-somethings, Dutch, German, Brazillian, English and one other American ´performance artist´ named Trek Thunder Kelly. Perhaps you may remember him if you paid attention to the 2003 California gubernatorial race, in which a man spent $20,000 changing his wardrobe to a shade of deep blue ran on a platform of legalizing prostitution. Anyway, we ate a lot of overcooked tuna together and talked about his latest project - he´s in the first of a 3-year journey to write a book about loneliness, and has sworn off drinking, sex and communication with the outside world. I know where he is, and his mom doesn´t. He will spend the next year living in the American Southwest desert, staring at a rock and meditating. In two more years, he promised to add everyone as Facebook friends.

While Trek Thunder Kelly was weird, at least he had some sparkle. Eight of the 16 on board were lawyers. I have tried to think of a joke about this, and alas it just wasn´t all that funny. Correction: they weren´t terribly funny. However, I am accepting jokes about lawyers on a blue-footed booby-watching cruise, and promise to post them on the blog.

I realized I am not particularly a boat person. It´s all that rocking back and forth. And water. Water, water everywhere. Geez, everytime we had to get off the boat, we had to go on a littler one, in the water. And when we came back from the island tours... it all became so obvious. Even when we walked off the boat, we all swayed around like we were drunk in unison - it´s no wonder the animals of the Galapagos aren´t scared of human beings. We were all happy drunks, snapping photos like the ridiculous tourists we were, giggling at the baby sea lions and creeping around the lizards in a Kodak stupor.

The animals, for the most part, obliged, patiently waiting for the flash to come on or the focus to zoom like the little National Geographic covergirls they are. Huge turtles, fat albatrosses, seals, sea lions, iguanas, snakes... you want to pose with a pre-historic, jumbo-sized reptile on the brink of extinction for this year´s Christmas card cover? No problem. Just tilt your head to the left a bit more, by that yellow dragon, please.

We snorkled every day, in freezing cold water, swimming with giant sea turtles lunching on algae in seabeds full of aquamascenery. I just made that word up. Oh yeah, I saw a shark! We had dolphins following our boat, and stalked a humpback whale and her baby en route to the equator line, which was supposed to be a big deal, but it turns out it was just a bunch of 0s on the captain´s computer screen and more vomit-inducing sway action on a windy night. I was hoping for more drama on the boat, besides who had the best seasickness pills. Nobody had to walk the plank, and there weren´t any pirates. There was no mutiny on the bounty. We didn´t get swallowed by a whale.

I had wanted all of those things, but when you´re on a blue-footed boobie boat tour full of lawyers... yeah, still got nothing.

I had such a fun time, I decided to extend my stay in the Galapagos by a week, staying in the only real town here, Puerto Ayora. I feel like I live here now. I know the DJ at Bongo, the only dance club. Javier and I talk about the virtues of Pitbull and all he´s done for Latin hip hop. I make the hike to Tortuga Bay in the afternoons if it´s sunny, being careful not to step on all the lizards and iguanas soaking up the sun. In short, it´s a rough life. But as our nature guide on the boat told us, these Galapagos creatures live so long because they know how to conserve energy, only hunting or moving around when absolutely necessary.

I have embraced this theory of energy conservation and I feel all Darwinian and stuff about my survival. Which is why I eat homemade ice cream and fresh ceviche every day. I recommend you do the same. It does great things for your id.

Sand, surf and sea turtles

I have decided to start working for the Belize tourism office. Not only did one week snorkeling in the azure waters of the caribbean do wonders for my peace of mind and spirit, but I also have shinier fingernails and better skin!

I took an early bus out of the jungle and headed for the land of white sandy beaches and coconut rum. When I arrived in Caye Caulker, a band of friendly ´rastitutes´ were on the welcome wagon. For those who aren´t familiar, a ´rastitute´ is a cross between a Rasta guy (Bob Marley obviously being the most famous) and a prostitute. According to the middle-aged guy from New Jersey selling fried shrimp on his hibachi by the beach, rastitutes love white women because we´re independent and we have more money.



Hence, the entire week was very good for my ego. Because my mother is reading this email, I will not go into detail about the, um, compliments I received, but let´s just say these gentleman were the most creative with their metaphors than any others I have encountered.

I spent my days mostly soaking up the sun and swimming with the fishes. I went on two snorkeling tours of Belize´s impressive and protected reef. Snorkeling in Hawaii is fun, but snorkeling with moray eels, parrotfish, sharks, sting rays and a sea cow - also known as a manatee – is way cooler. And I am very happy to announce I swam with 3 – YES 3! - sea turtles in Belize. I was so excited to see them that I chased them around the reserve until the boat yelled at me to come back in.

At night it´s easy to eat like a king in Belize – I had massive crab legs, lobster and lots of aforementioned coconut rum. In fact, maybe too much one night. I had what you might call an intestinal malfunction one day and had to stay indoors with Michael Phelps until everything, er, flushed out of my system. Not exactly the best day of my life, but I could think of worse places to get sick than on a chilled-out Caribbean cove with a sea breeze and reggae wafting through the window in equal measure.

I had only planned to stay for a couple of days and ended up in Belize for a full week. I felt so calm and happy and relaxed that I made a bad decision. I decided to leave.

Realizing I only had a few days left on my trip, and considering the promise I made to myself to visit the baby sea turtle refugee camp on Guatemala´s Pacific coast, I booked a bus back to Flores and an overnighter back to Guatemala City.

I knew leaving the island was a mistake when I got off the ferry in Belize City and missed my first bus connection because it was overbooked. Belize City is hot, dingy and industrial and not the safest place in the world to hang out on your own. I got bumped to the next bus coming from Mexico and had to wait 4 hours while the Rasta dude - hired by the bus company to handle our luggage - kept giving me hugs and calling me Susan.



When the bus did arrive, it had befallen some hard times north of the border. A boulder had hit the glass windshield of this old converted American school bus – and I mean old, like one foot in the grave – knocking out the window on the passenger side. Luckily, the window was still intact on the driver´s side. Therefore, it was deemed drivable.

But there we were, a group of gringo vagabonds, driving a dilapidated dinosaur back through the jungle for 6 laborious hours in what has become a rather dangerous part of Guatemala, wind whizzing through the gaping hole in the front of the bus and smacking my face with unsuspecting insects. The extra air conditioning was okay at first when it was still daylight. But as soon as night fell, it got cold and billowy in all the wrong ways.

I would now like to take this opportunity to thank my sister, Jana, for sending me a link to an article about an American man who was hacked to death with a machete in front of his wife by four banditos while vacationing on the Guatemalan border with Belize. The details of that story were not lost on me whilst on the most pathetic bus in recorded history lumbering through the lonely jungle to civilization.

Yes, ladies and gentleman, Guatemala is a dangerous place. There are muggings, rapes and kidnappings everyday. Most Guatemalan people live in abject poverty and act out of desperation to improve their station in life. But may I remind you there are muggings, rapes and kidnappings every day in the United States, in Canada, in England, in what we consider our superior Western World.

I encourage you to not let fear dictate how or where you travel or how you fundamentally live your life. Fear is the scrouge of our society. And I refuse to make decisions based on the fearmongerers who probably have a vested interest in seeing my treasured vacation dollars be spent in my own backyard.

Still, I slept with my wallet and passport under my clothes on the nightbus back to Guatemala City. You know, you have to be prepared and stuff…

24 hours after I left the Caribbean, I arrived in Monterrico, a tiny coastal village on Guatemala´s Paific side with black sand, a strong riptide and tortugas – TURTLES! At last, I made it and none too soon – the turtle refugee camp was having a turtle watching trek that very evening for volunteers.

So after night fell, I marched along with young university marine life students down the windy beach, with eyes glued to the surf, looking for these ancient shelled tortugas to make the arduous climb from the surf up the embankment to dig a nest, drop the eggs and haul it back into the ocean.

We walked. We walked. We walked.

For an hour and a half we walked. And nothing. No turtles. Usually only 4 or 5 come up to lay their eggs per night anyway, so the odds were stacked against us.

But then – hark! – a cell phone call confirmed a turtle was down by Johnny´s bar digging her nest. Johnny´s bar was precisely where we started our journey down the beach…

So we ran. We ran. We ran.

And at last! I saw this beautiful mama turtle laying her eggs, which were promptly swept up by the volunteers for safe incubating at the center. A small crowd of turtle lovers mixed with a larger group of pretty much drunk Guatemalan teenagers who came to Monterrico to flirt. Why this turtle decided to lay her eggs in front of a crowded bar playing really annoying house music is beyond me, but turtles work in mysterious ways.

So all missions were accomplished in Central America. I´m flying home on Wednesday to somewhat sad circumstances – on Saturday, mom informed me that our beloved blond cocker spaniel, Sugar, had died. She was 16, I think. She was my favorite pet in the whole world – way better than any turtle – and I´m very sad to know she won´t be waggling her stumpy tail when I arrive home next. But she had a good life with our family – in one especially melodramatic moment, dad even called her ´the only daughter that never left me´. Indeed, she was faithful to the end. And I will miss her endlessly.