It's muggy, but the breeze makes it rather pleasant during both the overcast mornings and the clear, sunny afternoons. The river stretches as wide as the Columbia on either side of the boat I've spent the last three days on.
My Amazon adventure began on Saturday - no, before that. Thursday I flew from Bogota to Leticia, and my time there was just as much as an adventure as my time aboard this vessel.
I landed on a hot afternoon. When the plane dipped below the clouds, I saw it - the Amazon and its rainforest. Trees uninterrupted, like nothing I've ever seen. So vast an expanse of life climate is moved by it - clouds hung up in the branches of towering green. Unreal.
Stepped off the plane and began the task of immigrating. Office number one was next to the airport. Leticia and Tabatinga are the border towns of Colombia and Brazil, respectively. I first got stamped out of Colombia then - after checking in with Gustavoh, the owner of a Letician hostel - I was given a bike to ride to office number two - that of the Federal Police in Tabatinga. There my visa was approved without a problem, and I biked back across the border and, interestingly, an hour in time.
Spent Friday biking with a German boy, Onntej. We walked the grounds of the local university before breaking for pistaccio icecream. Also biked to pick up dinner. Gustavoh lead the way. Fresh fish head to tail, rice, and boiled yucca - a kind of potatoe common to Central and South America.
Early Saturday morning woke to go to the market, where I reached my limit for eating native cuisine. Gustavoh pointed to a bucket. What was inside was moving. Huge larvi. Their fat white bodies riggling behind their black heads. Gustavoh bought some steamed and explained that people ususally do eat them raw. The woman selling them started to laugh - I could no longer hide my disgust. Never in a million years.
Later, I climbed pack and all onto the back of Gustavoh's motorcycle and we drove o the dock. I was heading downriver to Manaus, Brazil - Gustavoh knew the captain, negotiated for my ticket, and helped me string up my hammock on the upper deck. The journey will take three nights and four days.
Thus far, he scenery has been spectacular. Yesterday, I saw the Amazon's freshwater dolphins playng while we were docked at a small town taking on passengers. I had gone ashore and bought an icecream, which I was licking back on board while watching fishermen sell their brightly colored catch when a gray and pink body came leaping out of the water. I turned from the rail and shook Conn - the Irish feller, who's lived in the UD - in his hammock next to mine. We watched the river together until the sun set fire red over the water.
I have no complaints. Meals are served hot and there's always plenty - usually pasta, rice, beans, and meat. The showers are refreshingly cold, the hammocks relaxing, and - for the fist time I can remember - I have purposefully sat and done nothing at all but watch the world pass by. The only unpleasantries are the large winged black beattles that come aboard at night. Those and the police checks where men are arrested for smuggling cocaine.
Today is Monday - the last full day. Tomorrow we pull into Manaus, where Rio Negro meets the Amazon.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
Colombian TV
Well, it´s official - I'm an international film star. It happened on Wednesday. I had been in Bogota for two days - I found it very much to my liking, despite the surprising cold - but hadn't done many tourist activities, so I decided to join some people from my hostel on a free tour of the city´s historic center.
There were four of us - a German girl, Julianna, a Frenchman, and Tom from England. We met at the information center on the corner of Plaza de Bolivar at 2pm. A member of the tourist police dressed to the teeth in formality addressed us and explained that two TV crews would be filming the tour for a local broadcast. Apart from our group, there was only one other tourist - the TV men had us man for man.
It was unnerving. I was having a rough time understanding as it was - the tour was conducted in espanol - without the additional distraction of cameraman number one zooming in for my close-up. Luckily, our entire group spoke English and the tour, for the most part, covered the area our hostel was in, familiar ground, so we soon took to making fun of our predicament. There was lots of time to - the tour lasted two hours. Tom adopted shades and a movie star strut and the Frenchman played it cool, but Julianna and I never really made it through the laughing stage. Just when we through we had it under control we passed a school yard and little boys, thinking we were foreign film stars, started running up and proposing - we lost it.
My interview was also pretty comical. Poor Julianna. I thought I was off the hook - I´m not lying when I say I speak very little Spanish, but the crewmen soon saw that Julianna spoke both Spanish and English. She acted as my interpreter. We almost made it through without laughing - almost. Apparently we air on Saturday morning, neither of us will be around to watch it.
There were four of us - a German girl, Julianna, a Frenchman, and Tom from England. We met at the information center on the corner of Plaza de Bolivar at 2pm. A member of the tourist police dressed to the teeth in formality addressed us and explained that two TV crews would be filming the tour for a local broadcast. Apart from our group, there was only one other tourist - the TV men had us man for man.
It was unnerving. I was having a rough time understanding as it was - the tour was conducted in espanol - without the additional distraction of cameraman number one zooming in for my close-up. Luckily, our entire group spoke English and the tour, for the most part, covered the area our hostel was in, familiar ground, so we soon took to making fun of our predicament. There was lots of time to - the tour lasted two hours. Tom adopted shades and a movie star strut and the Frenchman played it cool, but Julianna and I never really made it through the laughing stage. Just when we through we had it under control we passed a school yard and little boys, thinking we were foreign film stars, started running up and proposing - we lost it.
My interview was also pretty comical. Poor Julianna. I thought I was off the hook - I´m not lying when I say I speak very little Spanish, but the crewmen soon saw that Julianna spoke both Spanish and English. She acted as my interpreter. We almost made it through without laughing - almost. Apparently we air on Saturday morning, neither of us will be around to watch it.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
The Panama Canal
Yesterday I went to the Panama Canal. I, Brianna Craft, stood at the crossroads of the world's two great oceans. I kind of had a moment - I can't believe I've seen the Panama Canal.
Panama itself seems to be an odd crossing of things. I arrived in the wee hours of Friday morning to Luna's Castle, a fine hostel, in the historic Panama City district of Casco Viejo. Within walking distance are both the Presidential Residence and some of the city's most impoverished slums. When I checked in, I was given a map - you can't walk here, the boy behind the desk said, day or night.
The people are mixed too: 10% of Panama's population is of Chinese descent, indigenous women dress in traditional garb, and many people are what Americans call black, which I find comforting. That and the fact that Panama's official currency is the US Dollar. A glittering sky scrapper-filled city skyline illuminates the bay at night - another testament to the US's influence here. I didn't really realize how recently the canal was turned over to Panamanian control (1999!). Though the rather comical ten minute film they showed at the locks did everything in its power to hail American influence, I wager some serious gringo resentment festers in the hearts of many Panamanians. I'm rather glad I'm mistaken for a local.
Today I jet off to Colombia, for a very brief stay before hopping a river barge down the Amazon into Brazil. Wish me luck!
Panama itself seems to be an odd crossing of things. I arrived in the wee hours of Friday morning to Luna's Castle, a fine hostel, in the historic Panama City district of Casco Viejo. Within walking distance are both the Presidential Residence and some of the city's most impoverished slums. When I checked in, I was given a map - you can't walk here, the boy behind the desk said, day or night.
The people are mixed too: 10% of Panama's population is of Chinese descent, indigenous women dress in traditional garb, and many people are what Americans call black, which I find comforting. That and the fact that Panama's official currency is the US Dollar. A glittering sky scrapper-filled city skyline illuminates the bay at night - another testament to the US's influence here. I didn't really realize how recently the canal was turned over to Panamanian control (1999!). Though the rather comical ten minute film they showed at the locks did everything in its power to hail American influence, I wager some serious gringo resentment festers in the hearts of many Panamanians. I'm rather glad I'm mistaken for a local.
Today I jet off to Colombia, for a very brief stay before hopping a river barge down the Amazon into Brazil. Wish me luck!
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Tortugas
I arrived in Rio Oro the morning of Tuesday October 7th by way of colectivo, which I can’t really do justice in English – imagine a large truck with a canvas-covered open back where passengers sit on two benches, one on either side. The colectivo left Puerto Himenez at 6:30am and set off bouncing into the jungle of Costa Rica’s remote Osa Peninsula. The ride took two hours. Vines and banana leaves flung water into the truck back when they hit the canvassed roof, and people held on tight when the truck dipped sharply before crossing a river. At my stop, the driver came behind and lowered the gate. A sign said Escuela Rio Oro. I walked 500 meters toward the sea, and in a building next to the school house was welcomed as an Osa Sea Turtle Conservation Program Volunteer.
I’m scheduled to work a week. The Osa Program’s current aim is to collect data on the sea turtle species that nest on the peninsula, specifically those on the beach near the mouth of Rio Oro.
I must first describe the place. It’s unbelievable. Paradise in its rawest sense. Our base is 100 meters from the point where Rio Oro (Gold River) meets the Pacific Ocean. From our beach, you can see the coastline of Costa Rica’s Corovado National Park – a place National Geographic hails as one of the most biodiversly rich areas in the world. Scarlet macaws fly overhead and squawk all hours of the day, crocodiles live in the lagoons just off the beach where four different species of sea turtles nest at night and wild horses run during the day. It’s like living in a fantasy island safari. Yesterday, I watched an otter as large as the crocodile it was fishing beside play in the river. I’m in awe.
The work is just as awe inspiring. Tuesday afternoon, Greg, a research assistant from Rochester, took me to the beach and showed me how to properly measure a turtle – we made on out of sand – dig and find a nest, and identify the different turtle tracks.
I went on patrol with him and Ivy Wednesday night. We started at 10pm and finished at 2am – crossed Rio Oro and patrolled the three kilometers to the hatchery and back. I’ve seen turtles! We came across two nesting Green Sea Turtles and one Olive Ridley. They’re huge – larger than I imagine – and much more difficult to measure when they’re alive, powerful, and moving. It took all Greg had to keep a Green from returning to the sea so that Ivy could first tag it. The Olive Ridley nest needed relocating – it was too close to the sea – so Greg and Ivy let me dig down and scoop out the 114 leathery, golf ball like eggs and bury them again beyond the vegetation line.
The next day, had afternoon hatchery shift with Adrianna. Three nests had hatched the night before so we had exhumations to do. While scooping out egg shells I felt something move. Three hatchlings had been left behind. You can take them outside and see that they make it to the sea, Adrianna said, watch out for crabs and birds. I set them on the sand and watched them struggle to the water. The cutest things I have ever seen. They whipped the sand out of their eyes with their front flippers and took off. When they reached the water they swam for all they’re worth and disappeared.
My last shift was Friday night hatchery – midnight to 6am. Walked with Devina under a sky that held more stars than I thought possible. Two nests had hatched so we weighed and measured ten from each then set the little guys free – they all made it, there aren’t as many predators at night. Finished work round 3am, then lied out on the beach and watched the lights of a cruise ship slowly make their way toward the Panama Canal – only 50 miles from here by sea. Woke at first light, 5am, and walked back watching the sunrise reflect in the lagoon.
I’m scheduled to work a week. The Osa Program’s current aim is to collect data on the sea turtle species that nest on the peninsula, specifically those on the beach near the mouth of Rio Oro.
I must first describe the place. It’s unbelievable. Paradise in its rawest sense. Our base is 100 meters from the point where Rio Oro (Gold River) meets the Pacific Ocean. From our beach, you can see the coastline of Costa Rica’s Corovado National Park – a place National Geographic hails as one of the most biodiversly rich areas in the world. Scarlet macaws fly overhead and squawk all hours of the day, crocodiles live in the lagoons just off the beach where four different species of sea turtles nest at night and wild horses run during the day. It’s like living in a fantasy island safari. Yesterday, I watched an otter as large as the crocodile it was fishing beside play in the river. I’m in awe.
The work is just as awe inspiring. Tuesday afternoon, Greg, a research assistant from Rochester, took me to the beach and showed me how to properly measure a turtle – we made on out of sand – dig and find a nest, and identify the different turtle tracks.
I went on patrol with him and Ivy Wednesday night. We started at 10pm and finished at 2am – crossed Rio Oro and patrolled the three kilometers to the hatchery and back. I’ve seen turtles! We came across two nesting Green Sea Turtles and one Olive Ridley. They’re huge – larger than I imagine – and much more difficult to measure when they’re alive, powerful, and moving. It took all Greg had to keep a Green from returning to the sea so that Ivy could first tag it. The Olive Ridley nest needed relocating – it was too close to the sea – so Greg and Ivy let me dig down and scoop out the 114 leathery, golf ball like eggs and bury them again beyond the vegetation line.
The next day, had afternoon hatchery shift with Adrianna. Three nests had hatched the night before so we had exhumations to do. While scooping out egg shells I felt something move. Three hatchlings had been left behind. You can take them outside and see that they make it to the sea, Adrianna said, watch out for crabs and birds. I set them on the sand and watched them struggle to the water. The cutest things I have ever seen. They whipped the sand out of their eyes with their front flippers and took off. When they reached the water they swam for all they’re worth and disappeared.
My last shift was Friday night hatchery – midnight to 6am. Walked with Devina under a sky that held more stars than I thought possible. Two nests had hatched so we weighed and measured ten from each then set the little guys free – they all made it, there aren’t as many predators at night. Finished work round 3am, then lied out on the beach and watched the lights of a cruise ship slowly make their way toward the Panama Canal – only 50 miles from here by sea. Woke at first light, 5am, and walked back watching the sunrise reflect in the lagoon.
Rancho Mastatal
Holding hands with eleven strangers, I sat on a wooden bench at a long table. Christmas lights and candles illuminated the outdoor patio where Minestrone and breadsticks steamed on the island behind us. We’re going to go around the table and say what we’re thankful for, Sam explained. I didn’t know where to begin.
I had gotten on a bus at 5:30am that morning – Thursday, the 2nd of October. I would do that twice more before the sun set: Monteverde to San Jose; San Jose to Puriscal; Puriscal to here, a place called Mastatal. I arrived around 5:30pm, just as light was beginning to leave the sky. A girl who introduced herself as Michelle stepped out of a large wooden house that sat behind a garden bordered by a vegetation-laden black wrought iron fence and gate. I took off my shoes and followed her, seeing with each step more of the place I had come to stay – Rancho Mastatal, an American-run environmental learning center two hours from “civilization”.
“Gracias a la Madre. Buon prevenció.” At the table, the meal began. Michelle had finished giving me a tour just in time for dinner. I was to stay for four nights. Though the learning center’s focus is sustainable building, all major projects suspended during the rainy season. Over the course of the next few days however, I would find plenty to occupy my time.
Day 1 – Chocolate in all its various forms
Woke and headed for the main house. The night before, I had been invited to join the group on a tour of a local chocolate plantation. Could life get any better? After breakfast we set off. Walked a kilometer down the gravel road under the morning sun. Turned right at a sign reading The Chocolate Iguana and followed the smell. A young man met us in front of what I assume is his home and sat us down out back around a small table. “This is a cacao fruit.” He held what looked like a fat, lumpy, yellow zucchini in his hand. He split it with a machete and ate a piece of what was inside before passing it around. The cacao beans where incased in a white sack, which has a sweet – almost citrus flavor. The beans are purple when you bite into them.
We followed him through the process. Drying, roasting, shelling, and grinding – tasting all the way. After an hour, we headed to the front porch where a table was set with a platter of warm brownies, a bowl of chocolate spread, and pitchers of chocolate milk. Oh man. Everything contained a higher percentage of chocolate and was less sweet than I’m accustomed to. We added sugar to the chocolate milk because it was simply chocolate – as in ground cacao beans – and milk. Everything was heavy, dark, and delicious. We left giddy, high from indulgence. I bought chocolate mango soap.
Day 2 – Tree houses and the Hooch
Rancho Mastatal has the library of my dreams. Half is good fiction – the kind that keeps you from sleeping while swinging lazily in a hammock on a sunny afternoon. The other half contains every non-fiction book to do with sustainable building you could imagine.
Saturday morning, I chose one of each – You Shall Know Our Velocity by David Eggers and A Builder’s Guide to Tree Houses – and found a hammock of my own.
After lunch, Michelle asked if I’d like to sleep in the hooch – there was an open bed. I had just finished reading about what one was. Packed my bag and climbed up. Untied a mosquito net and tucked the edges under my mattress. Rainforest all around. Careful when peeing off the side Michelle warned, it’s a bit of a drop to the forest floor. The whole structure swayed when someone climbed the ladder, and when I woke in the night it took me a moment to get my bearings – I’m not used to seeing only vegetation – but I really enjoyed my nights in the hooch. I didn’t even fall off the edge.
Day 3 – Waterfalls
Sunday is brunch day at Rancho Mastatal. Pancakes, lots of them, pinapple and papaya, yogurt and granola, tea and crumpets – Scott made them, I think he was missing England because we certainly didn’t need any more bread.
Stuffed full, Sam and I took a walk. We had gone to the waterfall near the main house for a swim the day before and were off to see the larger waterfalls behind the owner’s home.
We hiked all afternoon. Though Sam promised monkeys, the closest we came was the monkey doo he put his hand in when climbing over a log. I thought it was funny – he had pointed it out to me as I crossed – he didn’t share my opinion. There were plenty of poisoned dart frogs though, whose neon color I still can’t get over. We saw two waterfalls, and attempted to swim in one, but after I got pinched by what I pray was a crab underwater we decided to head for home.
Sam, who teaches in Brooklyn in the States, hadn’t left the Ranch in three weeks. The slow pace of life had grown on him, and he was quite happy with that fact. Walking back to the Ranch to eat my last candle-lit dinner and spend my final night in the hooch, I half-wished I could make it mine.
I had gotten on a bus at 5:30am that morning – Thursday, the 2nd of October. I would do that twice more before the sun set: Monteverde to San Jose; San Jose to Puriscal; Puriscal to here, a place called Mastatal. I arrived around 5:30pm, just as light was beginning to leave the sky. A girl who introduced herself as Michelle stepped out of a large wooden house that sat behind a garden bordered by a vegetation-laden black wrought iron fence and gate. I took off my shoes and followed her, seeing with each step more of the place I had come to stay – Rancho Mastatal, an American-run environmental learning center two hours from “civilization”.
“Gracias a la Madre. Buon prevenció.” At the table, the meal began. Michelle had finished giving me a tour just in time for dinner. I was to stay for four nights. Though the learning center’s focus is sustainable building, all major projects suspended during the rainy season. Over the course of the next few days however, I would find plenty to occupy my time.
Day 1 – Chocolate in all its various forms
Woke and headed for the main house. The night before, I had been invited to join the group on a tour of a local chocolate plantation. Could life get any better? After breakfast we set off. Walked a kilometer down the gravel road under the morning sun. Turned right at a sign reading The Chocolate Iguana and followed the smell. A young man met us in front of what I assume is his home and sat us down out back around a small table. “This is a cacao fruit.” He held what looked like a fat, lumpy, yellow zucchini in his hand. He split it with a machete and ate a piece of what was inside before passing it around. The cacao beans where incased in a white sack, which has a sweet – almost citrus flavor. The beans are purple when you bite into them.
We followed him through the process. Drying, roasting, shelling, and grinding – tasting all the way. After an hour, we headed to the front porch where a table was set with a platter of warm brownies, a bowl of chocolate spread, and pitchers of chocolate milk. Oh man. Everything contained a higher percentage of chocolate and was less sweet than I’m accustomed to. We added sugar to the chocolate milk because it was simply chocolate – as in ground cacao beans – and milk. Everything was heavy, dark, and delicious. We left giddy, high from indulgence. I bought chocolate mango soap.
Day 2 – Tree houses and the Hooch
Rancho Mastatal has the library of my dreams. Half is good fiction – the kind that keeps you from sleeping while swinging lazily in a hammock on a sunny afternoon. The other half contains every non-fiction book to do with sustainable building you could imagine.
Saturday morning, I chose one of each – You Shall Know Our Velocity by David Eggers and A Builder’s Guide to Tree Houses – and found a hammock of my own.
After lunch, Michelle asked if I’d like to sleep in the hooch – there was an open bed. I had just finished reading about what one was. Packed my bag and climbed up. Untied a mosquito net and tucked the edges under my mattress. Rainforest all around. Careful when peeing off the side Michelle warned, it’s a bit of a drop to the forest floor. The whole structure swayed when someone climbed the ladder, and when I woke in the night it took me a moment to get my bearings – I’m not used to seeing only vegetation – but I really enjoyed my nights in the hooch. I didn’t even fall off the edge.
Day 3 – Waterfalls
Sunday is brunch day at Rancho Mastatal. Pancakes, lots of them, pinapple and papaya, yogurt and granola, tea and crumpets – Scott made them, I think he was missing England because we certainly didn’t need any more bread.
Stuffed full, Sam and I took a walk. We had gone to the waterfall near the main house for a swim the day before and were off to see the larger waterfalls behind the owner’s home.
We hiked all afternoon. Though Sam promised monkeys, the closest we came was the monkey doo he put his hand in when climbing over a log. I thought it was funny – he had pointed it out to me as I crossed – he didn’t share my opinion. There were plenty of poisoned dart frogs though, whose neon color I still can’t get over. We saw two waterfalls, and attempted to swim in one, but after I got pinched by what I pray was a crab underwater we decided to head for home.
Sam, who teaches in Brooklyn in the States, hadn’t left the Ranch in three weeks. The slow pace of life had grown on him, and he was quite happy with that fact. Walking back to the Ranch to eat my last candle-lit dinner and spend my final night in the hooch, I half-wished I could make it mine.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Esta Bien
Just writing to let all who worry know that I'm fine. I'm currently waiting for the truck that will take me back to the Costa Rican beach where I started working with sea turtles yesterday. I plan on writing some pretty hearty blogs while doing my hatchery shift tomorrow and will post them as soon as possible.
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