Letters from Lisa

Greetings from unexpectedly rainy Quito, Ecuador. I arrived successfully and have spent the past two hours or so uploading my first photos onto Webshots… these are the digital photos I took in Costa Rica.

Costa Rica July 2006

I have several rolls of disposable camera film to develop from Costa Rica as well, so clearly this is not complete. A lot are random nature photos. I´ll try to get some Peru photos up perhaps later or tomorrow.

I’m most of the way to Quito - actually in the midst of transferring at the Lima airport. To get an idea of how efficient the bureacracy here is in Peru, here I will present all of the steps involved in getting from my original destination (Cusco) to my new destination (Quito)…

1. Check in at the Cusco airport, handing over my two checked bags
2. Pay the domestic departure tax, approximately 5 dollars
3. Fly to Lima
4. Collect my checked bags
5. Hand in the tag on my boarding pass that proves that I own the two bags
6. Drag said bags out to the main checkin terminal
7. Pass bags through security, again
8. Check bags in and get a new tag on my new boarding pass
9. Pay the international departure tax of approximately $30
10. Put my carryon bags through another security checkpoint
11. Fly to Quito

(Yes, for all of you Spinal Tap fans, this morning has gone to 11)

I am on step 9 at the moment… just pausing on my way to the cafeteria area. I was in this airport a few weeks ago and remember there being a little souvenir shop and a Dunkin’ Donuts. I have enough souvenirs to fill a market stall in Cusco, but one can never get enough Dunkin’ Donuts. I’ll get on line for the departure tax when it gets a little closer to boarding time, because once you go through there, you can’t come back out.

Happy to be on my way, but I’ll be happier after I have checked into my hotel in Ecuador and taken a hot shower.

Cheers!

Today was our last day out in the field. The Earthwatch portion of this trip has flown by incredibly fast. Taking two days off in the middle to go to the Sacred Valley and Machu Picchu certainly had something to do with that.

I´m checking out of my hostal tomorrow morning and then checking into a hotel for a night. Then I´m flying out of Peru on Saturday and landing in Quito, Ecuador. I´ll be in Quito for a few days, then I´ll be off on a cruise of the Galapagos Islands.

Pictures to follow, I promise. I have not found an internet cafe where I can upload them. So it might have to wait until I´m home. Apologies for the delay.

I’m back a bit early from the site today. This is because we removed two small pots from our burial, one about 3 inches big and the other about 6 inches, and the 6-inch pot was falling apart and needed to be brought back to the lab immediately. The researcher just happened to have a professor friend visiting who had hired a car back to Cusco, so he offered to have me ride back ahead of the bus in a less bumpy vehicle so that we could ensure that the pot got back safely. Another volunteer accompanied me, carrying the bags, and we had a very pleasant (and indeed, less bumpy) ride back to the city. The car could even go up the very narrow streets, which our large bus cannot do. I was the first one in the shower and got the best hot water. All in all, a good deal.

Unfortunately, we ran out of time today and couldn’t take out any of the bones we’d spent the whole day uncovering. We had to cover them back up with dirt to avoid the pit being discovered by looters as a burial - otherwise they’d haul everything out and dig deeper for valuable pots. I don’t know if they would find anything, but we would lose a lot of valuable information. And, I think we treat the bones with a lot more respect. So we try to protect the site as much as we can.

I’m going to be in the lab in the city tomorrow, probably washing pot shards and dusting off bones. It will be good to have a day of rest before our huge outing on Saturday-Sunday to the Sacred Valley and Machu Picchu. As far as I know, our entire group of 12 volunteers will be going, plus at least one researcher from the project (for liability purposes, though who would turn down a trip to Machu Picchu?) and we’ll be staying the night in the tourist town that has sprung up near Machu Picchu to handle all the guests, called Aguas Calientes after its hot springs. We won’t have time to investigate those, since we’ll be getting there around 10 pm and then leaving for sunrise by about 6:00 am. Busy busy weekend.

My days here have been quite busy, in general, since starting Earthwatch. The entire tenor of my trip has changed, actually. In Costa Rica I had a lot more downtime - at Pacuare, most of the day - and I struggled to manage my activities so that I felt relaxed, not bored. I also had a lot of time to worry about what was coming up next on my itinerary, if I would make the connections, if the airport would have safety precautions against pickpocketers. You name it, I worried about it. Now, I think it’s fair to say that I don’t have the time to worry. (Except for the one night I spent up worrying that I had neglected to secure accomodations for the 28th of July, which is Peruvian independence day. That’s all settled now, anyway.) I’m busy doing productive work, and if I have a question or concern, there are so many people around who can help.

Plus, I’m almost 3 weeks into my trip. Nearly the halfway point, which I can hardly believe. That has to count for something.

And my Spanish is slowly improving. At least I can understand about 70% of what is said, assuming that I know what the topic is. I can’t say very much, but people are pretty understanding. I went shopping with Renee last night, who was here about a year ago learning Spanish. She really did a great job chatting up the vendors and the cab driver, smoothing everything over with her better language skills. Being fluent in Spanish is definitely helpful here, though there are so many people with good English that I haven’t felt lost at all.

We’re having a presentation tonight about our research project and the history of the site. Hopefully soon I’ll have a lot of good information to share. For now… dinnertime.

An update is in order, I feel.

This is no easy task, drumming up the energy to update. I have been up since about 5:30 this morning. Breakfast at 6 (sweet tamale, coca tea, papaya juice, anti-malarial pill) then piling onto the bus at 7. Each day we drive about 45 minutes through the Peruvian Andes to get to our archaeological site, consonantly named Ccotoccotuyoc (Quechua for “place with many piles of stones” - and in case you were wondering, the name definitely fits). The view is pleasant, with small rural villages and grand sweeping mountains. We eventually leave the Cusco basin and enter the Huaro valley, passing by two tiny villages both named after the Virgin Mary. The bus winds up a narrow dirt road to eventually drop us off at the base of our site.

The site we are working on is a pre-Inca site, one of many in this valley. The researcher believes it to have been occupied by the Wari (sometimes spelled Huari) people, who formed a diffuse empire in this region. There is also evidence of another group, called the Lucre, and sometimes artifacts from the two peoples are intermingled. There may even be some colonial-era burials on site. One possibility was just excavated today, a small grave of five skeletons in fetal position, in which the bones appeared to have been burned.

There is a small makeshift structure made out of eucalyptus leaves and branches. This is where we leave our backpacks. My little section is a few feet from there. It’s part of a group of sections that have burials in them. Skull bones were found in the section by the last people to work there. Yesterday, our first day on site, we uncovered several huge slate slabs, which are like grave markers. One slab had a circular hole deliberately cut into it, which is where the people would pour in liquid offerings. Today we excavated around the slabs, then with great fanfare (everybody watching) removed them. We found a tomb in pretty bad condition, with many of the bones crushed. We spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning up the walls surrounding the burial and removing stones, discovering more bones in the process. Tomorrow we’ll start brushing around the bones to see if we can find a full skeleton.

Unfortunately, we aren’t the only ones digging at the site. Midday, a researcher discovered a huge pit dug by looters. A skeleton was piled, rather undignified, next to the hole, with a few shards of pottery that the looters apparently examined and decided was not worth their time. There was also a pit dug nearby with ash, which seemed to be rather fresh. The researcher was furious, thinking it might be one of the people in the towns below. The police were called, since the site is part of an archaeological park and you need special permits to dig there. We can collect the bones and perform an analysis on them, but a lot of valuable information was lost.

It’s very tiring, digging in the sun all day. Last night I was in bed by 8:30. Today I was less tired mentally, but my muscles ache more. I spent the whole day cramped in an odd position near the north end of our little burial, because I couldn’t step down where the slabs of slate were. (And good thing I didn’t… they started to crumble in sheets as we touched them.) Now we’ll have to be careful because we don’t want to step on any bones. I wish there were someplace to do yoga around here (though there are plenty of massage parlors… sheesh)

Really enjoying my time here in Cusco. Another entry I’ll try to provide some info about the city and the other things I’ve been doing. We’re going to Machu Picchu on Saturday and Sunday.

Cheers!

My tour of the city of Cusco is in a few hours - so far I´ve been wandering around, peeking in stores, and leaving messages for other Earthwatch volunteers and the principal investigator. Quick lunch - a chicken sandwich and cup of the famous coca tea - that probably cost, in US dollars, about $1.50. The prices here are pretty insane.

I´ve been to a few countries, mostly in Europe still, and now two in Latin America. Cusco has been the first time in a long time that I really feel I am in Another Country. The people here have a very distinct look, so that you can instantly tell if someone is Peruvian or not, and many dress in indigenous costumes (well, maybe that´s just the Epcot Center aspect again, though I did see some ladies leading llamas - or maybe they were alpacas - down the street). It´s fascinating, and a little overwhelming, especially when you look like a tourist as I do and are therefore followed down the street with cries of ¨Postcard, Miss? You like necklace? You want take a photo with the baby goat?¨

I´m still trying to take it easy, especially since I am going to be on a 4 hour tour this afternoon (sounds vaguely Gilligan´s Island, doesn´t it?) so I figured I´d come back to my little internet cafe. Next on the agenda - perhaps a brief nap.

Greetings from chilly Cusco! I am suffering a bit of climate shock, having gone from 80-90 degrees and 100% humidity to 40 degrees and dry. Still adjusting to the altitude - a process I suspect will take several more days - but some more coca leaf tea should help me with that. Good thing I like the taste of spinach.

Anyway, back to my Costa Rican adventures…

After leaving Pacuare Reserve, my next destination was Selva Bananito, an ecolodge offering rainforest tours and activities. And hot water, rumor had it. Denilo drove me on the boat back to the dock at Matina, where my new driver, Juan Carlos, was waiting. They huffed and puffed to get my ¨muchas valetas¨(many suitcases) into the back of the tourist van, and then we were on our way. The road out was, again, more pothole than road, but eventually when we got out of the banana plantations and into Matina proper, the roads began to exhibit more paving. We pulled back out onto Highway 32, and for the next several hours followed it in and out of Puerto Limon, the largest city in the region and a big port for shipping on the Caribbean coast. I had been told that we were meeting yet another driver somewhere called ¨Salon Delia¨, and from Juan Carlos´s halting English I mistakenly thought that it was in Puerto Limon. Instead, we kept driving. We followed the coastline for a while, then got into another series of tiny banana towns. We finally pulled into Bananito Norte (just try to guess what is grown there) which was another of the ramshackle aluminum-siding-and-plastered-walls places that I´d become so used to seeing along the route. Salon Delia turned out to be a neon purple building housing a tiny bar and a few stools. We waited for about half an hour while Juan Carlos argued and pleaded with various family members on his cell phone, and I tried to remember all the names of the people at Pacuare by making a list of them in my journal.

At one point, Juan Carlos came back to the car and slumped into the front seat, saying, ¨Elisa, this is not a good day for me,¨ before switching into Spanish. What I got from the next speech was, ¨You need to have a big heart and love for everyone, even if they do not have love for you. This means that you could get hurt, but I still think it is important. I have a very big heart. I am a philosopher. I see that you´re writing. I write, too. Are you a philosopher?¨ This line of questioning ended when a large pickup truck came bumbling down the dirt road leading out of town. More huffing and puffing to get my suitcases into the back of the truck (was I ever glad that they were covered in plastic!) and then I was on my way to Selva Bananito.

I had no idea how far it was going to be, so I paid scattered attention to the scenery while I scoured for evidence that, in fact, anyone ran any sort of business out in this wilderness. We crossed through mudholes, streams, clumps of rock and dirt, etc. while passing mainly forest and the occasional house (who would live out here? I still don´t know) and once in a while I´d see a sign promising that there was indeed a lodge nearby. We picked up a pregnant lady and her companion, who was carrying a small child, and dropped them off at their home. More driving. More bouncing. My teeth were chattering, though it was 80-something degrees. I had just started to dry off from my soaking in Denilo´s boat.

We drove for about 45 minutes until we approached a locked gate signaling the beginning of Selva Bananito Reserve. The sign asked unannounced visitors to leave their car there and walk to the office on foot to let the staff know to open the gate, but since I was with reserve employees, one was able to get out and let us in. They keep it locked to avoid problems with poachers, though later I was told that they hired a security guard and then found that there was really no work for him to do. I suppose it´s good to keep the gate locked, just in case.

Selva Bananito is a small set of lodges up (you guessed it) more bumpy dirt roads. I was originally to be in Cabin 11, the one with the stingless bee nest by its front door, but the room hadn´t been made up, so I was given Cabin 10 instead. The cabins consist of a main room, tastefully done in wood and garnished with fresh flowers (which I would see growing wild on later tours) that opens up to a small porch containing two hammocks, a chair, and an excellent view of the mountains. The bathroom was small and clean, with a shower and toilet and sink. The hot water I had so looked forward to was generated by solar power. We were only permitted to use the soap provided to us by the lodge, since they apparently used waterlily tanks to purify the water, and could only send down organic material. It was wonderful to wash my hair, but I desperately needed my own conditioner. That was a priviledge that would have to wait until I got back to San Jose.

I was told that there was a large group of volunteers at the lodge, but that they´d be leaving in the morning, and then I´d be the only guest for a day. Sound familiar? Felt like deja vu to me.

I´ll describe more of Selva Bananito later on, but for now I´ll leave you with this preview, taken from their website:

Difficulty : Intermediate/Advanced
Duration : 7-8 hours (12 kilometers)

Description : Our most physically demanding tour, this all-day hike is an unforgettable journey up the Bananito riverbed and into the surrounding rainforests. While hiking upstream you will make over 60 river crossings, learn about the various micro-climates, and jump in the plentiful river pools. Visit a 600 year-old mahogany tree and learn more about rainforest ecology. After rappelling down our 80-foot waterfall (optional), you will eat a delicious lunch brought by our guides. An adrenaline-packed expedition for the true adventure seekers.

- Requires very good physical condition and extensive hiking experience.

OK, cheap title. But I am at 11,000 ft. I´ve never been at altitude before, and so far I can say that it gives me a bit of a headache. Then again, I´m prone to headaches anyway. Other than that, and the fact that I just spent the past two hours in my hotel room watching When Harry Met Sally subtitled in Spanish (hey… need to practice my Spanish) I am doing quite well.

Cusco is definitely a tourist town. When you arrive at the baggage claim, you´re greeted by a band of pipe flute players. It was, for one disorienting moment, rather like walking through the subway station at 42nd street-Times Square, except they were wearing brighter costumes. Oh, and the baggage handlers swarming around slumming for tips. The hostel representative was outside to meet me, and paid my taxi fare. The driver was very nice and, with my limited Spanish in mind, gave me a brief rundown of the significance of every statue and ruin we saw as he drove me into San Blas, the neighborhood where I am staying.

The Orquidea Real Hostal (orquidea.net) is a charming little place. It´s very charming and rustic, though with the slightly trendy Manhattan touch of having exposed brick - well, stones, but close enough. It´s up at the top of a collection of steep stairs, which affords an absolutely spectacular view of the city. I spent the whole afternoon in bed, acclimatizing, and will probably grab a brief dinner before heading right back to that bed. The front desk told me that they offer tours of the city, which if I´m feeling well tomorrow morning, I might take them up on. My Earthwatch project begins on the afternoon of the 15th.

I realize I´ve got more of Costa Rica to tell you about, as well as my various airport and driving adventures around various Latin American cities. All in good time. For now, I´m going to go hunt down something nearby that sells dinner food - NOT ceviche or cuy, but something that my tongue will recognize.

Cheers!

Buenas tardes… I’m halfway to my next destination (Cusco) after a full day of airplanes and transfers. Good to be in a structure that isn’t on wheels.

So… I left off at Pacuare Reserve, and it is to Pacuare we return. You might have guessed, from the confusion at the dock in Matina, that most Costa Ricans have never heard of the place. They know the Rio Pacuare, a big destination for whitewater rafters (an option that my tour company offered to me, and I declined) and they know the turtle beach at Tortuguero. Perhaps some of the confusion is beneficial to the Reserve, actually, since people can’t disrupt or undermine what they don’t know is there. Yes, Costa Rica has a great reputation for its environmental soundness and ecotourism, but just south of the reserve, they recently found 150 dead sea turtles that had been poached for their meat. Anything that couldn’t be sold at market was left rotting on the beach. Clearly there is work to be done. The researchers were telling me that they have many groups of Costa Rican kids through an organization called EPI, so that is helping to bridge the gap between what the gringos think is best for the environment and what the native people want for their own land. Tourism is Costa Rica’s second largest industry - behind Intel processors - so economically, there is a vested interest in protecting the land. But unless some of the benefit goes to the local communities, or they can at least perceive what the benefit is, they will not be on board.

My first two days, the scene at Pacuare was dominated by the large group of high schoolers volunteering there. As I mentioned, they were participating in something called World Challenge, in which the itinerary is laid out for them but the kids are responsible for arranging and booking transportation, accomodation, food, and so on. They are assigned a strict budget and need to work as a group to make decisions. I have an incredible amount of respect for these kids and their teachers, especially since most adults I know could never do that successfully. That is going to be a life changing experience for them. I think they were a bit relieved to have an outsider to talk to for a few days. I fielded quite a few confessions and complaints from various members of the group. At first I wasn’t sure if I would like hanging around with a group not affiliated with me, but in the end I enjoyed the company.

In the past when I’ve been at turtle beaches, I’ve always been a volunteer, a member of the team. This time, no one seemed exactly sure - least of all me - what my role was. An observer? An occasional participant? Sometimes the volunteers were scheduled for activities that I learned about from speaking to them. I was a bit put off by that, wishing to be more in the loop. I think the researchers may have mistakenly assumed that I was just there to relax and look at a few turtles, and wouldn’t want to be bothered. They seemed surprised when I wanted to sit in the dining house and eat with the group rather than have the meals brought to the guest house. But I certainly wasn’t there to be anti-social. When you are traveling alone, you do get glad for the company.

The primary reason to go to Pacuare is to do the turtle patrol. We set off at 8 pm, generally, and walked from the first marker to the fortieth. So we were doing a few miles every night. We’d return to the main station around 11:30 or midnight, after which I’d crank up my little flashlight and stumble back to the guest house. The beach was a narrow stretch of gray volcanic sand, and the tides were high during my time there. Sometimes the high water mark reached all the way up to the tree line. That is bad for the nests underneath, since the hatchlings have to claw through stickier sand in order to emerge. Maybe that explains why we saw so little turtle activity while I was there - just a few stray hatchlings. The first night, we set off during a spectacular thunderstorm, and got thoroughly soaked. My rainjacket held up admirably - just wish I’d had the waterproof pants to match.

The group departed on my third morning there, and I spent the next day sort of drifting around. I’d finished the books and magazines I brought, and resorted to borrowing the books that they’d accumulated there. They served a regular lunch, but soon afterwards I heard some of the researchers talking about a barbecue. No one said anything directly to me about attending until I walked through it, and then I was invited to stay. I was in self-pity mode and didn’t particularly want to socialize at a loud, alcohol-laden event with mosquitoes having their own simultaneous feast, but I stayed just to be around people. Denilo praised my next destination to me, since he had helped to build it and had worked there for a long time. “Paradise,” he called it. Guillermo, one of the guards, tried to give me a drunken Spanish lesson. And then it was time to patrol, and one of the research assistants went running to get her boots and managed to pierce her foot with a kebab stick. I was quite relieved to get out onto the beach, even though we didn’t see anything.

I really got to know people best while we were out patrolling. We shared stories about our jobs back home, opinions, hopes about spotting turtles, future plans. You fall into a rhythm, striding over sand and avoiding logs and branches strewn about by the incoming tides. It was much easier to make conversation with people over meals after having spent hours sharing our dreams while watching the waves.

ON the fourth day, I went for a ride on the boat down the canals to North Station, the other side of the reserve. (We patrolled up to the 40th marker - North Station ended at 57.) The change of scenery was nice for me. I love water and riding on boats, and seeing the rainforest from the canals is unforgettable. I’ll let my pictures do the describing, when they’re developed. On the way back to South Station, where I was living, I became friendly with one of the Spanish girls, though she spoke very little English and I very (very) little Spanish. We played soccer out on the beach, working up such a huge sweat that my clothes were still wet hours later. Then I went out for my last night on patrol, and we walked all the way up to 57 that time, just for good measure. Still didn’t see anything. I guess the turtle part just wasn’t meant to be.

I was finally falling into a new solo rhythm at Pacuare, so of course that meant it was time to disrupt the routine by leaving. Most of the researchers were leaving too actually, for a few days’ vacation in Puerto Viejo. They departed early in the morning, and Denilo took me in the boat - in the pouring rain - a few hours later. The cooks got up early and put together one final breakfast for me. We bagged my suitcases in plastic, and I hoped for the best as I watched the canal speed by one final time.

On to Selva Bananito…

Now that I’ve returned to accomodations that have the full triad of modern conveniences (that’s hot water, cell phone reception, and internet access) I will update you on my travels in Costa Rica. But first, an ode to four wheel drive.

I humbly thank the pioneer(s) who developed four wheel drive, as it has saved both my trip and probably my life several times over the past week. Thanks to four wheel drive, neither pothole nor rough stone road nor rushing river has kept me from my destination. Bouncing and jostling today over the two-lane highways of the Caribbean coast, I felt my good fortune keenly - to be born and live and travel in an age in which it is possible to journey long distances, over nearly impassable terrain, in a matter of hours, in relative safety and comfort.

Now I am back in smooth-road territory, where the terrain is not one huge pothole with occasional patches of traversable road but is actually paved and level. Along with this change has come several other changes - namely that I am able to turn on a light by flicking a switch rather than blistering my thumb with a lighter. Yes, for the first time in seven days, I have electricity at my disposal. When I was planning this trip, I didn’t realize that my entire Costa Rican experience would be taking place in such rustic accomodations. But better not to consider such things too much - otherwise one might end up missing out due to some projected perceived discomfort.

As a solo traveler booked through a tour company, I have had some rather odd experiences traveling around the country. Firstly, all of my long distances have been covered through the grace of private hired drivers - no confusing bus lines or crowded, pickpocket-rich bus terminals for me. I was scooped up from Le Bergerac’s lobby by my first driver, who kept me company in fairly good English while I got my first glimpse at the Caribbean countryside. The prevalent style seems to be aluminum siding and brightly colored stucco, with floor to ceiling gates wherever you look. The rural areas are quite rural, filled with grazing farm animals and rows and rows of banana plants, with the precious future Dole products bagged in blue plastic, causing them to dangle like cocoons from the trees.

We drove northeast, drawing closer to the coast, and then picked up a second driver (who, as it turns out, drove me home today) who directed us to a tiny dock outside Matina, a tiny town surrounded by banana plantations. I was surprised to even see it on my guidebook’s map, since it seems to be so tiny and poor. I disembarked at the dock with my 80 pounds of luggage (about 40 pounds too many - I don’t recommend overpacking as I did) and then the confusion began. My itinerary listed “Pacuare National Reserve” as my destination, but gave no hotel name or contact number, and no further directions as to how to get there. The drivers shrugged, seeming to think that the Hotel Mawamba boat floating at the dock was my next mode of transport, since it was the “only hotel that sends boats to this dock”. I knew this couldn’t be right, especially after I found out that Hotel Mawamba is located in Tortuguero, a very famous national park that is essentially the birthplace of turtle research and conservation. I’d know if I were headed there. The girl with the Hotel Mawamba clipboard was very kind and radioed to the hotel reception to check for my name (no cell phone reception there, and no pay phones either - in fact, not much of anything at all except a few stray underfed dogs) and then painstakingly read off the number of my tour coordinator in Costa Rica for them to call on my behalf. Eventually the message got through, and I found out that some signals had been crossed, but never mind - a boat was coming for me.

In the meantime, the well meaning Mawamba folks had dumped about 60 pounds of my baggage underneath various seats on their ferryboat, so the 20 or so passengers patiently waiting while I ruminated and fretted on the dock then had to scavenge under their seats to find my bags. Some of them spoke only German, which created a bit of a language barrier, but eventually my three bags were hauled back onto the dock and the boat departed without me. I watched it go down the canal, feeling a bit stranded, trying to have a sense of humor about it all.

Finally a small rowboat with an outboard motor roared into view. My savior, Denilo, had come to retrieve me. He didn’t speak very much English, and I hardly any Spanish at all, but we managed to establish that I was heading for Pacuare, and so my bags and I soon found ourselves on a private tour of the canals, rainforest drooping down on one side and farmland on the other. Denilo tried to point out a few specimens of wildlife, but I was too slow and overwhelmed to figure out where he was pointing. Finally, in about 25 minutes, we arrived at Pacuare Reserve. Denilo and I lugged my bags up a wooden path and onto the porch of a rather imposing, comfy-looking beach house. This was the tourist quarters, and I the only tourist. I had a king sized bed, a private bathroom, a kitchen next door (not that I used it - my meals were cooked in the main dining cabin, where I ate with the research staff and volunteer groups) and a gorgeously soft hammock, which I took advantage of for many hours during my stay. There was even running water, another way in which these living conditions rose above those I experienced last year in Australia. However, there was no heat, so the water was ice cold. (And obeying the natural law of things, the water in the shower was colder than the water I poured myself to drink.) There was also no electricity at all, so there were white candles and matches strategically placed around the room and in the bathroom. One could view this as romantic and rustic, or simply rustic, depending on how late at night one stumbled into the room, and in what state of physical discomfort. At first it seemed rather charming, anyway.

Pacuare Reserve is a privately owned stretch of land that is comprised of turtle nesting beach - mainly for leatherbacks and green turtles, neither of which I saw during my four days there - and a neighboring rainforest, complete with various species of monkeys, birds, tree frogs, and many MANY mosquitoes (several of which I graciously provided a delicious dinner). It’s staffed by about 15-20 people at any given time, with various researchers and assistants and volunteers drifting in and out. Many of the staff there were Americans recently out of college or getting ready for graduate school. When I arrived, there was a large group of high school students on a “World Challenge” with their teachers and a Costa Rican chaperone. I quickly fell in with them and even missed them a bit when they all left early on my third morning, leaving me as temporarily the only guest at the reserve. (This would happen again later, when I was at Selva Bananito.)

I will continue this narrative when I reach Peru - for now, buenas noches.

It’s 11:24 pm back home, which means it’s 9:24 here. I arrived at the hotel about half an hour ago. I will write a full update probably when I get back from my rainforest/turtle tour - right now I need to go take a bath (beautiful bathroom!) and EAT something. The “turkey sandwich” on Continental Airlines didn’t quite do it for me.

Buenas noches…

Just taking care of the very last minute details - leaving for the airport in a few hours.

My first stop is the Hotel Le Bergerac in San Jose, Costa Rica. It looks amazing from the website - and a bit posh for me. My tour company must have some kind of special rate with them. I’m only staying one night, and then I’m on to a tour of the rainforest - no website for the first location, but the second is Selva Bananito Lodge, which also looks beautiful.

Hopefully I’ll be able to update this page soon. Stay tuned!

Wish me a safe trip!

We’ve made a bit of progress since yesterday, both in terms of getting me packed AND getting me feeling like I’m ready to go somewhere. I spent today feeling a little sleepy and spacey and dizzy from the medication (but not in a bad way) though I did try to psych myself up by looking through the guidebooks and brochures, to remind myself that there is more to this trip than not forgetting my flip-flops.

I’m leaving for the airport in the early afternoon. I’ll probably update again before I leave. So until then, sweet anti-malarial dreams…

My suitcases are packed - just have to do the carry-on tomorrow. Some last minute odds and ends, too - an extra bottle of bug spray, a printed itinerary for my parents. And I start taking the famous anti-malaria drugs tomorrow with breakfast.

I’ve had a migraine for the past 4 days and I have been blaming it on various things - lack of sleep, not drinking caffeine at usual hours, too many hours at the computer, even the process of sorting through old materials and papers at work, which may have stirred up dust and dirt and aggravated my (very slight) allergies. (Too bad I got my wisdom teeth out in January - otherwise I might have been able to blame that, too.) But I’m wondering if it isn’t also nerves about the trip.

If I didn’t have the evidence to the contrary written down, I might be telling you that at this time last year as I was packing for Australia, I was excited and happy to be going. Of course, I was. But I was also secretly nervous. Frightfully nervous, in fact. I was recently rereading my journal from the very first day of the trip, written while I was flying over the US on my way to catch a plane from LA to Sydney. In it, I sound downright unhappy to be going. I wondered why I was going, what I was trying to prove, if it was really necessary to go for four whole weeks, if I was going to enjoy myself at all, why I hadn’t decided to just stay home and relax.

(And that was BEFORE I flew 14 and a half hours straight and broke down crying in the airplane bathroom!)

Memory is a funny thing. Once I was immersed in Australia, particularly once I had successfully done with the Earthwatch expedition and had soaked my feet back to reasonable health, I was thrilled to be there. I had such an amazing experience that I was genuinely sad to leave. It took quite a few weeks before I readjusted to being back in New York, to the point where my journal records me seriously wondering if I could continue to live here. I started telling everyone I knew to go to Australia, that it was the single most amazing place I ever visited and that I would go back in a heartbeat. The trip took on a mythical status for me - grumbling about my poor cut-up and blistered feet aside.

So maybe this pre-trip anxiety is simply part of the experience for me. I have to accept that I’m going to feel nervous, unsure, even downright reluctant in the weeks and days leading up to departure. Even twinges of regret that I’m not having a quieter, simpler summer. One does not undertake a six week solo journey expecting it to be relaxing and easy. I expect to be pushed and challenged. I already have been, just getting all the bookings and medical things settled, and I haven’t even left home yet.

I suppose that if this weren’t big and important to me, it wouldn’t be worth the fuss of going. If there were nothing at all to be nervous about, if I weren’t taking any chances or extending myself in any way, then what would be the point? I’ve certainly taken easier trips before. I would be very comfortable strolling the streets of Florence or Paris or London. I could even have done two simple weeks sailing the Galapagos (which I’ll see near the end of my trip) or a simple stay at a resort in Costa Rica (which I’m doing near the beginning). The fact is, I’ve chosen to do it all at once, perhaps in an unnecessarily complicated way. But that’s how I always do it. If I don’t schedule at least two markedly different climates into a trip, I’m not pushing myself hard enough. At the very least, I now have EXCELLENT packing skills.

I am probably focusing too hard on getting this “right” or on trying to avoid problems that I haven’t even thought of yet. Maybe I’ve been thinking too much about “what ifs” - what if I don’t react well to the altitude? what if I lose a suitcase? what if the hotel loses my reservation? etc. - and not enough on what I’ll actually be doing there. Hopefully, once I arrive, my focus will shift, and I’ll begin to appreciate the decision that I made back in the winter to do this in the first place. It seemed like an excellent idea when I booked the trip, and once I’m out of this nervous haze, I’m sure it will seem so again.

In the meantime, I am going to get to bed. The headache is mild right now, but it’s starting to return. Maybe a good night’s sleep will put an end to it.