Status: Single
City: LAS VEGAS
State: NEVADA
Country: US
Signup Date: 1/21/2006
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Wednesday, November 04, 2009
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**This is the very last entry in a
series recapping my last vacation. I will now return to my normal
routine of rarely blogging at all about anything.**
Most of these photos were taken Dolphin Trainer™ except for the ones that I took. Can you guess which are which?
Welcome
to the Galapagos! My invisible friend Arthur and his girlfriend Leslie
are in this photo. I won't tell you where, though.
This
is the Galaxy and a marine iguana. One is the yacht we lived on for a
week while visiting the islands and the other is searching in vain for
"one ring to rule them all".
A
traditional toast with fancy glasses of whole milk kicks off a week of
frivolity. Leave the skim in the fridge please, it's time to party!
Don't drink milk and drive, kids.
Dolphin Trainer™ demonstrates why UNESCO has placed the Galapagos Islands on their Endangered List due to the destructive nature of tourism.
The chicas (from L to R: Rhonda, Darcy, and Kem) patiently await their turn to feed the baby sea lion.
A hawk patiently waits its turn to stand next to Bob for a photo.
Suzanne
and Bill perform a scene from their award-winning play "This Sums Up
Our Marriage" which has captivated audiences in Winnipeg, Canada for
decades.
Milena and Matus are from Slovakia where red-footed boobies are held in such high esteem they inspire fashion choices.
Our
legendary guide Carlos. When he's not guiding or moonlighting as a John
Stamos impersonator, he delivers lectures on how to communicate with Carol Anne.
Carlos walks barefoot on lava rock to show off his manliness.
And I show off mine.
Settle down, teetotalers. The legal age for drinking milk on the islands is only one day old.
The Galapagos is all about friendship. Just observe how friendly the animals are with each other!
See how well these blue-footed boobies get along? They are good pals!
These rays are really good friends. They stay very close together. That's friendship!
A sea turtle consoles a good friend in time of need. That's what friends are for.
We can learn a lot about friendship from Galapagos animals.
Galapagos
hawks have the uncanny ability to peer into the diary of your soul and
read all about that one day your crush noticed the zit you were trying
to hide on your forehead and told everyone about it and you ran home
from school crying like a little baby.
This genetically inferior frigatebird paid big bucks for pouch augmentation in a desperate attempt to attract a mate.
The
Middle East has nothing on the enduring feud between hawk and sea lion
that has resulted in the loss of countless lives, institutionalized
anti-sealiontism, and many fruitless visits by Jimmy Carter.
The nerd of the Galapagos. He won't be passing his genes on any time soon.
Red footed boobies are shy. Probably because they have Smurf beaks.
Sally Lightfoot crabs are into Japanese anime.
Dolphin Trainer™ gets in the way of a great sunset.
*Sigh* And so do Arthur and Leslie.
Hey,
Dolphin Trainer™, why not train these so-called "intelligent" animals
to recognize the difference between open water and a tuna net?
These fish are liberal.
And these are conservative.
Leftist sea turtle goes against the conservative tide.
In the Galapagos, this is known as a community college of fish.
Dolphin Trainer™ is satisfied. He has successfully poisoned all of the sea lions.
"Not tonight, Dolphin Trainer™. I have a headache."
To
raise awareness about the endangered Galapagos giant tortoise, the park
kills two of them every month to give tourists fresh shells to play in
which inspires us to spread the word about conservation.
This trip was Bill's reward for winning a Charles Darwin impression contest.
Tired
of going to the gym? With The Shell™ you can do all your resistance
workouts in the comfort of your own home! Just three easy payments of
$19.95! Order yours today!
After Dolphin Trainer™ saw Suzanne posing with her Geist magazine, he made me take multiple pictures of him posing with his magazines. This, however, is a family blog.
Tired of looking ridiculous in that Snuggie? Now you can read your Geist magazine in style while wearing The Shell™! Available from fine poachers everywhere.
For some reason, Carlos began humming The Ride of the Valkyries as we approached the mangrove swamp.
Carlos dangles his feet in shark infested waters, unwittingly mocking every boy and girl who was ever born without a foot.
The famous Pinnacle Rock of Bartolome island was designed by the same Italian genius who gave us the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
Donate
today to the "American Tourists for a Better Galapagos Fund" and help
replace these old worn out stairs with a modern escalator.
Google
image search "Bartolome island" and you'll find many pictures like
this. What you won't see, however, is the gun pointed at every
photographer. The park is very demanding about certain things.
Carlos parts a community college of fish.
One
night a sea lion hopped on board to avoid a group of hungry sharks. He
regaled us with tales of adventure before we pushed him back in to make
for an even better story for us to tell our grandchildren.
Dolphin Trainer™ and Carlos shop on different pages of the L.L. Bean catalog.
Carlos talks to us about spreadsheet analysis. It is the most fascinating thing we have ever heard.
This is a family blog so there'll be no jokes about what's scheduled at 0800 hours.
This
is Pepe, our super duper strict guide for the second part of our trip.
He's giving Arthur and Leslie a lecture about respecting the wildlife.
Kem and Darcy respect the wildlife. They are good friends just like the tortoises!
Along
with Pepe, we gained three new passengers at the halfway point. From
left to right: Laura, Jessica, and Erica wonder what kind of a high
school clique they've entered as they are segregated into the "new kid"
table in the corner.
Kem
violates the usual Galapagos visitor protocol by enjoying the moment
with her eyes, rather than clicking away with her camera. Tsk, tsk!
Shameful.
Kem got put in time out.
Can you spot me in this picture?
By keeping its overhead costs low, the post office on Floreana Island has never needed to raise the cost of a first class stamp.
The duckbill on that kiddie ride varies in size and shape from island to island.
Suzanne screams in horror as she suddenly remembers she left the iron on.
Phooning, much like pimpin', ain't exactly easy.
There are lots of underwater treasures to be found in the Galapagos. Like this dog chew toy.
Or this lovely beaded curtain.
"Thank
you for flying Manta Ray Airlines. The captain apologizes for the
turbulence. He just gets really jumpy whenever he hears the word Crikey."
To avoid predators, starfish blend effortlessly into the blue and, uh, orange background.
Sharks sometimes lay low to attack their prey. However, their lack of orange camouflage gives them away.
Superstitious
rays hide in the sand to keep their souls from being stolen by
underwater cameras. Seriously, look at the eyes! This dude is totally
freaking out.
Camouflage Military Helmet is the most popular aftermarket body kit amongst sea turtles these days.
Sea lions try to act all bad ass, but in reality they just want to balance a rubber ball on their nose.
Who are you trying to intimidate, Mr. Sea Lion? Go toot some horns, marine clown.
"Thank
you for flying sea turtle airlines. We have reached our cruising speed
and will be arriving at our destination within the next century."
They say the Galapagos islands are evolution's laboratory. Uh, back to the drawing board on this one?
The Lord replied, "My precious child, whenever you saw tracks like this, that's when a marine iguana carried you."
Land iguanas like to yawn whenever blog posts of photo captions run too long.
No, this is not one of those insurance lizards. This one shills for the telemarketing industry.
Boobies go through an awful adolescent stage where God Himself turns away from them because they are so damned ugly.
Is
that a turtle wearing a fuzzy parka? Nope, it's a baby booby wondering
why Tim Burton hangs around so much with his sketch pad.
Thankfully puberty turns boobies into beautiful swans who look like they left their beaks in the freezer for too long.
Unfortunately for marine iguanas, they never grow out of the "horribly disfigured in a fire" stage.
In
the Galapagos, if you cover your eyes, it is not considered cheating.
In other news, Bill Clinton continues to lobby for an Ambassadorship to
the Galapagos.
This reminds me of the frigatebird kite I had as a kid.
Nazca boobies never fail to be amazed by heavier-than-air flight.
The female Magnificent Frigatebird was named by a very lonely ornithologist.
Dolphin Trainer™ never fails to be amazed by heavier-than-air flight.
The
chicas named this little sea lion "Cuddles". Isn't Cuddles cute? Gosh,
it's so sad to think that Cuddles is most likely dead now.
BONUS PHOTOS OF QUITO!!
Our hotel wouldn't let us keep our bags inside our room so we took turns keeping watch over them outside.
The Basílica del Voto Nacional has gargoyles that were designed by certain lonely ornithologists.
Arthur and Leslie are big fans of The Opie & Anthony Show.
If
you have never seen the attic of a church, then you are either lying or
you are blind because you're looking at one right here, Sherlock.
Harold Faltermeyer's Axel F sounds awesome on organ.
Additional note: That is the last known photo of my backpack before it got mustard stained. :(
Handy tip I learned from experience: make sure to take your deep breath before putting your mouth on the blow gun. Those darts are pretty tasty, though.
Shriveled
heads tell us much more about the people who gawk at them than it does
about those who make them. And I'm not just saying that because I enjoy
making them. Staring at them is pretty damn cool, too.
As
you can see, the glare from the sun is stronger in the Southern
Hemisphere than it is in the Northern Hemisphere. Just ask the Fonzie of South America.
"Bye bye!" says Cuddles. "I'm off to feed the sharks."
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Wednesday, September 02, 2009
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**This is an ongoing series recapping
my last vacation. Once finished, I will begin another 20 part blog
recapping all the exciting behind-the-scenes drama of this recap blog
that has lasted five months longer than the actual trip.**
What
could possibly be said about the last day of a trip? That's just the
boring travel day back home. There's nothing to talk about. What am I
going to do, tell you about the movie they showed on the airplane?
Yep!
Buckle up.
Captain's Blog. Trip date: March 20, 2009.
We ate our final complimentary breakfast in
our hotel, Los Alpes, and chatted with fellow guests. There were always
interesting travelers to converse with in that intimate dining room
including the older pair of gentlemen who gave us the idea to tour the
Inti Nan Solar Museum while they spent a full day at a market up north
shopping for ponchos and other stereotypical South American items.
There was the professor who spoke many languages and seemed to
personally know every person he came across. I bet he could beat Kevin
Bacon by a few degrees. We also ended up in a lot of pictures with very
nice couples: "Hey--you two boys are staying at the same hotel as
us...why don't you join us for a picture?"
It was almost like
staying at a hostel. That is, with private showers and toilets you can
flush paper down. Also, replace the idealistic twenty-somethings who
want to share a beer with you with idealistic sixty-somethings who want
to share a group photo with you. That's Los Alpes!
This
time, our taxi to the airport cost only $5, the cheapest price yet! He
must have been new to the job. We did our usual "here? there? back over
here? maybe it's there?" search for where we were supposed to go for
customs and we ran into a Galaxy
reunion. The chicas, Bill and Suzanne, and Janet and Robert were all
waiting on line. The chicas flight got postponed so their choice of an
earlier flight did not pay dividends especially when it got delayed
again and they finally landed back in Canada sometime in April.
Bill
and Suzanne told us about their own Inti Nan Solar Museum trip and
their adventures shopping for ponchos and other stereotypical South
American items. Apparently that's a solid one-two punch if you ever
visit Ecuador. Janet and Robert took some kind of train ride after
their stint on the Galaxy. I
think Robert (one of the liveliest eighty-something I've ever
encountered) was kidding when he said it reminded him of the very first
train ride. Not his first train ride, the very first train ride. Oh, he's a kidder! Uh, right, Bob?
Once
again, we said goodbyes. We made "we should go to Dolphin Trainer™'s
zoo and play with the dolphins!" reunion plans with the chicas and
after 11 days of practice, I was able to mispronounce Upasana's name
one last time. With that, we bid farewell to Ecuador and boarded our
plane.
Well, Dolphin Trainer™ got to board the plane. I was
chosen for a random search by a female security guard. I was ushered
into a corner with a small table and informed that she would empty out
the contents of my backpack one item at a time. She showed no emotion
as she picked up each item. Even the ponchos and other stereotypical
South American items gave her no pause. Then she came to my roll-on
sunblock stick which I always use for my nose when I hike.
"What's this?"
Sunblock.
"You should have checked this."
But it's not liquid. It's a stick. It's like a big, thick chapstick. Do we have to check chapstick?
"Next time check it."
With
that, she finished up and let me on the plane. We flew back to Miami
and I watched the movie "Flash of Genius" starring Greg Kinnear as the
guy who invented the intermittent wiper and successfully sued all the
manufacturers who stole the concept and successfully ruined his entire
family life in the process. Not sure what I'm supposed to take from
that. Maybe, "Fight for your principles because you can win and your
life will be worse off for it!"
The pilot periodically alerted
us to significant details such as when we passed over the Panama Canal,
the weather in Miami, and the status of the roll-on sunblock hijacker
who forced his way into the cabin at the beginning of the flight and
caused a bit of a delay before takeoff. The pilot also used the
opportunity to practice his Spanish which sounded like a ninth grader
reading straight from a Spanish book: "Whole-lah Scene-yors Why
Scene-yor-eetahs." That's when I realized that it's not my lack of
Spanish that's holding me back from a career as a bi-lingual pilot.
In
Miami, Dolphin Trainer™ and I wandered around the airport for food and
once again ended up at a Nathan's Hot Dog stand where we got strange
looks as we tried to converse with the people eating around us and
invited them to be in some group shots with us. Finally it was time to
say goodbye to Dolphin Trainer™. He was headed back to Chicago and I
back to Las Vegas. He gave me a parting gift, Obsessed,
the book he had been reading all trip. It looked like an intriguing
thriller which is a change of pace for him. I've done a road trip with
him every year since we met in Antarctica in 2005 and he always brings
along a book from a specific genre. Last year it was The Time Traveler's Wife, the year before, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, and the year before that it was Are you There God? It's Me, Margaret.
Obsessed
is about a guy who steals the idea for intermittent wipers and goes on
to enjoy a happy and productive life even though he ends up losing many
court cases. Not really. It's about a professor's strange class
assignment concerning a missing girl. It's fast-paced, but has a
let-down ending. Kind of like this blog if you're expecting a big
finish and you think the passive voice makes for fast-paced action.
After
being away 17 days, I arrived home and was greeted by an apartment with
no running water. The unit next door was being remodeled and they
accidentally decided I wouldn't need to shower or use the toilet when I
came back. So, my vacation sort of lasted an extra day in one sanitary
sense. It was fixed the next day. Since I had no vacation photos to
sift through or vacation video to edit, I instead sat down to write a
never-ending blog about my trip.
A month after the trip, USA Today travel reporter Laura Bly published her article about the Galapagos. She also posted a video
on youtube. Some video highlights: Dolphin Trainer™ swimming at 0:18,
Pepe handing Dolphin Trainer™ and I some postcards starting at 0:46,
and nude photos of the chicas at 1:28.
Speaking of the chicas,
Upasha$s9hasan@ywhda visited Las Vegas in June for her sister's
bachelorette party. I hooked her up with some discounted "O" show
tickets, had a nice dinner with her sister and two of their friends,
and waited in vain for her to demonstrate why her nickname is Darcy
Pewksgoode. She brought with her some classic Canadian gifts: maple
tea, maple syrup, and a hockey stick. I gave her some ponchos and other
stereotypical South American items. Is that line funny yet? No?
During our last daily briefing on the Galaxy,
everyone exchanged email addresses and snail-mail addresses to stay in
touch and exchange photos. In June, Dolphin Trainer™ sent out DVDs he
made of the photos he took and the video he edited together from the
crappy footage I took. Seriously, I'm one horrible cameraman. Somehow
he was able to turn Pepe-like footage into a brilliant Carlos-like
video. It's especially good for him because usually he is the star
photographer of any trip. However, it became apparent that would not be
the case on this trip when, on the way back from Espanola, Jessica
opened her laptop and invited everyone to see the photos she had taken
so far. They were amazing. Visually stunning. You could see the shock
and jealousy dripping from Dolphin Trainer™'s face as he viewed her
artistic masterpieces. So, thankfully he was able to claim at least one
post-trip award for "Best Video" even though there was no competition
in the category.
Here are some random notes I found nowhere to place except here at the end:
1.
Karla is starting her own business called Galahouse which, like most
businesses on the Galapagos, has zero presence on the web. She still
owns half of Galakiwi so you can contact her here
if, by chance, you ever travel to San Cristobal. She can get you good
deals on anything and hopefully she won't be married to Carlos by the
time I return.
2. There's something odd about being on a boat
600 miles off the coast of South America, seemingly in the middle of
nowhere, and seeing someone on their cell phone.
3. While
waiting in line to eat dinner at Hotel Miconia the night before our San
Cristobal scuba dives, we talked to a lady who gave us dining advice
for the island. She said to avoid one place which was absolutely
horrible. Just disgusting. A negative 5 out of 5 stars. I told her we
certainly wouldn't be eating there, thank you very much. Later, Dolphin
Trainer™ told me she was talking about the place we liked where we ate
lunch earlier that day.
4. I didn't notice any difference
between the beaks of any of the finches I saw. I guess I just proved
evolution wrong much in the same way as those Einsteins who think
they've disproved global warming every time it's cold outside.
5. Be sure to put your roll-on sunblock stick in your checked baggage. Lives are at stake.
There is one more post coming before this travel blog is over: Galapagos photos with high-larry-us captions!
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Tuesday, September 01, 2009
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**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation. It's amazing how easy it is to turn a relatively short trip into a long, dragged out blog journal detailing every last insignificant moment. Ask me how!**
Dolphin
Trainer™ suggested we wake up early on our last day on San Cristobal to
get in one last snorkel before flying back to Quito. I would have
preferred to spend our last morning in the Galapagos contributing to
the rarity of the giant land tortoise, but I go with the flow. We went
back to Punta Corola,
the same beach we visited the day before but this time we walked a
short path to the other side of the point and swam to a more distant
cove called Cerro Tijeretas (or Frigatebird Hill) that was also recommended to us by our dive boat companions.
It
was further than we thought, but we finally made it and spent time
exploring with some sea lions. We wanted to be back at the hotel by
10:30 in order to get to the airport by 11 which meant we'd have to be
out of the water by 10 since it was about a 30 minute walk from Punta
Corola to our hotel. There is only one flight a day leaving the island
and locals never get turned away like a tourist might if they don't get
there early. At 9:30 we made the fateful decision to walk from
Frigatebird Hill back to Punta Corolla instead of swimming along the
shore because we assumed that walking would be quicker.
We easily found the path out of the water that led up to the top of the hill where a statue
of Charles Darwin overlooks the water. Apparently this is where he
first made landfall on San Cristobal. We never made it to the monument
where Darwin first took a dump on the island, but I hear it's nice. The
trail was littered with small, sharp rocks which wouldn't be worth
mentioning except for the fact that we were barefoot having left our
shoes at Punta Corola. The going was slow and painful. Each step was a
pointy reminder of our decision to not swim back. I assumed the trail
would be short. I was wrong.
There are decisions made in life
which may haunt you until your last earthly breath. If there is an
afterlife, the decision to walk the trail that day will haunt me until
after that. I've done hikes
that have lasted from sunrise to sunset, but none seemed as long as
this hellish nightmare of a trail. I don't know how people walk
barefoot over rough terrain, but if necessity is the mother of
invention, I would have invented shoes if I were born a cave man. This
was, without a doubt, the worst experience of my life which, if you
think about it, says more about my charmed life than it does about this
barefoot trail catastrophe.
Dolphin Trainer™ hated it as well,
but somehow he managed to go fast enough to where I no longer saw or
heard him. It got so bad, I tried walking with my fins on, but that
made the going even slower and prohibitively awkward. Considering we
had a time deadline, I took solace in the hope that once Dolphin
Trainer™ reached our shoes, he'd come back with mine and save me from
this walking torture. I'm not one to cuss often but that certainly
wasn't the case this day. With each step, I screamed a steady stream of
vulgarities that would make any young open-mic comic shake their head
in disgust.
It was horrible. Just absolutely incredibly horrible.
What
seemed like hours passed and eventually I realized that Dolphin
Trainer™ should have been back up the trail by now, heroically carrying
my shoes so we could make our flight. Where was he? My constant
invectives now turned from blaming the sharp rocks and Charles Darwin
himself to a brand new target: Mr. Dolphin Trainer™. Fortunately for
him (and me), he never heard the combination of insults I made up which
wouldn't even be allowed to air on Satan TV.
Finally, after an
eternity of punishment usually reserved for childbirth or kidney stone
passing, I emerged from the bloody trail and stepped gloriously onto
the sandy beach where I spotted my beloved shoes still sitting right
next to Dolphin Trainer™'s shoes. Where was he? I looked out into the
bay and saw him snorkeling away without a care in the world.
Bastard.
Later I found out he got in an extra 20 minutes of snorkeling while I marched on my own personal Trail of Tears.
I don't know if I was able to keep my anger inside or was just too
overwhelmingly relieved for it to finally be over, but I didn't say
much to Dolphin Trainer™. He came in and began to excitedly talk about
a shark he saw until he noticed my unhappiness. We gathered our things
and silently walked back to the hotel. He stayed 30 paces ahead of me,
keeping his distance from my seething displeasure. Meantime, I gained
some joy by imagining scenarios of Mustard Thieves™ stealing Dolphin
Trainer™ rather than my backpack.
We turned in our fins at
Victor's dive shop, showered and checked out of our hotel and made it
to the airport by 11:15. We had plenty of time before our flight so I
no longer harbored ill will toward Dolphin Trainer™ and his extra
snorkel time.
Bastard.
As we waited to go through
customs, I kept staring at a poster warning about the dangers of
premarital sex. I guess that's a big deal in the Galapagos what with
Carlos and all. We saw Jessica and Erica in the airport, but did not
sit by them. We talked to a group who did a scuba diving live aboard to
Wolf and Darwin Islands, the best scuba sites in the Galapagos. Someday, when I don't suck at diving, that's where I'd like to go.
This
time our fuel stop in Guayaquil forced us off the plane and inside the
concourse for a 20 minute wait where we chatted with Jessica for a bit
before they let us board the plane again. This time, there was no
assigned seating. We happily took the best seats on the aircraft until
we were rudely informed that apparently some seats were already assigned. Whatever. I didn't want to sit in that stupid cockpit anyway.
Back
in Quito, we bid farewell to Jessica and Erica for what seemed like the
100th time and took a taxi through rush hour traffic back to our
favorite hotel, Los Alpes. We had pre-arranged for the chicas to meet
us there that night so we could all have dinner together. We were all
happy to reunite, talk about our separate adventures the past few days,
and share new Pepe jokes. We wandered around the streets for awhile
looking for a restaurant that served guinea pig since Kem (Kim) and
Rhonda (Sonia) were craving it, but we couldn't find a suitable place.
We eventually settled on a hip, popular looking location which would
have to do.
I don't think this restaurant had guinea pig, but
they did have bread and butter which made it palpable to Darcy
(Upasana) who, as a vegetarian, lives on the combo. In fact, she drove
poor Marjorie crazy by demanding bread and butter every morning on the Galaxy
during breakfast. In terms of nutrition, bread and butter is her bread
and butter. I ordered some kind of chicken thing which wasn't so hot
and I don't recall what anyone else had other than the 35 wine bottles
that were ordered and consumed within two hours.
Overall, the
chicas were glad they visited Isabela Island although I think one of
them got sick there. They also said they missed us (which was nice to
hear) but they still dreamed of Carlos (of course). We told them of our
crush on Karla and Darcy said she predicted it since they were all
there at the dive shop that first night when we first met her. After a
full evening of conversation, we said our final goodbyes as they took a
cab back to their hotel and we walked back to ours.
We did some
final packing before going to bed and lamented the fact that when we
told the chicas the story of our walkathon of death earlier in the day,
they didn't seem to think it sounded so terrible. No matter how much we
emphasized the pain, they just shrugged their shoulders as if they
couldn't understand why we'd make such a big deal about it. Then they
reminded us that Carlos walked barefoot over the sharp, lava rock like
it was nothing at all. Oh, brother. Whatever! Like I care what Carlos
did.
Bastard.
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Wednesday, August 26, 2009
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**This is an ongoing series recapping
my last vacation. I am so freakin' bored of this blog recap you have no
idea. Somebody kill me now.**
Hey!
Time for another entry! Whoo hoo! Awesome! Our second day on San
Cristobal was scuba diving day! We met Karla at the dive shop and she
introduced us to a nice couple who'd be joining us. The guy was from
Argentina and the girl was from England. They were staying on the
island for 6 weeks to teach English. I'm always amazed at people who
travel abroad to teach English. I couldn't do it. Don't you have to
know the students' own language to be able to teach them yours? The
only place I could go to teach English is England.
Although
the couple were both divers, they were going on the dive boat just to
snorkel. She was pregnant and he was foolishly selfless enough to want
to stay with his wife. As Karla walked us to the dock, we asked
questions about her life. She was born on the island, but spent some
time in New Zealand where she met her husband Tim. Together, they
opened the dive shop Galakiwi which is a clever combination: Gala for
Galapagos and kiwi for a popular shoe polish made in Australia.
However,
Karla said they are no longer a couple. That's unfortunate for Tim, I
say, because Karla is pretty much the most awesome person we met on the
entire trip. If the chicas fell in love with Carlos, then Karla was
definitely the female version of Carlos for the chicos. Sure, she was
attractive, but she also had the type of personality that lifts her
rating on a 1-10 scale of attractiveness to about 26 or 27. Did I
mention she also had wings and a halo?
Much like Las Vegas any
time of year, we saw lots of campaign signs posted around town for an
upcoming election. I asked Karla if she would ever run for office and
she said she wouldn't mind, but she doesn't think she'd win because her
fellow locals kind of disowned her ever since she married an
"outsider". I guess Galapagos and New Zealand are like the Montagues
and Capulets, or the Jets and the Sharks, or the Disney Channel and
Nickelodeon.
At the dock, she introduced us to our divemaster,
Victor, who happens to run his own rival dive shop on the island called
"Dive & Surf Club". I don't know how that works between competing
dive shops in the Galapagos. Could it be a collective? A real life
conservative Republican nightmare? Maybe the motto is, "from each dive
shop according to their available dive boats, to each dive shop
according to their bookings". Let's hope town hall America never scuba
dives in the Galapagos!
Besides an assistant dive master, there
were two other divers. One was just some random dude and the other was
a guy sailing solo around the world. Now, up until this point, I
thought that "training dolphins" was the ultimate conversation
dominator. But, no! It's not even close. Dolphin Trainer™ hardly talked
about his job once everyone found out about the Around-The-World guy.
He faced such a barrage of questions that in one hour I learned more
about him than everything I've learned about Michael Jackson since his
death. I also learned a lot about sailing around the world. You spend
98% of your time on maintenance because there's always something to
fix, you never get a full night's sleep because you have to wake up
every 20 minutes or so to check that you are still on course, and, most
importantly, you have plenty of time to wonder why you have no friends
or loved ones.
From the get-go we could tell that Victor ran a
more professional operation than Sub Aqua on Santa Cruz. We did a
pre-dive check at Isla Lobos which was our first stop with the Galaxy
a week earlier. Victor was able to gauge our abilities from that quick
check which means he probably made the following mental note: "Keep eye
on shaved head guy...a diving disaster waiting to happen".
Our two dives were at Kicker Rock, otherwise known as Leon Dormido which means "sleeping lion" because it looks
like one to people who are blind. Our first dive was a complete circuit
around one of the large rock formations. Of course, I only made it
halfway around with my lousy air consumption. The assistant divemaster
came up with me so, unlike Sub Aqua, this dive operation actually kept
track of their divers. How refreshing. I don't remember anything about
the first dive, but I do recall they gave us tasty cookies to eat in
between dives. I guess that pretty much sums up my scuba diving:
"How was diving in the Galapagos, Brandon? What did you see?"
"I saw a box of Oreo Double Stuf on the boat and I was hoping they'd pass it around and THEY DID! It was awesome!"
As
we prepared for the second dive, I noticed the air tank they gave me
was at 3300 psi. Usually it's always at 3000. I was so excited that I'd
get to be underwater for a bit longer. I had a bonus 300 psi! That's
like a whole extra minute for me! Apparently, air is a zero-sum game
because Around-The-World guy had only 2700 psi. He was not pleased.
Sorry, dude. I guess sometimes it pays to be an air hog.
The
second dive was excellent. Right as we descended there was a sea turtle
waiting to greet us. We also saw plenty of sharks including an entire
school of hammerheads! This was by far my longest dive in the Galapagos
even though, unsurprisingly, I was the first to ascend. Once again, the
assistant dive master came up as well. Poor guy. When you are the
assistant dive master your dives are only as long as the worst schmuck.
After a minute or two, Around-The-World guy came up as well. Again, he
was very unhappy that he started without a full tank so his dive was
"cut short". I didn't bother telling him that he outlasted me even
though I had 600 more psi.
After the dives, we went back to Isla
Lobos to eat lunch and snorkel with a dozen young sea lions. Dolphin
Trainer™ had his waterproof camera and we took video of each other
swimming with the sea lions. He didn't like the footage I got although
he loved the footage he took of me. He said it was my fault. I say,
rather than blame the camera guy, why not just admit that the
underwater camera likes me better? It's not my fault he is a lousy sea
lion snorkeler. Why not come to terms with the fact that I am the
superior "leading man" when it comes to video of swimming with sea
lions? Search your feelings, Dolphin Trainer™. You know it to be true.
Overall,
the diving experience with Victor was fantastic (as was booking through
Karla). I left the following feedback: Highly Recommended! Would do
business with again! A+++++++++++++!!!!!!
Back at our hotel, we ran into fellow Galaxy
passengers Jessica and Erica who came back from Isabela a day early
because Jessica was sick. She probably came to soak in the healing
powers of Karla's angelic aura which permeated the island. The couple
we met during the dives recommended some beaches with good snorkeling
further down from Playa Mann so we went to one via taxi. They were
right. There were lots of sea lions, sea turtles and sea bears. Oh my!
As
I was showering after the snorkel, Dolphin Trainer™ went to find an
internet cafe to call his girlfriend to tell her about Around-The-World
guy. He also ran into Karla. Now, we had previously discussed that we
were both going to find her that night and give her a tip for being so
awesome. Instead, Dolphin Trainer™ tried to give her money right there.
At first she refused. He told her to use it for dinner and she
confusingly thought he was asking if she'd join us for dinner. And she
said yes! The newly single goddess of San Cristobal said she'd join us
for dinner! So what did Dolphin Trainer™ do? That's right, he shoved
the money in her hand and ran away like a wuss. "I didn't know what to
say," he'd later claim. Congratulations, Dolphin Trainer™. Your award
for the World's Worst Wingman is at the bottom of the ocean. Go get it.
So
rather than spend our last night on San Cristobal in the presence of a
sparkling female personality, we ended up at a nearly deserted
restaurant on the outskirts of town eating with a cat named Gordo. That
was the name of the kitty who roamed under the tables. We also ate with
the owner of the restaurant. At least, it felt like it considering he
came over to us so much. I felt bad for the guy. He was super nice and,
apparently, we were the first customers he'd had in 10 years.
The
only information I had gathered about San Cristobal before we arrived
was that the Mockingbird Cafe had killer milkshakes. That was my "must
do" thing on the island. Finally, on our last night, we went to the
cafe only to find out that they couldn't serve any that night. Perhaps
the machine was down or maybe it wasn't even on the menu anymore. I
can't recall. Hey, this was almost 6 months ago! I can't remember
everything! Instead, they had a tasty looking ice cream brownie on the
menu. We ordered that. But wouldn't you know it? It was sold out. We
ended up with those small ice cream cups with the lid you peel off and
the flat little wooden spoon you use to stab the rock hard ice cream
until it softens enough to become edible.
We wandered the
streets the rest of the night in search of Karla. By this time during
our stay on the island, the dark streets of San Cristobal, although
much worse looking than Quito, felt very safe. We were almost tempted
to give it the Muller/Dolphin Trainer™ backpack test. Besides the
ubiquitous political signage I mentioned earlier, San Cristobal has
another thing in common with Las Vegas--things are open late. Well,
sometimes. Actually, I don't think any business on the island has
regular hours. They just open and close as they please, even during the
day. Damn commies!
Unfortunately, Karla must not have felt like
opening up the shop that night, or going out at all. Dolphin Trainer™
really blew it by not taking her up on her dinner idea. That would have
been a great way to finish off our Galapagos experience! Sometimes I
imagine her sitting at a table that night, laughing and smiling,
brushing her hair away from her face, and then leaning in closer to
whisper, "So tell me more about sailing all around the world by
yourself."
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Wednesday, August 19, 2009
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**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation and The Alien and Sedition Acts were the greatest mistake of John Adams' Presidency. Some sentence clauses in this blog might not relate to each other.**
Ever
wake up on a yacht in the Galapagos and think to yourself, "This would
make a great opening sentence for my blog!"? Me neither.
Our last morning aboard the Galaxy
was full of disembarkation chores including packing, filling out
evaluation forms, and deciding how many nickels to leave for Pepe's
tip. Truth be told, I left him a good tip--not as much as I gave
Carlos--but enough to maintain the unblemished reputation of travelers
who hail from Las Vegas, NV, the legendary land of tipping.
Dolphin Trainer™ donated his fins to the Galaxy
mostly because he was too lazy to bother packing them. Similarly, at
the end of my Antarctica cruise, I donated my $10 Wal-Mart rubber boots
to the Explorer, although
that was mostly because the soles were permanently caked with penguin
guano. As I mentioned, that ship (and my boots) are now at the bottom of the southern ocean. If the Galaxy meets the same fate, then we can blame Dolphin Trainer™.
Pepe
insisted everyone hand in their evaluation forms rather than leave them
in the cabins. Why? Because before breakfast I noticed Pepe and the
rest of the crew reading through the evaluations! Talk about tacky. I
figured they'd wait until we were gone which was why I was so candid in
my comments. Otherwise, I might not have used phrases like, "What
blindfolded orangutan taught Marjorie
how to make beds?" or "Pepe's people skills would be best utilized in a
world where there are no people." In all actuality, I wasn't mean at
all. I simply said Carlos was the better guide, the first cook was
better than the second cook, and Marjorie is the absolute worst bed
maker in the history of civilized bed making.
Before leaving the Galaxy,
we said goodbye to the crew. Maggie gave me a long, extended hug and I
explained to her that if she spoke better English there might have been
a chance for us. Of course, she didn't understand. I think I heard her
whisper "Remember...hermit crab?" as I turned away.
We took our last panga
ride to the dock and said our goodbyes to King Matus and Queen Milena,
Suzanne and Bill, Laura Bly, and Jessica and Erica. We were opting out
of the final excursion (the San Cristobal Interpretive Center) for a chance to scuba dive. First we tried to check in to our hotel for the next two days, Hotel Miconia,
but it was too early. We asked if they could hold our bags and the lady
said yes; so she plopped them in the waiting area where she couldn't
even see them. With our travel awareness at a heightened level due to
our mustard trick experience, Dolphin Trainer™ and I both looked at each other, shrugged, and left for the Galakiwi dive shop.
Unfortunately,
there were no dive boats going out that day, but Karla booked us for
two dives the next day. We filled out the paperwork and she told us to
come back at 5:30 to get squared away with our gear. She was nice
enough to find us a land tour to occupy us. After checking into the
hotel, we hopped into a cab Karla called for us and embarked on a tour
of the interior island.
The cab driver spoke Maggie English so we sat in silence as he drove us to El Junco,
a beautiful lagoon nestled on top of the highest hill on the island.
The cabbie stopped at a parking lot and pointed to stairs leading up
the hill. We got out and hoped he would still be there when we
returned. We hiked all around the lagoon and came back to an empty cab.
"Oh great!" I thought. "Our luck is so bad now our cab driver was
stolen! He's probably tied up in the trunk of some car, covered in
mustard." Thankfully, though, he was sitting in another cab smoking a
cigarette. I always think the worst.
Next,
he took us to a tortoise breeding center/sanctuary. Once again, he
stopped in the parking lot and pointed. Not sure if they charged
admission, we looked for an "official" starting point but found none.
Instead, a well-marked trail into the tortoise sanctuary beckoned. We
walked down the path and found some tortoises conveniently loitering
near a display describing their behavior. Suddenly, a tall, thin man in
a military-type flight suit came sprinting down the trail shouting
words to us in Spanish. After a few unsuccessful exchanges in both Maggie English and Brandon and Dolphin Trainer™ Spanish, we realized he was supposed to guide us.
He
marched us forward in a speedy fashion. Whenever he came to a display
to read, he would stop for, oh, ten seconds or so, before charging
ahead like Clark Griswald visiting the Grand Canyon. It was very hot and humid that day, and
mystery military guide walked so fast that we lost sight of him a few
times. At the end of our boot camp march, Dolphin Trainer™ tried to tip
him out of courtesy, but he recoiled in horror and disappeared as
quickly as he arrived.
In
the parking lot, it was apparently our cab driver's turn to entertain a
fellow driver as they hung out in his cab listening to some tunes. Like
last time, he seemed oddly apologetic when we arrived as if we'd be
angry. I certainly wasn't and I think Dolphin Trainer™ was just kidding around when he went Christian Bale on the guy for being "unprofessional".
Our
last stop was a secluded beach about 15 minutes of hiking away from the
parking lot. We told the cabbie we'd be back in one hour which went by
fairly quickly. We returned and found him sleeping in the back seat,
once again apologizing to us after we woke him up. I told him it was no
big deal and Dolphin Trainer™ jokingly slapped him across the face but
acted like he was seriously enraged. I bet the cab driver still laughs
about it, now that he's most likely figured it out. Dolphin Trainer™
sure has a fun sense of humor!
Back in town, we ran into Bill
and Suzanne. At separate times, of course, because they know the secret
to a long-term marriage: avoid each other at all cost. Suzanne told us
that we missed nothing at the morning museumy experience. For lunch, we
ate at a place where we just guessed at a familiar looking word or two
on the menu and hoped for the best. We guessed well as we enjoyed our
meal while arguing over what our cab driver guide appreciated more: my
monetary tip or Dolphin Trainer™ jokingly spitting into his face as we
exited his cab.
We took another cab to Playa Mann
beach which we heard had good snorkeling. It was crowded and we felt a
bit weird leaving our stuff unguarded on the sand but we did it anyway.
Considering the number of times we "tested" Ecuador with our stupidity,
the fact that we were only jacked once is a testament to the fine,
honest people of Ecuador. It's a safe place to visit!
I was cold
during the snorkel so I came in early, right before a sea lion pup
arrived and played with Dolphin Trainer™ as if they were best of
friends. At least, that's what Dolphin Trainer™ claims. More likely, he
just swam around by himself contemplating his meager existence in this
world and the failure of traveling to exotic locations to add meaning
to his insignificant life and how his career choice of pinniped
training has left him hollow and empty inside making him wonder why he
shouldn't just sink down to the bottom of the sea right now and taste
the sweet release of death calling out to him from beneath the gentle
swaying of the ocean waves.
For dinner, we ate at the fancy
restaurant at our hotel. I ordered a medium pizza and Dolphin Trainer™
got a half-order seafood plate. My pizza was huge and Dolphin
Trainer's™ half-order was gargantuan--it was like 7 plates! Even the Man v. Food
guy would fail the challenge of a full seafood plate order. Amazingly,
we ate almost everything on the table, possibly not a smart thing to do
the night before scuba diving. Dolphin Trainer™ took all the left-overs
and jokingly dumped them over our waiter. What a kidder!
Before
retiring to bed, we walked the streets to unwind a bit. We passed
Galakiwi when suddenly Karla rushed out after us and asked why we
didn't show up to try on gear. Dolphin Trainer™ and I assumed she meant
5:30 am tomorrow, the morning of the dive. I do remember thinking that
was odd at the time. Since she told us to show up at 7:30 am for the
dives, why have us come in two hours earlier (5:30 in the morning!) to
pick out gear? Although I briefly considered asking for clarification,
I didn't, because, hey, why be smart when you can be dumb?!
So
we tried on our gear at 9:30 pm instead. It's a good thing we decided
to walk the streets after dinner, otherwise Karla would have thought we
flaked on her! Thankfully, she was really nice about it. I apologized
profusely. Dolphin Trainer™ also apologized by shouting "You should
have been clearer!" and proceeded to jokingly demonstrate MMA moves on her until the police arrived.
Not
to ruin my fun, but since there are people reading this blog who don't
know Mark (Dolphin Trainer™) I feel obligated to say that I get some
strange enjoyment out of making up lies that make him out to be a jerk,
which he most certainly is not.
And this last part is for Dolphin Trainer™ himself:**Irony off!**
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Monday, August 10, 2009
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**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation. These are the voyages of the yachtship Galaxy.
Her ongoing mission: to explore strange Galapagos islands, to seek out
uniquely evolved life forms and isolated populations, to boldly go
where Charles Darwin has gone before.**
Gardner Bay on Espanola Island might contain the most beautiful beach
out of any we encountered in the Galapagos. Here, King Matus and Queen
Milena came closest to the island paradise destination they were
falsely promised. All along the picturesque shore lay dozens and dozens
of sea lions basking in the sun, waiting to be photographed.
One juvenile was particularly playful and photogenic. Nicknamed "Cuddles" by the chicas, this little fellow with large anime
eyes curiously scooted over to our group. Suzanne sat on the beach
snapping photo after photo as Cuddles shimmied closer and closer until,
in a surprisingly quick move, the sea lion kissed Suzanne's feet and
elicited "aww's" from everyone.
Everyone except for Pepe.
With
a rage coursing through his veins usually reserved for faux-humping
chicas, Pepe unleashed a verbal lashing reprimanding Suzanne for
violating the park's two meter rule of distance between humans and
animals. Cuddles, on the other hand, was spared any lecture at all
which starkly illustrated Pepe's favoritism toward fellow natives.
Pepe, after all, was born on the islands.
In Antarctica, there
is a five meter rule of avoidance. However, they sensibly say that it's
OK if the penguins approach you as long as you stay still. In fact, we
were encouraged to lie down to see if any penguins were brave enough to
stand on top of you (which happens). No such shenanigans are allowed on
the Galapagos. At least not on Pepe's watch. In fairness to Pepe, he
has come along way since he first became a guide and enforced the
following Hollywood diva-like rules for observing Galapagos animals:
1. No photos
2. No autographs
3. No direct eye contact
4. No brown M&Ms in the candy bowl
Unfortunately
for Suzanne, Cuddles violated the two meter rule two more times
(although Cuddles tells a different version of the events) causing
Pepe's blood to boil redder than any of the water you'll see in the movie The Cove. After our beach walk, we had our last snorkel as passengers of the Galaxy,
swimming around a rock outcropping where we saw rays camouflaging
themselves in the sand. Suzanne was not allowed to snorkel and sat in
time out facing away from all the action.
I ended the snorkel
with a convincing dead man's float which attracted no attention.
Incensed, I vowed to teach them all a lesson by actually drowning if I
ever got another chance. On the ride back to the Galaxy, I was unlucky enough to not be in the panga that had a marine iguana swimming next to it. Suzanne was in that panga, but Pepe covered her eyes. Such was the extent of her punishment.
By
the way, I mentioned before that one of the panga drivers was named
Nixon. This guy was always saying things to me in Spanish that other
crew members laughed at, making me feel uncomfortable and suspicious.
So one time when I hopped in his panga and he started in with his usual
patter, I fired back a machine gun-like barrage of vocabulary words
that I knew he wouldn't understand. "What?" he queried. I just laughed
and said never mind as he gave me a worried look. It works both ways,
buddy.
Back on board I finished watching Ratatouille during siesta time. After that, Dolphin Trainer™, Bill, Matus, Milena and I took a tour of the bridge
which is where the captain hangs out pretending to monitor maps and
radar. I say pretend because the captain showed us how the boat is
actually mechanically attached to a predetermined course like an
amusement park water ride. Twice a year, the water around the islands
is drained so the entire apparatus can be cleaned. Must be some sight!
Our
last land excursion was a loop trail around Punta Suarez. We were
warned to prepare for a hot, unprotected hike. Crabs and marine iguanas
lazily gazed at us as we landed and walked on the lava rock. Further
inland, we passed through a major blue-footed booby zone on our way to
a blowhole.
As we continued along the loop, Laura, a seasoned traveler with more
than 20 fully stamped passports, revealed that she was about to pass
out. I don't know the details, but I think she brought no water, no
hat, no sun protection at all and then sprinted back and forth on the
trail in an attempt to make the hike more challenging. Somehow she was
able to continue and was even lucky enough to spot the rare Galapagos
hawk which, on Espanola, is often mistaken for a mocking bird.
The Galaxy
left Espanola and headed to San Cristobal where our cruise began six
days earlier. On the way, Dolphin Trainer™ and I hung out on the top
deck looking for whales and dolphins, finding neither. At our last
daily briefing, we passed around an email list so everyone could share
their trip photos. I took the time to sign a guestbook in the lounge
multiple times under many aliases as is my wont. Let future passengers
wonder about "Max", the lumberjack from the Pacific Northwest who
enjoyed the "crisp, barbecued taste of booby" or the confessions of 7
year old "Timmy" who was glad that the couch in the lounge didn't stain
after "going pee pee" on it.
Not long after the sun went down,
we arrived at San Cristobal and got to spend a few hours tasting the
nightlife of Puerto Baquerizo Moreno where Dolphin Trainer™ and I would
spend two extra days scuba diving before flying back to Quito. Maggie
and Marjorie were allowed to leave their Galaxy
duties behind and ride the pangas to the dock, ready to party and both
dressed to impress. Of course we all know who Maggie was trying to
impress. Suzanne, on the other hand, spent the entire time locked up in
the brig.
We explored the town with the chicas. Once again, kids
were out in force, this time playing on those coin operated kiddie
rides that you see in malls and shopping centers. I hopped on one, but
some parents shooed me away as if a 35 year old man who used to be
called "small fry" in elementary school would be able to break it. At a
dive shop called Galakiwi we met a nice woman named Karla who told us
to stop by in the morning to see if there were any dives available that
day since nobody likes to pre-book dives for unreliable tourists.
Pepe
told us to meet him at a certain local bar and for some reason we
actually went there. This time, I declined a free round from Dolphin
Trainer™ and we soon left since the vibe at the place was weird. Pepe
never showed up which makes me wonder what was going on. I'm just
waiting for Dolphin Trainer™ and the chicas to come down with some
incurable disease that can be traced back to that bar.
We played some games our last night on board the Galaxy.
The chicas brought out two moving boxes worth of candy that they had
been hiding in their cabins. It was only 20% of what they originally
started the cruise with having gorged themselves a few days ago trying
to eat away the pain of Carlos' departure. The Galaxy,
by the way, had a candy jar in the lounge full of chocolate treats
which I emptied on a daily basis. The jar was near a spectacular
invention called a water cooler. This modern marvel allowed any
passenger to drink free, purified water any time of day! I mention this
because some cruise ships don't think free water is a necessary
amenity. The Explorer ship that I took to Antarctica charged for water and is now at the bottom of the ocean. That, my friends, is karmic justice.
King
Matus pulled out his laptop and showed us pictures and videos from his
kingdom of Slovakia. He invited us to be his royal guests whenever we
want to visit. We said goodbye to the chicas since they would be
leaving the boat earlier than everyone else to travel to Isabela
Island where they would spend the next two days. We made plans with
them to reunite in Quito for dinner the night before we were all
scheduled to fly out of Ecuador.
I didn't really sleep too well that last night on board the Galaxy.
I suppose my thoughts of all the adventures we had enjoyed over the
past week kept me awake most of the night. Of course, the constant
screams of "Get me out of here!" and "I'll never go near a sea lion
again!" from somewhere deep within the bowels of the boat didn't help
me sleep, either.
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Saturday, August 01, 2009
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**This is an ongoing series recapping
my last vacation. I dedicate this entry to my first true love. Here's
to you, red/pinkish blanket from my childhood.**
When
Pepe replaced Carlos as our guide, the food quality on the ship also
took a bit of a nosedive. Perhaps, unbeknownst to us, the cook was
replaced as well, but we'd rather just believe that Carlos inspired all
of the crew to strive for the highest standards while Pepe inspired
them to half ass it. The first indication that something was different
was when our breakfast was served buffet style rather than delivered to
our tables. The second was when the same breakfast was re-served to us
as lunch.
Our morning excursion landed us on a olive-colored
shore called Punta Cormorant on the island of Floreana. We saw some
flamingos in the distance as we walked by a brackish lagoon and hiked
to a white sand beach where green sea turtles nest. There I filmed a
large crab crawling in the sand many meters away. I showed the footage
to Maggie and asked her what it was.
"Hermit crab!" she
exclaimed with authority. She was so excited to be able to answer
someone's question for once! It felt good knowing I helped her feel
like a real guide.
"What does it eat?" I queried, more than happy to encourage her new found confidence.
"Uh...I...wha? It's...No? Yes."
Never mind.
Unlike
every previous shore landing, this was the first time we had to share
the trail with another tour group. Sure, it was probably due to the
fact that we were now on one of the more visited islands, but we'd
rather think that instead it was somehow Pepe's fault. Yet another
consequence of his negative energy. Not that he had any, but we like to
imagine he did.
For our snorkel around and inside a volcanic
crater called "Devil's Crown", shorty wetsuits were all of a sudden
available for rent. I don't recall Carlos ever mentioning the
possibility. Perhaps they came on board with Pepe. Regardless, I'm sure
it's Pepe's fault that this was the first we'd heard of wetsuit
rentals. Everyone who hadn't brought a wetsuit of their own jumped at
the chance to swim comfortably warm for once. Except for me. I decided
to brave the waters because I'm tough and manly enough to balk at
spending extra money.
My gamble did pay off since the water
wasn't so bad. Handy tip--just tuck your quick dry t-shirt into your
swim trunks and --presto!--a makeshift wetsuit that acts like more than
.09% of the real thing! We saw some sharks and also a sea turtle that
Laura and Dolphin Trainer™ kept following despite the command from Pepe
to come back to the group. Dolphin Trainer™ did everything he could to
weasel in on every shot Laura took due to his USA Today pinup dreams.
After
lunch, Pepe scheduled a siesta into the itinerary. This was new. Carlos
didn't do this. Hey, Pepe, did you know Carlos never did this? What's
going on? It was like they were two different guides or something! I
guess everyone else actually slept because I was alone as I watched the
first half of Ratatouille thanks to the extensive Galaxy DVD library. My friend Matthew Scott Hunter
recommended it, saying it was the best movie of 2007 and it inspired
him to cook. I was on board until the rat started puppeteering the chef
by pulling his hair. Now that's ridiculous. I did, however, briefly
consider placing a Galapagos rice rat into the toque blanche of the new
Galaxy chef.
Floreana
island is most famous for Post Office Bay which is where we spent our
afternoon. The post office of Post Office Bay consists of a barrel
or two. Yep, that's it. In the past, whalers used to leave mail here in
a barrel and other ships passing by would pick it up and deliver it.
Nowadays, tourists drop off postcards to be mailed and search through
the stack to find any addressed to their hometown which they can
deliver themselves. Thus, no stamps are used; just good old-fashioned
hand delivery by kindhearted fellow travelers.
However, not
everyone follows the rules. I left a postcard addressed to my parents
and it arrived at their house one month later. By mail! Whoever picked
it up mailed it from San Diego, a mere two and a half hour drive from
Hesperia, where my parents live. I felt ripped off mostly because it
wasn't hand delivered but also because it came so fast. I had hopes of
my parents getting a knock on their door twenty years from now when a
Hesperia resident finally saved up enough money by shopping exclusively
at Porgie's Liquor and Deli
to finally afford a trip to the Galapagos. One month delivery means too
many people are visiting the islands! Again, Pepe must clearly be at
fault here somehow.
No postcard was destined for Las Vegas, so I
took one addressed to Mission Viejo instead. Sure, that's 5 hours or so
from my house, but every year for a week my family camps at a beach
near there, so it'd work out. Except, come to find out, my parents
couldn't get reservations this year! However, I did finally make the
trip out there just two weeks ago. Instead of Dan--the intended
recipient--opening the door, I was greeted by two girls who didn't know
anything about the postcard which had a short message scrawled on it by
"Dad". They said Dan was in Chicago at the moment and they'd give it to
him. Again, I was a bit disappointed. I had hopes of Dan greeting me
with, "I've been waiting four months for this delivery! This is the
greatest day of my life! I can't believe you came all the way from Las
Vegas! My dad's a billionaire and he said he'd give 100 million to
whoever delivered this postcard!"
Here is Laura's quick supplemental article
about Post Office Bay. Notice the absence of Dolphin Trainer™. Go ahead
and cry for him Argentina. Also, the "impromptu legend" she mentions
was invented by me during an angry email informing my fellow passengers
of the hand delivery violation of my parent's postcard.
After
our visit to the post office, we hung out at the beach and snorkeled a
bit. Maggie pulled a female Carlos impression and snorkeled without
fins. She also ditched her wetsuit for the first time and showcased an
impressive bikini body. Obviously, she was pulling out all the stops in
order to woo me. Occasionally, I'd catch her drifting over to me and
giving me a look that said, "Hey, remember when I identified that
hermit crab? That was pretty good, huh?"
I'll refrain from
mentioning the passenger who absentmindedly brought a bag of Goldfish
pretzels onto Post Office Bay and munched them before realizing the
park rule violation and hid them right before Pepe saw. Wow, talk about
a close call! I think it would have been renamed Post Office and
Cemetery Bay if Pepe had seen that. And, no, it wasn't me. I'm no fan
of that snack.
Back on the Galaxy,
during our daily briefing, it was Pepe who got an earful from us.
Almost everyone complained about the lack of loudspeaker reminders.
Carlos always made announcements before meal times and upcoming
excursions. Pepe thought we were adult enough to check the schedule on
the dry erase board in the lounge and take individual responsibility
for being on time. He was wrong. Carlos
didn't do it that way, so we didn't want it that way either. Seriously,
Pepe, when are you just going to turn into Carlos already?
At
night, we watched sharks circle the yacht, probably feeding off Pepe's
negative energy. Later, we saw lighting quick sea lions chasing even
quicker fish that amazingly jumped out of the water and zoomed along
the surface to avoid being eaten. As we stood on the sun deck watching
the festivities, the chicas told Dolphin Trainer™ that he looked more
like a Jerry than a Mark. I said Upasana looked more like a Darcy
(probably because I found that easier to pronounce) and soon all the
chicas and chicos had new names: Dolphin Trainer™ became Jerry
Trainswell because, well, duh. I became Steve Dabbles since I "dabble"
in many different fields. Upasana was christened Darcy Pewksgoode (her
spelling) due to her penchant for blowing chunks. Kim was named
Kemberly Luv because that's how her name was misspelled on her Galaxy greeting envelope and Sonia was nicknamed Rhonda Tripper because she constantly tripped everywhere she walked.
Pepe was nicknamed lots of things, too, like Lucifer the Dictator, Bizarro Carlos, and Skippy the Toot Fairy.
Bill and I stayed up late on the sun deck discussing topics ranging from evolution to Robot Chicken
to why I would choose to make blog posts so long no one bothers to read
them. The stargazing was spectacular that night. We eventually caught
the full moonrise and were about to retire to bed when we heard a
thundering noise. The horrific grinding sound shook the entire boat and
reverberated throughout the bay. It was probably just the anchor being
hoisted up as the Galaxy
prepared for its nightly voyage, but we like to think it was Pepe
undergoing a beastly transformation. A twisted rejuvenation of his
blackened soul, roaring at the full moon in sacrificial reverence and
sadistic pain. A monthly ritual legendary amongst Galapagos natives,
but never spoken of lest the permeating darkness of Pepe's power catch
wind of the whispers and extinguish their curiosity with the
suffocating evil of his deathly embrace .
Or yeah, it was probably just the anchor.
One can dream though.
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Wednesday, July 29, 2009
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Category: Travel and Places
**This is an ongoing series recapping
my last vacation even though the entry you are about to read was
actually written before I even took the trip.**
After our
morning dives, we rejoined our group at Rancho Permiso, a private ranch
in the highlands of Santa Cruz and home to over 100 giant land
tortoises. Everyone said they missed us and added that we didn't miss
much by skipping the Charles Darwin Research Center, although we did
miss out on seeing Lonesome George, the legendary giant land tortoise who refuses to have sex and is the last known survivor of the Pinta, one of Christopher Columbus' famous ships.
We met the newest passengers: Jessica and Erika, best friends from Mexico, and Laura Bly,
travel writer for USA Today. Laura was writing an article about the
Galapagos and since Dolphin Trainer™ wanted more than anything to be
mentioned in a newspaper story, he made it his goal to kiss up to her
at every opportunity.
We also met our new guide: Jose Luis,
otherwise known as "Pepe". By the way, a simple Google search reveals
that everyone in the world named "Jose Luis" also goes by the name
"Pepe". What the hell is up with that? Originally, Pepe was supposed to
be our guide for the entire trip, but a personal matter kept him the
first four days so he asked Carlos to step in as a substitute. Just
like when a substitute teacher fills in for a regular teacher! But Pepe
had big sandals to fill since we were all so in love with Carlos.
Unfortunately, Carlos is not as perfect as we thought because he said
we would love Pepe.
Everything started off fine with our new
schoolmaster. He let us pose for pictures inside of giant tortoise
shells and then took us along some paths where we observed giant land
tortoises doing what giant land tortoises do: eat passionfruit, drink
water, and have sex right out in the open for all the tourists to see.
Perhaps that's why red state school boards hate evolution so much;
there's lots of hanky panky going on down in Darwin's old stomping
grounds! We heard the porno sound before we even saw them. It was a
loud, guttural moan that reminded me of that one scene from The Dark Crystal. Hey--they kind of look like turtles! Since we are all adults, we couldn't resist posing by the pair. I got a phoon
while Kim and Upasana decided to mimic what the tortoises were doing
which they thought of all on their own (ahem) without any suggestion
from me.
Once Pepe saw the girls mounting each other for
photographic fun, he gave us a stern lecture about "respecting" the
wildlife. I have to admit, he had a point. After all, the whalers of
the past almost drove the giant land tortoise to extinction by making
fun of their shells and mocking their sexual positions. Pepe's attitude
towards our group seemed to harden after that incident.
After
the tour of the tortoise sanctuary, we got to play some more inside the
giant tortoise shells. Whenever Laura pulled out her camera, Dolphin
Trainer™ did what he could to get into the shot. I guess the only thing
left to accomplish in your life once you become a dolphin trainer is to
be immortalized in a photo in a USA Today story.
We visited a lava tube near the ranch before hopping into the bus for the ride back to Puerto Ayora. Back on the Galaxy,
we gathered in the lounge where Headmaster Pepe introduced himself
officially. He announced that he was way more strict and less
fun-loving than Carlos without using any of those words. Pepe really was
the uptight teacher while Carlos was the cool substitute. That's right,
play time was over and schoolwork was about to begin. He went over
basic rules for the new passengers on board by first asking each of us
"veterans" to name a Galapagos park rule. I don't recall what rule each
person recited, but I do remember Dolphin Trainer™ proudly looking over
to Laura after he gave a rule as if to say, "Oh yeah, I'm the one you
need to interview if you want the *real* story, baby!"
I did
learn a new tidbit from Pepe. He said it was OK to brush your teeth
with the sink water. This was something I had been avoiding all trip
due to internet warnings. Dolphin Trainer™ continued to use bottled
water for the rest of the trip, but I took a chance and I don't regret
it one bit even though my teeth became gangrene and are sitting inside
a jar next to my bed right now.
Another difference between Pepe and Carlos was that Pepe referred to the dinghies as pangas. OK, still not as cool as Zodiak, but a definite improvement over dinghy. However, I shall still call them dinghies in honor of Carlos. After dinner on the Galaxy,
we all went back to Puerto Ayora and got to hang out around town for
two hours. The first thing we noticed were all the little kids hanging
out at the park with their parents despite it being way past their bed
time. Clearly with their no-bedtime-for-children attitude and their
cohabitating amongst giant humping tortoises lifestyle, this island
would be a blue state in the USA.
The chicas decided to be cool
and hang out with the chicos (as Dolphin Trainer™ and I were now
called) and we walked to a street lined with little shops where locals
sold trinkets and souvenirs. Sonia was looking for a deal and she
bargained one person down to $3.50 for a tortoise figurine made of pure
gold, but she walked away because she wouldn't pay more than $3. "It's
all about the principle," she explained as Dolphin Trainer™ wondered
aloud about what crazy souvenir would guarantee him a mention in
Laura's USA Today article.
We stopped by a bar and played some
pool and drank some alcohol. I caved to social pressure and let them
buy me a drink. I always feel bad when that happens because it just
seems like a waste of good alcohol. Yeah, I drank most of it, but it's
like buying a movie ticket for Helen Keller--she's just not going to get the same enjoyment out of it as you are, sighty.
The
chicas kept looking all over for some lady named "Mary Jane".
Apparently, there were some locals who knew where she was, but I guess
it costs money to see her or something. They went back and forth and
Sonia kept piping in about "principle", but in the end I don't think
they ever got to meet up with her although I hear they are all really
good friends back home.
We bought some postcards, saw tourists
riding up and down the street in a dragon tram, and ran into the
Turkish couple from our dives earlier that day who were still upset
about the "worst dive ever". At the end, we had to race to get back to
the dock because Principal Pepe had warned the students that if we
didn't get back to the dock before 10pm, he wouldn't wait or come back
for us and the Galaxy school bus would leave us on the island and our parents would have to come pick us up.
We took the ding...eh, sorry Carlos, but dinghy
really is lame. We took the pangas back to the boat and looked for the
Southern Cross along the way. King Matus seemed to know exactly where
it was. Kings usually have that type of knowledge since heavenly signs
often foretell their fortunes. I'd say that having done cruises in both
Antarctica and the Galapagos, I know I have seen the Southern Cross
many times. But, I couldn't point it out to you for the life of me.
As the Galaxy
left Santa Cruz heading south for its next stop, all the passenger
students toiled on their homework before retiring to bed except for
Dolphin Trainer™ who stayed up all night dreaming of starring in a USA
Today article and wondering if maybe, just maybe, Laura Bly was awake
in her cabin thinking about him, too.
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Thursday, July 23, 2009
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**(Movie guy voice) In a world...Where blogs go unread forever...One man attempts the impossible...(explosions)...An ongoing series...(woman screams: "You can't finish this!")...Recapping his last vacation...(gratuitous visuals of smoking hot bikini chicks)...Becomes a journey...Of self-discovery...(more explosions)...Travel Blog....(musical crescendo)...'09...(quickening heartbeats)...Continues...(child whispers: "I see mustard stains")...Now.**
When
Dolphin Trainer™ and I first began discussing a Galapagos trip, we both
agreed that we wanted to do some scuba diving. We preferred a mix of
both diving and regular land excursions, but, unfortunately no one
offers that. We'd have to choose between a live aboard
(which is basically nothing but diving) or a regular cruise with no
dives. We chose the latter which was probably better for me since my
diving skills are as good as my skills at concise blogging.
However,
we decided to stay an extra two days on San Cristobal (where our cruise
would end) to do some day trip dives. In case we couldn't find anyone
to take us out those days, we convinced our travel company, Inti Travel and Tours, to set up two dives for us during
our cruise for when we stopped on Santa Cruz island. While the rest of
our group visited the Charles Darwin Research Station (seriously, do
they have to name everything after that guy?!), we would do two dives
and meet up with the group at the end of the day. It would cost us
more, but we figured it'd be worth it.
We had to wake up early
to get to the dock on time. Marjorie made a special breakfast for us
and we left before everyone else awoke. Carlos was nice enough to
escort us to the dock and wait for the dive shop to come pick us up.
The day before, Carlos kept asking us what dive shop our tour company
booked for us. I didn't know because I forgot to write it down. He
asked if it was Sub-Aqua and I said I didn't recall what the name was, but I knew what it wasn't. And it wasn't Sub-Aqua. I was certain of that.
So,
once the guy from Sub-Aqua arrived (oops!), we said goodbye to Carlos
and thanked him for being such a great guide. Although he'd deny it,
Dolphin Trainer™ wept openly as he gave Carlos an uncomfortably long
embrace. I just shook his hand. The Sub-Aqua guy was on a bicycle so he
got us a cab and we traveled to his shop which was less than five
minutes away. Once there we got our gear squared away, met our female
divemaster (who we will call MasterChica™ since she called all the guys
chicos), and also met some of our fellow divers (one of which was a
free-spirited hippy woman named Leslie? who was also happened to be a
divemaster).
They put us in a cab with an young and experienced
diving couple from Turkey and we drove a half hour or so from Puerto
Ayora through the highlands to the Itabaca Channel where we hopped onto
the dive boat and made our way to our first dive spot: Daphne Minor. At
this point, I should reiterate my diving ability. I suck. Literally. I
suck a lot of air, way too fast, which (among other things) makes me a
poor scuba diver. I was certified in 2007 and prior to arriving in the
Galapagos in March of 2009, I had logged only 17 dives. Most of the
diving websites I found said they require at least 20 dives to allow
you to dive in the Galapagos. Dolphin Trainer™ said it didn't matter
and that I should lie. Maybe if I was a dolphin he'd care more for my
safety. I didn't lie, so perhaps I'd should have been more wary of
Sub-Aqua who apparently didn't care?
I remember during my
certification class, they went around the room asking everyone why they
wanted to learn how to scuba dive. I said, "I want to dive in the
Galapagos" and one of the diving instructors laughed and shook his
head: "You're gonna have to wait a looong time before you're qualified
for that." Well, ha ha on him! I went anyway! So there!
Although, now I know why they recommend you be experienced.
Dolphin
Trainer™, it should go without saying, is a diving expert since he
practically dives everyday at work to clean off the gunk from the tanks
where his tyrannical zoo keeps dolphins and other poor, innocent marine
life cooped up in an unnatural environment forcing them to do circus
tricks for food and let people gawk at them 24 hours a day, 7 days a
week. Even on holidays!
Sorry, Flipper. There is no Santa Claus for you.
OK,
back to my first Galapagos dive. Things didn't start off too well as
someone pointed out that I put my wetsuit on backwards. Sure, it's a
understandable mistake when it's your first time putting on a wetsuit,
but not when you've already logged 17 dives. I was the last one to get
in the water. They split us into two groups and I descended following
MasterChica™.
We swam against a pretty hefty current and it
didn't take too long for me to fall behind. I don't recall seeing
anything more than some starfish. Being the air hog that I am, I saw
that I was running low on air, but I couldn't catch up to MasterChica™
to tell her. Then, they all went over a ledge and disappeared. I knew I
couldn't follow, but I also kept thinking that you should never leave
without telling anyone or be alone in general. Finally, I decided I
wasn't going to die in the Galapagos, so I surfaced by myself. Not long
after I came up, a lady popped up out of nowhere and had the same
story: she couldn't keep up with the group. I'll tell you what, it
really feels good knowing you're not the only moron.
Surprisingly,
when I got back to the boat, Dolphin Trainer™ was already there! And he
wasn't happy. Apparently, the "divemaster trainee" that led his group
made them sit on the bottom for 15 minutes and then told Dolphin
Trainer™ to go back up with a guy who was low on air despite Dolphin
Trainer™ having more than half of his air left! When the Turkish couple
came back into the boat they were extremely angry also. "Worst dive
ever" said the girl. "Worst dive ever."
So the boat was pretty
quiet as we made our way over to the next dive site. The crew knew that
everyone was unhappy (except me because, hey, it was just a regular
dive for me!). We saw some dolphins and the boat chased them for a bit
in an attempt to say, "Hey--look at the dolphins! Bet you don't feel
ripped off for paying lots of money for a crappy dive now, huh? Cause
look, them are DOLPHINS!" MasterChica™, by the way, didn't say anything
to me and seemed to be unaware that I surfaced early.
We arrived
at our second dive site, Isla Mosquera, and ate lunch. I listened as
Leslie? the hippy divemaster explained that her biggest problem is not
using enough air. Apparently, she can dive for two hours straight
because she forgets to breath sometimes. Oh, to have that problem!
Dolphin Trainer™ snorkeled while everyone ate in hopes of salvaging his
bad dive experience. For the second dive, MasterChica™ took Dolphin
Trainer™, the Turkish couple, and the other experienced divers while
the "divemaster trainee" took me and the other losers. This time our
group stayed together. As always, I surfaced early, this time with the
same lady as before and her husband (who was the guy that Dolphin
Trainer™ was forced to ascend with in the first dive).
They both seemed worried that we were in open water danger
and they actually swam to the shore because they thought the sea was
too rough. When I first talked to this older couple in the morning,
they said they had done like 80 dives. But they were as bad as me! I
hope that's not me 60 dives from now. They seemed to think nothing was
wrong with their diving skills and Dolphin Trainer™ says that's what
separates me from them--at least I know I am crap and want to get
better.
Dolphin Trainer™ said his second dive was great. He saw
a school of 20 sharks swim over his head. If only he could have forced
them into a tank and charged people to see them, then he would have
really felt at home. We did not tip anyone at Sub-Aqua. Dolphin
Trainer™ didn't want to and from talking to all the other divers
(including the Leslie? the divemaster with gills) none of them tipped
either. All were unimpressed with Sub-Aqua.
Although we had no
problem skipping the Charles Darwin Research Station to do some dives,
we still wanted to do the 2nd scheduled excursion of the day, which was
a trip to the highlands where you can see giant land tortoises in a
more natural environment. We didn't know if we'd be back in time, so we
paid extra to have Sub-Aqua coordinate our own private tour. We didn't
realize that our private tour would be just a cab driver taking us
there and giving us a "tour" even though he hardly spoke any English.
Sub-Aqua wanted to save money, so they convinced the Turkish couple to
join us (so they wouldn't have to pay for a separate cab for them).
We
had a nice chat with the Turks in the cab and they gave us good advice
on dive sites around the world. When we arrived at the highlands, we
saw a bus that said "Galaxy" on it and we found that our group had just
arrived. We bid adieu to the Turkish couple (who then got the cab
driver guided highlands tour) and we rejoined our group where we met
our new naturalist guide for the rest of the trip.
His nickname
was Pepe and it didn't take long to realize that he was not Carlos. In
fact, he was the complete opposite of Carlos. At this realization,
Dolphin Trainer™ wept openly once again.
Will
Dolphin Trainer™ regain his composure? Will Pepe win the hearts of the
chicas? Will Brandon ever finish this blog series? These questions and
others might possibly be answered in Part 14 -- Galapagos Day 5 --
Santa Cruz Subsection B!
Coming soon to a blog that looks a lot like this one.
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Friday, July 17, 2009
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Current mood:craving_some_pahoehoe
**This is an ongoing series recapping
my last vacation. It's taking a bit longer than expected, but don't
worry, as soon as I'm finished I'll catch up with blogs on current
events including my take on this whole Clinton/Lewinsky scandal.**
Each
day before dinner, we would meet in the lounge for a half an hour and
have a briefing where Carlos would recap what we saw and did and
preview what we'd do tomorrow. Some passengers were very interested in
writing down the names of all the things we saw while others just
thought to themselves, "When I blog about my trip, I'll just make stuff
up and no one will be the wiser." You know, just like that "sea lion"
creature I made up that you bought into hook, line, and sinker. Yeah,
like lions live in the sea. Duh!
When I went to Antarctica, there was a group of birders
on board who always carried around binoculars and a checklist.
Sometimes there'd be a shout and all the birders would run to the deck
to see a "lifer" bird which is the term for when you see a species of
bird for the first time and can check it off your "life list." I
glanced at one veteran birders list and next to the word "Sex" was an
unchecked box. If Peeping Tommery wasn't socially unacceptable, I bet
birders would have much more interesting life lists.
In the
lounge there were two menu-sized laminated charts of all the colorful
Galapagos sea life so we could identify what we saw while snorkeling.
Some passengers would study them intensely every day. The charts were
loved so much that when they went missing for a day or two near the end
of the trip, all hell broke loose until Upasana admitted to stealing
them just to sleep with at night because she adored them so much.
On day 4, before our first excursion, Carlos forced us to watch a documentary on lava. We learned about the two main types of lava
flows: A'a and pahoehoe. At least, I learned about them. Everyone else
feel asleep. They were either too hung over from the equator party or
had horrible flashbacks of trying to stay awake during one of their 8am
college classes. Man, those were the worst!
With the Galaxy safely anchored in Sullivan Bay, our dinghies
landed on the shore of Santiago island, home of a very recent
(geologically speaking) eruption a little over 100 years ago. Carlos
pointed out that we were walking on pahoehoe and so I excitedly checked
it off of my lava life list. Even though the lava trail was very rough
and jagged, Carlos walked barefoot which impressed the ladies to no
end. They were even more impressed when we serendipitously came upon a
bed of hot coals where Carlos executed a series of gymnastic flips and
tumbles and nailed the landing without even a grimace.
During the hike, Sonia, Kim, and Upasana joined me for a group phoon
(look at that lovely pahoehoe!). When the hike was over, we rejoined
Robert, Janet, and Maggie who were told by Carlos to stay back since
the hike would probably be too much for Robert to handle. I felt a bit
sorry for Robert and Janet since, at times, they had a different trip
than the rest of us. Plus they had to sit there and listen to Maggie go
on and on about her undying love for me. I'm sure that got old after
awhile.
After the hot hike, Matus remarked, "They say Galapagos
is like heaven, I think it is more like hell!" Come to find out, Matus
and Milena had never really heard of the Galapagos and were told by a
friend that it was like Hawaii. They thought they were going on a nice,
relaxing, scenic cruise through paradise. Instead, Carlos had them
hoofing it through bleak, desolate landscapes and constant snorkeling
like there's no tomorrow. It was a tribute to Carlos' personality that
the King and Queen of Slovakia acquiesced to his itinerary and didn't
order his head to be chopped off.
In Sullivan Bay, we had the
best snorkeling of the entire cruise. We swam with sharks, sea turtles,
and some marbled rays that were mating. Near the end, Carlos had
everyone gather in a circle, hold hands, and face down into the water.
He dove under us and held his breath for like 15 minutes while taking
dozens of pictures for everyone with waterproof cameras. I have yet to
see any of those pictures. Maybe I had my eyes closed and ruined them
all?
As the Galaxy made its way to our next anchor point off of
Bartolome Island, we passed other boats one of which was very small and
shabby-looking. Suzanne recognized the name of the boat from her
Galapagos cruise research and remembered that it was the cheapest one
she could find. We were all glad we didn't choose the cheapest cruise
as we watched their passengers swab the deck and fish for their meals.
On Bartolome, a wooden boardwalk with 358 steps leads to the top of the island where you can see this
popular view and where we took a group photo. Although we appreciated
the boardwalk, I bet whatever tourist accidentally dropped all that
non-indigenous wood from their pockets got an earful from the park
staff. Obviously, the park has since made peace with that ecological
disaster.
We were accompanied to the top by some curious
juvenile Galapagos hawks who occasionally stopped on the railing and
forced us to violate the park's two meter distance rule. Carlos
encouraged us to lean forward and let the hawks play with our hats.
Sure, it's fun, ha! ha! until away your hat goes and your shaved head
without sunblock is exposed to the sun. So I declined. It didn't matter
anyway because the hawks weren't in a playful mood. Even Carlos the Beastmaster couldn't convince them to take his hat.
And trust me, he really was the Beastmaster
because during the afternoon snorkel, we watched in stunned amazement
as Carlos called out to a colony of Galapagos penguins using whatever
language penguins use. I don't know what the conversation was about,
but I assume they touched on the weather, the stock market, and all the
latest Hollywood gossip.
That night, Dolphin Trainer™ and I
played more card games with Kim, Sonia, and Upasana who by now were
referred to as "the chicas". Carlos was the first to call them
"chicas". They acted like they were offended by such "sexist" language
but deep down they knew that Carlos could punch them in the face and
demand a beer and they'd still love him because he doesn't really mean it and the bruises are just cause they're clumsy. Carlos ended up joining us at the table as gambling addict Kim once again taught us card games even Doyle Brunson has never heard of.
We
even played the party game "Murder" or "Mafia" or whatever it is called
(seems like everyone calls it something different). One time I thought
for sure Carlos was the murderer because of his suspicious smile. I was
wrong, of course. He was probably just thinking about the time he
communicated with a mythical "sea lion".
It was a bittersweet
night because it was our last night with Carlos. He was just filling in
for a few days because the guide we were supposed to have had an
emergency and couldn't do the first part of the trip. Our cruise
itinerary had two legs. Robert and Janet only booked the first leg and
would be leaving the next day (with Carlos) once we landed on Santa
Cruz. We would not only pick up a new guide, but also some new
passengers. Everyone else was staying for the entire week.
Back
in our cabin, Dolphin Trainer™ and I discussed how much we would tip
Carlos. Once we settled on a sufficient amount, we both got ready for
bed. Before we turned the lights out, I pulled out my notebook and
checked "Play Murder with the Beastmaster" off of my life list. Yeah.
Beat that, birders.
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