And Then There Were Two

Blogging and shrimp farming, I have recently discovered, just don't mix. It's been nearly three weeks since my last entry and I have those stinky little crustaceans to blame. Congal Biological Station is a long walk, a canoe ride, a muddy road, and a 1 hour bus ride from the nearest (functioning) internet cafe, and it is for that reason that I have been so out of touch. And I must say, as much as I love silent nights, unobscured night skies, and afternoons whose major ambition is a hammock swing, I do miss being in touch, and well, it's good to be online.


Of course, my dear blog readership, you are no longer the only ones humoring this rambling storyteller--a certain someone has donned his fanny pack and quick dry pants joined me here in Ecuador. Perhaps you recognize this strapping figure in the photo I took of him on Volcan Pichincha? Sigh... the last few days have been full of fun, relief, joy, and a sense of fullness that I'd missed more than I even knew.

My last week or so at Congal was fascinating, namely because the volunteer coordinator, Andres, who had been missing in action for nearly ALL of my volunteer stint, returned a few days before I left, and I did my best to barage him with no less than 3 weeks worth of questions. Andres' specialty is in wildlife and fisheries management, and while I am befuddled by a number of his conservation practices (Burning plastic waste? Using chemical herbicides?), he definitely satiated my desire for more information about environmental issues in the region I'd been inhabiting.


For instance, he filled me in on the uniquely Third World phenomenon of "land invasion"--a problem that plagues even the most high profile of protected areas. Land invaders are typically poor Ecuadorians, whose hand-to-mouth existence makes it impossible to imagine buying land just to leave alone. Confident that they can put the land to better use, land invaders, often in groups of about 50, will simply move in to an area that is "officially" owned by someone else. They'll build shelters, clear brush, plant crops, and establish themselves enough so that when the issue of official papers comes up, they're able to make the case that they own the land because, by golly, they're working it, aren't they? It's kind of like the common law marriage thing--if you've been living together for ages, whose to say you're not more married than a pair of newlyweds? Partly to ward off land invaders, Congal devotes several visible areas to production, such as the hillside they rent out to a shade-grown coffee operation.

Also thanks to Andres, I learned about the history of shrimp farming in Northern Ecuador. Turns out that after shrimp farming was discovered to be a relatively easy and lucrative occupation, the Ecuadorian government actually provided incentives for people to move into the mangroves and establish shrimp farms. What the government didn't take into account is the fact that mangroves, which are muddy, humid, buggy, and difficult to cut down, are an incredibly important habitat for aquatic animals, since it's where they reproduce/lay eggs/etc. Only about 10 percent of Ecuador's mangroves remain, and what's left of them is plagued by runoff from commercial shrimp farms, sewage, and trash. Ecotourism, some argue, could do a world of good, but it's a long way off--currently, the beaches are COVERED in trash, there's a dangerous machete gang running around, and several of the area's most enchanting species--such as the tiger shrimp and caiman--are enjoying an afterlife in shark fin soup and women's purses, respectively. The sea turtles aren't doing so hot either.

I'm really glad I got to see this area of Ecuador-- I could easily have visited this country and come away with only memories of its more photogenic side (Toucans! Mountains! Galapagos! Blue-footed Boobies! Oh my!). Instead, I got to see for myself that there are some really horrific things happening here. And as much as I love to learn about inspiring, innovative, clever new ways people are changing the world, it's also important to remember that there are still new evils popping up all over the world. There are places crying for help whose voices are hard to hear from all the way over in the U.S.A.

Speaking of beauty, and evil, and complex environmental problems, tomorrow Eric and I head to the jungle (where the worldwide demand for oil is wreaking its own havoc). We've found an affordable eco-lodge called Cuyabeno, that's right smack dab in the middle of some of the best wildlife viewing in Ecuador. They've promised us pink river dolphins, caimans, several species of monkeys, anacondas, and all sorts of crazy, cool, birds, like my personal favorite, the Hoohah. We'll be flying into Lago Agrio, then taking a 3 hour bus ride, and then a 2 hour motorized canoe ride to the site. Needless to say, I probably won't be reporting from Cuyabeno.

I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to stay in South America after Eric leaves, on April 1, due to reasons outlined in my previous post (grad school decisions, namely). Not sure yet what I'll do with those remaining weeks-- more of Ecuador? Northern Peru? Who knows.

Wish us luck in the jungle. And please know that if I get eaten by an anaconda: 1) I will be certain to drag Eric in with me, and 2) I will have died happy. As all of you know, I do love a good story. :)

Staying Put

Sitting here in an air-conditioned internet cafe in Atacames, Ecuador, I am the coolest I've been since my last blog post. I've been staying and working at Congal Biologic Reserve in Muisne, Ecuador, and most of the time, I feel hotter than I did when I was 16 and would dress up in a giant teddy bear costume for children´s birthday parties.

You know the hot I´m talking about. Dripping uncontrollably with sweat. Clothes so wet they're plastered to your skin. Sunscreen is helpless in the intense, beating down sun. Can't stop thinking about pina coladas.

Okay, that's probably not fair. Most of you probably don't remember what hot feels like. But trust me--it seeps into absolutely everything.

The station is essentially on the coast, though it´s separated from the surf by a variety of mangroves, a few canals, and a sand bar. Which is too bad, because if there was a little more movement in the water surrounding the station, perhaps it wouldn´t be such an excellent breeding ground for my least favorite member of Ecuador´s biodiverse population: the mosquito. Lordy, do they reproduce. It´s the rainy season right now and that means it´s the season of love for these romantic mosquitoes. And sadly, reproducing seems to make them hungry, which means itchy ankles for Travel Andi. And itchy back and arms and legs. The darn things bite through hammocks--there's simply no justice. Actually, I can hardly complain because I seem to get bitten MUCH less than some of my compatriates--such as Claire, from England, who saw her first mosquito when she arrived here, and has seen way too many since.


So, to give a little context, my current gig at Congal is like this: We work 5 days a week, 8 to 5, doing a variety of activities, some fascinating, many of them completely useless. As for the fascinating ones--well, perhaps the best so far has been the morning we spent harvesting (and eating) pineapple and papaya (until our tongues ached) at Congal Island, stopping to gawk at the huge shrimp being raised there, and to take way too many photos of a brand new litter of puppies living with one of the 2 families that dwell on the island. Regarding the latter variety of tasks--the useless ones, well, I´d have to say that my least favorite activity is collecting beach trash. And not because it´s grueling, but rather because it´s completely impractical and depressing to boot. This area is majorly lacking in any sort of waste disposal infrastructure, so the local residents either burn their trash (oh yes, the plastics too), or dump it somewhere in the mangroves, which means it eventually gets swept up by the tide, and eventually washed up on the beach, where it becomes part of the otherwise breathtaking scenery. It's one of the most heartbreaking juxtapositions I've ever seen--plastic bottles as far as the eye can see, beside lush green hills, thick mangroves, and a soft, tranquil, coastline. Oh, and lots of flip-flops seem to wash up on the shore too, which I find fascinating. I've started a flip-flop collection, and it's grown so quickly that we've had to become quite selective: No heels, brightly colored, thong fully intact.

In my free time, I read. A ton. Which is wonderful. And, I hang out with my fellow volunteers, who are absolutely fantastic: Hannah, from the U.S., Andrew from New Zealand, Tore, from Norway, Chris and Claire from the U.K. Needless to say, spending my free time with them hasn't been a boon to my Spanish skills, but I've decided to let that go. Frankly, it's really nice to not have to think so hard to communicate for awhile. And I'm laughing a lot. Also, the volunteer coordinator's family speaks only Spanish (which, incidentally, is extremely difficult to understand), and the kids especially, are a blast: Javier, Jose Andres, and Ariana. Oh, and Gringo and Cuco, the dogs.

Speaking of dogs, I can't resist mentioning one of my very favorite moments of this trip so far. Five of us had finished our "turtle monitoring" for the afternoon (which, interestingly enough, involves zero turtles), and had decided to head to Bunche with Miguel, an extremely hospitable local guy whose coconut plantation we work on sometimes. Miguel paddled Hannah and me to Bunche in a dugout canoe, while the boys (ay, machismo) had to walk barefoot through various mangroves and small rivers. Cuco, a giant black Labrador who is incredibly loyal and good-natured, and also infamous for having nearly killed several local dogs, ran alongside the canoe, keeping an eye on Hannah and me, and drawing attention rather comically, to the fact that we were canoeing in about a foot of water.

Anyway. We arrived in Bunche, and immediately, Cuco laid eyes on a small, brown, cocker spaniel-looking dog who was in the middle of a rather intimate act with an innocuous looking beagle type. Cuco, manly man that he is, had to have her.

Now, in Minneapolis, for instance, this particular scene might not have been so dramatic, mainly because most people are off minding their own business or inside watching television. But in Bunche, where trash lines the streets, and where beautiful brown-skinned children peek out the square, screenless windows of beaten-down shacks, because people-watching IS their main source of entertainment, it was quite a scene. As Cuco was furiously trying to have his way with the brown dog, practically the entire town was watching, staring at the crazy gringos with disdain for the fact that clearly they had no control over their hormonally crazed canine companion. Meanwhile, a local guy stood nearby with a two-by-four, clearly about to tell Cuco where to put his manlihood, and Tore, our quirky, blue-eyed, poker-faced Norwegian volunteer tried without success to wrestle giant Cuco from the object of his determined affection.

AND THEN, as if that wasn't hilarious enough, we discovered that the first two dogs, whose humping Cuco had interrupted, were actually STUCK TOGETHER. Oh yes, they were actually physically inseparable, yet somehow, miraculously, facing opposite directions, with Cuco content just to hump in the general direction of his target. I was laughing so hard I could hardly stand up straight. Take that, Animal Planet.

Well, as always, the longer my blog posts get, the more paranoid I get that they're going to vanish into the Internet ether. But I did want to mention a few little news tidbits. One is that I got into Berkeley's journalism graduate program-- YIPPEE! A related piece of news is the fact that I have to make a decision about grad school by May 1-- and if I want to visit the schools I'm considering, I'll have to return from my Big Adventure a little early--say, mid-April. Two is that I've been granted a writing residency at Mesa Refuge, in Point Reyes, California, where I'll spend June 1-14 processing my exploits in a comfy little lodge where I'll have my own writing studio and meals provided for me. Three is that I wrote my first travel article--for Worldchanging, an online magazine focusing on "tools, models, and ideas for building a bright green future."

In other words, life is good. I'm happy to be here, I'm learning A TON, and well, I don't have nearly as many mosquito bites as the English girl. Thanks for all of your support, dear comrades. I savor every comment, and I think of you so very often.