**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation. If you feel you have reached this blog in error, please remain online until an administrator assists you.**
Welcome to those of you who skipped ahead from Part 8! Quick recap of what you missed: A United Nations special forces unit kidnapped Dolphin Trainer™ and I in Quito to convince us to use our mathematical prowess and hand-to-hand combat skills in order to deflect a terrorist controlled comet that was careening towards Earth. Long story short, we are now on day 3 of our Galapagos cruise.
During the night, we passed the equator line heading north. Unfortunately, I was asleep and therefore unable to find out what color the line is. Sure, on most globes it is blue, but on others it is white or brown. Sometimes it even has a strip of tape on it. That would have been awesome to see! Hopefully I'd be able to solve the mystery since we'd pass it again on the way back. Of course, I should have just paid more attention when we visited the equator in Quito!
Genovesa Island was our day three destination. Nicknamed "Bird Island" due to its abundance of #33 Boston Celtic jerseys, this horseshoe shaped caldera is the northernmost major island of the Galapagos. Our breakfast that morning was interrupted by five dolphins who went bow riding for about 15 minutes or so. Bow riding is something lazy young dolphins do when they want easy propulsion. I presume adult dolphins frown upon the practice while the real old timers complain out loud, "In my day, we didn't have fancy schmancy cruise ships pushing us all kinds of speed! We were lucky just to catch a baby ripple from a tipped-over canoe. But that's the way it was and we liked it!"
We anchored in Darwin Bay (boy, that Darwin guy really got around), hopped into the dinghies, and made a wet landing on shore. We saw red-footed boobies for the first time. They are the only boobies who nest in trees. These ones don't count. We saw lots of Great Frigatebirds and it was breeding season, so most of the males had inflated the red sacs at their throats in order to attract a mate. Whoever puffs up the biggest balloon gets the girl. I'm sure this would be Carlos if he was a Great Frigatebird.
Dolphin Trainer™ and I held back from the group at one point to get a good phoon shot and when we finally caught back up we saw everyone standing around waiting for us. As we approached, Dolphin Trainer™ turned to me and said, "Oh great. We're those guys now." You know who those guys are. Every group has somebody holding things up, not following directions, and completely oblivious to everyone else around them. We held our breath as we waited for Carlos to give us a stern rebuke. But he said nothing. In retrospect, I think Carlos knew that the inevitable lecture from our own consciences would be more than enough punishment. Boy, he'd make a great dad, huh?! Well, only if you don't include all the hundreds of little daddy-less Carloses his female conquests have birthed throughout the modern and developing world.
While hanging out at the beach waiting for the dinghies to pick us up, Suzanne took the opportunity to have Bill take pictures of her posing with Geist magazine, some kind of Canadian rag that encourages people to send in pictures of themselves reading the periodical in exotic locations in a desperate attempt to make people think the magazine actually has readers.
In a most adorable scene, we watched a baby sea lion nursing and snuggling with its mother. Upasana was so touched by the cuteness of it all that she vomited profusely right in front of them. It was one of those milky pukes that you could see oozing out between her fingers as she tried to cover her mouth. Not surprisingly, the baby lost its appetite after that.
Then Suzanne thought it'd be nice to pose for a Geist magazine photo while sitting right on top of Upasana's liberated stomach chum. Oh those cRaZy Canadians! By the way, park rules are very strict--you are not allowed to bring any food onto the islands for fear of upsetting the natural ecology. So don't be surprised if 10 years from now Genovesa is off limits to tourists due to the invasive Canadian Barf Weed which has decimated the island's indigenous species.
We snorkeled twice in Darwin Bay and it was cold. Well, mostly cold. We'd hit cold and warm spots. Warm spots are nice unless you happen to be swimming behind Dolphin Trainer™.
In late afternoon, we did a second landing on the island, this time on the famous "Prince Phillip's Steps" which are rocky stairs carved into the volcanic wall. Phillip didn't carve them, he just walked on them. That's how the British are. They just walk over something and declare that you should now name it after them. Lord help us all if they ever walk on the moon.
We got to see Nazca boobies who get their name from the strange lines they make on the ground which, when viewed from an airplane, turn out to be intricate drawings of female breasts. Carlos told us to look for Short-eared owls out on the plain. With my binoculars, Dolphin Trainer™ tapped into his inner Miguel and Silvario and was able to spot one that was 500 hundred meters away, still as can be, and practically camouflaged against the background! We were all impressed until Carlos, with only his naked eye, one-upped him by pointing out that the owl had a cataract.
Back on the Galaxy, we were greeted (as usual after every excursion) with fancy drinks and snacks served by Marjorie our ubiquitous bartending/bed making/food server. She also captained the ship and even stood in for the anchor on occasion.
That night, Matus, the King of Slovakia, organized a Crossing-the-Equator party/birthday party for his queen, Milena. Apparently equator crossing ceremonies have a long tradition dating back to before sailors knew where the equator was which left them in an impractical state of constant celebration. Eventually, the equator was defined and the ceremony became a hazing ritual where first-time crossers (slimy pollywogs) became veteran crossers (trusty shellbacks) after undergoing some kind of punishment to appease King Neptune for crossing his domain. Many cruise ships continue the tradition today as did the Galaxy until recent economic cutbacks. However, thanks to King Matus and his Slovakian treasure chest, we were allowed to celebrate this beautiful, ancient ritual which often led to death back in the day.
Carlos dressed as Neptune by donning a mask, snorkel, and bed sheet cape. He topped off his costume by stuffing a pillow under his shirt and wielding a broom. All the women agreed that Neptune never looked so good except Suzanne who murmured something about an old incriminating photo of the real Neptune in Geist. Carlos/Neptune called each one of us up individually and forced us to drink a shot of "iguana blood" which, to me at least, tasted a lot more like a cross between the blood of a red footed booby and the blood of a bottlenosed dolphin.
After downing the concoction, Carlos hit us on the head with a stalk of celery and gave us new nicknames. Dolphin Trainer™ became "Spotted eagle ray", I was christened "Black tipped shark" and Upasana was named "Red footed chunks blowing booby". We got to eat delicious birthday cake since it was Milena's birthday party as well.
The ceremony complete, the party resumed in the lounge where Carlos plugged his laptop into the TV and we danced the night away to the sounds of his music playlist. Without the usual punchbowl to guard and protect, I was uncertain as to what role I should play at this dance party. I DJ'ed for a bit until I become frustrated with the complete lack of Xuxa songs. Carlos, meanwhile, bravely fought for his life on the dance floor as all the women repeatedly attacked him with wrestling-like "dance" moves, then ripped his clothes off and forced their tongues down his throat. It was quite a sight to see an estrogen-powered mob, buoyed by shouts of "Geist! Geist!" overwhelming the mighty King Neptune. Maggie was checking me out during all of this, by the way.
Despite the festivities, I remembered my mission and went up to the top deck in hopes of seeing the fabled equator line. I waited and waited. Minutes or perhaps hours passed. Just as my patience was beginning to waver, I finally spotted a line in the water. Could it be? Yes! I could hardly contain my excitement. There it was! And it was white. Yes sir, it was white as can be. Or wait...Suddenly, I wasn't so sure. Could it be green? Or...brown? What the? I decided my eyes were playing tricks on me until I heard a familiar sound from below. There on the bottom deck, leaning out over the rail, Upchucksana was once again disturbing the natural state of the Galapagos with a steady flood of thunderous chunder spewing from her mouth.
Never one to waste a good opportunity, Suzanne was there by her side, magazine in hand, pleading with Bill to take the ultimate Geist photo.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Travel Blog '09 -- Part 10 -- Galapagos Day 2 -- Santa Fe/Santa Cruz
**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation. If it seems way too long and overly self-serving that's because it is. It's really a personal travel journal pretending to be a blog.**
Life on board the Galaxy yacht had a fairly consistent routine. Here is a sample itinerary:
6:45am--Wake up
7:00am--Breakfast
7:15am--Matus' first drink
8:00am--Landing
10:30am--Snorkeling
12:00pm--Lunch
12:15pm--Matus' 20th drink
2:30pm--Landing
4:00pm--Snorkeling
6:30pm--Briefing
7:00pm--Dinner
9:30pm--Matus passes out
Our second day brought us to Santa Fe Island, a small island with two endemic species, the Barrington land iguana and the Santa Fe rice rat. An endemic species is one that is not found anywhere else in the world. A pandemic species is only found on geographic panhandles. Hallucinogenic species are found only in your mind.
We anchored in Barrington Bay and took the dinghies to shore. This was a wet landing which meant we'd have to step into the water to exit the boat. Carlos deemed the water a bit too rough for Robert to exit safely so he told Maggie to take Robert and Janet to the other side of the bay where our hike was going to end and we'd meet them halfway on the trail. On shore, we saw some sea lions, a Galapagos hawk, land iguanas, and hiked among Giant Opuntia (prickly pear) cactus trees. When we ran into Maggie, Robert, and Janet, we told them they didn't miss much (purposefully leaving out the part where the hawk swooped down, picked up an adult sea lion and dropped it on top of a cactus tree where a land iguana climbed up and swallowed it whole. We were all so mesmerized that none of us remembered to get any pictures or video of the event. It really happened. Trust me).
The snorkeling in Barrington Bay was quite nice. We swam amongst enormous schools of dark blue fish and watched in awe-induced silence as pelicans and blue footed boobies dove gracefully into the sea in order to violently rip innocent fish out of the water and maniacally chomp them into bloody bits. I spotted a sea turtle and alerted everyone to its presence which gave me such pride and satisfaction that I decided to blog about it and award myself with a homemade "Certificate of Sea Turtle Spotting" which is proudly framed and hanging on my wall right now.
Back on board, we were informed that because we locked our cabin, it did not get cleaned like the other cabins did. We thought that was odd. Don't they have a key? Is locking your cabin door in the Galapagos the equivalent of hanging a "Do Not Disturb" sign on a hotel doorknob? Considering our travel experience up to that point, I don't think anyone would fault us for locking anything that had a lock. But, we acquiesced and left it unlocked for the rest of the trip expecting to come back at anytime to find our cabin door covered with mustard. There was a small safe for our valuables, but--wouldn't you know it?--we ending up barely hiding that key among all the scattered items of our room.
We found out later that it was the bartender, Marjorie, who cleaned the rooms everyday and made the beds. Perhaps her primary job of mixing spirits might explain why sometimes the bed sheets were tucked in a such a way that only someone with body designed by Salvador Dali could reasonably negotiate their way into them comfortably. However, she was very talented at making towel animals that sat on top of our beds and greeted us everyday after the morning excursion. She made swans, rays, finch beaks, shot glasses, bloody marys, and some hallucinogenic species.
At lunch, once again, everyone sat at the same tables with the same people. As everyone knows, once you sit in the same place twice then--BAM!--that's your seat for the rest of the trip. Others voiced the same concern and Carlos promised to solve the situation because he's a take charge guy! He was kind of like Scott Baio from Charles in Charge. But it was Carlos in Charge. And yes, Carlos was in charge of our wrongs and our rights.
We left Santa Fe Island and headed for the northern part of Santa Cruz island. On the way, we spotted some dolphins and also saw some rays jumping out of the water and flipping in the air. Whatever the Galapagos National Park Service spends to train the rays to do that is well worth it. We stopped somewhere on Santa Cruz to fuel up and get supplies; so I took the opportunity to explore the boat. What I found was not encouraging.
I don't pretend to know all the ins and outs of Galapagos National Park cruise policy, but I can assure you that the Galaxy was in violation of one very important rule. I searched through the bookcase in the lounge and did not find one copy of On the Origin of Species! That's like staying at a hotel in Vatican City and not finding a Bible in the drawer. Sure, they had a copy of Darwin's journal, The Voyage of the Beagle, but how could they not have his seminal work in their library?! I was mostly disappointed because I had planned on finally getting around to reading it during the down time on the cruise. Oh well. They did have a stack of books by a doctor that grabbed my attention. Those ended up being very informative, especially the one about a turtle named Yertle.
That afternoon we traveled to Caleta Tortuga Negra (Black Turtle Cove), a swamp of mangrove trees on the north shore of Santa Cruz. Not only did we pick up supplies and fuel from our previous stop, we also picked up another crew member. His name was Nixon and he was one of the two dinghy drivers along with a creepy (according to the ladies) guy named Angel who had been with us since day one. Nixon fancied himself a gondolier in Venice who only knows Spanish songs. Yeah. It was lovely. Lovely, that is, if you enjoy the desire to stab your ears with the barb of a stingray to lessen the pain.
Unfortunately, Dolphin Trainer™ and I got on the dinghy piloted by Nixon and led by naturalist guide-in-training Maggie. Now, Maggie was very nice. But as a guide she was...well...let's just say she's a very nice person. She's very introverted which isn't so good for a guide, and her English wasn't that great which isn't so good for a bilingual guide. So she didn't say much at all. But she did look at me a lot which, obviously, meant that she had the hots for me.
There are protected parts of Black Turtle Cove where motors are not allowed, so we paddled in those areas. Carlos' dinghy was leading and they went first into one section where we couldn't follow. All we saw were a bunch of flashes from digital cameras. I guess it was pretty spectacular, whatever they saw. Meanwhile, everyone on our boat sat quietly as Nixon's Galapagos Idol audition continued.
We did get to see rare green sea turtles mating. That was nice. I noticed Maggie give me a quick glance as we watched which confirmed what she was thinking about. I think Nixon and Angel were jealous of Maggie's crush on me and I could hear them talking trash in Spanish. I don't know what was said exactly, but I did hear the phrase "muy feo" (very ugly) thrown around. Maggie, however, defending me bravely with a retort of, "No feo!" I thought of jumping in to defend myself, but I doubt my high school Spanish arsenal of "¿Dónde está el baño?" would have done much good.
There were also black tipped reef sharks patrolling the cove. Carlos was sitting on the edge of the dinghy with his bare feet in the water and one of the sharks nudged against his toes. Carlos laughed and didn't move. He wasn't worried. Even the sharks knew who was in charge. That's right. Carlos in Charge, buddy!
Carlos even stuck to traditional sitcom format and solved the big problem of this episode during the final act. At dinner, he came up with a brilliant idea to number each seat and then had us draw numbers from a hat guaranteeing that we would all sit next to random people! Genius! He even cloned himself so he could sit at every table. Multiple genius!
That night on the sun deck, Dolphin Trainer™ and I hung out with the three girls for the first time and listened as they proclaimed their undying love for Carlos. Then they listened as Dolphin Trainer™ and I gushed about our man crush on him. We ended up playing card games with Kim and Sonia while Upasana drew "I love Carlos" hearts in her Britney Spears diary. Kim, by the way, must have been a Las Vegas dealer in a previous life because she knew more card game rules than that Hoyle guy.
As the Galaxy headed for the equator and our next destination, a sea lion hitched a ride with us by jumping onto the stern of the boat in order to avoid a circling shark. We named him Buddy Lembech. He fell asleep and was gone by morning so anyone can venture a guess as to the outcome. I'm an optimist so I'm going to guess a happy ending.
For the shark.
They need to eat, you know.
Life on board the Galaxy yacht had a fairly consistent routine. Here is a sample itinerary:
6:45am--Wake up
7:00am--Breakfast
7:15am--Matus' first drink
8:00am--Landing
10:30am--Snorkeling
12:00pm--Lunch
12:15pm--Matus' 20th drink
2:30pm--Landing
4:00pm--Snorkeling
6:30pm--Briefing
7:00pm--Dinner
9:30pm--Matus passes out
Our second day brought us to Santa Fe Island, a small island with two endemic species, the Barrington land iguana and the Santa Fe rice rat. An endemic species is one that is not found anywhere else in the world. A pandemic species is only found on geographic panhandles. Hallucinogenic species are found only in your mind.
We anchored in Barrington Bay and took the dinghies to shore. This was a wet landing which meant we'd have to step into the water to exit the boat. Carlos deemed the water a bit too rough for Robert to exit safely so he told Maggie to take Robert and Janet to the other side of the bay where our hike was going to end and we'd meet them halfway on the trail. On shore, we saw some sea lions, a Galapagos hawk, land iguanas, and hiked among Giant Opuntia (prickly pear) cactus trees. When we ran into Maggie, Robert, and Janet, we told them they didn't miss much (purposefully leaving out the part where the hawk swooped down, picked up an adult sea lion and dropped it on top of a cactus tree where a land iguana climbed up and swallowed it whole. We were all so mesmerized that none of us remembered to get any pictures or video of the event. It really happened. Trust me).
The snorkeling in Barrington Bay was quite nice. We swam amongst enormous schools of dark blue fish and watched in awe-induced silence as pelicans and blue footed boobies dove gracefully into the sea in order to violently rip innocent fish out of the water and maniacally chomp them into bloody bits. I spotted a sea turtle and alerted everyone to its presence which gave me such pride and satisfaction that I decided to blog about it and award myself with a homemade "Certificate of Sea Turtle Spotting" which is proudly framed and hanging on my wall right now.
Back on board, we were informed that because we locked our cabin, it did not get cleaned like the other cabins did. We thought that was odd. Don't they have a key? Is locking your cabin door in the Galapagos the equivalent of hanging a "Do Not Disturb" sign on a hotel doorknob? Considering our travel experience up to that point, I don't think anyone would fault us for locking anything that had a lock. But, we acquiesced and left it unlocked for the rest of the trip expecting to come back at anytime to find our cabin door covered with mustard. There was a small safe for our valuables, but--wouldn't you know it?--we ending up barely hiding that key among all the scattered items of our room.
We found out later that it was the bartender, Marjorie, who cleaned the rooms everyday and made the beds. Perhaps her primary job of mixing spirits might explain why sometimes the bed sheets were tucked in a such a way that only someone with body designed by Salvador Dali could reasonably negotiate their way into them comfortably. However, she was very talented at making towel animals that sat on top of our beds and greeted us everyday after the morning excursion. She made swans, rays, finch beaks, shot glasses, bloody marys, and some hallucinogenic species.
At lunch, once again, everyone sat at the same tables with the same people. As everyone knows, once you sit in the same place twice then--BAM!--that's your seat for the rest of the trip. Others voiced the same concern and Carlos promised to solve the situation because he's a take charge guy! He was kind of like Scott Baio from Charles in Charge. But it was Carlos in Charge. And yes, Carlos was in charge of our wrongs and our rights.
We left Santa Fe Island and headed for the northern part of Santa Cruz island. On the way, we spotted some dolphins and also saw some rays jumping out of the water and flipping in the air. Whatever the Galapagos National Park Service spends to train the rays to do that is well worth it. We stopped somewhere on Santa Cruz to fuel up and get supplies; so I took the opportunity to explore the boat. What I found was not encouraging.
I don't pretend to know all the ins and outs of Galapagos National Park cruise policy, but I can assure you that the Galaxy was in violation of one very important rule. I searched through the bookcase in the lounge and did not find one copy of On the Origin of Species! That's like staying at a hotel in Vatican City and not finding a Bible in the drawer. Sure, they had a copy of Darwin's journal, The Voyage of the Beagle, but how could they not have his seminal work in their library?! I was mostly disappointed because I had planned on finally getting around to reading it during the down time on the cruise. Oh well. They did have a stack of books by a doctor that grabbed my attention. Those ended up being very informative, especially the one about a turtle named Yertle.
That afternoon we traveled to Caleta Tortuga Negra (Black Turtle Cove), a swamp of mangrove trees on the north shore of Santa Cruz. Not only did we pick up supplies and fuel from our previous stop, we also picked up another crew member. His name was Nixon and he was one of the two dinghy drivers along with a creepy (according to the ladies) guy named Angel who had been with us since day one. Nixon fancied himself a gondolier in Venice who only knows Spanish songs. Yeah. It was lovely. Lovely, that is, if you enjoy the desire to stab your ears with the barb of a stingray to lessen the pain.
Unfortunately, Dolphin Trainer™ and I got on the dinghy piloted by Nixon and led by naturalist guide-in-training Maggie. Now, Maggie was very nice. But as a guide she was...well...let's just say she's a very nice person. She's very introverted which isn't so good for a guide, and her English wasn't that great which isn't so good for a bilingual guide. So she didn't say much at all. But she did look at me a lot which, obviously, meant that she had the hots for me.
There are protected parts of Black Turtle Cove where motors are not allowed, so we paddled in those areas. Carlos' dinghy was leading and they went first into one section where we couldn't follow. All we saw were a bunch of flashes from digital cameras. I guess it was pretty spectacular, whatever they saw. Meanwhile, everyone on our boat sat quietly as Nixon's Galapagos Idol audition continued.
We did get to see rare green sea turtles mating. That was nice. I noticed Maggie give me a quick glance as we watched which confirmed what she was thinking about. I think Nixon and Angel were jealous of Maggie's crush on me and I could hear them talking trash in Spanish. I don't know what was said exactly, but I did hear the phrase "muy feo" (very ugly) thrown around. Maggie, however, defending me bravely with a retort of, "No feo!" I thought of jumping in to defend myself, but I doubt my high school Spanish arsenal of "¿Dónde está el baño?" would have done much good.
There were also black tipped reef sharks patrolling the cove. Carlos was sitting on the edge of the dinghy with his bare feet in the water and one of the sharks nudged against his toes. Carlos laughed and didn't move. He wasn't worried. Even the sharks knew who was in charge. That's right. Carlos in Charge, buddy!
Carlos even stuck to traditional sitcom format and solved the big problem of this episode during the final act. At dinner, he came up with a brilliant idea to number each seat and then had us draw numbers from a hat guaranteeing that we would all sit next to random people! Genius! He even cloned himself so he could sit at every table. Multiple genius!
That night on the sun deck, Dolphin Trainer™ and I hung out with the three girls for the first time and listened as they proclaimed their undying love for Carlos. Then they listened as Dolphin Trainer™ and I gushed about our man crush on him. We ended up playing card games with Kim and Sonia while Upasana drew "I love Carlos" hearts in her Britney Spears diary. Kim, by the way, must have been a Las Vegas dealer in a previous life because she knew more card game rules than that Hoyle guy.
As the Galaxy headed for the equator and our next destination, a sea lion hitched a ride with us by jumping onto the stern of the boat in order to avoid a circling shark. We named him Buddy Lembech. He fell asleep and was gone by morning so anyone can venture a guess as to the outcome. I'm an optimist so I'm going to guess a happy ending.
For the shark.
They need to eat, you know.
Monday, June 08, 2009
Travel Blog '09 -- Part 9 -- Galapagos Day 1
**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation. I vow to finish it before the 100th anniversary of said vacation.**
OK, you've waited long enough. Now let's talk about boobies!
Blue-footed boobies, that is.
Pervert.
On the morning of March 10, 2009, Dolphin Trainer™ and I took a cab to the airport and for the fourth time paid a totally different fare for the exact same route. I guess cab fares in Quito are like stock prices. They rise and fall each day, reacting to the volatility of traffic.
We had to go through an additional inspection for our baggage to be allowed into the Galapagos because the flora and fauna on the islands are so sensitive to introduced species. To ensure that the delicate ecosystem was not disrupted, they made every effort to hardly look at our bags at all as we went through the special inspection station.
From Quito, we flew to Guayaquil, the second of Ecuador's two "fabulous" cities, to fuel up for the 600 mile journey west to the Galapagos. That stopover lasted 45 minutes and I learned that they won't let you use the restroom while the plane refuels. Note to terrorists: threaten to flush during fuel up to guarantee that your demands will be met.
On our flight to the islands, we noticed some passengers wearing blue "Galaxy" buttons on their shirts. The Galaxy was the name of the yacht we would be traveling on during our cruise. Our travel agent gave us those same buttons and I asked Dolphin Trainer™ if we should put them on so people could identify us. He shook his head and explained that we were still in high school and it wasn't "cool" to wear our buttons during the flight. Then he adjusted his letterman jacket, gave a skinny nerd a brown swirlie, and went behind the gym to smoke a cigarette.
Our destination island was San Cristobal, the second most populous Galapagos island and home of Puerto Baquerizo Moreno, the capital of the islands. We landed on a small runway, got off the plane, and waited outside in the hot sun for a few minutes before they opened up the airport for us. Seriously, the doors were locked when we arrived. I think the janitor finally let us in.
While waiting in line to go through customs, we noticed three girls in their twenties wearing their Galaxy buttons and we suddenly decided that it was now the "cool" thing to do. After getting our bags, we met our naturalist guide for the cruise. His name was Carlos and he looked like a South American John Stamos. Everyone on our trip, including all the men, were smitten by his soap opera star good looks, adventurous spirit, and practically unintelligible accent. We asked Carlos if we should put our Galaxy luggage tags on our bags (since we forgot to do it before we checked them in Quito), but he said don't bother since they'll easily figure it out. OMG! Isn't his decisiveness positively dreamy?!
Including us, there were 11 Galaxy passengers. As we waited for everyone to get their bags, we met four of them: Bill and Suzanne from Winnipeg, Canada, and fellow Americans Janet and her dad, Robert, from Ohio. Robert, who was somewhere in his eighties, was clearly going to be the oldest passenger on the boat, and he had quite the sense of humor. At least, I think he was joking when he talked about the last time he visited the Galapagos with "good ol' Charlie" Darwin.
We took a short bus ride into town and were given 10 minutes to shop for last minute essentials before boarding the Galaxy. For me, that meant wondering if I brought enough sunscreen and pacing around a convenience store debating the pros and cons as if it were a Solomonic decision. For Dolphin Trainer™ that meant calling his girlfriend for the two-billionth time. For two of the three twenty-somethings, that meant stuffing their faces with ice cream.
We boarded an inflatable boat which Carlos consistently referred to as a "dinghy". The same type of craft was called a Zodiac when I went on my Antarctic cruise in 2005. Clearly, awesome-sounding names are not a priority in the Galapagos. As we motored out to the Galaxy, I asked the three twenty-somethings their names.
"Sonia," said one. Oh, that's easy, I thought. I can remember that.
"Kim," said another. Sure, no problem. Two for two.
"Upasha$s9hasan@ywhda," said the third. Uh...what? I repeated back what I thought I heard, asked her to spell it, and then nodded my head as if it was now in my permanent memory. I'm not very good with names in the first place, but Upasana (her actual name) had just signed on for a week's worth of "hey you's" from me.
The first thing we were told when we got on board was that we couldn't wear shoes on the boat. Apparently, this was a Japanese yacht. Actually, we could wear shoes on board if we didn't use them on any of the landings. Not being female and therefore genetically predisposed to bring 20 extra pairs of shoes on a cruise, I'd either have to go barefoot or use socks. And since I have toes that look like a bristlecone pine (plus I was smart enough to not cut my toenails before the trip) this meant I'd be rocking the boat with my socks on.
We were invited into the lounge to relax and enjoy some cocktails while our bags were put into our rooms. Carlos had everyone introduce themselves one at a time and say where they were from. We were finally introduced to Matus and Milena from Slovakia. Although they never said so, I believe them to be the King and Queen of Slovakia. Being humble, they probably just wanted to be treated like everyone else. They must be kind and gentle rulers of their exotic land and we enjoyed the tales of royal adventure they shared with us.
The three girls turned out to be from Canada (the Toronto area). So we had five Canucks in total which meant we'd be hearing a lot aboot maple syrup and hockey, eh? Almost everyone said what country they were from whereas Dolphin Trainer™ and I only had to say our cities, Chicago and Las Vegas, because I think it goes without saying that America rules the world with a mighty fist.
The crew, dressed like they were ready for the 1991 Tailhook Convention, was introduced and we all toasted to the beginning of our trip. Then we were informed that there were two unidentified bags and they didn't know what room to put them in. Apparently we should have tagged our bags after all (although simple math on their part might have come in handy). At first we blamed Carlos for steering us wrong, but then we remembered the "Full House" episode where he played drums with The Beach Boys and our anger subsided.
We momentarily retired to our cabin as the Galaxy left harbor for our first destination: Isla Lobos, where our first group activity would be snorkeling. It had been awhile since I had snorkeled and I didn't start off too well. I did a back roll entry off of the dinghy and one of my flippers immediately came off. Thankfully, Maggie, the guide-in-training and Carlos' assistant, was there to help me put it back on. Perhaps that was the start of her infatuation with me. Oh yeah. We'll get to that.
It didn't take long for me to get comfortable in the water. Dolphin Trainer™ was swimming all around taking underwater video and photos and saving Kim from a "stone scorpionfish" which I think was a name he made up and pretended it was dangerous just so he could act like a hero. The real hero, of course, was Carlos who snorkeled without fins, mask, or snorkel and showed us how twisting around in the water encouraged the sea lions to play with us.
After our water fun, we had our first Galapagos landing on Isla Lobos. We saw marine iguanas, sea lions, and other stuff. I don't really pay attention to names. In fact, I hardly paid attention to any of the information Carlos gave us as I was too busy wondering where I'd pose for my first Galapagos phoon photo.
Our first day ended with a 7pm dinner. We sat with Bill and Suzanne and all they talked aboot was hockey and maple syrup, eh? Actually, we had lots to talk about and it was a very enjoyable meal. The food was great, but I don't remember what it was. It could have been stone scorpionfish for all I know. Near the end of the meal, they mockingly asked us why we were still wearing our blue Galaxy buttons. I looked at Dolphin Trainer™. He turned to look at me. We nodded to each other and then gave Bill a wedgie and Suzanne a titty twister for daring to insult the "cool" kids.
OK, you've waited long enough. Now let's talk about boobies!
Blue-footed boobies, that is.
Pervert.
On the morning of March 10, 2009, Dolphin Trainer™ and I took a cab to the airport and for the fourth time paid a totally different fare for the exact same route. I guess cab fares in Quito are like stock prices. They rise and fall each day, reacting to the volatility of traffic.
We had to go through an additional inspection for our baggage to be allowed into the Galapagos because the flora and fauna on the islands are so sensitive to introduced species. To ensure that the delicate ecosystem was not disrupted, they made every effort to hardly look at our bags at all as we went through the special inspection station.
From Quito, we flew to Guayaquil, the second of Ecuador's two "fabulous" cities, to fuel up for the 600 mile journey west to the Galapagos. That stopover lasted 45 minutes and I learned that they won't let you use the restroom while the plane refuels. Note to terrorists: threaten to flush during fuel up to guarantee that your demands will be met.
On our flight to the islands, we noticed some passengers wearing blue "Galaxy" buttons on their shirts. The Galaxy was the name of the yacht we would be traveling on during our cruise. Our travel agent gave us those same buttons and I asked Dolphin Trainer™ if we should put them on so people could identify us. He shook his head and explained that we were still in high school and it wasn't "cool" to wear our buttons during the flight. Then he adjusted his letterman jacket, gave a skinny nerd a brown swirlie, and went behind the gym to smoke a cigarette.
Our destination island was San Cristobal, the second most populous Galapagos island and home of Puerto Baquerizo Moreno, the capital of the islands. We landed on a small runway, got off the plane, and waited outside in the hot sun for a few minutes before they opened up the airport for us. Seriously, the doors were locked when we arrived. I think the janitor finally let us in.
While waiting in line to go through customs, we noticed three girls in their twenties wearing their Galaxy buttons and we suddenly decided that it was now the "cool" thing to do. After getting our bags, we met our naturalist guide for the cruise. His name was Carlos and he looked like a South American John Stamos. Everyone on our trip, including all the men, were smitten by his soap opera star good looks, adventurous spirit, and practically unintelligible accent. We asked Carlos if we should put our Galaxy luggage tags on our bags (since we forgot to do it before we checked them in Quito), but he said don't bother since they'll easily figure it out. OMG! Isn't his decisiveness positively dreamy?!
Including us, there were 11 Galaxy passengers. As we waited for everyone to get their bags, we met four of them: Bill and Suzanne from Winnipeg, Canada, and fellow Americans Janet and her dad, Robert, from Ohio. Robert, who was somewhere in his eighties, was clearly going to be the oldest passenger on the boat, and he had quite the sense of humor. At least, I think he was joking when he talked about the last time he visited the Galapagos with "good ol' Charlie" Darwin.
We took a short bus ride into town and were given 10 minutes to shop for last minute essentials before boarding the Galaxy. For me, that meant wondering if I brought enough sunscreen and pacing around a convenience store debating the pros and cons as if it were a Solomonic decision. For Dolphin Trainer™ that meant calling his girlfriend for the two-billionth time. For two of the three twenty-somethings, that meant stuffing their faces with ice cream.
We boarded an inflatable boat which Carlos consistently referred to as a "dinghy". The same type of craft was called a Zodiac when I went on my Antarctic cruise in 2005. Clearly, awesome-sounding names are not a priority in the Galapagos. As we motored out to the Galaxy, I asked the three twenty-somethings their names.
"Sonia," said one. Oh, that's easy, I thought. I can remember that.
"Kim," said another. Sure, no problem. Two for two.
"Upasha$s9hasan@ywhda," said the third. Uh...what? I repeated back what I thought I heard, asked her to spell it, and then nodded my head as if it was now in my permanent memory. I'm not very good with names in the first place, but Upasana (her actual name) had just signed on for a week's worth of "hey you's" from me.
The first thing we were told when we got on board was that we couldn't wear shoes on the boat. Apparently, this was a Japanese yacht. Actually, we could wear shoes on board if we didn't use them on any of the landings. Not being female and therefore genetically predisposed to bring 20 extra pairs of shoes on a cruise, I'd either have to go barefoot or use socks. And since I have toes that look like a bristlecone pine (plus I was smart enough to not cut my toenails before the trip) this meant I'd be rocking the boat with my socks on.
We were invited into the lounge to relax and enjoy some cocktails while our bags were put into our rooms. Carlos had everyone introduce themselves one at a time and say where they were from. We were finally introduced to Matus and Milena from Slovakia. Although they never said so, I believe them to be the King and Queen of Slovakia. Being humble, they probably just wanted to be treated like everyone else. They must be kind and gentle rulers of their exotic land and we enjoyed the tales of royal adventure they shared with us.
The three girls turned out to be from Canada (the Toronto area). So we had five Canucks in total which meant we'd be hearing a lot aboot maple syrup and hockey, eh? Almost everyone said what country they were from whereas Dolphin Trainer™ and I only had to say our cities, Chicago and Las Vegas, because I think it goes without saying that America rules the world with a mighty fist.
The crew, dressed like they were ready for the 1991 Tailhook Convention, was introduced and we all toasted to the beginning of our trip. Then we were informed that there were two unidentified bags and they didn't know what room to put them in. Apparently we should have tagged our bags after all (although simple math on their part might have come in handy). At first we blamed Carlos for steering us wrong, but then we remembered the "Full House" episode where he played drums with The Beach Boys and our anger subsided.
We momentarily retired to our cabin as the Galaxy left harbor for our first destination: Isla Lobos, where our first group activity would be snorkeling. It had been awhile since I had snorkeled and I didn't start off too well. I did a back roll entry off of the dinghy and one of my flippers immediately came off. Thankfully, Maggie, the guide-in-training and Carlos' assistant, was there to help me put it back on. Perhaps that was the start of her infatuation with me. Oh yeah. We'll get to that.
It didn't take long for me to get comfortable in the water. Dolphin Trainer™ was swimming all around taking underwater video and photos and saving Kim from a "stone scorpionfish" which I think was a name he made up and pretended it was dangerous just so he could act like a hero. The real hero, of course, was Carlos who snorkeled without fins, mask, or snorkel and showed us how twisting around in the water encouraged the sea lions to play with us.
After our water fun, we had our first Galapagos landing on Isla Lobos. We saw marine iguanas, sea lions, and other stuff. I don't really pay attention to names. In fact, I hardly paid attention to any of the information Carlos gave us as I was too busy wondering where I'd pose for my first Galapagos phoon photo.
Our first day ended with a 7pm dinner. We sat with Bill and Suzanne and all they talked aboot was hockey and maple syrup, eh? Actually, we had lots to talk about and it was a very enjoyable meal. The food was great, but I don't remember what it was. It could have been stone scorpionfish for all I know. Near the end of the meal, they mockingly asked us why we were still wearing our blue Galaxy buttons. I looked at Dolphin Trainer™. He turned to look at me. We nodded to each other and then gave Bill a wedgie and Suzanne a titty twister for daring to insult the "cool" kids.
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