**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.
_
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Travel Blog '09 -- Part 15 -- Galapagos Day 6 -- Floreana
**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 kind-hearted 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.
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 kind-hearted 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.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Travel Blog '09 -- Part 14 -- Galapagos Day 5 -- Santa Cruz -- Subsection B
**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.
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.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Travel Blog '09 -- Part 13 -- Galapagos Day 5 -- Santa Cruz -- Subsection A
**(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.
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.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Travel Blog '09 -- Part 12 -- Galapagos Day 4 -- Santiago and Bartolome
**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.
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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