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.