**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation. Once finished, I will begin another 20 part blog recapping all the exciting behind-the-scenes drama of this recap blog that has lasted five months longer than the actual trip.**
What could possibly be said about the last day of a trip? That's just the boring travel day back home. There's nothing to talk about. What am I going to do, tell you about the movie they showed on the airplane?
Yep!
Buckle up.
Captain's Blog. Trip date: March 20, 2009.
We ate our final complimentary breakfast in our hotel, Los Alpes, and chatted with fellow guests. There were always interesting travelers to converse with in that intimate dining room including the older pair of gentlemen who gave us the idea to tour the Inti Nan Solar Museum while they spent a full day at a market up north shopping for ponchos and other stereotypical South American items. There was the professor who spoke many languages and seemed to personally know every person he came across. I bet he could beat Kevin Bacon by a few degrees. We also ended up in a lot of pictures with very nice couples: "Hey--you two boys are staying at the same hotel as us...why don't you join us for a picture?"
It was almost like staying at a hostel. That is, with private showers and toilets you can flush paper down. Also, replace the idealistic twenty-somethings who want to share a beer with you with idealistic sixty-somethings who want to share a group photo with you. That's Los Alpes!
This time, our taxi to the airport cost only $5, the cheapest price yet! He must have been new to the job. We did our usual "here? there? back over here? maybe it's there?" search for where we were supposed to go for customs and we ran into a Galaxy reunion. The chicas, Bill and Suzanne, and Janet and Robert were all waiting on line. The chicas flight got postponed so their choice of an earlier flight did not pay dividends especially when it got delayed again and they finally landed back in Canada sometime in April.
Bill and Suzanne told us about their own Inti Nan Solar Museum trip and their adventures shopping for ponchos and other stereotypical South American items. Apparently that's a solid one-two punch if you ever visit Ecuador. Janet and Robert took some kind of train ride after their stint on the Galaxy. I think Robert (one of the liveliest eighty-something I've ever encountered) was kidding when he said it reminded him of the very first train ride. Not his first train ride, the very first train ride. Oh, he's a kidder! Uh, right, Bob?
Once again, we said goodbyes. We made "we should go to Dolphin Trainer™'s zoo and play with the dolphins!" reunion plans with the chicas and after 11 days of practice, I was able to mispronounce Upasana's name one last time. With that, we bid farewell to Ecuador and boarded our plane.
Well, Dolphin Trainer™ got to board the plane. I was chosen for a random search by a female security guard. I was ushered into a corner with a small table and informed that she would empty out the contents of my backpack one item at a time. She showed no emotion as she picked up each item. Even the ponchos and other stereotypical South American items gave her no pause. Then she came to my roll-on sunblock stick which I always use for my nose when I hike.
"What's this?"
Sunblock.
"You should have checked this."
But it's not liquid. It's a stick. It's like a big, thick chapstick. Do we have to check chapstick?
"Next time check it."
With that, she finished up and let me on the plane. We flew back to Miami and I watched the movie "Flash of Genius" starring Greg Kinnear as the guy who invented the intermittent wiper and successfully sued all the manufacturers who stole the concept and successfully ruined his entire family life in the process. Not sure what I'm supposed to take from that. Maybe, "Fight for your principles because you can win and your life will be worse off for it!"
The pilot periodically alerted us to significant details such as when we passed over the Panama Canal, the weather in Miami, and the status of the roll-on sunblock hijacker who forced his way into the cabin at the beginning of the flight and caused a bit of a delay before takeoff. The pilot also used the opportunity to practice his Spanish which sounded like a ninth grader reading straight from a Spanish book: "Whole-lah Scene-yors Why Scene-yor-eetahs." That's when I realized that it's not my lack of Spanish that's holding me back from a career as a bi-lingual pilot.
In Miami, Dolphin Trainer™ and I wandered around the airport for food and once again ended up at a Nathan's Hot Dog stand where we got strange looks as we tried to converse with the people eating around us and invited them to be in some group shots with us. Finally it was time to say goodbye to Dolphin Trainer™. He was headed back to Chicago and I back to Las Vegas. He gave me a parting gift, Obsessed, the book he had been reading all trip. It looked like an intriguing thriller which is a change of pace for him. I've done a road trip with him every year since we met in Antarctica in 2005 and he always brings along a book from a specific genre. Last year it was The Time Traveler's Wife, the year before, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, and the year before that it was Are you There God? It's Me, Margaret.
Obsessed is about a guy who steals the idea for intermittent wipers and goes on to enjoy a happy and productive life even though he ends up losing many court cases. Not really. It's about a professor's strange class assignment concerning a missing girl. It's fast-paced, but has a let-down ending. Kind of like this blog if you're expecting a big finish and you think the passive voice makes for fast-paced action.
After being away 17 days, I arrived home and was greeted by an apartment with no running water. The unit next door was being remodeled and they accidentally decided I wouldn't need to shower or use the toilet when I came back. So, my vacation sort of lasted an extra day in one sanitary sense. It was fixed the next day. Since I had no vacation photos to sift through or vacation video to edit, I instead sat down to write a never-ending blog about my trip.
A month after the trip, USA Today travel reporter Laura Bly published her article about the Galapagos. She also posted a video on youtube. Some video highlights: Dolphin Trainer™ swimming at 0:18, Pepe handing Dolphin Trainer™ and I some postcards starting at 0:46, and nude photos of the chicas at 1:28.
Speaking of the chicas, Upasha$s9hasan@ywhda visited Las Vegas in June for her sister's bachelorette party. I hooked her up with some discounted "O" show tickets, had a nice dinner with her sister and two of their friends, and waited in vain for her to demonstrate why her nickname is Darcy Pewksgoode. She brought with her some classic Canadian gifts: maple tea, maple syrup, and a hockey stick. I gave her some ponchos and other stereotypical South American items. Is that line funny yet? No?
During our last daily briefing on the Galaxy, everyone exchanged email addresses and snail-mail addresses to stay in touch and exchange photos. In June, Dolphin Trainer™ sent out DVDs he made of the photos he took and the video he edited together from the crappy footage I took. Seriously, I'm one horrible cameraman. Somehow he was able to turn Pepe-like footage into a brilliant Carlos-like video. It's especially good for him because usually he is the star photographer of any trip. However, it became apparent that would not be the case on this trip when, on the way back from Espanola, Jessica opened her laptop and invited everyone to see the photos she had taken so far. They were amazing. Visually stunning. You could see the shock and jealousy dripping from Dolphin Trainer™'s face as he viewed her artistic masterpieces. So, thankfully he was able to claim at least one post-trip award for "Best Video" even though there was no competition in the category.
Here are some random notes I found nowhere to place except here at the end:
1. Karla is starting her own business called Galahouse which, like most businesses on the Galapagos, has zero presence on the web. She still owns half of Galakiwi so you can contact her here if, by chance, you ever travel to San Cristobal. She can get you good deals on anything and hopefully she won't be married to Carlos by the time I return.
2. There's something odd about being on a boat 600 miles off the coast of South America, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, and seeing someone on their cell phone.
3. While waiting in line to eat dinner at Hotel Miconia the night before our San Cristobal scuba dives, we talked to a lady who gave us dining advice for the island. She said to avoid one place which was absolutely horrible. Just disgusting. A negative 5 out of 5 stars. I told her we certainly wouldn't be eating there, thank you very much. Later, Dolphin Trainer™ told me she was talking about the place we liked where we ate lunch earlier that day.
4. I didn't notice any difference between the beaks of any of the finches I saw. I guess I just proved evolution wrong much in the same way as those Einsteins who think they've disproved global warming every time it's cold outside.
5. Be sure to put your roll-on sunblock stick in your checked baggage. Lives are at stake.
There is one more post coming before this travel blog is over: Galapagos photos with high-larry-us captions!
_
Monday, August 31, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Travel Blog '09 -- Part 19 -- Galapagos Day 10 -- San Cristobal/Quito
**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation. It's amazing how easy it is to turn a relatively short trip into a long, dragged out blog journal detailing every last insignificant moment. Ask me how!**
Dolphin Trainer™ suggested we wake up early on our last day on San Cristobal to get in one last snorkel before flying back to Quito. I would have preferred to spend our last morning in the Galapagos contributing to the rarity of the giant land tortoise, but I go with the flow. We went back to Punta Corola, the same beach we visited the day before but this time we walked a short path to the other side of the point and swam to a more distant cove called Cerro Tijeretas (or Frigatebird Hill) that was also recommended to us by our dive boat companions.
It was further than we thought, but we finally made it and spent time exploring with some sea lions. We wanted to be back at the hotel by 10:30 in order to get to the airport by 11 which meant we'd have to be out of the water by 10 since it was about a 30 minute walk from Punta Corola to our hotel. There is only one flight a day leaving the island and locals never get turned away like a tourist might if they don't get there early. At 9:30 we made the fateful decision to walk from Frigatebird Hill back to Punta Corolla instead of swimming along the shore because we assumed that walking would be quicker.
We easily found the path out of the water that led up to the top of the hill where a statue of Charles Darwin overlooks the water. Apparently this is where he first made landfall on San Cristobal. We never made it to the monument where Darwin first took a dump on the island, but I hear it's nice. The trail was littered with small, sharp rocks which wouldn't be worth mentioning except for the fact that we were barefoot having left our shoes at Punta Corola. The going was slow and painful. Each step was a pointy reminder of our decision to not swim back. I assumed the trail would be short. I was wrong.
There are decisions made in life which may haunt you until your last earthly breath. If there is an afterlife, the decision to walk the trail that day will haunt me until after that. I've done hikes that have lasted from sunrise to sunset, but none seemed as long as this hellish nightmare of a trail. I don't know how people walk barefoot over rough terrain, but if necessity is the mother of invention, I would have invented shoes if I were born a cave man. This was, without a doubt, the worst experience of my life which, if you think about it, says more about my charmed life than it does about this barefoot trail catastrophe.
Dolphin Trainer™ hated it as well, but somehow he managed to go fast enough to where I no longer saw or heard him. It got so bad, I tried walking with my fins on, but that made the going even slower and prohibitively awkward. Considering we had a time deadline, I took solace in the hope that once Dolphin Trainer™ reached our shoes, he'd come back with mine and save me from this walking torture. I'm not one to cuss often but that certainly wasn't the case this day. With each step, I screamed a steady stream of vulgarities that would make any young open-mic comic shake their head in disgust.
It was horrible. Just absolutely incredibly horrible.
What seemed like hours passed and eventually I realized that Dolphin Trainer™ should have been back up the trail by now, heroically carrying my shoes so we could make our flight. Where was he? My constant invectives now turned from blaming the sharp rocks and Charles Darwin himself to a brand new target: Mr. Dolphin Trainer™. Fortunately for him (and me), he never heard the combination of insults I made up which wouldn't even be allowed to air on Satan TV.
Finally, after an eternity of punishment usually reserved for childbirth or kidney stone passing, I emerged from the bloody trail and stepped gloriously onto the sandy beach where I spotted my beloved shoes still sitting right next to Dolphin Trainer™'s shoes. Where was he? I looked out into the bay and saw him snorkeling away without a care in the world.
Bastard.
Later I found out he got in an extra 20 minutes of snorkeling while I marched on my own personal Trail of Tears. I don't know if I was able to keep my anger inside or was just too overwhelmingly relieved for it to finally be over, but I didn't say much to Dolphin Trainer™. He came in and began to excitedly talk about a shark he saw until he noticed my unhappiness. We gathered our things and silently walked back to the hotel. He stayed 30 paces ahead of me, keeping his distance from my seething displeasure. Meantime, I gained some joy by imagining scenarios of Mustard Thieves™ stealing Dolphin Trainer™ rather than my backpack.
We turned in our fins at Victor's dive shop, showered and checked out of our hotel and made it to the airport by 11:15. We had plenty of time before our flight so I no longer harbored ill will toward Dolphin Trainer™ and his extra snorkel time.
Bastard.
As we waited to go through customs, I kept staring at a poster warning about the dangers of premarital sex. I guess that's a big deal in the Galapagos what with Carlos and all. We saw Jessica and Erica in the airport, but did not sit by them. We talked to a group who did a scuba diving live aboard to Wolf and Darwin Islands, the best scuba sites in the Galapagos. Someday, when I don't suck at diving, that's where I'd like to go.
This time our fuel stop in Guayaquil forced us off the plane and inside the concourse for a 20 minute wait where we chatted with Jessica for a bit before they let us board the plane again. This time, there was no assigned seating. We happily took the best seats on the aircraft until we were rudely informed that apparently some seats were already assigned. Whatever. I didn't want to sit in that stupid cockpit anyway.
Back in Quito, we bid farewell to Jessica and Erica for what seemed like the 100th time and took a taxi through rush hour traffic back to our favorite hotel, Los Alpes. We had pre-arranged for the chicas to meet us there that night so we could all have dinner together. We were all happy to reunite, talk about our separate adventures the past few days, and share new Pepe jokes. We wandered around the streets for awhile looking for a restaurant that served guinea pig since Kem (Kim) and Rhonda (Sonia) were craving it, but we couldn't find a suitable place. We eventually settled on a hip, popular looking location which would have to do.
I don't think this restaurant had guinea pig, but they did have bread and butter which made it palpable to Darcy (Upasana) who, as a vegetarian, lives on the combo. In fact, she drove poor Marjorie crazy by demanding bread and butter every morning on the Galaxy during breakfast. In terms of nutrition, bread and butter is her bread and butter. I ordered some kind of chicken thing which wasn't so hot and I don't recall what anyone else had other than the 35 wine bottles that were ordered and consumed within two hours.
Overall, the chicas were glad they visited Isabela Island although I think one of them got sick there. They also said they missed us (which was nice to hear) but they still dreamed of Carlos (of course). We told them of our crush on Karla and Darcy said she predicted it since they were all there at the dive shop that first night when we first met her. After a full evening of conversation, we said our final goodbyes as they took a cab back to their hotel and we walked back to ours.
We did some final packing before going to bed and lamented the fact that when we told the chicas the story of our walkathon of death earlier in the day, they didn't seem to think it sounded so terrible. No matter how much we emphasized the pain, they just shrugged their shoulders as if they couldn't understand why we'd make such a big deal about it. Then they reminded us that Carlos walked barefoot over the sharp, lava rock like it was nothing at all. Oh, brother. Whatever! Like I care what Carlos did.
Bastard.
_
Dolphin Trainer™ suggested we wake up early on our last day on San Cristobal to get in one last snorkel before flying back to Quito. I would have preferred to spend our last morning in the Galapagos contributing to the rarity of the giant land tortoise, but I go with the flow. We went back to Punta Corola, the same beach we visited the day before but this time we walked a short path to the other side of the point and swam to a more distant cove called Cerro Tijeretas (or Frigatebird Hill) that was also recommended to us by our dive boat companions.
It was further than we thought, but we finally made it and spent time exploring with some sea lions. We wanted to be back at the hotel by 10:30 in order to get to the airport by 11 which meant we'd have to be out of the water by 10 since it was about a 30 minute walk from Punta Corola to our hotel. There is only one flight a day leaving the island and locals never get turned away like a tourist might if they don't get there early. At 9:30 we made the fateful decision to walk from Frigatebird Hill back to Punta Corolla instead of swimming along the shore because we assumed that walking would be quicker.
We easily found the path out of the water that led up to the top of the hill where a statue of Charles Darwin overlooks the water. Apparently this is where he first made landfall on San Cristobal. We never made it to the monument where Darwin first took a dump on the island, but I hear it's nice. The trail was littered with small, sharp rocks which wouldn't be worth mentioning except for the fact that we were barefoot having left our shoes at Punta Corola. The going was slow and painful. Each step was a pointy reminder of our decision to not swim back. I assumed the trail would be short. I was wrong.
There are decisions made in life which may haunt you until your last earthly breath. If there is an afterlife, the decision to walk the trail that day will haunt me until after that. I've done hikes that have lasted from sunrise to sunset, but none seemed as long as this hellish nightmare of a trail. I don't know how people walk barefoot over rough terrain, but if necessity is the mother of invention, I would have invented shoes if I were born a cave man. This was, without a doubt, the worst experience of my life which, if you think about it, says more about my charmed life than it does about this barefoot trail catastrophe.
Dolphin Trainer™ hated it as well, but somehow he managed to go fast enough to where I no longer saw or heard him. It got so bad, I tried walking with my fins on, but that made the going even slower and prohibitively awkward. Considering we had a time deadline, I took solace in the hope that once Dolphin Trainer™ reached our shoes, he'd come back with mine and save me from this walking torture. I'm not one to cuss often but that certainly wasn't the case this day. With each step, I screamed a steady stream of vulgarities that would make any young open-mic comic shake their head in disgust.
It was horrible. Just absolutely incredibly horrible.
What seemed like hours passed and eventually I realized that Dolphin Trainer™ should have been back up the trail by now, heroically carrying my shoes so we could make our flight. Where was he? My constant invectives now turned from blaming the sharp rocks and Charles Darwin himself to a brand new target: Mr. Dolphin Trainer™. Fortunately for him (and me), he never heard the combination of insults I made up which wouldn't even be allowed to air on Satan TV.
Finally, after an eternity of punishment usually reserved for childbirth or kidney stone passing, I emerged from the bloody trail and stepped gloriously onto the sandy beach where I spotted my beloved shoes still sitting right next to Dolphin Trainer™'s shoes. Where was he? I looked out into the bay and saw him snorkeling away without a care in the world.
Bastard.
Later I found out he got in an extra 20 minutes of snorkeling while I marched on my own personal Trail of Tears. I don't know if I was able to keep my anger inside or was just too overwhelmingly relieved for it to finally be over, but I didn't say much to Dolphin Trainer™. He came in and began to excitedly talk about a shark he saw until he noticed my unhappiness. We gathered our things and silently walked back to the hotel. He stayed 30 paces ahead of me, keeping his distance from my seething displeasure. Meantime, I gained some joy by imagining scenarios of Mustard Thieves™ stealing Dolphin Trainer™ rather than my backpack.
We turned in our fins at Victor's dive shop, showered and checked out of our hotel and made it to the airport by 11:15. We had plenty of time before our flight so I no longer harbored ill will toward Dolphin Trainer™ and his extra snorkel time.
Bastard.
As we waited to go through customs, I kept staring at a poster warning about the dangers of premarital sex. I guess that's a big deal in the Galapagos what with Carlos and all. We saw Jessica and Erica in the airport, but did not sit by them. We talked to a group who did a scuba diving live aboard to Wolf and Darwin Islands, the best scuba sites in the Galapagos. Someday, when I don't suck at diving, that's where I'd like to go.
This time our fuel stop in Guayaquil forced us off the plane and inside the concourse for a 20 minute wait where we chatted with Jessica for a bit before they let us board the plane again. This time, there was no assigned seating. We happily took the best seats on the aircraft until we were rudely informed that apparently some seats were already assigned. Whatever. I didn't want to sit in that stupid cockpit anyway.
Back in Quito, we bid farewell to Jessica and Erica for what seemed like the 100th time and took a taxi through rush hour traffic back to our favorite hotel, Los Alpes. We had pre-arranged for the chicas to meet us there that night so we could all have dinner together. We were all happy to reunite, talk about our separate adventures the past few days, and share new Pepe jokes. We wandered around the streets for awhile looking for a restaurant that served guinea pig since Kem (Kim) and Rhonda (Sonia) were craving it, but we couldn't find a suitable place. We eventually settled on a hip, popular looking location which would have to do.
I don't think this restaurant had guinea pig, but they did have bread and butter which made it palpable to Darcy (Upasana) who, as a vegetarian, lives on the combo. In fact, she drove poor Marjorie crazy by demanding bread and butter every morning on the Galaxy during breakfast. In terms of nutrition, bread and butter is her bread and butter. I ordered some kind of chicken thing which wasn't so hot and I don't recall what anyone else had other than the 35 wine bottles that were ordered and consumed within two hours.
Overall, the chicas were glad they visited Isabela Island although I think one of them got sick there. They also said they missed us (which was nice to hear) but they still dreamed of Carlos (of course). We told them of our crush on Karla and Darcy said she predicted it since they were all there at the dive shop that first night when we first met her. After a full evening of conversation, we said our final goodbyes as they took a cab back to their hotel and we walked back to ours.
We did some final packing before going to bed and lamented the fact that when we told the chicas the story of our walkathon of death earlier in the day, they didn't seem to think it sounded so terrible. No matter how much we emphasized the pain, they just shrugged their shoulders as if they couldn't understand why we'd make such a big deal about it. Then they reminded us that Carlos walked barefoot over the sharp, lava rock like it was nothing at all. Oh, brother. Whatever! Like I care what Carlos did.
Bastard.
_
Monday, August 17, 2009
Travel Blog '09 -- Part 18 -- Galapagos Day 9 -- San Cristobal Day 2
**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation. I am so freakin' bored of this blog recap you have no idea. Somebody kill me now.**
Hey! Time for another entry! Whoo hoo! Awesome! Our second day on San Cristobal was scuba diving day! We met Karla at the dive shop and she introduced us to a nice couple who'd be joining us. The guy was from Argentina and the girl was from England. They were staying on the island for 6 weeks to teach English. I'm always amazed at people who travel abroad to teach English. I couldn't do it. Don't you have to know the students' own language to be able to teach them yours? The only place I could go to teach English is England.
Although the couple were both divers, they were going on the dive boat just to snorkel. She was pregnant and he was foolishly selfless enough to want to stay with his wife. As Karla walked us to the dock, we asked questions about her life. She was born on the island, but spent some time in New Zealand where she met her husband Tim. Together, they opened the dive shop Galakiwi which is a clever combination: Gala for Galapagos and kiwi for a popular shoe polish made in Australia.
However, Karla said they are no longer a couple. That's unfortunate for Tim, I say, because Karla is pretty much the most awesome person we met on the entire trip. If the chicas fell in love with Carlos, then Karla was definitely the female version of Carlos for the chicos. Sure, she was attractive, but she also had the type of personality that lifts her rating on a 1-10 scale of attractiveness to about 26 or 27. Did I mention she also had wings and a halo?
Much like Las Vegas any time of year, we saw lots of campaign signs posted around town for an upcoming election. I asked Karla if she would ever run for office and she said she wouldn't mind, but she doesn't think she'd win because her fellow locals kind of disowned her ever since she married an "outsider". I guess Galapagos and New Zealand are like the Montagues and Capulets, or the Jets and the Sharks, or the Disney Channel and Nickelodeon.
At the dock, she introduced us to our divemaster, Victor, who happens to run his own rival dive shop on the island called "Dive & Surf Club". I don't know how that works between competing dive shops in the Galapagos. Could it be a collective? A real life conservative Republican nightmare? Maybe the motto is, "from each dive shop according to their available dive boats, to each dive shop according to their bookings". Let's hope town hall America never scuba dives in the Galapagos!
Besides an assistant dive master, there were two other divers. One was just some random dude and the other was a guy sailing solo around the world. Now, up until this point, I thought that "training dolphins" was the ultimate conversation dominator. But, no! It's not even close. Dolphin Trainer™ hardly talked about his job once everyone found out about the Around-The-World guy. He faced such a barrage of questions that in one hour I learned more about him than everything I've learned about Michael Jackson since his death. I also learned a lot about sailing around the world. You spend 98% of your time on maintenance because there's always something to fix, you never get a full night's sleep because you have to wake up every 20 minutes or so to check that you are still on course, and, most importantly, you have plenty of time to wonder why you have no friends or loved ones.
From the get-go we could tell that Victor ran a more professional operation than Sub Aqua on Santa Cruz. We did a pre-dive check at Isla Lobos which was our first stop with the Galaxy a week earlier. Victor was able to gauge our abilities from that quick check which means he probably made the following mental note: "Keep eye on shaved head guy...a diving disaster waiting to happen".
Our two dives were at Kicker Rock, otherwise known as Leon Dormido which means "sleeping lion" because it looks like one to people who are blind. Our first dive was a complete circuit around one of the large rock formations. Of course, I only made it halfway around with my lousy air consumption. The assistant divemaster came up with me so, unlike Sub Aqua, this dive operation actually kept track of their divers. How refreshing. I don't remember anything about the first dive, but I do recall they gave us tasty cookies to eat in between dives. I guess that pretty much sums up my scuba diving:
"How was diving in the Galapagos, Brandon? What did you see?"
"I saw a box of Oreo Double Stuf on the boat and I was hoping they'd pass it around and THEY DID! It was awesome!"
As we prepared for the second dive, I noticed the air tank they gave me was at 3300 psi. Usually it's always at 3000. I was so excited that I'd get to be underwater for a bit longer. I had a bonus 300 psi! That's like a whole extra minute for me! Apparently, air is a zero-sum game because Around-The-World guy had only 2700 psi. He was not pleased. Sorry, dude. I guess sometimes it pays to be an air hog.
The second dive was excellent. Right as we descended there was a sea turtle waiting to greet us. We also saw plenty of sharks including an entire school of hammerheads! This was by far my longest dive in the Galapagos even though, unsurprisingly, I was the first to ascend. Once again, the assistant dive master came up as well. Poor guy. When you are the assistant dive master your dives are only as long as the worst schmuck. After a minute or two, Around-The-World guy came up as well. Again, he was very unhappy that he started without a full tank so his dive was "cut short". I didn't bother telling him that he outlasted me even though I had 600 more psi.
After the dives, we went back to Isla Lobos to eat lunch and snorkel with a dozen young sea lions. Dolphin Trainer™ had his waterproof camera and we took video of each other swimming with the sea lions. He didn't like the footage I got although he loved the footage he took of me. He said it was my fault. I say, rather than blame the camera guy, why not just admit that the underwater camera likes me better? It's not my fault he is a lousy sea lion snorkeler. Why not come to terms with the fact that I am the superior "leading man" when it comes to video of swimming with sea lions? Search your feelings, Dolphin Trainer™. You know it to be true.
Overall, the diving experience with Victor was fantastic (as was booking through Karla). I left the following feedback: Highly Recommended! Would do business with again! A+++++++++++++!!!!!!
Back at our hotel, we ran into fellow Galaxy passengers Jessica and Erica who came back from Isabela a day early because Jessica was sick. She probably came to soak in the healing powers of Karla's angelic aura which permeated the island. The couple we met during the dives recommended some beaches with good snorkeling further down from Playa Mann so we went to one via taxi. They were right. There were lots of sea lions, sea turtles and sea bears. Oh my!
As I was showering after the snorkel, Dolphin Trainer™ went to find an internet cafe to call his girlfriend to tell her about Around-The-World guy. He also ran into Karla. Now, we had previously discussed that we were both going to find her that night and give her a tip for being so awesome. Instead, Dolphin Trainer™ tried to give her money right there. At first she refused. He told her to use it for dinner and she confusingly thought he was asking if she'd join us for dinner. And she said yes! The newly single goddess of San Cristobal said she'd join us for dinner! So what did Dolphin Trainer™ do? That's right, he shoved the money in her hand and ran away like a wuss. "I didn't know what to say," he'd later claim. Congratulations, Dolphin Trainer™. Your award for the World's Worst Wingman is at the bottom of the ocean. Go get it.
So rather than spend our last night on San Cristobal in the presence of a sparkling female personality, we ended up at a nearly deserted restaurant on the outskirts of town eating with a cat named Gordo. That was the name of the kitty who roamed under the tables. We also ate with the owner of the restaurant. At least, it felt like it considering he came over to us so much. I felt bad for the guy. He was super nice and, apparently, we were the first customers he'd had in 10 years.
The only information I had gathered about San Cristobal before we arrived was that the Mockingbird Cafe had killer milkshakes. That was my "must do" thing on the island. Finally, on our last night, we went to the cafe only to find out that they couldn't serve any that night. Perhaps the machine was down or maybe it wasn't even on the menu anymore. I can't recall. Hey, this was almost 6 months ago! I can't remember everything! Instead, they had a tasty looking ice cream brownie on the menu. We ordered that. But wouldn't you know it? It was sold out. We ended up with those small ice cream cups with the lid you peel off and the flat little wooden spoon you use to stab the rock hard ice cream until it softens enough to become edible.
We wandered the streets the rest of the night in search of Karla. By this time during our stay on the island, the dark streets of San Cristobal, although much worse looking than Quito, felt very safe. We were almost tempted to give it the Muller/Dolphin Trainer™ backpack test. Besides the ubiquitous political signage I mentioned earlier, San Cristobal has another thing in common with Las Vegas--things are open late. Well, sometimes. Actually, I don't think any business on the island has regular hours. They just open and close as they please, even during the day. Damn commies!
Unfortunately, Karla must not have felt like opening up the shop that night, or going out at all. Dolphin Trainer™ really blew it by not taking her up on her dinner idea. That would have been a great way to finish off our Galapagos experience! Sometimes I imagine her sitting at a table that night, laughing and smiling, brushing her hair away from her face, and then leaning in closer to whisper, "So tell me more about sailing all around the world by yourself."
_
Hey! Time for another entry! Whoo hoo! Awesome! Our second day on San Cristobal was scuba diving day! We met Karla at the dive shop and she introduced us to a nice couple who'd be joining us. The guy was from Argentina and the girl was from England. They were staying on the island for 6 weeks to teach English. I'm always amazed at people who travel abroad to teach English. I couldn't do it. Don't you have to know the students' own language to be able to teach them yours? The only place I could go to teach English is England.
Although the couple were both divers, they were going on the dive boat just to snorkel. She was pregnant and he was foolishly selfless enough to want to stay with his wife. As Karla walked us to the dock, we asked questions about her life. She was born on the island, but spent some time in New Zealand where she met her husband Tim. Together, they opened the dive shop Galakiwi which is a clever combination: Gala for Galapagos and kiwi for a popular shoe polish made in Australia.
However, Karla said they are no longer a couple. That's unfortunate for Tim, I say, because Karla is pretty much the most awesome person we met on the entire trip. If the chicas fell in love with Carlos, then Karla was definitely the female version of Carlos for the chicos. Sure, she was attractive, but she also had the type of personality that lifts her rating on a 1-10 scale of attractiveness to about 26 or 27. Did I mention she also had wings and a halo?
Much like Las Vegas any time of year, we saw lots of campaign signs posted around town for an upcoming election. I asked Karla if she would ever run for office and she said she wouldn't mind, but she doesn't think she'd win because her fellow locals kind of disowned her ever since she married an "outsider". I guess Galapagos and New Zealand are like the Montagues and Capulets, or the Jets and the Sharks, or the Disney Channel and Nickelodeon.
At the dock, she introduced us to our divemaster, Victor, who happens to run his own rival dive shop on the island called "Dive & Surf Club". I don't know how that works between competing dive shops in the Galapagos. Could it be a collective? A real life conservative Republican nightmare? Maybe the motto is, "from each dive shop according to their available dive boats, to each dive shop according to their bookings". Let's hope town hall America never scuba dives in the Galapagos!
Besides an assistant dive master, there were two other divers. One was just some random dude and the other was a guy sailing solo around the world. Now, up until this point, I thought that "training dolphins" was the ultimate conversation dominator. But, no! It's not even close. Dolphin Trainer™ hardly talked about his job once everyone found out about the Around-The-World guy. He faced such a barrage of questions that in one hour I learned more about him than everything I've learned about Michael Jackson since his death. I also learned a lot about sailing around the world. You spend 98% of your time on maintenance because there's always something to fix, you never get a full night's sleep because you have to wake up every 20 minutes or so to check that you are still on course, and, most importantly, you have plenty of time to wonder why you have no friends or loved ones.
From the get-go we could tell that Victor ran a more professional operation than Sub Aqua on Santa Cruz. We did a pre-dive check at Isla Lobos which was our first stop with the Galaxy a week earlier. Victor was able to gauge our abilities from that quick check which means he probably made the following mental note: "Keep eye on shaved head guy...a diving disaster waiting to happen".
Our two dives were at Kicker Rock, otherwise known as Leon Dormido which means "sleeping lion" because it looks like one to people who are blind. Our first dive was a complete circuit around one of the large rock formations. Of course, I only made it halfway around with my lousy air consumption. The assistant divemaster came up with me so, unlike Sub Aqua, this dive operation actually kept track of their divers. How refreshing. I don't remember anything about the first dive, but I do recall they gave us tasty cookies to eat in between dives. I guess that pretty much sums up my scuba diving:
"How was diving in the Galapagos, Brandon? What did you see?"
"I saw a box of Oreo Double Stuf on the boat and I was hoping they'd pass it around and THEY DID! It was awesome!"
As we prepared for the second dive, I noticed the air tank they gave me was at 3300 psi. Usually it's always at 3000. I was so excited that I'd get to be underwater for a bit longer. I had a bonus 300 psi! That's like a whole extra minute for me! Apparently, air is a zero-sum game because Around-The-World guy had only 2700 psi. He was not pleased. Sorry, dude. I guess sometimes it pays to be an air hog.
The second dive was excellent. Right as we descended there was a sea turtle waiting to greet us. We also saw plenty of sharks including an entire school of hammerheads! This was by far my longest dive in the Galapagos even though, unsurprisingly, I was the first to ascend. Once again, the assistant dive master came up as well. Poor guy. When you are the assistant dive master your dives are only as long as the worst schmuck. After a minute or two, Around-The-World guy came up as well. Again, he was very unhappy that he started without a full tank so his dive was "cut short". I didn't bother telling him that he outlasted me even though I had 600 more psi.
After the dives, we went back to Isla Lobos to eat lunch and snorkel with a dozen young sea lions. Dolphin Trainer™ had his waterproof camera and we took video of each other swimming with the sea lions. He didn't like the footage I got although he loved the footage he took of me. He said it was my fault. I say, rather than blame the camera guy, why not just admit that the underwater camera likes me better? It's not my fault he is a lousy sea lion snorkeler. Why not come to terms with the fact that I am the superior "leading man" when it comes to video of swimming with sea lions? Search your feelings, Dolphin Trainer™. You know it to be true.
Overall, the diving experience with Victor was fantastic (as was booking through Karla). I left the following feedback: Highly Recommended! Would do business with again! A+++++++++++++!!!!!!
Back at our hotel, we ran into fellow Galaxy passengers Jessica and Erica who came back from Isabela a day early because Jessica was sick. She probably came to soak in the healing powers of Karla's angelic aura which permeated the island. The couple we met during the dives recommended some beaches with good snorkeling further down from Playa Mann so we went to one via taxi. They were right. There were lots of sea lions, sea turtles and sea bears. Oh my!
As I was showering after the snorkel, Dolphin Trainer™ went to find an internet cafe to call his girlfriend to tell her about Around-The-World guy. He also ran into Karla. Now, we had previously discussed that we were both going to find her that night and give her a tip for being so awesome. Instead, Dolphin Trainer™ tried to give her money right there. At first she refused. He told her to use it for dinner and she confusingly thought he was asking if she'd join us for dinner. And she said yes! The newly single goddess of San Cristobal said she'd join us for dinner! So what did Dolphin Trainer™ do? That's right, he shoved the money in her hand and ran away like a wuss. "I didn't know what to say," he'd later claim. Congratulations, Dolphin Trainer™. Your award for the World's Worst Wingman is at the bottom of the ocean. Go get it.
So rather than spend our last night on San Cristobal in the presence of a sparkling female personality, we ended up at a nearly deserted restaurant on the outskirts of town eating with a cat named Gordo. That was the name of the kitty who roamed under the tables. We also ate with the owner of the restaurant. At least, it felt like it considering he came over to us so much. I felt bad for the guy. He was super nice and, apparently, we were the first customers he'd had in 10 years.
The only information I had gathered about San Cristobal before we arrived was that the Mockingbird Cafe had killer milkshakes. That was my "must do" thing on the island. Finally, on our last night, we went to the cafe only to find out that they couldn't serve any that night. Perhaps the machine was down or maybe it wasn't even on the menu anymore. I can't recall. Hey, this was almost 6 months ago! I can't remember everything! Instead, they had a tasty looking ice cream brownie on the menu. We ordered that. But wouldn't you know it? It was sold out. We ended up with those small ice cream cups with the lid you peel off and the flat little wooden spoon you use to stab the rock hard ice cream until it softens enough to become edible.
We wandered the streets the rest of the night in search of Karla. By this time during our stay on the island, the dark streets of San Cristobal, although much worse looking than Quito, felt very safe. We were almost tempted to give it the Muller/Dolphin Trainer™ backpack test. Besides the ubiquitous political signage I mentioned earlier, San Cristobal has another thing in common with Las Vegas--things are open late. Well, sometimes. Actually, I don't think any business on the island has regular hours. They just open and close as they please, even during the day. Damn commies!
Unfortunately, Karla must not have felt like opening up the shop that night, or going out at all. Dolphin Trainer™ really blew it by not taking her up on her dinner idea. That would have been a great way to finish off our Galapagos experience! Sometimes I imagine her sitting at a table that night, laughing and smiling, brushing her hair away from her face, and then leaning in closer to whisper, "So tell me more about sailing all around the world by yourself."
_
Sunday, August 09, 2009
Travel Blog '09 -- Part 17 -- Galapagos Day 8 -- San Cristobal Day 1
**This is an ongoing series recapping my last vacation and The Alien and Sedition Acts were the greatest mistake of John Adams' Presidency. Some sentence clauses in this blog might not relate to each other.**
Ever wake up on a yacht in the Galapagos and think to yourself, "This would make a great opening sentence for my blog!"? Me neither.
Our last morning aboard the Galaxy was full of disembarkation chores including packing, filling out evaluation forms, and deciding how many nickels to leave for Pepe's tip. Truth be told, I left him a good tip--not as much as I gave Carlos--but enough to maintain the unblemished reputation of travelers who hail from Las Vegas, NV, the legendary land of tipping.
Dolphin Trainer™ donated his fins to the Galaxy mostly because he was too lazy to bother packing them. Similarly, at the end of my Antarctica cruise, I donated my $10 Wal-Mart rubber boots to the Explorer, although that was mostly because the soles were permanently caked with penguin guano. As I mentioned, that ship (and my boots) are now at the bottom of the southern ocean. If the Galaxy meets the same fate, then we can blame Dolphin Trainer™.
Pepe insisted everyone hand in their evaluation forms rather than leave them in the cabins. Why? Because before breakfast I noticed Pepe and the rest of the crew reading through the evaluations! Talk about tacky. I figured they'd wait until we were gone which was why I was so candid in my comments. Otherwise, I might not have used phrases like, "What blindfolded orangutan taught Marjorie how to make beds?" or "Pepe's people skills would be best utilized in a world where there are no people." In all actuality, I wasn't mean at all. I simply said Carlos was the better guide, the first cook was better than the second cook, and Marjorie is the absolute worst bed maker in the history of civilized bed making.
Before leaving the Galaxy, we said goodbye to the crew. Maggie gave me a long, extended hug and I explained to her that if she spoke better English there might have been a chance for us. Of course, she didn't understand. I think I heard her whisper "Remember...hermit crab?" as I turned away.
We took our last panga ride to the dock and said our goodbyes to King Matus and Queen Milena, Suzanne and Bill, Laura Bly, and Jessica and Erica. We were opting out of the final excursion (the San Cristobal Interpretive Center) for a chance to scuba dive. First we tried to check in to our hotel for the next two days, Hotel Miconia, but it was too early. We asked if they could hold our bags and the lady said yes; so she plopped them in the waiting area where she couldn't even see them. With our travel awareness at a heightened level due to our mustard trick experience, Dolphin Trainer™ and I both looked at each other, shrugged, and left for the Galakiwi dive shop.
Unfortunately, there were no dive boats going out that day, but Karla booked us for two dives the next day. We filled out the paperwork and she told us to come back at 5:30 to get squared away with our gear. She was nice enough to find us a land tour to occupy us. After checking into the hotel, we hopped into a cab Karla called for us and embarked on a tour of the interior island.
The cab driver spoke Maggie English so we sat in silence as he drove us to El Junco, a beautiful lagoon nestled on top of the highest hill on the island. The cabbie stopped at a parking lot and pointed to stairs leading up the hill. We got out and hoped he would still be there when we returned. We hiked all around the lagoon and came back to an empty cab. "Oh great!" I thought. "Our luck is so bad now our cab driver was stolen! He's probably tied up in the trunk of some car, covered in mustard." Thankfully, though, he was sitting in another cab smoking a cigarette. I always think the worst.
Next, he took us to a tortoise breeding center/sanctuary. Once again, he stopped in the parking lot and pointed. Not sure if they charged admission, we looked for an "official" starting point but found none. Instead, a well-marked trail into the tortoise sanctuary beckoned. We walked down the path and found some tortoises conveniently loitering near a display describing their behavior. Suddenly, a tall, thin man in a military-type flight suit came sprinting down the trail shouting words to us in Spanish. After a few unsuccessful exchanges in both Maggie English and Brandon and Dolphin Trainer™ Spanish, we realized he was supposed to guide us.
He marched us forward in a speedy fashion. Whenever he came to a display to read, he would stop for, oh, ten seconds or so, before charging ahead like Clark Griswald visiting the Grand Canyon. It was very hot and humid that day, and mystery military guide walked so fast that we lost sight of him a few times. At the end of our boot camp march, Dolphin Trainer™ tried to tip him out of courtesy, but he recoiled in horror and disappeared as quickly as he arrived.
In the parking lot, it was apparently our cab driver's turn to entertain a fellow driver as they hung out in his cab listening to some tunes. Like last time, he seemed oddly apologetic when we arrived as if we'd be angry. I certainly wasn't and I think Dolphin Trainer™ was just kidding around when he went Christian Bale on the guy for being "unprofessional".
Our last stop was a secluded beach about 15 minutes of hiking away from the parking lot. We told the cabbie we'd be back in one hour which went by fairly quickly. We returned and found him sleeping in the back seat, once again apologizing to us after we woke him up. I told him it was no big deal and Dolphin Trainer™ jokingly slapped him across the face but acted like he was seriously enraged. I bet the cab driver still laughs about it, now that he's most likely figured it out. Dolphin Trainer™ sure has a fun sense of humor!
Back in town, we ran into Bill and Suzanne. At separate times, of course, because they know the secret to a long-term marriage: avoid each other at all cost. Suzanne told us that we missed nothing at the morning museumy experience. For lunch, we ate at a place where we just guessed at a familiar looking word or two on the menu and hoped for the best. We guessed well as we enjoyed our meal while arguing over what our cab driver guide appreciated more: my monetary tip or Dolphin Trainer™ jokingly spitting into his face as we exited his cab.
We took another cab to Playa Mann beach which we heard had good snorkeling. It was crowded and we felt a bit weird leaving our stuff unguarded on the sand but we did it anyway. Considering the number of times we "tested" Ecuador with our stupidity, the fact that we were only jacked once is a testament to the fine, honest people of Ecuador. It's a safe place to visit!
I was cold during the snorkel so I came in early, right before a sea lion pup arrived and played with Dolphin Trainer™ as if they were best of friends. At least, that's what Dolphin Trainer™ claims. More likely, he just swam around by himself contemplating his meager existence in this world and the failure of traveling to exotic locations to add meaning to his insignificant life and how his career choice of pinniped training has left him hollow and empty inside making him wonder why he shouldn't just sink down to the bottom of the sea right now and taste the sweet release of death calling out to him from beneath the gentle swaying of the ocean waves.
For dinner, we ate at the fancy restaurant at our hotel. I ordered a medium pizza and Dolphin Trainer™ got a half-order seafood plate. My pizza was huge and Dolphin Trainer's™ half-order was gargantuan--it was like 7 plates! Even the Man v. Food guy would fail the challenge of a full seafood plate order. Amazingly, we ate almost everything on the table, possibly not a smart thing to do the night before scuba diving. Dolphin Trainer™ took all the left-overs and jokingly dumped them over our waiter. What a kidder!
Before retiring to bed, we walked the streets to unwind a bit. We passed Galakiwi when suddenly Karla rushed out after us and asked why we didn't show up to try on gear. Dolphin Trainer™ and I assumed she meant 5:30 am tomorrow, the morning of the dive. I do remember thinking that was odd at the time. Since she told us to show up at 7:30 am for the dives, why have us come in two hours earlier (5:30 in the morning!) to pick out gear? Although I briefly considered asking for clarification, I didn't, because, hey, why be smart when you can be dumb?!
So we tried on our gear at 9:30 pm instead. It's a good thing we decided to walk the streets after dinner, otherwise Karla would have thought we flaked on her! Thankfully, she was really nice about it. I apologized profusely. Dolphin Trainer™ also apologized by shouting "You should have been clearer!" and proceeded to jokingly demonstrate MMA moves on her until the police arrived.
Not to ruin my fun, but since there are people reading this blog who don't know Mark (Dolphin Trainer™) I feel obligated to say that I get some strange enjoyment out of making up lies that make him out to be a jerk, which he most certainly is not.
And this last part is for Dolphin Trainer™ himself: **Irony off!**
-
Ever wake up on a yacht in the Galapagos and think to yourself, "This would make a great opening sentence for my blog!"? Me neither.
Our last morning aboard the Galaxy was full of disembarkation chores including packing, filling out evaluation forms, and deciding how many nickels to leave for Pepe's tip. Truth be told, I left him a good tip--not as much as I gave Carlos--but enough to maintain the unblemished reputation of travelers who hail from Las Vegas, NV, the legendary land of tipping.
Dolphin Trainer™ donated his fins to the Galaxy mostly because he was too lazy to bother packing them. Similarly, at the end of my Antarctica cruise, I donated my $10 Wal-Mart rubber boots to the Explorer, although that was mostly because the soles were permanently caked with penguin guano. As I mentioned, that ship (and my boots) are now at the bottom of the southern ocean. If the Galaxy meets the same fate, then we can blame Dolphin Trainer™.
Pepe insisted everyone hand in their evaluation forms rather than leave them in the cabins. Why? Because before breakfast I noticed Pepe and the rest of the crew reading through the evaluations! Talk about tacky. I figured they'd wait until we were gone which was why I was so candid in my comments. Otherwise, I might not have used phrases like, "What blindfolded orangutan taught Marjorie how to make beds?" or "Pepe's people skills would be best utilized in a world where there are no people." In all actuality, I wasn't mean at all. I simply said Carlos was the better guide, the first cook was better than the second cook, and Marjorie is the absolute worst bed maker in the history of civilized bed making.
Before leaving the Galaxy, we said goodbye to the crew. Maggie gave me a long, extended hug and I explained to her that if she spoke better English there might have been a chance for us. Of course, she didn't understand. I think I heard her whisper "Remember...hermit crab?" as I turned away.
We took our last panga ride to the dock and said our goodbyes to King Matus and Queen Milena, Suzanne and Bill, Laura Bly, and Jessica and Erica. We were opting out of the final excursion (the San Cristobal Interpretive Center) for a chance to scuba dive. First we tried to check in to our hotel for the next two days, Hotel Miconia, but it was too early. We asked if they could hold our bags and the lady said yes; so she plopped them in the waiting area where she couldn't even see them. With our travel awareness at a heightened level due to our mustard trick experience, Dolphin Trainer™ and I both looked at each other, shrugged, and left for the Galakiwi dive shop.
Unfortunately, there were no dive boats going out that day, but Karla booked us for two dives the next day. We filled out the paperwork and she told us to come back at 5:30 to get squared away with our gear. She was nice enough to find us a land tour to occupy us. After checking into the hotel, we hopped into a cab Karla called for us and embarked on a tour of the interior island.
The cab driver spoke Maggie English so we sat in silence as he drove us to El Junco, a beautiful lagoon nestled on top of the highest hill on the island. The cabbie stopped at a parking lot and pointed to stairs leading up the hill. We got out and hoped he would still be there when we returned. We hiked all around the lagoon and came back to an empty cab. "Oh great!" I thought. "Our luck is so bad now our cab driver was stolen! He's probably tied up in the trunk of some car, covered in mustard." Thankfully, though, he was sitting in another cab smoking a cigarette. I always think the worst.
Next, he took us to a tortoise breeding center/sanctuary. Once again, he stopped in the parking lot and pointed. Not sure if they charged admission, we looked for an "official" starting point but found none. Instead, a well-marked trail into the tortoise sanctuary beckoned. We walked down the path and found some tortoises conveniently loitering near a display describing their behavior. Suddenly, a tall, thin man in a military-type flight suit came sprinting down the trail shouting words to us in Spanish. After a few unsuccessful exchanges in both Maggie English and Brandon and Dolphin Trainer™ Spanish, we realized he was supposed to guide us.
He marched us forward in a speedy fashion. Whenever he came to a display to read, he would stop for, oh, ten seconds or so, before charging ahead like Clark Griswald visiting the Grand Canyon. It was very hot and humid that day, and mystery military guide walked so fast that we lost sight of him a few times. At the end of our boot camp march, Dolphin Trainer™ tried to tip him out of courtesy, but he recoiled in horror and disappeared as quickly as he arrived.
In the parking lot, it was apparently our cab driver's turn to entertain a fellow driver as they hung out in his cab listening to some tunes. Like last time, he seemed oddly apologetic when we arrived as if we'd be angry. I certainly wasn't and I think Dolphin Trainer™ was just kidding around when he went Christian Bale on the guy for being "unprofessional".
Our last stop was a secluded beach about 15 minutes of hiking away from the parking lot. We told the cabbie we'd be back in one hour which went by fairly quickly. We returned and found him sleeping in the back seat, once again apologizing to us after we woke him up. I told him it was no big deal and Dolphin Trainer™ jokingly slapped him across the face but acted like he was seriously enraged. I bet the cab driver still laughs about it, now that he's most likely figured it out. Dolphin Trainer™ sure has a fun sense of humor!
Back in town, we ran into Bill and Suzanne. At separate times, of course, because they know the secret to a long-term marriage: avoid each other at all cost. Suzanne told us that we missed nothing at the morning museumy experience. For lunch, we ate at a place where we just guessed at a familiar looking word or two on the menu and hoped for the best. We guessed well as we enjoyed our meal while arguing over what our cab driver guide appreciated more: my monetary tip or Dolphin Trainer™ jokingly spitting into his face as we exited his cab.
We took another cab to Playa Mann beach which we heard had good snorkeling. It was crowded and we felt a bit weird leaving our stuff unguarded on the sand but we did it anyway. Considering the number of times we "tested" Ecuador with our stupidity, the fact that we were only jacked once is a testament to the fine, honest people of Ecuador. It's a safe place to visit!
I was cold during the snorkel so I came in early, right before a sea lion pup arrived and played with Dolphin Trainer™ as if they were best of friends. At least, that's what Dolphin Trainer™ claims. More likely, he just swam around by himself contemplating his meager existence in this world and the failure of traveling to exotic locations to add meaning to his insignificant life and how his career choice of pinniped training has left him hollow and empty inside making him wonder why he shouldn't just sink down to the bottom of the sea right now and taste the sweet release of death calling out to him from beneath the gentle swaying of the ocean waves.
For dinner, we ate at the fancy restaurant at our hotel. I ordered a medium pizza and Dolphin Trainer™ got a half-order seafood plate. My pizza was huge and Dolphin Trainer's™ half-order was gargantuan--it was like 7 plates! Even the Man v. Food guy would fail the challenge of a full seafood plate order. Amazingly, we ate almost everything on the table, possibly not a smart thing to do the night before scuba diving. Dolphin Trainer™ took all the left-overs and jokingly dumped them over our waiter. What a kidder!
Before retiring to bed, we walked the streets to unwind a bit. We passed Galakiwi when suddenly Karla rushed out after us and asked why we didn't show up to try on gear. Dolphin Trainer™ and I assumed she meant 5:30 am tomorrow, the morning of the dive. I do remember thinking that was odd at the time. Since she told us to show up at 7:30 am for the dives, why have us come in two hours earlier (5:30 in the morning!) to pick out gear? Although I briefly considered asking for clarification, I didn't, because, hey, why be smart when you can be dumb?!
So we tried on our gear at 9:30 pm instead. It's a good thing we decided to walk the streets after dinner, otherwise Karla would have thought we flaked on her! Thankfully, she was really nice about it. I apologized profusely. Dolphin Trainer™ also apologized by shouting "You should have been clearer!" and proceeded to jokingly demonstrate MMA moves on her until the police arrived.
Not to ruin my fun, but since there are people reading this blog who don't know Mark (Dolphin Trainer™) I feel obligated to say that I get some strange enjoyment out of making up lies that make him out to be a jerk, which he most certainly is not.
And this last part is for Dolphin Trainer™ himself: **Irony off!**
-
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
