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!**

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