Distraction is a gift

¡Aquí vengo!

2012-01-13T00:00:00.000-05:00

JANUARY 13, 2009

It is funny. When I first got to Costa Rica I was ever so cautious of impurities. Careful not to swallow the water as I brushed my teeth. Careful not to touch anything more than I needed to in the shower, in the bread store, on the bus. Even the grocery to me in Alajuela felt tainted, and there was no way that I was going to consider eating from an exposed mound of complimentary brown and bruised bananas and crumby white loaf bread at the hotel in San José.

Since I have been here in Caletas, all of these preconceived ideas of impurities have been diminished. We wash our dishes with sometimes foul-smelling well water. The dishes are hardly ever really clean, sitting out in the open air just like everything else at camp. Leftovers sit out uncovered, or saran wrapped in above normal temperatures for a day and we still eat them. Our hands and nails are always dirty from digging in the sand, using the "facilities," and digging up rotting turtle eggs. Often they are washed only to immediately come in contact with some other unsanitary surface. Some of us shower daily, while some shower only once or twice a week. We all brush our teeth, some a little compulsively than others, but I admit that I have stopped having a problem with dampening my bristles in the dish water. We've mastered the art of scavenging for every last crumb of food, even if it so happens to be lost in the sand. Mites and ants run rampant across every surface, and I have grown tireless of brushing them from my skin or chasing them from meals. We've learned to efficiently utilize every last drop of honey, every minute scrap from the peanut jar, and tattered, torn and stained articles of clothing have no choice, but to carry on.

I have a memory from the beginning of one of the girls washing a bucket before she used it, and I laughed, "We live in a camp!" I recall people complaining that they were sick of always having to eat rice and beans--still are-- and I exclaimed, "Hey, reality check. We live in a camp!" I remember people complaining of the toxic fumes omitted from the facilities, and I

screamed, "Dude, we live in a fucking camp!!!"

As I sit here on this early Tuesday morning, surrounded by dirty cups and plates. Surrounded by deteriorating and stained books, duct tape patched tarps, knife carved and marked surfaces, dried up coconut shells, empty glass Imperial bottles, heaps of junk behind the bookshelf, empty water jugs, rusty metal, and plastic garbage collected from the beach. I am content pushing my sweaty hair behind my ears and dabbing my brow. I am content rinsing and peeing in the ocean, eating lukewarm leftovers, drinking dirt-tasting water, and slapping bugs on my skin. It's not paradise. Never said it was. But I am content and comfortable and a part of me is sad to let go of this freedom; this filthy, acceptable companionship.

As unsettling as any of this sounds to you--maybe making your stomach turn, or face scrunch--the fact of the matter is, is that none of these things that I have explained matter. The dirt, the sweat, the rot, the filth, the stench--these are real things and they are life. We establish standards of living as we move about as creatures of habit. Creatures of habit that have since been radically molded by the standards that society has seen "acceptably" fit. We judge others for living in their trash, not having access to clean water, wearing clean clothes, etc. I don't know... maybe I feel differently about it all now. About human beings as a whole, and distinguishing the difference between "choice" and "force," and how these two categories can make any standard of living acceptable under circumstance and understanding.

I came from a country where appearance and status is every thing. Where trends are all that matter, and makeup, hair, clothes are always perfect (re: Japan). I came to a place where none of that mattered, and I could confidentially walk into town on a dirt-caked road, clothes and skin covered in dust, stains, holes, and scrapes, humidity ravaged hair and drenched in sweat. I can be this way and found that I feel beautiful. I really do. Humble, simple, and pure. And all I hope is that I can keep this, and come home being content

just being. I hope that I can go home and stop trying to be perfect. Stop trying to impress the social sphere and the cliche.

"I hope for your sake I’ve changed , and I hope for my sake you managed to remain the same."

Hold me to it. Hold myself high and hold me to it. This could be the beginning of something beautiful, and I can't let you destroy that this time.

So I decided to walk into town again with Sarah and we ran into Stephanie. The PRETOMA car is broke down so she walked in to pick up some empty boxes and was on her way back to her house. After talking and walking with her a little ways, we found that the boxes were because she was leaving PRETOMA and San Francisco de Coyote. It was kind of shocking news, but maybe since Alec just left the beginning of the month she couldn't bare to stay. Suddenly things were starting to make sense. Something was going on at headquarters, or not going on, as we found out. Apparently they weren't getting the help that they needed and communication had become frustrating and difficult. So going to San José to get assistance turned into a letter of resignation. News is that Miguel is coming to take over, but the car is still broke down and I am more concerned about my ride into town at this point. To my relief, she said that she would hire someone to pick us up tomorrow afternoon at the start of the beach. At roughly ~3pm, Margarita, Natalia, and I will be making our way down Playa Caletas for an awaiting vehicle into San Fran to catch a bus at 3am on the 15th.

¡Japon aquí vengo!

Adoption

2012-01-12T00:00:00.000-05:00

JANUARY 12, 2009

I walked into town today for probably the last time. This assuming that I can get a ride from Stephanie with my bags on the early morning of the 15th. I was able to get almost everything I wanted to get for my family, minus some coconut bars and some granola that I think tastes like Smacks cereal. Maybe others will trail into town before departure and they can get them for me. Here is a recipe I found for coconut bars (everyone's ultimate favorite thing), just in case they are not at the supermercado:

2 eggs, well beaten
2 cups brown sugar
1/2 tsp vanilla
salt to taste
2 cups shredded coconut
1/2 cup chopped walnuts (optional)

Combine the ingredients in bowl, in the order given. Pour into 8" sq. pan. Bake at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for 30 minutes. Cool slightly, then cut into bars.

The ABCs of Camp Cooking is where I got this recipe. We have it in our makeshift bookshelf and refer to it occasionally, except that we can't get all of the ingredients here. It uses simple, on hand ingredients. I would like a cookbook that is "sans diary and oil-free". And I also want to learn how to steam bath a cake.

Maggie and her puppy were taken away today. Natalia and Margarita took them to two people from Mozambique who are temporarily adopting them until the puppy is finished nursing, and they can find them homes. I hope Maggie doesn't bite anyone. I bet that Margarita is pretty sad about it. It is

definitely bittersweet.

Someone found a dead hawksbill at sector 48 today. Sad, sad news.

Meaningful

2012-01-11T00:00:00.000-05:00

JANUARY 11, 2009

Go home and listen to more blues.

The Beatles, Grateful Dead, Eric Calpton, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Bonnie Raitt, BB King, John Hiat, Buddy Guy, Susan Tedeschi...

Loquat, Citizen Cope, Wild Sweet Orange, Margot, Fountains of Wayne, Sheerwood, Jack's...

Imogen Heap, Tegan and Sara, Feist, An Horse, Brandi Carlisle, Death Cab, Thievery Corporation, MGMT

Brett Denon, Ray La Montagne... Jolene... because we all still don't know what love means.

Sparkling light

2012-01-09T00:00:00.000-05:00

JANUARY 9, 2009

I just had a dream about going to the salad bar with my family. Heaven. And there was amaretto pound cake. I could taste it.

I had some other interesting dreams last night. I was hanging out at a gay rights rally and it was supposedly the last night before an issue passed that wouldn't allow them to marry. So everyone that came to the rally participated in a marriage ceremony and was given a marriage license. It was wonderful. Also, with the position of the Earth that time of year, the Hubble telescope was apparently floating around in outer space in a way that allowed it to float down to Earth as if there was no atmosphere present. It felt like we were so close to the sky. I watched it bob around, spurring streamers of sparkling light that were the same colors as the parrot feather I picked up the other day--black, bright green, and indigo. The occasion disrupted the rally briefly, but once the Hubble telescope floated back up into space, the rally was due to come to a close. I wandered around the booths for some freebies, where I then stumbled upon an international food market. It was a lot like Jungle Jim's, but with international vendors in designated sections. I found a sushi restaurant, but was still full from whatever I ate at the salad bar. I walked by a fruit display and there were chunks of fruit on long wooden kabobs where I plucked a gigantic strawberry. The hostess was Japanese, as was everyone inside. I greeted and thanked them in Japanese and I remember being very excited to taste sashimi, which I have been craving here among other Japanese favorites. I am still looking forward to going back and finding some much needed consistency.

Sad Truth

2012-01-08T00:00:00.000-05:00

JANUARY 8, 2009

I went over to another beach today that Margarita and Natalia discovered. They call it the Secret Beach, "La Playa Secreta" because the only way to get to it, besides over rocks at low tide, is through the tall grass and brush off the path that we take to the jungle. It was beautiful down there. Just a small patch of sand stopped by rocks on each side and backed by steep cliffs and the path that lead down. The sand was a different color, and the trees rooted out of the ground and from the sides of the cliffs like dense vines. There were ferns and cacti, too. I wanted to spend the afternoon there, quietly with my writing; quietly to myself. And such it was, until a fisherman came over around the rocky bend to fish off the other side.

We made small talk. He said he was fishing and that he knew very little English. I said that I worked with the turtles and knew little Spanish. And so, he shook my hand and said, "Amigos?" and I said, "Si." He was friendly, I thought, and I carried on with my business taking pictures and such. I collected shells, and kicked through the water. He saw me taking pictures and came back; asked me if I wanted to fish, and I said, "No thanks." And so, he kept looking at me very strangely. He was almost nervous, in a serious contemplation of something brash. He kept saying that I was pretty and that he liked me, and his look of contemplation was unmistakable. So I quickly packed my things as he stood there, hesitantly. I turned to him and exclaimed, "Are you going to go?!" (insert expletives) and he said "Si." and I took off up rocky ledges with no shoes and all my shit in my hands as fast as I possibly could. I know demeanor. I have never been so goddamn scared. Never. This is life, and it's fucked up.

Simple and Beautiful

2012-01-06T00:00:00.000-05:00

JANUARY 6, 2009

I went into town yesterday for a break. I didn't tell anyone that I did so that I could cut my compy time, but Sarah met up with me later. I was only on for about an hour and ten, checking email, checking facebook. I keep forgetting to check one of my email accounts. My mom has hardly written, which surprises me. I think maybe she would rather talk to me on the phone. I've completely avoided getting a phone card here. I'm not opening that can of worms.

After the internet, I picked a few things to take back to Japan. There aren't many suveneirs here in this remote town, so I picked up local food items. Alec was going to bring us PRETOMA shirts from San José, but has not done so yet. I also checked on other food items I would like to get for my parents, Jeff and Heather. These include things like Guava jellies, Salsa Lizano, habanero and jalapeño sauce, coconut bars, plantain chips. Not sure what else; I am so limited with space, weight and money. I wish that I could ship it all home, but it would never get there. Remember what I said about the CR postal service?

We got a ride back to one point and stopped to talk with Billy and Mindy. They have all sorts of fruit trees growing in their yard. Their house is simple and beautiful. Lots of handmade objects and art, and Billy has woodworked much of the space.

The rest of the day was pretty mellow. I ate cereal with powdered milk and felt fine. I also ate something fried later and felt ok, too. Not sure what that means, but I am going to run with it.

Ah, yes. I also got a new notebook yesterday. This will be my 4th. It is hard to think of all of the writing I have done while I am here. Not sure if I'll ever want to go back and read four notebooks. Maybe on the flights home, but I think I would rather check them in my luggage.

Cacahuete II

2012-01-05T00:00:00.000-05:00

JANUARY 5, 2009

Meet Maggie's fat puppy, Cacahuete.

Keep coming back

2012-01-04T00:00:00.000-05:00

JANUARY 4, 2009

Today was another one of those gratifying days where some one specific has touched my heart. He's a Tico with Indian grandparents. He lives in Chicago though and moved all around the big cities in the states to find a place. He thanked me for coming to his country and doing this. He thanked me from the bottom of his heart, wished good things for my family, and even said "arigato gozaimasu". It is the people that make a place. It doesn't have to come from the people that I am living with here, but for it to come from the people that keep coming back, it really means so much more. Thank you for this day.

Baula

2012-01-02T00:00:00.000-05:00

JANUARY 2, 2009

So last night was kind of nuts. It was my night off, and we had turtles that needed to go down to 32, so I walked with the S patrol. I dropped them off, and took a nest and a bucket from the patrol to carry back for them. I took some time for myself, laying on this flat piece of driftwood that I like to visit to look up at the stars and moon. I had a lot on my mind and laid there a good 30 minutes before I felt like I had gotten most of it out. Let it go. So I walked back in peace, got to camp and set the nest in the hatchery. As soon as I had finished, Miguel comes running down, "We must go! There is a Baula at 40! We have to run!" A Baula is a leatherback. That's right! So I put on my shoes and we ran to 40--about 2 km south.

She was there and she was enormous, though Miguel said she was small for her size; 146cm long is all that I recall. She kept moving up and down the beach, a total of 4 times with 4 holes that she had dug. She looked so prehistoric that it was a little frightening. Our lights were going and we were frantically looking for Alan who had the scanner (never trust Alan. He ran with us, but ran 1000m too far out of excitement and ended up breaking the goddamn thing). She never ended up nesting. Slinking back into the sea like some lochness creature. I did get a picture, though I feel bad because I am sure our lights and commotion sent her away from nesting. There were too many of us and order had been forgotten at that point. She was beautiful.

We sat there while S patrol finished their patrol to 50; watched the orange moon set into the sea, and contemplated how we were going to explain to Joel that Alan forgot to wake him up for the momentous occasion. So, so cool though. Reminded me of why I am here.

I just got back from a walk down to S to see if the tracks were still visible after high tide last night. There were only a few visible areas, but none like we saw last night. Last night they were beautiful corkscrews in the sand. I walked the shallows looking for sand dollars and found one nice specimen. Here I am back to find everyone hovered behind binoculars pointed toward the ocean. Whales. They saw whales. Humpback whales, and spouts and water splashing from their pectoral and caudal fins. After watching for about 10 minutes I saw a breach. The guys went down to the water to hear them. Chris confirmed they were humpbacks by their voice; the colony, about 1/2 mile out. Incredible.

Sarah took Nathaniel's family down the beach to release turtles, and wouldn't you know it, that a lora came up to nest. These kids are going to remember this for the rest of their lives. A Tico family came soon after and it was so great to see them running down the beach with excitement to see the lora. This is what it's all about; just a great feeling. Today has been good.

2009

2012-01-01T00:00:00.000-05:00

JANUARY 1, 2009

It's 2009. I wish that I could be spending this day with my mom.

Alec brought us chickens again. This time, they were frozen. There is a straggler staying with us now from New Orleans. He's 75 (or so), dislikes America, and is biking across CR for 6 months to explore the country and find a new place to settle down. He made us jambalaya for dinner, that I don't

think is very jambalay'ia, but respect to him.

I don't forsee myself writing much in the next two'ish weeks. Paper is low and the excitement here has mostly vanished from everyone.

Crepes this morning. Bring in the New Year. I have mine with Nutella. Resolutionless. Once a year resolutions are for those who need a day just to get their lives straight. We should always be so conscious.

Lists

2011-12-31T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 31, 2008

I had a dream last night about Maxine Hong Kingston. She was telling me to trust the way. The way is drawn. The way is safe. Trust the Buddha within. I had to walk the last final stretch. In the air across a thick tree branch draped with silk, I was struggling, frustrated. The silk wouldn't stay secure and I kept sliding. I was scared, too. She kept telling me to try. That it could be my time if I tried. But I couldn't do it and this wave of guilt and disappointment washed over me. I found myself walking through the garden weeping, waiting for the others to go; waiting for her advice and her guidance.

Sarah keeps making these lists of things she or people here want. This is about the fifth or so list. This one includes things like vanilla, maple syrup, raisins, guava jam, chunky peanut butter. Things that we had and were meant to ration. Things that people practically devoured as soon as they were opened. Four weeks worth of goods. We've already ran out of oatmeal, rice, cereal and asked for more. I think that it is utterly ridiculous, these lists. We live in a camp... you know, the wilderness? We're supposed to be learning to do without; supposed to be living simply. It really ticks me off how needy people can be.

This place is bad for my OCD. There are so many numbers that we must remember--measurements, codes, counts, etc. I find myself repeating these things long after they are necessary. And sometimes I easily forget the numbers as I do remember.

Day 45

2011-12-29T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 29, 2008

I haven't written in a little bit. Nothing has been going on, and today mostly isn't any different. I have the day off. The past two nights have been doubles, so that very well could have been the culprit.

Someone fishing just 200m from here caught a juvenile bull shark. It's such a shame, because now it's laying on the beach dead. We have a fellow PRETOMAite that arrived here from the San José office. He went out and measured it and collected some data. He's originally from Spain. His name is Miguel. Maybe Spain is the place for me to learn Spanish.

Simona, the girl that showed me how to make woven wax cord bracelets has gone. She left spools of wax cord for us use. I've made three bracelets and now I am working on a necklace that I would like to weave a shell into. Gifts.

Eerie predictions

2011-12-27T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 27, 2008

I think that the next thing I want to do is work with kids--high schoolers, preferably. I was talking with Sarah as we walked back from the bar about the kinds of activities she does with her kids. I do like the camp setting, but I don't want to necessarily dedicate 24/7 of my time to it. She camps with her students, teaching them ecology for a week at a time. Then she gets a few days off back in her own living quarters. I want to be at some recreational camp, teaching kids ecology, hiking, kayaking, climbing, horses, etc. But at the end of each day, I want to travel home. She also suggested working on Native American reservations out West. There are many, many reservation out West, including ones near Salt Lake. Though there are also many alcoholics.

I can't wait to do whatever is next. NGO campaigning in CA, marine conservation and ecotourism in Hawaii, recreational/wildlife education in the mountains. Bring it.

¿Estás bien?

2011-12-26T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 26, 2008

Patrol this morning was 3-6am. It was Margarita and I tonight. There are only 2 things I dislike about patrol. One is soft, slopped sand that is hell to walk 3 hours in. Two, is people who walk really slow. We went north and north is 2k down, 2k back, times 2 (x2). At normal speed it takes 30 minutes per 2k. We extend the patrol to 45 minutes by taking the 15 minute break between each 2k so as to be sure to take advantage of the full 3 hour patrol. If we come across a female turtle, some breaks may become eliminated to keep time. So it took us 50 minutes to walk one 2k this time, and we came across one turtle at the end of the first 2k. Ok, fine. That was at 3:50am, but we didn't get back to camp until 4:45am. That was only a 4k pass and we still had 4k to go before 6am. So I was tired of walking painfully slow and I had the backpack and the nest on my back, so I decided to walk the normal speed the last 300m of the 1st 4k pass so that I could hurry up and get it relocated into the hatchery before the next 4k. I finished and waited for Margarita to come back from the bathroom. She did and sat across the table from me. "Quieres ir?--Do you want to go? "No quiero ir."--I don't want to go. I was relieved. So relieved that I decided to run the last half kilometer and got back by 5:30am.

I don't know if she was ill, injured, or tired because we're not great with communicating with each other. I know that she had doubles tonight and when she was up doing her first patrol she only did one pass. Of course I care about her and I hope that she is ok. I just wish that she could tell me what was wrong and that I could understand.

I just emptied the organic waste bucket from the kitchen. Way worse then exhumations. This is where we put all of our compost from cooking--egg shells, veggie peelings, onion skins, fish bones. There were maggots twice as big as the ones we find in exhumations, along with fruit flies, regular flies, and horse flies, ants, toxic black scum that was likely a mixture of poo and decomposition. The eggs shells were still in there.

Breakfast is locked and loaded. I am making herb hashbrowns, fried basil tomatoes (I wish they were green), and scrambled eggs. I'll test it all to see how it tastes, but I won't be able to eat any of it. Yesterday Chris made fried cheese and I did eat some of that with medicine and a walk. Everything seemed ok, but yesterday was a dairy overload of crepes and Nutella, the fried cheese, cake and ice cream, some chocolate covered almonds... hey... it was Christmas.

Now I'm cooking dinner: eggplant pasta with soy protein, red peppers, onion, and garlic. I'm going to simmer the veggies in the sauce so I don't have to cook anything in oil.

Nothing too interesting going on. Patrol in 2 hours. I need sleep. Tomorrow one of our camp guests from Russia is going to show me how to make a woven wax cord bracelet.

Christmas and keeping it

2011-12-25T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 25, 2008

Merry Christmas! Is it really Christmas? Last night the guys brought home 5 snappers from the fish market along with a few packets of corn tortillas, avocado, cheese, and cabbage. We made corn tortilla fish tacos, and they were outstanding. This was actually my first time eating a freshly caught/cooked fish. All of the ingredients from the tacos--tomatoes, red onion, cabbage, avocado, rice, black beans, fish, corn tortilla--just turned into a large heap onto my plate. I crammed way too much in those little tortillas. They are the same used for the tamales that we will have tomorrow

night.

This morning Chris is supposed to make crepes for breakfast with the Nutella we had received from our visitors the other day.

[Make fudge]
[Sq. ft. garden for Chris]

I've started a new book. It is called Voluntary Simplicity: Toward A Way of Life That Is Outwardly Simple

"As long as you derive inner help and comfort from anything, you should keep it. If you were to give up in a mood of self-sacrifice or out of stern sense of duty, you would continue to want it back, and that unsatisfied want would make trouble for you. Only give up a thing when you want some other conditions so much that the thing no longer has any attraction for you."--Mahatma Gandhi

This exert is used in the book to describe the material side of living. I have thought about it much of today, as I have many times before. Having and wanting excess is an unnecessary commodity. Extra. Unused or unneeded taking away from others that are unable to obtain "enough". I have yet to conquer this. I see this in the things I collect, in my over-preparation, in my overzealous desires. Is it possible for people to combat all methods of self-serving controls and desires? How do I do it? Can I overcome what feels to be my last crutch? How? This place needs to teach me how.

Everyday I stare at the small, but ever-growing pile of rocks and shells that I have collected here. What are these attachments that we contrive from individual finds that makes us feel like they belong to us. I know... it's just rocks and shells, and I love rocks and shells, but they are microcosms of all

things in my life. The boxes and buckets of rocks and shells at home collected over the years. The piles of shoes, bags, pieces of jewelry, articles of clothing that sit dormant and still we create value for new things that cover old and blind us of our obsessions. I must relieve myself of such attachment and clutter; unnecessary spending, and the things that never made me happy with purchase. 'If you want it enough, commit to picking it up, turning it over in your fingers, loving it, using it, and keeping it.

Jacob Krieger is one of the only people that I know that really gets life. My spiritual friend. My friend for life. He taught me that true understanding leads to the freedom of choice. Do here. Live there. Contradict and compliment. No right. No wrong. No measurement in a non-man created environment.

Merry Christmas from our PRETOMA crew!

Christmas Eve

2011-12-24T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 24, 2008

Happy Christmas Eve!

I had MGMT in my head until Joel put on some Citizen Cope. This makes me extremely happy. He also made me pancakes sans milk, which is so kind. I decided to put pb&j on them since the syrup is almost gone. I think that Joel and Chris should have the last little bit. Aunt Jemima. Simple Joys.

There was a group that came here a few days ago to visit and they donated $150, plus all kinds of special foods. Really, really kind of them during this time of year. We had power bars, Nutella, granola bars, honey, coffee, peanut butter. A bunch of sugar to keep us a wreck. We are so addicted.

Alan's brother, Christian has packed up his things to hit the road soon and he has left his ipod out so that I can pick through his music. Finally, no more Jack Johnson and I can listen to some Ray LaMontagne, The Avett Brothers, The Decemberists, Spoon, and Johnny Cash. This is probably the only opportunity I will have.

I am almost finished with Into the Wild. I do not have much to comment on, except that the story seems entirely based on the psycho analyzation of Chris McCandless a.k.a. "Alex Supertramp". It really portrays him in a much different light than that of the film. In the film, we feel inspired and motivated by his vigor and childlike perspective on life. In the novel, I feel like "Alex Supertramp's" mental complex is skewed, where his impulses remain unlogical and reckless. I prefer the film.

[Notebook #3]
I hope that in 22 days I can manage to fill most of this notebook without going over. Everyone else is back in town now. Natalia, Margarita, myself, and an another unknown traveler that is camping out in our domain, have returned back from picking up our weekly veggies. Alan and Christian are

surfing. I am unjustifiably agitated due to the inept bodies that move about. I just finished Into the Wild for real this time and had a little time to think. The guy travels across the West for nearly two years, mingling along the way with many compassionate souls. He kept in contact with only 3, sometimes 4 of them throughout his journey. Never once contacting his family back home. He wanted to prove that he could make it on his own in the wilderness without creating anchors and ties along the way that might emotionally hold him in place. He wasn't a loner by any means. A hard-working kid that gave back everything he had to offer. How it was so easy for him to walk away from so many souls and places baffles me, but I guess I can relate some when I left all that I loved for a life in Japan. It especially applies towards my journey here as I came for a simple life, to discover new things, while forgetting old things from back home. Our reasons parallel in that we sought happiness in the cleansing of extreme change. If I found myself an unsettled soul here, I too would not be done searching; I am not done. For that, I thank this place for showing me at least where I am happiest at this stage in my life, for my abilities have construed life possibilities and things have either not felt lasting or infinitely long in unpleasant ways. It is will that makes life possible. Without it, battles cannot be won, decisions cannot be concluded, and ideas cannot be invented (or sometimes reinvented). It is will that drives us; guides us, and brings us home.

Cacahuete

2011-12-23T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 23, 2008

Maggie had her puppy! Yes, one lone baby boy. When I woke up this morning, someone had written on the board, "it's a boy!" Everyone is so excited. He is so fat and rolly; tan and fuzzy.

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. Register. Register. Make mental note. Stephanie is in San José right now and is supposed to arrive tomorrow. She's bringing tamales, but called and postponed our traditional tamale feast until Christmas Day.

yellow armadillo

2011-12-22T00:00:00.001-05:00

DECEMBER 22, 2008

I just saw an armadillo! I was walking into the sink area and it wobbled in front of me and into the bush. It was rather large. About the size of a football and a half. Just beautiful 9-ringed armadillo.

I just witnessed the most awesome crescent moon I have ever seen. We were on patrol and there was this eerie glow. Once the clouds parted, there sat the largest, horizontally placed crescent moon in yellow that I have ever seen. It reminded me of the scene in Alice in Wonderland where the Cheshire Cat is on the branch, fading away until the last thing you see is his crescent smile. It was perfect.

The true meaning of life is to plant trees, under whose shade you do not expect to sit

2011-12-21T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 21, 2008

I got a chance to venture into town today. By car, this time. I am walking into town tomorrow morning, but I figured now would be a good time to pick up a few food items so that I would not have to walk them back in my pack tomorrow. I've decided that I will feed myself for the rest of my time here. I got a loaf of bread, guava jam, some packets of crackers and a few snacks. I am hoping that it will last me a week, but I am aiming for longer.

I washed my water canteen today for the first time. There was mold growing inside of it. I hadn't really cared to be honest. I mean, I didn't know that there was mold in there while I was drinking from it until today, but my earlier contemplations were to not wash it the entire time I was here. Because germs/bacteria/fungus are nothing to be afraid of.

I am in a different place today. At a shrine or a temple. Maybe I biked there. I think that I would have wanted it that way. I am in Japan today, in a peaceful place. Whether be it cemetery, park, country ride; I am in nature, elsewhere, with my heart.

These are two unpeaked eggs that we found in a nest that was exhumed today. There is still a chance they will hatch, so we placed them in a shallow dish with water to keep them moist.

A couple days later, both of the eggs hatched. The hatchling you see here was healthy and was released successfully into the tide. The second hatchling, who hatched from the darker colored egg was disformed. It's shell was not properly developed and we knew it wouldn't make it. It, too was released into the tide, but was not thought to survive.

Today, we also had a nest of baby green turtles hatch. My first green. Actually, a few dozen! This is very exciting!

Silence

2011-12-20T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 20, 2008

I just finished reading The Kite Runner this afternoon. I think the last time I read a book that fast was when I was young. I remember reading a lot of castle, knight, and alien books (by Bruce Coville). There was a part towards the end that I really admired. It's a little dark:

"It would be erroneous to say Sohrab was quiet. Quiet is peace. Tranquility. Quiet is turning down the VOLUME knob on life.

Silence is pushing the OFF button. Shutting it down. All of it.

Sohab's silence wasn't the self-imposed silence of those with convictions, of protestors who seek to speak their cause by not speaking at all. It was the silence of one who has taken cover in a dark place, curled all the edges and tucked them under (361)"

I give the book top marks. I'll surely recommend it to Erica. Next, I'll probably finish Charm Offensive so that Chris can read it before I go. Then comes Into the Wild.

I need some marshmallows...

"That is very Buddhist of you," Natalia said. I was trying to talk her out of leaving Playa Caletas prematurely. Leaving us here to carry her load, too. We're already short handed. Most importantly though, I was trying to talk her out of giving up. I don't think that she's the type that cares about those kinds of things. Things like defeat, commitment, duty. No. She said that she has no problem running. That she's not happy and she needs to go home. I tried to explain to her that there is only 3 weeks left here. That none of us are as happy here as we would like and that all of us want to go home, but we dedicated ourselves to the cause when we all individually accepted the offer

to be here. That if she left, we'd have to carry her burden. That if I could do anything to make things better for her, I am extending my hand. This is only temporary. A blip in life. A moment, but a very important one. Where this is what it is, and this is where we are, and that we owe it to ourselves to stay and overcome. She proclaimed that she has done her time. She saw the turtles, the beauty that is Costa Rica. I don't want to pass judgement, but what is happiness in such a short scheme of time in our lives? Isn't the sacrifice worth the experience? That's what I keep telling myself. But I think her mind is set, and it's a damn shame.

Music and resolution

2011-12-19T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 19, 2008

"Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world."--NELSON MANDELA

The thought of music has been on my mind. Iron & Wine is playing now. I think about purchasing this particular album so that I may return home listening to Iron & Wine in a new light, unlike before my arrival to CR. It's a strange feeling I have today. Now that I am here, it feels like things that are

apart of me must die here; must be left for this preservation of this experience. Encapsultated in all of the nothingness that defines this. The things that I long for, that are missing, want vs. need. Maybe I need to remember how to relive. Music is powerful like that.

Music has been a crazy thing for me this year. I guess it's always been. This was an emotional year. I feel like I ran towards the same things over and over again, dismantling special pieces and artificial passions. Sadie G & "Radio" turned to Ray LaMontagne, turned to Iron & Wine, and Seabear, turned to Bon Iver, Vetiver, and Fleet Foxes. Old to New. New to Old. But it is all of the same conclusion.

Wild grass

2011-12-18T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 18, 2008

"Believe that the sort of life you wish to live is, at this very moment, just waiting for you to summon it up."--SUZAN-LORI PARKS

Today is a lazy day. So far nothing exciting has happened. I took a break from reading Charm Offensive, and am now reading The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini. Its about how Afghanistan changed after the ousting of King Zahir Shah in 1973 and the Russian invasion in, I think 1975. These two boys born in the 60s are the main characters--Sunni and the other Shi'a. The differences in classes; hatred. "Kite runner" refers to a kite competition each winter where handmade kites are flown on fiberglass string. They fight the kites in the air to cut the twine and whoever the last kite fighter is, wins. Meanwhile, the kids run after the cut kites as prizes, hence the term "kite runner." Once I finish, I want to start Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer. I've seen the movie, but I generally like to think that books are better. I may just read all three at once. That's what I was doing before with Wild Grass, The Fifth Book of Peace, and Charm Offensive.

[Our Endless Numbered Days--Iron and Wine]

It's really hot today and there isn't much wind. I have doubles tonight, so I am kind of looking forward to getting my metabolism going. I feel sluggish. I've been trying to stay as healthy as possible here, but in the scheme of things it doesn't really matter. I should enjoy this for what it is and worry about running again once I get home.

Life in excess

2011-12-17T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 17, 2008

"The world has its ways to quiet us down..."

It's 12:54am and I am waiting for my 2am patrol. I got up at 11pm to check the hatchery, added some corrals on a few nests that are due soon, collected babies, walked them down 8 sectors to sector 12. I tried to get Maggie to go with me, but she disappeared somewhere. Alan made this fabulous coconut rice pudding, but there is milk in it. It's so delicious. I'll have to find a recipe at home to make it with soy. There was only a few spoonfuls left for me to try, so dinner was oatmeal and some crackers. It's probably best that way, but I've eaten far too much oatmeal between yesterday and today. Everything in "excess". It's about time I worked on that--like not eating everything in sight unnecessarily--which is probably due to the strange hours of awake and sleep. Like last night I went to bed at 7pm, now up from 11pm to probably 5am, where I then might try and catch a few more z's. But the inconsistency constantly just makes you feel like you are starving. I've also been collecting far too many shells and rocks; I'm already sick of them. Maybe it will make it easier for me to leave them behind come January.

Come on patrol... 45 more minutes. I can't lay back down because then I'll be groggy and hot. But I already walked to sector 12 and back and saw nothing. Sometimes I wish that we didn't have to walk N twice, but there have been times where we didn't, like when the tide was too high/low or the sun was about to rise. When the tide is too low, there are too many large rocks that block access to the beach, not allowing a mother to make her way to shore. And the sun rising would be a deterrent because most turtles prefer to lay at night.

I need to find my cousin. It is really bothering me, and has for the past 4 years. I dreamed about their house last night, but mom and dad were there making a special dinner for me. There was another girl there, too that was not her or me, and a boy that was not Jeff. But my cousin had clothes there

that were mine that I went into her room to collect. I wonder if she thinks of us. I feel such a void. But we are all human. This should be shared. Our lives should be shared. Voices. Hearts.

I just finished eating plantain pancakes for lunch. The plantains were sliced and layered into the batter. I much like plantains raw, better. These pancakes were nothing like my favorite banana pancakes. I even tried sprinkling them with cinnamon. They were heavy and not sweet, and tasted like flour and oil. But how can I complain. I live in a camp.

"We cannot live only for ourselves. A thousand fibers connect us with our fellow men."
--HERMAN MELVILLE

Day 31

2011-12-16T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 16, 2008

"One of the greatest feelings in life is the conviction that you have lived the life you wanted to live--with the rough and smooth, the good and the bad--but yours, shaped by your own choices, and not someone else's."
--MICHAEL IGNATIEFF

Extreme low tide in Playa Coyote

We have lots of visitors today! Last night, Alan and Joel came across two French backpackers who were looking for a place to set up camp, so we've invited them to stay with us. They went on south patrol last night, and now here they are next to me having breakfast quietly and romantically, while speaking in French and cooing at each other. Does that sound like a stereotype? Oh, who cares. There is one other person staying with us as well. Alan's brother, Christian is here for two weeks to catch some surf and visit his old stomping grounds. Him and Alan were caretakers here at the beginning of the year. I assume that he traveled here from Connecticut, but he rented a car to get here from the airport and for us, that is a lavish commodity to have access to. We also had the NANI (I believe) government inspection people pass through and they are supposed to be checking out the legality of the barbed-wire fence that Sylvester's henchmen put up around our camp.

Everyone is only speaking in either French or Spanish and it is driving me batty! They are speaking Spanish, then French, then Spanish, then English. I never would have thought that some of my campmates were fluent in French, as well. I can speak Japanese! Ok... no I can't. Crap.

Lets see what's on the agenda today. It's only 8am now. Too early to lay out and it's a bit overcast today. Had my first and second breakfast already. Perhaps reading? Excellent.

[Oahu - surfing competition in Hawaii "Eddie Aikau"]

Alan's brother was telling us stories about all of the crazy animals he's come across while here as caretaker. There was a tiger shark that breached near him while he was surfing, a 4ft boa constrictor, 2 howler monkeys, a wounded parrot that would hang out on peoples' heads.

Howler monkeys on the way to the bar
We walked to the bar today. I had my first ever bottled Coca-Cola. So cold and refreshing. Having cold drinks is the best treat because we drink nothing, but warm water all day long. I wanted to keep the bottle, but someone said that they have to send them back to the distributor to be reused. Same thing

with Imperial and Pilsen bottles. It was really nice to sit there listening to a mix of Latin music and 80s rock; forgetting about life down at the beach for a minute. I felt a part of society again for that short time. There was Christmas decorations up, but it didn't seem to put me in the spirit, or remind me that I am spending Christmas in Costa Rica. Or that I am having Christmas at all this year. What can I do? There is always Christmas next year.

I am eating fresh coconut meat right now and it is so good. I could probably eat an entire coconut everyday. It is my favorite thing here. I wonder if I can get these in Japan? Probably not.

discomfort & joy

2011-12-15T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 15, 2008

I am having a very intense reaction now from dinner. It's either severe acid reflux or an allergic reaction as it feels my esophagus is closing up. I laid down after dinner, so I suppose it could be either. It's a tightness or stabbing, like something is stuck and it's actually painful in a strange sort of way. Not burning, like heartburn, but like something is actually stuck in my esophagus. I heard a wives tail when I was younger that bread is good at opening the esophagus. That seems counter-productive. Good thing there is no bread here. I took 3 rolaids, but it's really uncomfortable and kind of concerning. This is the third time that this has happened here. Dinner was rice, canned corn, mushrooms, garbanzo beans, fresh tomatoes, a little oil, and some onion. People keep telling me they are using small amounts of oil, but I do not know this by definition and am still having trouble with almost all of the meals.

Its the next morning, well, technically so was last night when I wrote, but I have slept and am up and awake now. I still feel a knot in my throat. It's 10am. Whatever the culprit is it seems to be beyond me at this point. I'd say that I don't care, but I really do. This is my life and I dislike that it's being dictated by something so essential.

We really do have some of the greatest people that stop in here. Nathaniel, who runs a turtle camp across the river and about 4k down in Ario stopped in just a minute ago to touch base and meet the new crew. He isn't the first who has stopped in here. Mark from just south of the Nicaraguan border stopped in a few days ago; parents of kids that worked on past projects, nonprofit organizations out of Canada who bring underprivileged kids here to see the work we do. It's a great feeling to hear what they have to say about our project. Nathaniel shook all of our hands firmly and thanked us from the bottom of his heart. He said that he really respects our work and that we are on the forefront of this battle with people like Sylvester and we have a high

reputation to hold for other groups in Costa Rica and alike. It's pretty awesome. We have the highest turnout rate of laying females out of any of the beaches. Even where he is, 7k away, there is only a 80% success rate (which is outstanding, but ours is higher). Amazing what we're doing, really; what people alike are doing.

Costa Rica is full of unique and interesting wildlife. I love caterpillars. Look at these interesting little guys that I have found throughout my stay:

"We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us."--E.M. FORSTER

My old Japanese lady

2011-12-14T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 14, 2008

Today we all enjoyed the low tide once again and took upon our own activities in the surf. Joel and Alan carved a spear from a stick and attempted to spearfish creatures too small to eat. Margarita snorkeled in the calm water, picking up sea urchins and exploring small coves. I didn't have any gear, so I played with my old Japanese lady, Maggie and took photographs in sepia.

There was this planet in the west that was exceptionally bright tonight. The brightest thing in the sky since the moon had not yet risen.

I had lots of things on my mind tonight while walking along the sand. Moving back to the states and finding a new home together, traveling across the country with our stuff loaded tight. I thought about Makita (my cat) and how much I miss her. About needing new shoes before I get to Japan because the ones I brought have serious holes and I can't wear sandals back to wintery Osaka. About getting my flights changed and staying in Costa Rica longer to travel after I am done here at Playa Caletas. Traveling back to Alajuela. How tomorrow is the halfway point of me being here and I'm not sure if I should celebrate or sulk. I don't feel a part of the group. Especially today. I just wanted to disappear. Maybe I needed to for a few, you know? Initially I wanted to go home because the work was intense and I was so sleep deprived. Now that none of that applies, I still feel some innate need to either go home or belong. Maybe I am too sensitive. Argumentative. Quiet. I can't always relate to what is being talked about, or am sometimes pushed too easily. I am uneasy. I must really be searching for something. I am so in transition. How to be around people who don't care about you? It's a new tune to an old song.

Spring tide

2011-12-13T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 13, 2008

The very large, orange full moon arose from the mountains last night. Absolutely stunning. I'm sitting here staring at the same place in the day time. Natalia keeps seeing things like this and saying aloud, "Is this real?" Funny how the experiences we seek and succeed in make us less sensitive to certain things, or I guess it's that I suspect nothing less from nature and I know exactly how amazing it is in every instance.

I awoke this morning to the lowest tide yet (see: spring tide). Sandbars were beginning to show and the surf wasn't breaking close to the beach like it normally would. It seemed like the waves weren't even reaching the beach, slowing their momentum over the vast distance and lazily pooling around the rocks near the shore without disruption. This phenomenon is clearly from the new proximity of the moon. It gives me great joy to experience such occurrences as this. I had a new hatchling to release in the shallows and I was excited to see it swim. We've never really seen this before, as every time we release babies, they are quickly consumed by the surf and their struggle to swim out to sea and obtain air must be dreadful. I watched it crawl across the sand to the tiny laps of water. Head first like any reptile making its first descent. It was clumsy, wobbly, uncoordinated at first. But it didn't take it long before it was balancing in the water alright; horizontal, small lungs needing breath every 4 seconds or so. I watched it all the way until the waves were visibly rolling on the surface and tiny, circular wave pools were spinning it around righteously and slingshotting it further out to sea.

Natalia came down earlier, during the release, walking a foot or two in front of it and commenting on the low tide. Maybe she saw it. Maybe she didn't, but it was her one opportunity to see it swim and I didn't say anything. She wasn't paying attention. She missed it, and it was beautiful. I felt selfish, not saying anything. For some reason, I wanted to keep it to myself as I thought, 'is this real? Am I really here witnessing any of this at all? Am I really living on this isolated beach? Do I really get to lay in hammocks tied to palm trees

[Movie: ratatouille]

While listening to the surf and staring up at the brilliantly blue sky and watching flocks of brown pelicans migrate from one beach to the other? Am I really in Costa Rica saving sea turtles? Wow!' 'Wow' is all that I can think.

They say appreciation comes later...

Charm Offensive

2011-12-12T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 12, 2008

Update on the "expired" turtle from yesterday. A few went down to check on her and she was gone. Thing is, "there were no tracks coming back down the beach," says Alan. The only thing left to speculate is that someone took her--asleep or dead--no telling, really.

I went for a walk last night after exhumations. I always feel super full after lunch and it sometimes helps to get my digestion going. I ran across Joel bringing turtles down for release. He had just gotten back from town with Alec to get an insect bite diagnosed that has swollen up pretty good and made his entire arm numb with pain. We came across another female laying her eggs in daylight right in front of Alec's old hut. It really was one of those real and gratifying moments where you saw one process reap its reward as we held that bucket of baby sea turtles in our hands to release, as she laid future hatchlings into the earth before us. Camera-less, unfortunately. The babies, baby tracks, and female lora in the background would have been a great photo.

I had doubles last night, but the patrols were good. Sarah made minestrone soup for dinner and it was really nice. I got back from patrol around 4am and headed to bed. I slept until 9am this morning. I think that I've caught up on all my sleep and am now used to just getting it when I can. I was able to get 2 hours of sleep before my first patrol, and then the 5 hours after my second. That's pretty good.

I started on a new book yesterday. Book 3: Charm Offensive by Joshua Kurlantzick. It's not really new. I was supposed to read it my last quarter of college in the spring for my Chinese Foreign Policy class, but I never got around to remotely completing it. I used it rather heavily, though as a source for my report on "Chinese Foreign Policy Versus Human Rights Organizations and Their Different Perceptions on Human Rights Regarding Chinese Indigenous Populations and Current Events" I know, it's an incredibly long

title, but you should read the report sometime. I think it's really good. So anyway, the book is about soft power China and the ways they utilize these powers of persuasion in Latin America, Africa, and other parts of Asia.

I saw a large rainbow ring around the sun today as I was laying out and reading my book on the beach. It was pretty amazing. I've never seen anything like it before.

No relief

2011-12-11T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 11, 2008

Red Hot Chili Peppers is playing; it's kind of nice. We awoke this morning to find a note from second patrol left from last night. The note said "dead turtle at sector 12." They had found a dead turtle on the beach that had completed its nest, but wasn't moving. Alan said that they sometimes fall asleep, so a few of us were going to check on her on our way to Playa Coyote (the beach to the North of us, divided by large rocky barriers).

It is retched hot today. I just keep sweating non-stop, but the surf is too high and rough right now for swimming. I prefer to swim when the tide is low and shallow pools of water have collected for wading and searching for sea urchins. There is just no relief today; hardly any breeze like there normally is from the ocean. I am so uncomfortable--in sitting, in standing, in laying. So hot; so sweaty. The tarp that makes up Sarah and I's tent where we sleep is black and there is no circulation. We never spend any time in there during the day. The hammocks in the common area are so uncomfortable and make me feel hot, too. They are made out of this unbreathable nylon material kind of like the material in a windbreaker, or a typical camping tent. The benches that are around the table are too wide for my little frame and the table is too far away from where I sit. I feel like that I sometimes spend my days hunched over and my spine stays sore with there being no where comfortable to relax.

I just ate like 5 corn chips and feel sick. What the hell? This blows... this pen fucking blows, too. What a shit fucking day.

Dignity, check

2011-12-10T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 10, 2008

I awoke this morning a little after 6am hungry from a full night's rest from my evening off. I always enjoy being the only one up (or one of two) and perfectly making a cup or bowel of oatmeal, just the way I like it. The bench that overlooks the ocean is usually damp, but I sit there anyway or down on the sand while enjoying my breakfast. It is so peaceful this time in the morning. The waves pound the beach, the air is cool. There are no voices or sounds other than the earth.

I have to say that after my peaceful breakfast, I wasn't so pleased to find little baby turtles loose all over the hatchery--inside and out. For someone had failed to sign up for their shifts, and without names, I am sure you can imagine who. I know it's a constant complaint. I don't like writing about it, but there is definitely one particular person here who is ungodly lazy, and selfish for it.

Anyway, so I gathered all of the babies/escapees and pilled them into a bucket that I set in the shade of the kitchen for a certain someone to take down the beach when he awoke. I then checked the schedule for the next few days to find that today was the only day that I could make it into town based on my schedule. I try to find days that are mid-week before the weekend begins in Japan. So I got a quick shower and gathered my things, making the 9k trek into San Francisco de Coyote.

The walk was nice at 7:30am. Seven thirty-seven to be exact. It was hot, of course, but not as hot as it would have been if it were later. My hair was still drying from my shower, but I was already getting sweaty and found a post to prop my aviators up to use as a mirror to get my hair up and away from my neck. Maggie and lucas were with me. Maggie is due any time now and I wish she'd stop making the long walks with us (luckily she stayed in town later, for now). Lucas likes to hate tires on vehicles and got smacked in the face by

someone as he chased after their motorcycle. The road is all dirt and rocks. I am constantly picking rocks from the bottoms of my shoes, waiting for the moment for that one rock to puncture through and destroy my now, somewhat comfortable stride. But my shoes really are in terrible condition from all of my patrols on the beach. They are the only ones that I have here and have already developed expanding holes.

Along the way are small fields, teak forests, cows/bulls with sharp horns and testy attitudes, and beautiful horses. Things are brightly painted in blues, yellows, fleshes, reds, greens, and all others in between. Some of the gates remind me of a tall Japanese torri, leading up to straight-line, clean-cut yards, most likely uninhabited the majority of the year. It's great contrast--their controlled surroundings to the wilderness that surrounds. Almost all homes here are this way. Doesn't seem poverished like the homes I saw back

in San José, or in the countryside. I love the tropical flowers that dot the road (hibiscus). Others are vines, purple/blue, resembling morning glories.

I missed talking to some people while in town today. Two weeks from now is Christmas time and I will do everything to make it back to wish people back home a Merry Christmas. It's a good feeling to come into town and read emails of stories from people back home. I cannot possibly respond to all of them, because internet time is money, but they really help to give me life

here. Even if they only ever talk about the same things. I blogged, I wrote family, played on YouTube for a minute. But I forgot to email Erica, so wrapped up in getting things done. I am upset about it. I really, really miss her. I have been writing her letters here that I cannot send. The postal service is virtually none existent as addresses come in the form of "blue house on the corner with chickens, adjacent from the bar and the guy with the angry dog." Seriously. Erica is the only one that I write to almost every day. I will have to write and apologize, so she knows how I feel come January. She is my sister. I love and miss her so much.

Marshmallows, check. Caramel popcorn, check. Tampons, check. Drink stuff, cold drinks, and various snacks; check, check, check. It began to pour down rain as I was ready to depart. I sat on the bench outside the grocery store and waited, eating my caramel popcorn (so homely) and watching Lucas frantically scurry about town looking for me. He found me, eventually, and sat next to me while we waited for the rain to cease. I fed him popcorn for the concern. We took turns. He's always so anxious; ready to go at the drop of a hat. He had his moment when the rain stopped. I was glad to have him there.

I got a 3k ride on the way back. I should also mention that I peed on the side of the road, and I only mention it because it's kind of funny, and it demonstrates the scarcity of people and infrastructure on the long journey between camp and town. It also demonstrates how living in the wild makes it seem like a normal, everyday duty in times of despair. I could not have held it for the 9k back. I couldn't have even held it for the 6k I did before the pickup. It's so important to constantly drink water here to avoid dehydration, especially when you are walking 12 miles in the heat, to and from town (add this to the 3-10 miles (5-16k) that we walk each night while on patrol and you could be walking anywhere from 18-22+ miles any given day). The savior of the PRETOMA crew this time was a fellow hippy friend to the cause, Billy. He comes down to visit ever so often to surf at Playa Caletas. He is one of

the only ones that gives us turtle folk rides if he sees us along the way. We're just one of the same. Who ever said that I wasn't a hippy at heart was lying to you. It was probably me, so I was lying to you. But you already knew that, you dirty hippy at heart, of mine.

I can't believe I forgot to mention, but two days ago when Sarah, Chris and I departed on our journey into some adjacent, unknown town, we came across a female lora nesting in broad daylight. More photos here.

Day 24

2011-12-09T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 9, 2008

Today is a day off patrol for me and I am trying to do nothing and enjoy it, but I am having trouble not doing. I'm on hatchery from 10am-1pm. I've done the dishes, made templates for the N and S patrol books, the exhumation book, and the hatchlings book. I finished a blog that I want to post this week from Thanksgiving, which I will probably do on Thursday when I head into town. I'm going to try and stick to Thursday as being the day that I head into town. I wrote a second unsendable letter. Now making lunch is on the brain. I wish everyone would just make their own damn lunch today.

"That's no way to be. All tangled up like balls of string."

I am sitting here overlooking the ocean. Joel is down on the beach doing an exhumation. Alan is painting at the table while singing Blues Traveler terribly off key. Margarita is lone and away, traveling back from San José with her renewed visa. Natalia is rocking quietly in the hammock; gazing into space and thinking about how much she misses her mother. Sarah and Chris are down the beach putting sector posts up. It's so quiet.

"My hope is that you will not be content just to be successful in the way that our society measures success; that you will not obey the rules, when the rules are unjust; that you will act out the courage that I know is in you."--HOWARD ZINN

Honorable mention

2011-12-08T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 8, 2008

"I need a phone call. I need a place ride. I need a rain coat."

I was lying here trying to get some rest before my first patrol in two hours. I realized I have doubles tonight after I decided to trek 24k to and back from some random town in the scorching heat. Now I have a headache. My first here, so far.

I haven't been able to put my finger on exactly how I feel being here. I miss everyone more, of course, but I know that I have these responsibilities that I believe in. It is a lot of work, and I know that I would love it more if the people here enjoyed this time we have together. It's confusing to be around people that can't make a connection with each other. It makes it feel like work, even though I love laborious tasks. I love getting dirty. I love the sand and the sweat, but it's become mechanical and my only joys are the turtles, collecting shells, being outside. It's lots of time to myself that I feel I've had way too much of for the past three years as is. Maybe it'll get my head straight. I need to be enlightened. Maybe the true appreciation comes later.

I do feel extremely lucky, though. Some of the other camps in Costa Rica have dorms, hired chefs that make each meal for the team, running water, and electricity that runs no matter the cloud cover. I feel very fortunate because we were chosen to be at the most important and bear-bones turtle nesting site in all of Costa Rica, and the second most important nesting site for leatherback turtles. We may be in the middle of no where and not have much, but a simple life is wisdom. I feel protective and attached to this place. This is our beach. These are our turtles. This is our camp, and our backyard; our nightly sunset and daily sunrise. You know, I am tired each day. This is a fact. But I am proud. I've found my niche; my routine each day. My spot on our handcrafted, driftwood benches overlooking the surf (everything here, I mean everything is hand made--the shelves, table,

benches, bed frames, tents, hatchery, counters, storage sheds, where we shower, where we use the restroom. There is my favorite hammock, my time to bathe in the morning, my satisfying "first breakfast" after second patrol, or in the random and early times that I wake up between 3-6 to check the hatchery. There are my favorite places on the beach for shell hunting, my favorite way to make oatmeal, the right way to tuck my mosquito net before I sleep at night, my favorite towel I use as a blanket, and the perfect time of the evening to change into patrol clothes right at dusk. I mean, without going on, we've made things our way; made them ours and grown attached to and maybe even fallen in love. Yeah. Today I think I love this place. Yeah, yeah, yeah... I'm in love.

In reading the quote on the previous page ("May you live every day of your life."--JONATHAN SWIFT), I truly do hope to live each day as now and not in anticipation of tomorrow. Maybe I accept all of the simpleness here and the time, knowing that this is all I have. Enjoy it while it lasts. I really am in no hurry for tomorrow. No particular hurry for the stressful travels home. Like I said, this is my life right now and to live in anticipation of the next day--the future--only leaves you unsatisfied. You miss out on so much in this way; forget how to see things for what they are, only for what you perceive them of becoming. Dictation and control. A lack of carefree. I won't have it, for this is today and it is something that we should honor. Find the good, the lessons and its wisdom. And I promise to try and keep this.

"Long December and I'm thankful to be here."

Dear Cousin,...

2011-12-07T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 7, 2008

"May you live everyday of your life."

Written: November 22, 2008

An absence of the neon, rival cause
brings civil rest in pivotal moments
of importance and the choices we make
in facing them
simpletons in the sand of honest
truth and labor in the sake of
saving marine races of nobleness
preserving integrity of endangered
swimmers and winning the war on the
spatial takeover of the land of youth
as 20 to 30 somethings place
lives on hold for prehistoric dinosaurs
that helped define things as we know it
holding onto simple truths
that make us who we are, what
we will become, and what we feel
we're capable of when things
have begun to spin recklessly
out of control. For one soul is
always constantly torn, and one
soul is Earth. Into choosing
death or birth. And both end equally,
the great takeaway of everything
that's material, though only one will
allow you the choice to start again.

Simply put...

2011-12-06T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 6, 2008

"Gonna find myself a gray guitar and sing!" This song has been in my head all morning. Counting Crows really reminds me of high school, but they especially remind me of my freshman year in college. It was my first time moving away--Newark, Ohio, two hours away. I could hardly drive it without heavy eyes. I told myself I'd only come home every other weekend, but it seems like I was driving back and forth much more frequently. I lived with five other, very different girls. My roommate, Kat was the one I would befriend the most, aside from Laurie Barker (isn't it funny how when we sometimes refer to people by their fullname?), who I lived with, again once I later transferred to main campus. So, Kat and I had a lot of issues later on down the road. I actually just realized at this instant that her and Josh's mom look a lot alike. But those first few months, or maybe it was sometime in October, she had two free tickets to see Counting Crows at the Wexner Center, and I had some hankering for some Hard Candy (< so cheese, sorry). It was such a great show. I had an opportunity to visit Wexner again this past August (photos). Everything how I had remembered it had completely changed, and I was introduced to a very different and unknown small-style theater area within. It was there I saw Bon Iver. Opening for them was the Bowerbirds. I first heard about Justin Vernon when I heard his album, "For Emma, Forever Ago." He wrote the album while escaping to his father cabin in Wisconsin. I think that at this moment in my life, I was probably two steps away from doing the same thing.

Ticos are so nice. Much nicer than I, infact. I sincerely hope that Japan has not changed my "people spirit." Ticos are always the first ones to say 'bueno'. It's really bizarre the way Japanese culture has changed me in such a short period of time, because I was actually surprised that anyone was acknowledging me at all.

Japan is simple. It really is. But there are still many things to remember and many customs to acknowledge. Most of them, not even traditional customs,

though the ones that are, are quite respected and ever persist--taking shoes off at the door, proper eating, proper ettiquete, attire, proper service--have always existed. But it's the fashion and the glam that has changed Japan. Simple, simple, simple. We have to learn to live more simply and happily or materialism will consume and you'll never appreciate living without, or that you can. I will say that most Japanese people/families live quite simply and efficiently, but American entertainment has taken its hold, and the Japanese youth are quickly changing the face of the city. I actually really appreciate this, but many of them are also extremely superficial, mechanical and doll-like. I almost pitty them, and I really hate to think that, but it's so surface to the point where I won't have anything to do with it. And it's the rare, genuine relationships few insiders have the privilege to partake in that make the experience in Japan meaningful. Artistic, organic, rebellious, and generous are these friends, like the friends we know back home by nickname, smell, and the noisy ways the eat and get drunk. It becomes no different than anywhere else, and I am still only a bystander to this and know it's authenticity. So, living...

Creating value in an action. I want to feel the earth under my nails, scumming my skin, caked on my clothes, in my food, and in my soul. I wanted to be ok with that, and free of societal expectations. Superficial bounds created by made up "acceptable" guidelines. You must be clean. You must own a home. Have two kids and two cars. Live the American dream like a steel skeletal machine. Eat this, eat that. Read this, preach that. I just want to be free. Unjudged, informed, understood. Unified. I want the choice to do that, and I don't want to be typecast for it. Ever.

"Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the wise. Seek what they sought."--Matsuo Basho

Day 20

2011-12-05T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 5, 2008

Before I know it, I am going to be on a train back home, wondering how everyone else is feeling, and coping. Coping? Yeah, maybe. Some of us will be going home for the first time in months; seeing our parents, our loved ones. Some of us have been running for a long time, and are going home to make things right. What will my thoughts be on that train--Gratitude? Fear? Staring out the window while large and small traditions go whizzing by. I know I'll have wholesome thoughts of the things that I missed. I hear my theme song, already, "Run in the Front." I hope it'll feel like the time for a new life. I hope I'll have gained confidence in my abilities. I want to move slow; take things slow. I am in no hurry to make wrong, or be impulsive. Not that it's not destined to happen along the way, but I don't feel like I've made any wrong just yet. I don't think you necessarily need time to make the right choices. I think we have a pretty good idea all along what it is that we want and want to do with ourselves. It's not the things around us that need to fall into place. It's the things inside of us and their importance; giving ourselves a chance. I don't know why it always seems so hard. It really shouldn't be such a battle. Due time.

Fenced in

2011-12-04T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 4, 2008

"Remember yourself, from the days when you were younger and rougher and wilder, more scrawl than straight line."--Anna Quindlen

They have fenced us in. "They" being Sylvester's goons. These goons are the same guys that are paid to come to camp at 7am every morning to make noise and harass us. As I mentioned yesterday, the bulldozer is their favorite toy. I'm not sure what right they have to come here and staple barbed wire around our camp. It's not like they put up chicken wire, or wooden beams. No, this was rusty, razor sharp barbed wire. I don't understand, but we are all on edge and becoming more and more concerned with their attacks on camp, and how far Sylvester is going to take sending his message and threats.

Sylvester is the guy that owns the property behind us--the corn fields. He technically only owns everything 50m behind the surf because the beach is protected under the Federal Wildlife Preserve. His property includes the wetlands here, which he intends on destroying for whatever reason. PRETOMA is still pushing for a National Wildlife Refuge that will include the wetlands on his property. It's a constant battle. Neither of which either side will call a draw, but hopefully our side will win, someday. Sylvester is constantly pushing and testing the system. I'm sure I will be writing much more about him in the future.

Tomorrow some people are heading into town. I wish that I could go, but I have doubles tomorrow night and need to sleep. I haven't been to town in a week. A week without anything else might not register, but a week here feels like two. Maybe going there initially was a mistake. I need a battery for my clock. The salty air has gotten to it. Sarah said that she would look for one for me. We rely heavily on our alarm clocks for patrols and hatchery duty throughout the night.

Time to escape to the beach.

We order more food today for our last month. It comes next week. We also learned how to do triangulations to find previously marked nests on the beach. You place a "Norte," "Centro," and "Sur" post in the sand where erosion cannot effect it. You tie an orange marker to each and make a black permanent mark where the tape is in case it is to move in 45-60 days. You mark them INN, ISN, INC, ISC, INS, ISS, RNN, RSN, RNC, RSC, RNS, RSS. The first letter is for what it is--'I' stands for "incito," and it marks where a female has laid her nest, untouched. And 'R' stands for "relocate" and it marks where a nest has been relocated by us because it laid in Zone I (where the surf is), or some other condition. The second letter stands for which area of the beach you are on--North or South, The third letter stands for which post it is--one located in the north, center, or south. We do these to prove that the process can still be done with successful results--that they deter poachers and that the hatchery can still be our last resort. Still, the poachers know this method and it definitely is not fail proof. Where the measurements cross is where to find the nest. Only we know the coordinates.

Being here has made me quiet; made me oppressed. I don't need to be heard all of the time. I never did. Why did I feel I needed to be? I don't always need to have a say or have the answer; know it all. Here, I find that most everyone has their own answers. I am not heard, and I will not speak. People aren't asking me. I am disappointed with myself for having to be right and for things to be done my way. I thought that I had left these characteristics behind me. I am tired of feeling sick. I am tired of hating food and people not understanding. Even demons follow me here. Give it another week to saturate. Give it six....

I spent three and half weeks with Mandy, Megan, Alex, Erica, Luke, and Ashley while first traveling through Japan. Most of us were initial strangers,

and now we are like family. We say we love each other. We are always here for one another. I had way too high of expectations for the relationships that would develop with the people here. We're none alike--some too quiet, some too irritable, some too demanding, too loud, laid back and immature. Everyone was on the same page in Japan. It was pretty amazing.

You would think that everyone would be on the same page here since we are here to mutually do something so important, but I guess that I can understand. Simple comforts back in the real world, like taking real showers with warm water and water pressure, or having a real toilet are amiss. Being able to run to the grocery for whatever food you are craving, and have proper heating, cooling, and storage elements for all of the food management. Having a real bed and real blankets to stay warm at night, or a proper change of clothes after working out in the rain all. There would be no concern of sand in your food, hair, beds and clothes. You wouldn't have to lug up buckets of water just to brush your teeth or wash your clothes. You wouldn't have to worry about if people will sneak into your home at night and steal your things, or worse.... There is a lot of stress put on us here and none of us are life-enriched enough to appreciate it in its most necessary ways. I do recall when we were in Japan, of people complaining about the food we ate (it was free and mostly endless), the heat, rain, long bus rides, whether their mattress was on a frame or the floor. It was so petty to me, that people had these kinds of complaints in a culture where we were guests and so bless to be there. Our opportunity to travel throughout Japan was a gift within itself. I am thankful for that experience, for it has taught me a lot about how to adapt and cope. No matter how strong we are inside and no matter how much we can endure... we still need proper human interaction. I'm fine without all of the other luxuries. How I miss my family and my friends.

Revolving sky

2011-12-03T00:00:00.000-05:00

DECEMBER 3, 2008

"You cannot help but learn more as you take the world into your hands. Take it up reverently, for it is an old piece of clay, with millions of thumbprints on it."--JOHN UPDIKE

I saw the Milky Way last night. There is something about taking a 10-15 minute break at 4am to sit on the beach and look at the stars. I usually get a chance to compare the night sky throughout the night/early morning. At 7pm, Orion's Belt is in the south and we seem much closer to the systems. By second patrol, in the early morning, Orion's Belt is in the north and appears much further away. Some nights everything is much more vivid and the sky appears to never stop, in depth and in length. Last night, the stars began to fade into the horizon and dark patches, probably clouds, blocked out all signs of space.

Lucas came back today. I was glad to see him, or rather hear him as he barked madly at the crazy bearded man that's been bulldozing our precious vegetation around the dirt road since yesterday.

I am tired. I slept until 10am today. Latest yet. Probably because I didn't get to sleep until almost 6am and it wasn't too terribly hot this morning, which is usually what gets me up so early. That and hunger. But I finished my dinner for breakfast before I went to bed. I was feeling really too ill last night to eat.

I love the beach, the water, and the warmth, but I do miss home. I miss running, too. Something about being here that really makes you appreciate the little things, like going to Tsaya to rent movies, taking walks or rides through the park, running in the country, at the shrines. I am sad that I will miss Christmas. By the time Christmas comes, I will have two more weeks left. Ok... three and half, but I'll keep telling myself it's only two. I keep

going back to Kurashiki. Something about the canals; those colors. I also keep going back to the zen garden in Takimatsu. I can visualize the building; the symbol tower. The pier and how I was told not to come back if I get sick. I am stronger.

Hold on to yo' butts

2011-12-01T00:00:00.000-05:00

2:08AM - DECEMBER 2, 2008

"Whatever you want to do, do it now. For life is time, and time is all there is."--GLORIA STEINEM

Not real sure where the time went today. I was up around 6am. Had a little something to eat and took a walk down the North side to try and find some sea urchin exoskeletons. The only one I found was the broken one that I found days prior. I found some other shells for the necklace that I want to make when I return home. Hopefully I can find a craft shop for some twine, wire, beads, secure fittings. Feels like such a waste since I have all that stuff back in Lebanon, but if I want to make belated Christmas gifts, I don't really have any other choice then to purchase new equipment. What else did I do today? I marveled at the new shifts of beach from the night's before tide. Crazy how many times the landscape has changed since we have been here. It keeps moving once I've figured out the best sector for shells, and I find it interesting how the types of shells that wash up change based on the type of tide. I laid out about an hour and half before it got cloudy. Spent most of the day reading and then finishing the "Water" chapter in The Fifth Book of Peace. I decided that I am going to send the book to my mother when I send her shells after my return to Okayama (there is a lizard moving around in the rafters and it is making cute chirping sounds like a velociraptor from Jurassic Park).

Later, Sarah and I did exhumations. The sun went down and I read under my mosquito net until it was time for patrol at 7:30pm. We came across poachers tonight. Alan said that the tried to hide a particular nest we had come across by creating amateur manmade tracks to replicate a rastro in a different direction. You can't disguise real rastros unless you sprinkle them with sand. Even still, we would notice the color variation and their footprints in the sand. They also propped a piece of wood behind a nesting female to camouflage her presence. Idiots. They are working ahead of us.

We removed the board and tagged her; collected the data, recovered the nest, and made sure that she made it back into the water safely. The rule on the beach is "finder's keepers," or "first come, fisrt serve." We got another nest before them, too. I worry about what they would do while the mother is there. Someone told me that they chase her back into the water to keep her from covering her nest, since they are in such a hurry. It has to be so stressful for the mother. We are officially in leatherback season, now. They are much more sensitive to interference and may not lay at all if bothered. They can take over an hour and half to dig, lay, and bury their nests and are generally 70-90+ cm deep (~3 feet) and extremely difficult to find. Margarita said that a group of hers in Columbia took 4 hours to dig with shovels to find the nest. Can you imagine a big gapping hole from one huge fucking sea turtle? I hope I see just one (and at least one of each of the other species of sea turtles). I just don't want to be the one that has to bookit back to camp to retrieve the chip scanner. I'd probably have an asthma attack in this heavy air.

It's almost 3am and I am sitting here in hatchery duty until 4am. Sipping my hot cocoa with possible traces of leche. The hermit crabs keep making quite a ruckus. They climb in and on everything--in the compost bucket, in the stove (even when lit), on the shelves, counter. They are everywhere. I wish I had a dollar for how many I flick off the counter in a day.

I am feeling sick from dinner. Dinner was only rice and stir-fried veggies. Everything that everyone makes is with sunflower oil and it's been making me extremely sick. I should probably skip dinner and opt for oatmeal instead. I'm trying not to take many rolaids here and have been avoiding almost everything with dairy. Sometimes I don't know until after the fact, if no one tells me. It's my responsibility, though. I would never really expect anyone to remember. Alan offered me a cookie today. It was nice. People definitely do not think about what ingredients are in foods the way I do. Most don't even think about butter as being dairy, and don't know the difference between that and margarine. Not like I can much tolerate margarine, either. Afterall, it is made with oil.

Tomorrow, Sarah and I are walking to a different town that is next to San Francisco de Coyote to explore. We talked about going to Coyote, but it is too soon for me to go back. I don't want the luxuries of the supermarket and internet to become a necessity. I really need to feel like I am here. It's more important for me to do without--it is why I cam here, aside from my turtle responsibilities. Someone called us "turtle people" the ther day. It was cute. I still can't believe that I am doing this like the same people I looked up to growing up on the beaches in Florida. Crazy.

I have these handful of songs that keep playing in my head. How I miss my music. Right now it's "Run in the Front," by Dear & the Headlights. And earlier, while I was on patrol, the rastros reminded me of train tracks across the beach and it was "Train Wreck," by Mat Kearny. Other days it is that "brother" song by Citizen Cope, or India Arie's "queen" song.

There is a big fucking iguana that is scrambling to stay on the rafters above me. I dread anything falling on my head, especially something alive with claws and teeth. This candle and hot chocolate is making me hot. I wish the stars were out like they were earlier so that I could mosey on out to the water. I almost said "mosey on out to the sand," which would have been silly because there is sand everywhere. I think that this is a difficult living to get used to--being dirty and smelly all of the time, having sand and biting ants in your bed, lizards overhead, scorpions, snakes, and thieves. Tico thieves. This is why there must be two people in camp at all times, and preferably awake, but that cannot always be the case. Maggie is currently here, but Lucas is gone MIA for some unknown period of time. I like it better when there is more than one dog here.

I am on hatchery until 4am... redundency. Forty-five more minutes and I can go to bed if there aren't any hatchlings. It really does sound like Jurassic Park in here. It kind of is, surrounded by all of these ancient reptiles.

"Dont be afraid to take a big step if one is indicated; you can't cross a chasm in two small jumps."--DAVID LLOYD GEORGE

I am still feeling so horrible right now from the lunch that we had over 7 hours ago. It was seasoned rice and blackbean burgers that were, of course, friend in oil. I will totally be skipping dinner. I awoke at 2am with some of the worst cramps I have ever had, still from lunch. I thought I was going to be sick. I took 9 rolaids and still no relief. I dreaded patrol, but by the last 1-2k of the 8k I began feeling better. Moving always helps. Still, I think I will probably skip tomorrows main meal to prevent this from happening again.

Learning in threes

2011-11-30T12:13:00.000-05:00

NOVEMBER 30, 2008

Finally, my day off! It's been a week and half. Yes, I was keeping track. Last night during my first patrol it started lightening really badly, so we decided to only go down the beach once. On our second patrol it was pouring rain and we only went once then, too. Plus, since I was doing doubles, no hatchery. Guess I got a bit of a break. We also saw the biggest toad I have ever seen in the kitchen last night. He was escaping the rain, too. So that makes one huge cockroach, toad, and box turtle yesterday.

It is raining a lot, again today. I have to do the hatchery this afternoon with Margarita, and do some cooking. She is, by far the better cook being from Columbia and all. I am learning, though. I have beans soaking for dinner later, and lunch will probably contain rice. I wanted to lay out a bit today, and I tried to this morning, but the rain has been sporadic; the sun, even more so.

I am spotting today (the past two days, actually) and I am not sure why. The only thing that I can assume is stress. Our diet here is so-so. I think I am getting all of the nutrients I need, but I forgot to bring a multi-vitamin. Diet and stress are typically the main two factors. It's bizarre.

I wish that I spoke more Spanish. It's been difficult to communicate with Margarita and I really wish that I could. Our conversations never go past two or three first grade-level sentences and then the conversation dies. I was looking through my Spanish-English dictionary and it had all of the conjugations, but I can't entirely remember when to use them. I really need to take some classes, and/or live some place down South to be emerged. Some point in my life.

Almost day 16. I could write in here all day even though I am running out of pages.

Light under the sand

2011-11-29T00:00:00.000-05:00

NOVEMBER 29, 2008

Not many pages left. Pretty soon I may not have much to write about, though. This morning I had patrol from 4:30-7:30am. There were tracks to explore. I found a washed up jellyfish (the first i'd seen) and a bloated fish that sort of resembles a puffer, but with no spikes. We also found a female trying to lay right up by the hatchery, which is further than females normally like to nest. But I have found that females will nest almost anywhere. I also found out last night that the specks of light in the sand when I walked are some sort of micro organism (see dinoflagellates--not a dinosaur, or a flatulence). Sarah and I were walking back from North Caletas on patrol and particular areas of the moist beach would leave traces of light after each step we took. It was like unspoken magic; unlike anything I've seen.

It was nice to get a shower when I got back. It has been very humid, especially in the mornings and nights. With summer approaching, it will only get worse. I sorted through my medicine today and found that I am a day or two short of my birth control. This wouldn't be so if I started my menstruation tomorrow, but the thought of dealing with that in these conditions... I can start once I return back to Japan and can get back on schedule. I sometimes get cramping and lower back pains and have chosen to continue to take my bc for this reason and to help with controlling acne.

It is so dreary today. It rained last night, I think during the second patrol. Luckily, I was doing third patrol, but it did sprinkle some. I am bored. I realize I need a bit of civilization to thrive, or at least someone to share this with. Then, at least, adventures could be invented together. I am mostly a content person, but I really am happiest sharing the things in my life with another who can equally appreciate those same things, and/or has some complimenting dynamic to introduce into the equation that keeps life and love full of vigor and awe.

It's starting to rain....

Fresh plantains and coconut meat with lunch. It is a great benefit. I've never had fried green plantains before I came here. Only ripe yellow ones that Z's grandmother had caramelized. I've never had fresh coconut meat straight from the coconut, either. I didn't even know that the stringy brown casings were actually encased in a larger, colored shell. Yellow is supposed to be good (most of the time. You have to shake them a listen), and orange, you can forget it. The green ones are best for drinking, but you still have to find that right stage. We had fresh, snappy green beans, too. I'd missed those.

I have a double tonight. It's 3:51pm now and I have to go out at 5:30pm and then out again at 12:30am.

Today was such a lazy day. I couldn't find the energy. I was up early on patrol, but went back to bed for two hours. Even though I had enough sleep last night, I think that my body still has some catching up to do. Tonight we are supposed to have more tourists come back to join us on a patrol. I have to take them North because North is patrolled twice in one sitting and it will give them an opportunity to only go out for an hour and half v. South's 3 hour patrol. North is 3 hours, too, but you just walk it twice. I think we're going to get rained on. Time to bust out the poncho.

Encroaching

2011-11-28T00:00:00.000-05:00

NOVEMBER 28, 2008

It is extremely hot today and there is little relief. Our tent is baking and I can't get comfortable in the hammock. Eventually I'll have to suck it up and do exhumations, but for now, I am sitting on an over-turned bucket enjoying the breeze.

We had gobs and gobs of tourists this morning. So bizarre to walk out of my tent with my toothbrush hanging out of my mouth and see a large group of white folks touring our home. I'm feeling a little apprehensive and guarded from the visit. We are in the middle of no where. How do people know about us? We're all completely taken aback.

Sarah is boiling the leftover chicken carcass in the old makeshift stove to save using the propane tank from the gas stove. I think I'll go get a bucket of water to place by it, in case it catches fire. If you could see this thing, you would notice that it is almost entirely made from wood. There is one wire grate taken from a grill, and aluminum foil wrapped around that. We actually have to light a fire underneath/inside the wooden stove to cook whatever is on top. Does this really make any sense? And the oven is conveniently located right next to our driftwood shower. It is seriously a disaster waiting to happen.

Holy shit! Will you take a look at this guy!

Gringo holiday

2011-11-27T00:00:00.000-05:00

NOVEMBER 27, 2008

I just got back from my 3-6am patrol; chomping on some leftovers that I made last night for dinner--spaghetti w/onions, garlic, chickpeas, curry, and an olive oil packet for flavoring. Also this salsa stuff that reminds me of skyline chili (Salsa Lizano). I think that it's ok, but I'll eat anything that isn't repulsive at this point. I was irritated about dinner last night. Alan did not even get up to help and there is still a pile of dirty dishes. I'll clean the bowls for this morning's breakfast, but he can do the rest. I have hatchery duty at 7am and depending on if there are any releases, Sarah and I are heading to town to use the internet and bake a pie for tonight's Thanksgiving "feast".

Thanksgiving dinner was a success! Alec cooked 3 small hens, while Sarah, Chris and I made mashed sweet yuccas, mashed potatoes, stuffing, an apple pie and a squash pie! I know that sounds odd, but with all the appropriate spices, the squash pie tasted just like a pumpkin pie, if not better. We only had a short bit of time to use the internet, so I took full advantage of contacting everyone that I could to wish them a Happy Thanksgiving. I honestly can't believe how successful our Thanksgiving dinner turned out to be. We used Alec's kitchen, which has hardly any appliances, dishware, utencils, essentials. It's amazing how well we managed. Chris sliced his finger up pretty good while cutting the firm squash. It was a pretty deep cut and we thought he might need to go to the hospital for stitches. The closest hospital is over three hours away and no one was looking forward to that drive and then back. Chris decided he would be ok and we bandaged it up really well, but I am still concerned since we don't live in even slightly sanitary conditions.

A beautiful tree on the way into town

Surf's up

2011-11-26T00:00:00.000-05:00

NOVEMBER 26, 2008

This morning Sarah, Chris and I walked to the bar to pick up our order of weekly vegetable that we ordered on Monday. We had to take the sandy, then dusty road, over someone's fence, through the cornfield, and then through the tall grass to the jungle to Playa Coyote. We had virgin piña coladas while we rested. I tended to a gashed open toe that I cut on a slick rock on the way there; munched on bbq corn chips, and watched animal rescues in Africa on the tube.

After I returned, I planned on giving my knee a break and laying around in the hammock, but decided to do dishes instead and took some turtles down the beach. Now I am in and out of cooking lunch. It's 5:37pm. It was Alan's meal really, but he's upset because his surfboard was stolen and he's not

really talking much to anyone at the moment. So I cut up two onions, red pepper, tomato and sauteed them. He finally came back to add some mixed veggies to the beans, and I guess fry up some plantains... bleh...

A typical day

2011-11-25T00:00:00.000-05:00

NOVEMBER 25, 2008

Impressive. I actually got 5 hours of mostly solid sleep last night. I probably could have gotten more if I hadn't have had to get up for hatchery duty at 5am. Alan hasn't been signing up for any evening hatchery duties and it's pretty irritating to everyone. Especially when most of us are having to set our alarms at odd hours of the night/early morning to get up and do it, or drink pot after pot of coffee just to stay awake. Not to mention that if we find hatchlings, we have to walk them down the beach no mater the circumstances.

This would be a nice time to walk you through a typical day. You knew it was coming, eventually.

The first and most consistent thing we do is hatchery duty. Hatchery duty is divided into two chunks of time: from 10am-9pm is when the two people on kitchen duty divide up the times to check the hatchery every hour. From 10pm-9am everyone else not on kitchen duty is to split up the evening based on when they are scheduled to do patrol or need sleep. I am usually up early, regardless of patrol times and generally check it then. This morning I checked it at 5, 6, and 7am.

Skip to 10am. This is when the two people assigned to kitchen duty (two new people everyday, and everyone has kitchen duty at least twice per week) make everyone breakfast. Generally it's pancakes and cooked plantains, cornflakes and powdered milk, or oatmeal. One of the kitchen people has the night off--no patrols and no hatchery duty. Thing is, if dinner is at 1am, they must be up to make dinner and have it ready by the time the first patrol gets off and before the second patrol leaves. The second person on kitchen duty has to always do one patrol at night v. two, and has hatchery duty. The only other person person that gets the evening off from doing hatchery duty is the person that is doing double patrols. Back to kitchen duty. They also must do dishes for all meals. During the day, the rest of us laze around, trying to catch up on sleep, read, walk to town, body surf, do laundry, etc.

Generally after lunch, or before the sun goes down, we do exhumations of hatched nests from the hatchery. If you were to look on the board, you would see what nests need to be done that day. Exhumations are always done 2-3 days after the first hatchlings appear from the nest (incubation is 45-60 days). We wait 2-3 days because it takes some hatchlings longer to make their way to the surface. We also sometimes still find live babies as we exhume.

We dig a cylinder hole straight down about a foot and half, or until all the bad sand is pulled out and placed into a bucket. The contents we are pulling out lots of times has maggots, dead babies, unhatched eggs, and hatched

shells. These contents are placed into a separate bucket for analyzation. Once all contents are cleared, we trudge to the beach and dump the one bucket with old sand into the tide. The bucket must be rinsed with ocean water to "sanitize" any leftover parasites. Then sand is collected back into the bucket just up from the surf where the sand is damp. It may take us several trips/buckets to fill the hole in the hatchery. The sand is heavy and after 4-5 trips lugging wet sand, you're pretty exhausted.

After the nest has been filled back in, we dig a hole on the beach to sort the contents of the other bucket filled with hatched and unhatched eggs. Eggs are laid out in a grid on the beach--healthy hatched eggs in one spot, pipped in another, and unhatched eggs in another. Pipped eggs have small holes in them and are filled with maggots or have black turtle remnants that have been decomposed by maggots. Unhatched eggs are opened and examined. These are divided into four sections: yolk (runny); solid, yellow contents; blood or blood vessels or some baby sea turtle formation; unhatched baby turtle. We also note live and dead turtles found, and dead turtles found outside the nest. All is counted and recorded.

Hatchlings. Hatchlings are counted as they come up and are recorded. The hatchery is gridded-out and the grid at which their nest lies tells us where their nest was originally lain on the beach. This is documented when we first relocated the nest 45-60 days prior. If there are a lot of hatchlings, they must be taken to their sector. Only a few can be released closer to camp. Counting the babies allows us to compare them to the original egg count when we first relocated the nest. This tells us what number to look for during exhumations.

Patrols. Patrols are based on high tides (patrol 1) and low tides (patrol 2), and this is based on the cycle of the moon. We have a little cheat sheet to help us establish times, but it is for Nicaragua and a little bit off. On rare occasions, there are 3 patrols at night based on the tides, but typically we do two per night. Last week there was two nights with 3 patrols and I did one of those patrols. This week there are two nights with 3 patrols and I do another. There are only 6 people available for patrols each night and this is why there are doubles and sometimes triples, for there are only 7 of us total.

Patrols consist of walking the beach with no light, looking for dark tracks in the sand called "rastros," following them to the area of a nest and using our technique to find it, and then excavating. We measure the width of

the rastro, document the sector, the direction of the tide (coming in or going out), date, time, and intial. If the female is present, we tag and document the tag number. This is done while the female is laying her eggs since she goes into a state of euphoria. We also measure the length and width of her carapace, documenting any injuries, scars, malformations, distinguishing characteristics, etc. There are times where we have to wait awhile, while the female digs her nest. Leatherbacks--the largest, most rare, and endangered--have not been seen yet. They can take up to an hour and half to lay their eggs. If we reach a site where a turtle is burying her nest we must wait until she descends towards the ocean to restrain and tag her. This is much more stressful and causes her recognized pain. When she is laying, we gently dig behind her cloaca and remove the eggs into a ready plastic bag. It is very important that we also collect the uteri mucus that comes out with the eggs, for it contains a natural anti-bacterial that protects the developing hatchlings.

We may carry up to 5 nests on our backs at a time, each with an average of 50-100 eggs. No more than this can be carried per pack because the weight of the nest will crush the ones on the bottom of the pack. After 3 hours we return to camp and bury the eggs into empty plots at our onsite hatchery.

Hatchery. After arriving back from patrol, we look at the board to find an empty plot on the grid. Grids are A-H and sometimes Z vertically, and 0-38 (and sometimes 39) horizontally. While we were on the beach, we measure the depth of the nest that the female has dug for her nest. This number is used to dig the cylindrical hole in the hatchery at the same depth as the nest measured on the beach. Our job is to mimic natures standards as much as possible. This is also why we release hatchlings in the exact location that the nest was originally buried. It is speculated that hatchlings and mothers use some kind of magnetic imprinting to return to the very beach where they first hatched. It is also thought that sand temperature effects the sex of hatchlings. Lighter sands maintain higher temperatures, which decreases

incubation time and results in more female hatchlings.

Playa Caletas is one of two especially important nesting beaches in the Nicoya Peninsula. Currently PRETOMA is trying to establish a federally protected site where we live called, the Playa Caletas-Ario National Wildlife Refuge. It is the most important nesting location on the Eastern Pacific since it is one of the only undeveloped stretches of beach left. Even though poaching is illegal, it hasn't stopped local Ticos from carrying out a tradition of poaching turtle eggs for consumption (a.k.a. a folklore aphrodisiac). Our very existence gives us an opportunity to educate the local population on the importance of not poaching endangered sea turtle eggs and preserving the beach integrity in hopes of sustaining a prehistoric marine population essential to its surrounding ecosystems.

Poaching is not the only physical threat to the sea turtle population here, as shrimp trawling remains extremely detrimental. Since we live on a protected Wildlife Refuge, shrimp trawling is illegal certain distances from the beach. Shrimp trawlers here are to use specialized nest that allow sea turtles, sharks, and other large marine life to escape as to not be tangled and drowned in the nets of the commercial fisheries, but they clearly do not and our PRETOMA fishery inspector, Eric is the ones who tries to keep this in check.

Other tasks here include burning of trash (paper and non-recyclable plastics), checking rain gauge, cleaning common area, raking and vegetation maintenance, and keeping up on data notebook templates. These tasks are assigned weekly; while hatchery duty, patrols, and kitchen duty rotations change each day.

Fire in the south

2011-11-24T00:00:00.000-05:00

NOVEMBER 24, 2008

I actually got some consistent sleep last night. Well, it was only 2 hours, but they were straight through. I feel so much better this morning.

Last night's patrol was from 2-5am. There was a fire far down at the end of South Caletas that had spread over several hundred meters. Natalia helped me put the flames out in two sections, but the embers were still bright red-orange and we both knew that there was nothing we could do. The sand was so hot from the heat of the fire that the bottoms of my shoes started to melt. I just couldn't let it burn like that--out of control. There is lots of dried, dead driftwood close to the vegetation east of the beach. My fear was that, even though the fire was still about 3000m away from our camp, that it was going to catch the field ablaze and burn all the way down to us. The wind seemed to be blowing west, though, so for now, this is good.

This morning, the fire still appears to be burning. Gray smoke is billowing upward. It's a mystery how the fire began in the first place, who started it, and why it was left unattended. I would like to think that the fire originated from a lazy fisherman not properly putting out his camp fire, but there have been many poachers on the beach these past few nights and the thought of it intentionally being set is unnerving. Camp fires aren't even allowed on the beach because it deters the female turtles from coming up to nest, but it has not been too often that we have told the fisherman that they need to do anything considering they pretty much keep to them self past marker 50 and they were here first.

I think some of us may walk into town today to use the internet. I am still reluctant, but an email from home would help lift my spirits. Everyone here is so different. We all have our own different sense of humor. Conversations amongst the group have mainly consisted of chores we must attend to around camp, bird species, cooking the hermit crabs, and crocodiles down by the Bongo. I tried talking video games with Alan the other day, but he had no

idea what I was talking about. I love all of our conversations. These aren't philosophers; this is a different kind of intelligent. These are biologists, through and through. I appreciate the things that we all talk about in a group and separately. I'm sure there are still many things to learn from and about each other.

Sarah brought her mac here and it's allowed us small forms of entertainment, like pictures from her travels over the world, and music. Hallelujah! Music. But a certain album has been playing on repeat here. As much as I love Rusted Root, I could really go for something else right now, but I am blessed.

Intolerance

2011-11-23T00:00:00.000-05:00

NOVEMBER 23, 2008

DAY 8 - Today was meant to be a day for catching up on sleep. I got to bed about 7:30am, but the heat awoke me and I was up by 9:30am. It's been troublesome. I was able to take an hour nap in the hammock, which is surprisingly uncomfortable. Tried again for another hour. I think that I hit REM earlier in the morning because I do remember dreaming.

It was mac n'cheese for lunch today, so I had a can of corn, some saltines and hot sauce instead. I am lactose intolerant and have certain dietary restrictions so it can be rather difficult at times to eat some of the meals that the group makes because nobody is used to taking such food intolerances into account.

The sun is mostly down now and it's cloudy and sprinkling. It's also really humid, too. I am hesitant to change into my evening clothes and lay down because I don't want to get hot. I go out on patrol late tonight. I can't remember the time, but I am thinking 2am probably because I noticed that it took awhile for the tide to go out this afternoon. I need to lay down here soon because I must be up at 10pm to do hatchery. I want a normal night's sleep tonight. I can't sleep during the day with the heat. It seems like sleeping is all I write about. This will change.

Una lapiz and seconds, please?

2011-11-22T00:00:00.000-05:00

NOVEMBER 22, 2008

Feels like I didn't get any sleep. I really am anticipating, hoping that things will begin to get easier soon. I went to bed around 3am from my second patrol that started at 12:30am. We got all of the way down to sector 38 before realizing that the first patrol removed the pencil from the South pack we carry with gear for collecting data and sea turtle eggs for relocation at the hatchery. South is broken up 20-50 sectors. Each marker represent 100m, so South Caletas is 3000m long, or 3k. The last half kilometer is tougher sand with lots of little rocks and very large pieces of driftwood that meets the Bongo. I am always leery of running into crocodiles here at night. If we get to the end early, it's equally amazing to sit at the South end of Caletas to appreciate the stars, but sometimes there are drunk fisherman down here and we try to remain quiet as not to start trouble. Anyway, back to the pencil ordeal...

Margarita had to store all of our data in her wrist watch, which I think was a brilliant. Seems like we have had lots of "SFs" (false crawls) and the sand has seemed especially loose. On my first patrol last night, we had a female move three separate occasions before nesting. Even still, she had buried herself too deep into the vegetation for us to dig out behind her as she laid.

It has been insanely windy here during the night time. We keep waiting for part of the camp to break loose. That must have been what woke me up every two hours last night. That, or the fact that I had to keep getting up to walk to the bathroom, which is a km away. Too much coffee, or jet lag is keeping me whacked out. I feel like I have no energy.

I conditioned my hair for the first time here. Isn't life so exciting? My hair felt unlively and straw-like for the past few days, but it feels great now. The salty air takes it's toll on everything here--from kitchen utensils to electronics. I put some clothes away in my dry bag yesterday for my trip home to keep them dry and film-free. I realize now just how dirty we get

and how hard it is to hand-wash clothing. I brought some things that I'd hate to see ruined, like me jeans, green pants, certain tanks, TWLOHA and AI tee. I have plenty of shorts and other tanktops to wear. I can probably stick to 3 shirts per week, and I re-wear undergarments too since I only wear them at night and am in my bathing suit most of the day. I bathe in my suit, hoping that it keeps it semi-clean.

I need to go do dishes. Nothing else to report on.

I just made my first meal for everyone. I sauteed onions, garlic, red pepper. Added tomato and, one packet of tomato paste, and two packets of tomato sauce. A dash of hot sauce and some oregano and basil. The spaghetti was a little too salty for me, but food is food and I had seconds. My walking distance here is equivalent to what I would typically run in a week and I hope it is keeping me in shape. We haul buckets of water, sand and turtles, walking in sloped sand with different weights is difficult. Like I said, I am exhausted, but I am also sleep deprived and jet lagged. Today I had an oatmeal orange bar when I got home at 3am. No, it was 7'ish when I awoke, not 3. 10am was oatmeal with honey, raisins and dulce for breakfast. Then later I had a PB&J sandwich, and two more servings of spaghetti! "Lay off!"

[Book: Ahab's Wife - captain in Moby Dick]

The sunset is all orange now. I saw it rise this morning at 5am, too. I hate it when it gets dark here. Means nothing to do because we have no electricity and try and conserve the battery life in out headlamps for patrol. We do have one solar cell that produces maybe 30watts of electricity to charge batteries or cook dinners under dim lighting. Bugs become a big problem at night with the faint glow. I patrol at 1-4am. Maybe I should get some rest. If I stay up after patrol, I can see the sunrise again. Not sure what to take pictures of anymore. Just remembered I have two more hours of hatchery watch...

Man, the sky is gorgeous.

Man, I am really full.

[Book: Shadow of the Wind]

I just got back from my 1-4am patrol. We found 2 nests that had, for sure been poached. Alan and Chris went out earlier and said they saw quite a few people on the beach. No one should be out that late here besides us. We do what we can to deter poaching. Chris said that they startled someone so badly that they ran off and forgot their shoes.

I am up at least 6am on hatchery duty this morning. There is no fresh water (delivered by Alec once a week), so no coffee. Just me and the clink-clank of the hermit crabs all over the sandy floor rummaging for food around the plastic bins; the chirp of the geckos in the rafters as they play, and the song of crickets and crashing ocean. And, of course, mosquitos in my ear and bugs attacking my headlamp. The bugs are crazy here. I am so thankful that I have a mosquito net for when I sleep. I am currently watching a grasshopper with a shorter body and long, skinny legs drink coffee from a mug on the counter. He's about to not feel so good. Actually, I think I am going to lay down and close my eyes for a short bit. Set my alarm for 35 minutes, and then an hour after that. Enjoy the sunrise and then pass out until breakfast.

Healing and dealing

2011-11-21T00:00:00.000-05:00

NOVEMBER 21, 2008

It's 8:22am. I just got back a little while ago from my 4am patrol. It was nice seeing the sunrise. I had a North patrol and retreived my camera after the first half to take pictures. It's particularly cloudy, though. I also did laundry for the first time since I have been here. Hand-washing doesn't get anything clean, but at least makes things smell nice.

Last night, while Joel and I were on our 6pm patrol, we collected 6 nests before running out of plastic bags to contain the eggs in. We could have had at least two more nests heading back to camp since we passed two females already digging on the beach. Joel had 5 nests in the pack and said it was incredibly heavy. I only had one that I carried in my hands with ~80 eggs and that was heavy enough. That's nearly ~420 potential hatchlings we have

collected. We were exhausted and irritable at each other by the time it was done, for our 3 hour patrol had turned into 5. I saw my first scorpion, too. In the dark. In the sand. Near the nest where we were. I really do not want to get stung. Sarah said that she found one in our room the other day. Gives me the shivers. Do you know what else gives me the shivers? The foot to foot 1/2 iguana that ran in our tent yesterday as I was sitting on my bed sorting shells. Scared the piss out of me! And then Kitty ran in and dug up an anole lizard in our tent and took it outside and ate it! Natalia also thinks that her bed has bed bugs, for she has chigger-like bites all over her body. I feel fortunate to have slept on two different mattresses here and not have gotten them, but Stephanie says that bed bugs do not exist in Costa Rica. Some of us speculate mosquitos as the culprit.

Parts of this outdoor experience gets to me at times. I can deal with the dirt, the bugs, even the makeshift toilet. But creepy crawlies, like boa constrictors, giant lizards, and painfully poisonous scorpions is beginning to get to me.

Final thought before sleep--my toes are bloody from these patrols. I will have walked 22k today before the day is done. And this bed is too big.

I am waiting to go on my last patrol of the night at 6:30pm. I should say second, since I went out at 4am. I promise that everyday is not a double, even though it has been crazy for me the past few days. I'm pretty sure tomorrow I only have one patrol. My knee is hurting still from injuring it before my half-marathon. I thought the change in recreation would help heal, but it has proved to be very difficult and stressful on my joints and muscles when walking through the sand for hours at a time. I am running on about 4 hours of sleep, so I hope that tonight isn't much longer than 6 hours of patrol.

We ran out of propane tonight. Eric (the fisherman) and Stephanie came out and brought us the last one in town (from San Francisco de Coyote). It put off lunch until 6pm v. the usual 2-4pm. Dinner tonight should be around 11pm. Since I am going North first, I should get the chance to eat dinner. South might not be so lucky.

Joel is going into town tomorrow to use the internet. It is so tempting, but we are on kitchen and hatchery duty all day, so I have to watch the hatchery while he is gone. I want to not feel the need to have to go in and communicate with home like some of the others. I think that the people back home understand that my responsibilities here take precedence, and I need more than a week to be away. Otherwise, it won't really feel like I am so far away. I am far away. I am really far away.

Travels with Lucas

2011-11-20T00:00:00.000-05:00

NOVEMBER 20, 2008

[Book: Travels With Charlie]

It's 1:24am and I am stirring dinner for Chris as he takes some hatchlings down the beach. The thought of returning them to the same spot, no matter how many kilometers we must walk, or what time of day/night is unnerving. I am so tired right now. I just got another 3 1/2 hours of sleep. We all feel like zombies; worked to the bone. Part of me just wants to go home because I am so exhausted. I am glad to not have patrol tonight. I know we will all feel better once acclimated to the routine. I think I will sleep more during the day later.

It's weird to say that it's day 5, but it is even though we are having day 4's dinner. Maybe we should call this breakfast. Still, I know how nice it is for us all to come home to a hot meal together.

Lucas woke me up barking. He's our camp/turtle dog. Not sure whose he is, but he's for sure camp's. There is also Tigre, which is Alec's boxer and two other mutts, Maggie who is pregnant, and a younger dog we call "Kitty". Yeah, Kitty. Maggie isn't supposed to be here because she supposedly digs up turtle eggs and eats them. I don't know if I believe the rumors, though she does always have really bad breath. She is starved for love. It's heartbreaking. I won't push her away.

Earlier this evening, after 7pm when everyone was asleep, I had to take 81 and 55 hatchlings down the beach. I was alone and high tide was coming in. I kept hearing barking and it sounded like Lucas. I kept telling him to be quiet, but I think he was keeping a couple poachers at bay. He's super protective and I am so glad that he is here. I sat down and looked to the surf, while waiting for the hatchlings to descend down the beach when I looked to my right and Lucas was right there laying next to me. I hadn't even heard him approach. It was comforting.

After the first set of hatchlings disappeared into the surf, I moved down a couple hundred meters to release the second batch of hatchlings. Lucas did not follow, still curled up in the sand, but after about 10 minutes he returned back to me. I still don't have him figured out. His demeanor is old and wise, but he rarely craves attention; only food. He's a true, loyal watch dog, that's for sure.

Just woke up from a 3-7:30am night's rest. It's been hard to get this kind of sleep at one time. I am the only one up. I think I always am, actually.

I lugged 3 buckets of water up from the well this morning for dishes and a shower. Dishes are done, but it feels a bit too chilly for a shower just yet. So instead I made a PB&J and had some crackers. Ten'ish is breakfast. I am not really sure how much I am eating, but I am trying to be aware of rations. Yesterday was oatmeal with honey, raisins, and dulce for breakfast. Lunch was rice, beans, and corn concoction at about 4pm, and dinner was beans and rice, carrots, and yucca at 2:30am. I had a few snacks in there and 1/2 a PB&J. I was hoping to stay fit here, but each day I only seem hungrier.

Today I have hatchery duty tonight and one early shift from 6-9pm. The times of patrol change based on the tide. Everyone may be done much earlier tonight and dinner should be around 10pm. I am also on water gauge all week, which reminds me... it rained last night, so off to check.

[6pm - 11/20; 4am, 6:30pm, 11:30pm - 11/21]

Ok, this is a long post today since I started early this morning. I figure I will run out of pages before my time is done here.

So I just found out that after my 6pm patrol tonight I have a 4am patrol tomorrow morning, solo, and then a double of 6:30-9:30pm,

and 11:30pm-2:30am the next day. I'll be sleeping a lot the next few days. I'm telling you--this is no joke. You better be committed. It's hard not to be.

Dead tired

2011-11-19T00:00:00.000-05:00

NOVEMBER 19, 2008

Some of the rewarding benefits to doing this are the continuous sounds of the ocean--perfect for any time of the day when you are catching up on sleep. Seeing the sunset into the Pacific everyday is also an amazing added bonus. I am waiting for a sunset in a perfectly clear sky, or a sunrise while still out on patrol.

I wrote that after a night of two, 3 hour patrols (so, 6 hours) at a total distance of 14k. I was able to enjoy the sunset right before my first patrol, and then see the sunrise by the end of the second patrol. I was so exhausted. We had to come back and bury 2 nests and then I crashed from 6:30-7am, checked the hatchery at 7, back to bed until 8, checked the hatchery again before Sarah told me to go to bed for real. I certainly did until 10am.

Today I had to walk about 4k to retrieve the measuring tape that I had accidentally forgotten on the beach during second patrol. It was nice, though because I found 5 sand dollars. I can't wait to get home and divvy up shells for people.

Today is my day off patrol, but I had to cook with Chris and check the hatchery. Someone took care of breakfast for me because I was dead tired, but for lunch I wanted to make beans and rice with corn, tomatoes, onions, red peppers, and avocado. Chris actually made it and I cut up the vegetables. I also released several hatchlings that had hatched during lunch time in the hatchery. I thought about keeping track of what I did each day, but there is no reason to... all we do is work, sleep, eat, read, swim, and walk the beach. I did tag one female last night. I messed up on the first one, again and had to put another one it. It's difficult to do because you have to use these special pliers and must squeeze the handles together with great force until you hear a 'click'. I saved the used one as a keepsake, maybe to make into a necklace of some sort.

I still cannot believe that I am here. I have accepted this responsibility whole heartedly. I keep dreaming about coming home, but for now I am going to enjoy this sunset and stop bothering with these mosquitos.

Earthwalker

2011-11-18T00:00:00.000-05:00

NOVEMBER 18, 2008

Is it really only day 3?
The old coordinators and Alec leave today to let us fend for ourselves. Last night was our last patrol with them and I only had to go out once. We left at 8:00pm and went North. It was my first time going North and in complete darkness you really can't appreciate the terrain. We walk in blackness, only turning on our lights when the moon has not risen, has already set, or when there are large pieces of driftwood in our path. The driftwood I've seen isn't some small tree branch--these are nearly entire trees eroded and shaped by the ebb and flow of the tides. Apparently on strong current nights, they might disappear from the face of our beach entirely. Without lights you can still see shapes in the darkness, so once your eyes adjust it is fairly easy to maneuver. I swear, it makes me feel like an earthwalker... or a ninja. And like I said before, the reflection of the moonlight on the rastros make them much easier to see than with light.

Last night we had one nest, which I excavated and one false crawl. A false crawl is where a female comes up onto the beach to lay, but doesn't for a variety of different reasons. Maybe the sand was too dry and unstable and she couldn't find an ideal spot. Maybe the moon was too bright, or maybe something just spooked her. The shitty part about North is that it's 4k roundtrip (down 2, then back 2) v. South, which is 5k. But for some reason, North can be passed through very quickly; there seems to be less nesting. We can walk up North and back in an hour and half. We walk down 2k, sit at the end of North Caletas in the darkness for 15 minutes (the stars are amazing), and walk the 2k back to camp. Then we wait an additional 15 minutes at camp, and walk the 4k over again. It is very tiresome, but those 15 minutes we get to sit in silence on the beach under the most amazing stars is incredible.

I haven't had to do two patrols yet, but with dinner after the first patrol, and then back out on the second patrol there really is no time for sleep. Dinner

every night seems to be around midnight. Breakfast is at about 9:30-10am, lunch seems to be around 2-3pm, and no dinner until 9 hours later. I guess it's been ok, though.

Today I want to walk North during the daylight so that I can see the terrain. If I go around 1:30pm I can enjoy the low tide and wade in the pools. The beach is very rocky to swim at high tide and the surf is far too rough.

Bump on a log

2011-11-17T00:00:00.000-05:00

NOVEMBER 17, 2008

Where to begin? I'd like to first start off by saying that I am sitting in our backyard, spellbound over the enchanting Pacific Ocean. The day is exceptionally beautiful, though yesterday was fairly cloudy. Ahh, welcome to Playa Caletas.

Yesterday was tough. First, I awoke at 3:30am in San José to pack my things and take a shower before my 6 hour travels by bus across the country. There were over-ripened bananas and white sandwich bread piled carelessly on a table by the office--this must be their version of a continental breakfast, San José style. I was still leery and unsure of exposed food, and it only being my second day on Typhoid preventative medication. I should have never listened to anyone about getting sick. Fear is a nasty disease within itself.

After checking out, and spending my last brief minutes on the internet contacting those I love until god knows when, it was time to carry on away from San José. The purchase of the bus tickets turned into yet another stressful adventure. I think it took me about 10 minutes to understand that I must purchase two tickets--one to Bejuco, which is about a 5 hour bus ride, and one from Bejuco to San Francisco de Coyote. I had detailed instructions from my project director, but I never recalled him saying anything about two tickets. Luckily, I ran into Sarah, Natalia, and Margarita outside the station. Margarita is a tough-looking tattooed chick who reminds me of myself. She's from Columbia with beautiful molasses-colored skin and not a lick-worth of English under her belt. Natalia is American-Dominican and speaks Spanish very well. She is ornate and her hair is short and tightly curled in mini spirals with flecks of silver that remind me of someone I miss. Sarah, the other white girl, inversely didn't know a lick of Spanish, but was incredibly cultured and hired as our project coordinator.

The trip to Bejuco was nice. We traveled on a tour bus and all of our things were neatly stashed away in the underneath compartment; away from our feet and our minds. I tell you, I'll never travel this way again--with two shoulder bags--what was I thinking? Some old Western film played silently during the ride as I ate half a powerbar from my ration, saving half for the second portion of the trip. I didn't bring my mp3 player. Less is more. I heard that we have no electricity and no way of charging things at camp. But I have lots of good mental music and am in need of a lot of uninfluenced personal time.

Five hours later and we've landed in Bejuco. The driver ushered us off the bus. Again, we were confused as our things were unloaded onto the dusty path. Following lead, we piled onto a city-style bus with Ticos (Costa Ricans), their sacs of rice and luggage. There was no seat for me, so I stood in the sunken, rear stairwell beside unsecured accordion doors as the driver flung that bus around mountains and cliffs like we were in the Indy

500. I don't think I've ever held on so tightly for dear life. One more hour. One more hour and I can finally unload these bags and rid my body and mind of this tension.

Our final arrival in San Francisco de Coyote was perfect. Our first sign of tropical life awaited us (above). The town is incredibly small. There is one doctor, one internet café (which is incredible because I never expected one at all), one church, one supermercado. We met Alec, our director, which was in search of another person from our group, Alan. Apparently Alan has already been here awhile and likes to surf. This is all that is currently known. Giving up on the location of Alan, we piled into Alec's rover and drove the 9km to camp. The roads are all rocks and dirt, but once we approached the end of the drive, the last 2km or so were on a sandy path that required 4-wheel drive. At camp, we also met Jeff and Stephanie, who are two

previous coordinators that have decided to hang around for a couple days to teach us the ropes.

Camp is absolutely amazing. Everything is made from driftwood, palm trunks, scrap wood--the walls, structure, tables, benches; held together with hammer and nails. We even have a museum and a library. Ceilings are bound by ropes and old advertising tarps, and droves of these guys are everywhere!

We have a fresh water well that we will use for bathing, washing clothes, and dishes. This is where I will sleep, and in addition to Sarah, this guy is my other bunkmate. Each month, we must ration out food between the 7 of us. Our diet is composed of rice, beans, pasta, tomato paste, TVP (textured vegetable protein), flour, cane dulce sugar, dried milk, corn flakes, oatmeal, crackers, eggs, and a weekly supply of vegetables. Vegetables are ordered

once a week, and to retrieve them we must hike through the jungle to the local stop where they are delivered. Take a look at beautiful South Caletas and North Caletas. South Caletas spans south 2.5km where sharks meet crocodiles at the river bongo. North Caletas is 2km heading north back to the main dirt road.

Our first batch of sea turtle hatchlings came up yesterday. Forty something, I think. We piled them into a bucket and walked them down to the meter where they were originally lain, saving one little guy for the walk back who wasn't fully awake yet. In the meantime, Alec went to cut down some plantains near his old hut, and while doing so, found a red boa constrictor wrapped around the bushel and brought her back to show us.

Later, we learned how to excavate a hatched nest in the onsite hatchery--cleaning out its contents. Sand in one bucket, yuck in the other. Yuck is maggots, egg shells, glop.... We wait 2-3 days after a nest is hatched before excavating its contents on the beach. Hatched eggs are counted separately from unhatched, and peaked eggs, which means that maggots have likely infiltrated the egg. Unhatched eggs are breached and the inside is evaluated for cause of malproduction. What is found inside further ranks the stage of development (blood, black deterioration, baby sea turtle, yolk, etc.). The nest is also searched for still crawls, dead hatchlings that were maybe crushed by their brothers and sisters, the malformed, the weak, the asleep.

From 7:00-11:00pm we did beach patrols (it's supposed to be ~3 hours per patrol and times vary nightly depending on the times the tide comes in); this time down the south side of the beach to look for rastros (turtle tracks). The patrols occur in complete darkness, guided by the light of the moon. The reflection of the moonlight on the sand is the best way to spot a rastro. We all carry headlamps when collecting data, but the lights must be filtered red, because sea turtles cannot see red light, and white light is a deterrent.

Our first find brought us to an olive Ridley where Sarah collected the eggs as she laid them (the sea turtle, not Sarah). This is done by waiting for the female to dig her nest and begin laying. Once a female begins to lay her eggs, she falls into a state of euphoria and at this point you may approach her and carry out your necessary tasks. Jeff recorded the data as I measured the length and width of her carapace, and the width of her rastro. I also attempted my first tag, but we took too long and she had already begun to bury her now empty nest. Jeff restrained her as she headed back to the beach while I tagged, which seemed horribly distressful. The tags are silver clips with a sharp end that punctures through the skin of their front flipper and clamps secure on the through side. Each tag has different numbers or letters that let us know how many we've tagged thus far, and what there is to know about turtles that return to the beach to lay again. I had trouble getting my

tag through, so Jeff retagged her in her frenzied state, which I am unsure about the weight of its worth. Poor lady.

Later we found 3 nests already laid with no females. Jeff taught us a technique for finding buried nest locations, that of which I will not share. We also came across one last nest with a female already burying her nest. Anytime you arrive to a nesting site early or late--say she is in search of a good patch of sand to begin digging, or say she is either burying her nest or heading back to the ocean--it is important to sit quietly in the darkness as to avoid spooking or annoying her. The other team that went North saw no turtles and had no nests.

My very first 3 hour patrol turned into a exhausting 5 hour patrol. It seems like we found a new nest every km or so, and the beach is so steep with the way the tide has been coming in. I was so wiped out by the time we returned to camp. Can you imagine carrying ~400+ eggs on your back and walking 5 km in soft sand at a 45 degree slope for 5 hours after little sleep, jet lag from Japan, and traveling across the country all morning? But our work was not yet over. The eggs we excavated still needed to be relocated into our onsite hatchery before our midnight dinner. It was tough work and an equally tough day.

The work here is nonstop. Someone must check the hatchery every hour of the day/night and if hatchlings are present it means taking them down to the beach where they were originally lain... even if it's all the way at the end of the beach several times a day.

Dinner: chickpea, mushroom, onion, carrot, and potato coconut milk curry.

Swinging on a branch that'll last

2011-11-02T01:46:00.000-04:00

"If I had to describe you--I would say you remind me of the sun. You have the brightest inner light, a warm spirit, and a contagious energy. I'm sending you tons of love, peace, and happiness for your journey."

The three year anniversary of my departure to Playa Caletas, Costa Rica is soon to arrive, and it finally feels like an appropriate time to share some of my personal experiences. For those of you unfamiliar with my story, I moved to Costa Rica for 3 months to work with a non-profit called PRETOMA, which stands for "Programa Restauración de Tortugas Marinas." PRETOMA is the most actively successful, and respected sea turtle and shark marine NGO in Costa Rica, and has partnered with many other non-profits in the collective fight of protecting these two essential umbrella species in Central America. They have been a prominent voice in their campaigns and are still an influential motivator in my life. My experiences at Playa Caletas changed the foundation of how I experience and interpret marine culture as a developing biologist, as well as created an enormous respect and understanding for the ebb and flow of nature and human culture with respect to crisis and subjectivity. My first few days spent in Costa Rica were chaotic and prompt. I want to share my first two days and two nights in CR, slowly making my way by taxi, foot, and bus across the country to the Nicoya Peninsula--to the dusty, teak village of San Francisco de Coyote.

NOVEMBER 14-16, 2008

What to say about San José? Maybe we should first begin with Costa Rica, in general. My fight to CR from Miami, FL was meant to be delayed 30 minutes because the flight attendants were coming in late from another flight at another terminal. We finally boarded at 10:00pm (we were supposed to depart at 7:50pm). I was tired; in and out of sleep. Surprised to find that every time I awoke, our plane was still sitting on the tarmac. It wasn't until after 11pm that we finally departed, arriving in Alajuela by 1:15am, Miami time (it was 11:15pm in Alajuela).

It was too late to catch a bus to San José (and after what I saw tonight, I am glad that I couldn't). I had no plan and no idea where I was going to stay that night, so I fumbled through brochures by the currency exchange desk to unsurprisingly pick the brochure that looked the most lush and green. The decision was set on Hotel Green Day Inn, even though I had no idea how far away it was from the airport or how much it would cost for me to get there.

After being mauled by taxi drivers, I selectively chose the gentleman that seemed the least intrusive. Two thousand colones later (CR currency coversion--600 colones/$1.00), which only ended up being $4.00, I found myself in a dark and quiet city in a taxi with a driver who was strongly urging me against my decision to stay at my fantasy green hotel. We arrived on a deserted street in front of a unlit abode. The taxi driver had instilled a bit of concern, advising me to stay in the car as he offered to knock on the gate for me. I was lucky. One room left in a two room occupancy, but everything seemed perfect. I had one queen bed, one tv tray, one table with tv, one empty, free-standing closet (see?). My door opened into the patio courtyard (the floor tiles were beautiful) that was open to the sky. The property was shaped like a horseshoe and walled-in with barbwire. I was to cross through the courtyard to use the bathroom and shower, which the following morning introduced the reality that the likelihood of no more hot showers would be had until I returned back to Okayama, Japan in January.

The next morning I met the couple who owned and lived at the property, their son, and 3 Malteses. They gracefully made me a lactose-free breakfast, and called the bus station for me to find what stop I needed to be at to catch the bus to San José. I met Sofia, a Canadian whose journey was just ending in a few hours as we decided to waste time in town before flight out and bus in, respectively. The groceries at the supermarket seemed poor and Sofia advised me not to try the mystery meat at the McDonalds. I settled on cereal, saltines, and gumdrops from the supermarket, a stroll through the catholic churchyard, and the purchase of a few tagua nut souvenirs. Before leaving, the couple equipped me with directions to the bus station and a map of downtown San José. Several blocks later I found myself confused and unsure, crammed on a crowded bus with my two heavy duffle bags, next to some unenthusiastic gentleman that I could already tell hated me. I had no idea if I was on the right bus, how long I'd be on there, or when I'd know to get off... or even how much it cost. It feels like I've been a nervous wreck ever since I left Osaka, Japan yesterday... or was it the day before? I don't remember.

Thirty tense minutes later, the bus stops and everyone that did not get off at the stops for the mall, the airport, the supermarkets depart. I am confused and stay seated. An Asian girl is up front speaking Spanish to the bus driver, and I become even more confused hearing the foreign language rolling from her tongue. After about five minutes, I find that this is the last stop. The Asian girl translates that "it's 640 colones," which I pay and promptly leave feeling belittled by my inability to remember how to say "hundred" in Spanish (by the way, it's cien and six hundred is siescientos, but these Spanish accents are foreign to me. This is all foreign).

Where to go? The map! Six blocks away and I think I've found the bus station I am standing outside. I see a park, a church. Otra parque. Iglesia. Panadería. Zapatería... and finally, Hotel la Posada de Don Tobías. The hotel was supposedly located above a bus station I need the following

morning at 6am (thank god!), and the room is $20. I don't care, though I suddenly doubt I can live off $200 for my three month stay. This place seems ok, but there are a lot of metal gates. Gates into the hotel, gates into the office, even a caged device around the tv in my room. There is a man hacking next door that sounds like death. Internet, email, and two hours until darkness falls.

The gentleman at the desk advises me not to be out after dark, but I am starving and I take my chances in the city to find food. To my surprise, there are scarcely any food stores in this part of the city. I saw one guy eating ice cream, two fruit vendors, and one bread shop. There are people everywhere; shoulder-to-shoulder. I also ran into a guy smoking crack on the street, bums passed out on the sidewalks, druggies standing in a dope line, and guards with semi-automatics on the rooftops of electronic stores. I also came across two sets of police breaking up trouble a block from my hotel. My impression here so far is that San José seems quite dirty, scary, and poor. And I have been advised not to drink the water as, apparently parasites are guaranteed. I drank the water yesterday and have not experienced complications as of yet, which I can only assume is due to all the malicious bacteria already floating around in my belly. But I am so relieved that I still have saltines and gumdrops. I've been saving my protein bars for the six hour trek across the country tomorrow.

It's just started raining and the roof is tin. The pitter patter is nice. The rainy season is dying out and should be over in December. I do not think that it is extremely warm here--only when lugging luggage six blocks through crowded streets. I do hope that I do not get cold out there. I don't have much.

November 17, 2011--we'll pick up where we left off...

Ragnar Rally

2011-10-06T15:18:00.000-04:00

PICTURE THIS: A 199 mile running event that will push you and 11 pals as far south as you can go in the continental U.S. Starting in Miami and finishing in Key West this relay offers runners a unique opportunity to run, near the ocean side, and across the southern end of the state of Florida. Along the way you will run across multiple bridges including the Seven Mile Bridge hopping from Key to Key, passing through popular destinations such as Key Largo, Islamorada, Marathon Key and Big Pine Key. The race (and your stamina) will wrap up in the tropics of the southern most city in the continental U.S.A., Key West. Clear your calendars for this one, this is a running race you don’t want to miss!

This isn’t your average 10K or half marathon, this is Ragnar! To learn more about running overnight relays read the What is Ragnar? page.

What you will need to have a good Ragnar

12 Runners (6 runners for an Ultra team)
2 vans
An average team pace around 11 minute miles (we have tools to help with this)
The ability to provide three volunteers if you live within 100 miles of the race.

Learn More about volunteer requirements.

Race Director Contact

We have an Awesome Race Director for each of our races. Hit'em up if you have any questions:
Carrie Meng
Florida Keys Race Director
carrie@ragnarrelay.com

wedsite: http://www.ragnarrelay.com/race/floridakeys

Photog

2011-09-22T16:33:00.000-04:00

A beautifully sunny day with two of my favorites at Vizcaya Museum and Gardens located in North Coconut Grove, FL - http://www.vizcayamuseum.org/ (prepare for symmetry overload)

Also, catch up on latest updates from:

"you and I so far away"

2011-09-20T14:18:00.000-04:00

This doesn't actually have a name. I "named" it after another Citizen Cope song called, "Off the Ground." I was in a pizza parlour waiting at the counter for my enormous slice of green pepper, mushroom, and pineapple pizza when an altercation between two grown and enormously scary men started threatening to kill each other on either side of me. I patiently waited for my slice of pizza to come out of the stone oven. The altercation was over an accidental (or unaccidental) bump of the shoulder as one guy passed the other at the counter. I laughed inside. It was funny. Until the guy threatened to blow his head off, left and came back with his hand in his pocket. I was in the middle. I was scared. I'd typically tell these gentleman to "shut the fuck up and quit ruining everyone else's peaceful, hungover afternoon. Love a brother, goddamit." But I wasn't going to say shit. I had an enormous slice of pizza to eat, a friend outside to finish the half I didn't eat, a beer or two across the street, a bike locked to a lamppost, and an apartment full of friends to come home to for an amazing Labor Day dinner.

Casting negative energy out; you're asking for it
Self righteous bouts masking the way you wish the world would work it out
in fairness and in pride, for others scared at countertops between Guidos
hashing it out over pizza or personal space--no matter
beggars on the street lie to deter facing blame
and shame is left in the hearts that care, but shake their head for the hopeless
the chase to fix the world through anger isn't the route to saving humanity
in an insane-manmade calamity of manufactured waste and poison
the general population has chosen to consume over and over again
"I'll change things tomorrow." i.e. next year, I mean, never.
and the cynically jaded escape, floating close to shore in the sea
just incase people get their shit together and realize just how much they need
more people like of us.

I've realized I can't fix everyone, but I've gotten a lot of people to listen. Maybe someday I will share some of these stories with you. Like the homeless woman that had just gotten out of prison begging for money who I told had to change everything she knew, or the conversation I had with a gentleman about the freedom to choose whatever we wanted out of life. I don't have any regrets in life. I discuss life only with people that want to state their peace. A lot of people that you see out there on the streets just want someone to talk to; they just want to justify or solidify that what they are doing is right. It's not my place to tell them that it is or isn't... and I don't. But if they tell me they want things to be different then it's only fair to proclaim change.

About sums it up

2011-09-12T00:08:00.003-04:00

The last few weeks have been dynamic, to say the least, and I can probably sum it up in a paragraph of "person, place, things." It goes a little something like this:

Sand in my car, Fire Rock & Longboard, Delirium Nocturnum at the PRL, organic chemistry, 28 beautiful years, Greek coffee, cycling, Friday night sand volleyball, Sunday Fundays, this website, giant slices of pizza, music, dive shop discounts, submarine sighting, late night convenies, Siam Oishi, wishful photography, my fantastic black bean and corn salsa, unmotivational study sessions, running pain (naproxen and glucosamine chondroitin), moderately unprovoked kick-boxing bruises, hot tea, gear talk, comical relief, cigarettes, Sunday dinners with neighbors, mischief on the boardwalk, epic Birthday weekends, xbox co-op, Australia talk, Incubus tickets, Reef sandals, water like glass, motorcycle rides to pool parties and wrinkly yacht gatherings, roman candles off balconies, rediscovered love for sitting on the floor, sleeplessness, opportunities turned down, like a boss, battle wounds, wine out of tiny cups, sweet potatoes and steamed salmon, apple hookah, animal-loving, generous and genuine friends, care packages from home

The ever-living Ghost

2011-07-31T00:15:00.004-04:00

One of my favorite things to do between 10 and 11pm is to ride. Wined or sober I do this only a couple times a month, but it is always the most sensational. This sounds so cliche, but I promise you, it is not. Tearing through the streets as fast as you can. Blinking LED. Red light at your back. Ever since I got my bicycle it has been no holds barred. I ride multiple times per week during the day to the beach, but this is different. Twenty miles running and more riding; I can't sit still... and I don't want to. But when you ride at night, it's like you are in a different dimension. Favorite album blaring and you can't even remember what set you off to ride. Sitting on the porch or walking back from the grocery, sack packed full of granola bars, cereal, soda and wine. It just hits you in the moment that you have to ride. You have to, and you do. Down Three Islands, sharp on Atlantic, sharp on Diplomat. 12th, the lake, random turns, down alleys, over the bridge and into sand you walk. Into the water. Wishing you had remembered your better half--your bikini bottoms. But next time you will remember, maybe, and you'll swim in the warm water's tide under the stars and forget about and remember everything all at the same time. Miami to your right. Ft. Lauderdale to your left. You rejoice and you wish that there was someone equally as loving as you to feel it... and you think that there probably is, but for now, you keep it all to yourself. Yourself.

Goodnight July.

Love like a sunset

2011-07-09T03:31:00.005-04:00

Oh, I am getting old. People tell me all the time. Not that I am getting old, but that they are getting old, feel old, move old. I feel pretty fabulous at my almost 28 year mark. I am fabulous. And I remind myself that these people just don't see and appreciate life the way life is meant to be appreciated. I ride. I run. I swim and move and adapt to my surroundings. It is a blessing to have the ability to move in a body that allows such an expression. I'd never ask for anything else, otherwise. One of my major goals in life is to move and keep moving, whatever that means.

I recently told a friend about my plans to move again. To land an internship (crossing fingers) in Perth, Australia in Shark Bay with one of the labs at my university and work for 8 months molding my future into a golden sphere of hopeful goodness. I don't know my exact plans, but she said, "I hope that Australia is something you're choosing for yourself and not to try to dissolve with distance the pain caused by love." I love her. And she is exactly right in so many regards, but life is not about that kind of love, I feel. It's about the love that is within ourselves and my love tells me to push, and keep pushing forward. And since I have nothing else to hold me back, I will continue to pursue and pursue well. For life is many things and many molded interpretations, but for me it is success in a form that holds personal interpretation in the form of desire and personal drive. Something tells me that my time is soon to know. To rest down pure on a dusty path with an inviting porch on a dusty trail. A cup of tea and a faithful mutt in or underneath my hammock incased in a life with greatness. Greatness. My life is already so great.

Bahama Breeze

2011-06-21T00:03:00.014-04:00

Greetings coming to you from the blue waters of The Bahamas. I've settled on Abaco Island for the past week and half, assisting in grad research for various projects including natural and artificial reefs, lionfish, ecological boundaries, and cassiopeia jellyfish. I am, once again humbled to be in such a place working alongside like-minded people and developing a new sense of being and existence. The ocean laps soothingly outside our steps and the breeze blows calmly through all openness that makes up our Abaco House. It is a privilege and an honor to be gaining such an experience, as I have said many times before.

Within the course of the weeks to come, projects will end and new ones will begin. The grad project that I am currently assisting with will be in its final stages, which involves the movement of lionfish amongst a handful of the thirty artificial and natural reef systems being monitored. The project has included lots of water time, initially pairing and categorizing each system by location, size, rigosity, depth, and neighboring reef proximity. The second stage of the project included reef fish identification, as the third stage has included capturing and relocating a specific number of lionfish (twenty, I believe) to reefs found not to currently harbor lionfish. Most of the project is done through freedive, but a fraction has been accomplished using scuba.

It's been nice to be back in the field, especially working on one of the most rigorous and laborious of the projects occurring here in Abaco. Though last week I tagged along on a different project involving cassiopeia jellyfish in the morning, while spending the afternoon snorkeling in Snake Cay to locate an underwater data transmitter, and to explore. Wednesday I will experience yet a different kind of project, and spend the rest of the afternoon checking out Bahamian blue holes.

The experience so far has been great and I am taking full advantage of picking the brains' of my fellow companions. I am also learning that my environmental principles have developed and changed with the times, and my conservationist theories and respect for a harmonious nature has only become stronger. Some of these projects include killing marine specimens in the name of science, and I suppose I am still tinkering with the idea of when I agree with these practices and when I do not. For example, one of the projects involves collecting cassiopeia jellyfish and dissecting their insides to analyze a symbiotic golden algae that can gage the healthy levels of nutrients available from the ecosystems collected. The species isn't threatened and jellyfish (in general) are sometimes monikered "cockroaches of the sea" for their nuisance, but they are an essential component in the chain of life, as are all elements in nature.

As for the main project I am assisting with, lionfish are collected from reefs and moved to new locations to observe their mobility. When the project is said and done, these lionfish will be captured again and killed at the beckon of biologist throughout the world based on their explosive invasiveness. The difficulties I am discovering is what is essential and necessary for the overall health of the environment, and I have determined that the analysis of a plentiful invertebrate species, where the killing of such species gains helpful insight on the health of an ecosystem can and will enhance our knowledge of what we know and learn about these species and their environments, but that mass killings on the basis of deterring a problem species we not only created, but cannot fix I find to be a little repulsive. And so, I often find myself in a continuous battle on whether I should even be consuming fish at this stage in my life. But these principles will only become more clear with more experience in the field, and a better understanding of what it is that I wish to accomplish in this line of work. But I will say that as of today, I have mentally prepared myself for my next future adventures and will be in the works of setting these ideas into motion in the very near future. Plans are already in the works and this year and the following will be spent on a clear path in hopes of leading me onto my next journey: The Outback. Cross your fingers.

"love like a sunset"

Rift

2011-06-05T23:21:00.001-04:00

Something you probably don't know about me: I used to be fearful of the deep blue sea. I used to visualize myself in those underwater capsules, mesmerized by the deep's bioluminescence--jellyfish, giant squid, anglers. I wanted to see it all in an underwater silent dance in blackness so unpenetrable and unseen. I wanted to be that girl. Can you believe I am going to be that girl?

I have waited a long time for this, but I never anticipated the pressure from the earth as the sky and the water lay heavy on soul. I never anticipated it's magnitude and it's greatness. Not this way. Last week I began my first sessions of PADI scuba certification. As of this past Friday, I am finally a certified PADI scuba diver.

Saturday I had a rough time equalizing my sinuses. But once on the bottom, I was in a pressure box of heaven. Nurse sharks, stingray, juvenile stripped angels, cobias. Breathing underwater is much different and I thought my athleticism would overpower the group, but there were moments when sitting still that I really felt the reality of the world sinking down on top of us. I believe that the most successful divers are the ones that can separate this thought and the beauty that glides in front of mask. But after my forth dive, I was a pro.

The feeling was glorious. I was free. Seventy-two feet down petting stingray and looking into sunken shipwrecks is serene. Danny caught a slipper lobster and Wendy got over her fear of rough seas (mostly). After it was all said and done, we floated on top of the water in the middle of the ocean waiting for the dive boat to pick us up, and I looked down below and realized, there is no reason to be afraid. This is my profession; my heart. And I'm never leaving this place.

Explosions in the Sky

2011-05-28T19:14:00.001-04:00

Belgium, May 24, 2011 - mystical live performance

AB Sessions

set list:

last known surroundings
yasmin the light
catastrophe and the cure
only moment
postcard from 1952
the birth and death of the day,
your hand in mine,
let me back in,
the moon is down

I love a broad margin to my life

2011-05-24T08:55:00.006-04:00

page 26

I'm standing on top of a hill;
I can see everywhichway--
the long way that I came, and the few
places I have yet to go. Treat
my whole life as formally a day.
I used to be able, in hours, to relive,
to refeel my life from its baby beginnings
all the way to the present. 3 times
I slipped into lives before this one.
I have been a man in China, and a woman
in China, and a woman in the Wild West.
(My college roommate called; she'd met
Earll and me in Atlantis, but I don't
remember that.) I've been married
to Earll for 3 lifetimes, counting
this one. From time to time, we lose each other,
but can't divorce until we get it right.
Love, that is. Get love right. Get
marriage right. Earll won't believe
in reincarnation, and makes fun of it.
The Dalai Lama in How to Expand Love
says to "try possibility that past
and future rebirth over a continuum
of lives may take place." We have forever.
Find me, love me, again.
I find you, I love you, again.
I've tried but could not see
my next life. All was immense black
space, no stars. After a while,
no more trying to progress, I returned--
was returned--to an ordinary scene that happened
yesterday, and every sunny day: Earll and I
are having a glass of wine with supper--bruschetta
from our own tomatoes and basil--under the trellis
of bougainvillea, periwinkly clematis,
and roses. Shadows and sunlight are moving at Indian
summer's pace. The Big Fire burned
the grove of Monterey pines. We planted
purple rain birches, Australian tea
trees, dogwood, the elm, locust, catalpa,
3 redwoods from seed, 4 pepper
willows, and 7 kinds of fruit trees.
The katsura and the yucca are volunteers.
That Texas privet and the bamboo, survivors. Here,
I feel as I felt in Hawai'i, as I felt in Eden.
A joy in place. Adam and Eve were never
thrown out; they grew old in the garden.
They returned after travels. So, I,
like the 14th Dalai Lama, have arrived
at my last incarnation? I don't feel a good
enough person to be allowed off the wheel.
I am guilty for leaving my mother. For leaving
many mothers--nations, my race, the ghetto.
For enjoying unconsciousness and dreams, wanting
sleep like thirst for water. I left MaMa
for Berkeley, the 17 years in Hawai'i.
Couldn't come home winter and spring breaks,
nor summers. She asked, "How can I bear
your leaving?" No, I'm not translating right.
"Can I seh doc your leaving?" Seh doc
tells the pain of losing something valuable.
How can she afford my leaving?
Seh doc sounds like can write.
Sounds almost like my father's name.
Father who left her behind in China for 15
years. I too left her.
"Lucky," she bade and blessed, in English. "Lucky."
She and Father stood at the gate, left for Viet Nam.
Her eyes were large and all-holding.
From the demimonde, Colette wrote, lying
to her mother, All's well, I'm happy.
Our only son did not leave us;
we left him in Hawai'i.
Generations. Karma. Ah Goong
walked my mother to the end of Tail End
Village. Whenever she looked back, he was still
standing there weeping and looking after her.

LEAVING HOME

I'll watch over Wittman Ah Sing
go through the leaving of his wife. A practicing artist
herself, Taña understands the wanter
of freedom. Let him go. If they stay put,
husband and wife lose each other anyway,
artist and artist dreaming up separate
existences. Go on roads through country you define
as you go. Wend through taboo mazes.
"But, Wittman," says Taña, "til death us do part."
(Say those words, and you vow once again.)
"No, Taña, not death, only away awhile."
Married so long, every word and moment is
thick with strata and fathoms and echoes.
35 years ago, they climbed
the Filbert Steps, walked in and out
of garden gates, pretended this house
and that house were home. They'd wed atop
Coit Tower. Look! Where it comes again.
Our wedding tower lifts out of the fog
and the forest edge of the City. "I need
to get to China, and I have to go
without helpmeet. I've been married to you
so long, my world is you. You
see a thing. I see it. The friends you
like, I like. The friends you can't
stand, I can't stand. My
perception is wedded to you perception.
You have artist's eyes. I'd wind up
seeing the China you see. I want
to see for myself my own China."
Taña says, "So you don't want to be
with me, and we become old, old
lovers and old artists together. You,
my old lover. I love you, old lover."
Wittman feels a rush that is Taña's benevolence
for him suffuse him. He has to try harder
to leave her. "I love you, Taña. Thank you,
my wife, for our lifetime,
and our past lifetimes. We don't
have to get divorce papers. We quit
being householders is all. The chi
connecting us will stretch infinitely."
On such agreement, the long-married can part.
His birthday morning continues fair. The Bay
is busy with sailboats, and the ocean outside
the Garden Gate calmly opens forever.
All seems well, as though Water Margin
protected us. I have a soul, and it expands large...

Bad Sheen

2011-05-13T14:05:00.003-04:00

May 12, 2011 - Oil Sheen Near Former Deepwater Horizon Site

MARCH 2011, a new oil sheen was discovered in the Gulf of Mexico that covered over 100 miles of open water while washing ashore and causing 30 miles of shoreline impact. This spill was caused by a Houston-based company, Anglo Suisse, which only claimed responsibility for the spill and clean up after they were caught by independent pilots and fishermen.

Apparently, there are a number of damaged and partially abandoned oil rigs in the Gulf of Mexico that have been leaking, unchecked for years, and these companies are not fessing up unless caught. As of today, a new 20-mile oil sheen has been spotted near the former Deepwater Horizon oil spill site, just a few miles away from the old Ocean Saratoga oil rig devastated by Hurricane Ivan in 2004. A year ago, it was discovered that the rig was leaking 14 gallons of oil per day. Now, it is leaking at a much steeper rate of 251 barrels of oil per day.

Think about these statistics, "The total area of this slick is about 40 square kilometers. Assuming a minimum thickness of 1 micron (1/1000th of a millimeter) this indicates a total volume of 10,560 gallons of oil. At 14 gallons per day it would take 2 years to leak that much oil. But a micron-thick slick can survive at sea for no more than a couple of days at most before it dissipates." - John Amos, SkyTruth

The owner of the leaking oil rig, Taylor Energy, was and still is 100% responsible for the plugging of the former Ocean Saratoga oil rig. The scary thing is, is that the company is actually responsible for plugging 26 other leaking sites. Twenty-six sites that Taylor Energy has yet to make even measurable ground on.

My hope is that these events are beginning to unveil the irresponsibility of oil corporations and the dangers of drilling. Not just their lack of respect towards the ocean and the "safe" product that they provide to the US and the world, but the clear knowledge that drilling for oil is not safe and absolutely not harmless. The risks largely outweigh the means when accidents occur on a major catastrophic scale causing tremendously serious implications on the health of human and marine food supplies, the health of marine vegetation and animals, and serious implications on the health of the people that surround these sites. A 100-mile oil sheen affects a tremendous amount of ocean life. Can you put 100 miles into perspective?

A month ago I wrote a brief update and remembrance of the Deepwater Horizon oil spill, which occurred a little more than a year ago on April 20, 2010. I would like to include that here:

A year ago today, the largest oil spill tragedy occured in the Gulf of Mexico. The Deepwater Horizon oil rig explosion and spill spewed over 206,000,000 gallons (779,037 cubic meters) of oil into the Gulf, running rampant into our waters until September 2010. The tragedy thoughtlessly took 11 precious lives and is still strangling the livelihood of the communities and marine life to this day. Just because you haven't heard about it in the news recently, does not mean that you should forget, nor that the travesty does not still plague the Gulf.

Workers of the oil spill and families that rely on the Gulf are dangerously ill as a result. Many have suffered memory loss, sever respiratory illness, cancer, external organ degradation, mental disorders, suicide, and death. When I left Ohio in June of last year to come help with the cleanup, I never could have imagined such a poorly managed multibillion dollar industry hiding its faults and greed to keep your business. These companies tarnish our planet and put your health in jeopardy every single day with little remorse. BP is not the only corporation poisoning its consumers. Thankfully, Mother Earth hasn't given up on us just yet.

This Friday is Earth Day. Thank Mother Earth for putting up with our abuse and still giving us a place to stand. For even this too, is a temporary thing in the path of our current wake. Take a stance; be thoughtful to all we have left, finite and not so finite. Make up for those who are careless and know that your actions are the saving graces to us all. One.

Again, a reminder that drilling for oil causes tremendous devastation to the environment and serious health implications. Not to mention that the big five oil corporations (BP, Chevron, ConocoPhillips, ExxonMobil, and Shell) are banking big time. Over the past decade they have received $1 trillions dollars in profits. Exxon's profits are up 69% from 2010. Shell's profits are up by 30%. This is ontop of $4 billion per year government-funded tax credits and subsidies. Don't like what you're hearing? You can start here by signing a petition to end taxpayer-funded subsidies for big oil. Why should your money go towards these monopolizing giants who have clearly shown a lack of respect for the health of our oceans and the health of their consumers, while funding for protecting air and water quality is cut.

"The good news is that in the last few weeks, pressure has been mounting on the federal government to do something about this. President Obama is pushing to end tax credits and subsidies for Big Oil. Sen. Harry Reid (D-Nev.) has pledged to bring this issue to vote shortly."

Please stay tuned for future information on the 20-mile oil sheen that was recently discovered in the Gulf of Mexico and the progress of the oil subsidies issue being brought to Congress by Nevada Democratic Senator, Harry Reid, and President Obama.

"End Taxpayer-Funded Subsidies For Big Oil." Center for Biological Diversity. http://action.biologicaldiversity.org/p/dia/action/public/?action_KEY=6761
Parker, Judson. "New oil slick appears in Gulf of Mexico near site of former Deepwater Horizon." Tallahassee Environmental News Examiner. 12 May 201. http://www.examiner.com/environmental-news-in-tallahassee/new-oil-slick-appears-gulf-of-mexico-near-site-of-former-deepwater-horizon

Brothers and Sisters

2011-05-02T18:30:00.002-04:00

"Man must evolve for all human conflict a method which rejects revenge, aggression and retaliation. The foundation of such a method is love."

Go with what you know

2011-04-30T12:56:00.008-04:00

(**update on the following review has been published. Click here to view Mizuno Wave Creation 12 review update. Initial review can be found below.)

I am not a sucker. I am aware that it has only been 5 days since my last post about the high price of running shoes/gear. You should first understand that I think about the comfort of my feet and muscles every time I step onto the pavement. Every mile, curb, uneven surface, and twinge in my knees and calves reminds me of the importance of owning a quality running shoe. When it comes right down to it, Mizuno may not make the best running shoe for you, but someone who runs many miles on a consistent basis can tell you Mizuno really is the best in terms of withstanding all our brutal force without much complaint. The second thing that you should understand, in my defense, is that I actually have a very logical plan for compensating the price of these shoes. For starters, I used a coupon and have an added advantage of being able to run on the shoe for 15 days before I decide if I want to keep them. If I like them, then I will later buy the same model at a discounted price once the hype dies down.

Tonight was the first night testing out the new Mizuno Wave Creation 12 (MWC12), and without no short supply of excitement. After an evening storm cleared up the skies for the setting sun, I was appointed the duty of stopping a couple from breaking into cars and turning them into security. Fun times. Needless to say a cautionary running detour home was in order, which I am hoping is temporary as Bonnie and Clyde mosey on down to the next shopping center. Ah yes, the review...

Mizuno Wave Creation 12 Review

Mizuno Wave Creation 12

The first noticeable difference on the MWC12 can be found at the toe of the shoe. The tip curves upward slightly, extended the tread of the shoe for a more extending heel-to-toe stride. It is an interesting alteration on the shoe and I assume that it maybe allows for a smoother ride and maintenance of momentum. My personal issue with this new alteration is that there isn't much support at this portion of the shoe and it makes the initial push-off slightly awkward. Towards the end of my run, this was no longer noticeable.

The next noticeable difference is the slight shift of the arch support towards the rear of the shoe. I am unsure why this essential comfort aspect of the shoe has been tampered with, as I found the Wave Creation 10 and 11 extremely comfortable for my arches. Needless to say, I was slightly disappointed when I first tried them on based on this factor alone. I am curious to see if there are any other complaints about this change. It is no doubt that this was done to harmonize with the plastic support strip the Wave Creations are known for that sits directly under the arch of the shoe. This piece I personally like because it enhances support of your stride and gives great stability, especially for heavy impact runners. I am not a particularly heavy runner, but prefer a shoe with a more sturdy and neutral base for some existing knee issues.

As previous versions, the MWC12 still comes complete with the heel design that sets it apart from other models. Cut out pieces in the backs of the shoe create a more cushioned and springier step, but this year Mizunos seem to ride a little harder than before. The shoes themselves feel a little lighter than the 11, and perhaps a cut on cushioning was Mizuno's way of cutting weight.

We'll see how this progresses as I break them in before May 1. Stay tuned.

**Review Update

Thursday evening I had about enough of the Mizuno Wave Creation 12. By the end of the two week trial period I ran a total of ~30 miles (10 miles shy due to shoe-inflicted injury) before parting ways. The MWC12 were not the right shoe for me this time around, as the shoes unfortunately flared up an old injury, causing stress in the calves and bizarre toe cramps. The shoes also caused excessive rubbing on heels.

My biggest complaint stems from two facets of the shoe. The heel portion of the shoe has either been lengthened upward, as it is rubbing new and higher areas on the heel. This may be part of the problem, but the foot also sits lower in the shoe due to less padding in the insole. After such intense discomfort, I decided to switch out the new MWC12 insoles with the insoles from my MWC11. The difference in padding was clear--the insole for the MWC12 was thin and cheap feeling, as the insoles for my old MWC11 was cushiony and flexible. The other beef I have with this shoe is the entire ball design of the shoe (front portion of the shoe) has no support. On push-off, all impact is absorbed by the muscles. There was not enough support or snugness around this area to create unity. Today, after two days off and icings, my leg muscles are rather sore and stressed in all areas. I woke up rather stiff and in need of an atypical stretch.

Mizuno makes a wonderful shoe, as I have since moved on to a different model for test. Still the best long distance, hardy running shoe on the market, I will continue to be a Mizuno customer. My disappointment in the Wave Creation 12 is unclear at this point, as I am not sure if it is in the design alteration that has no longer made it a good model for myself, or if Mizuno really did drop the ball. The buzz I am hearing is that the Wave Creations are really best for heavier runners, as the support of the shoe over the years has only become more and more firm. For the light, under-pronating runners that desire a cushioned bounce in their stride, I conclude by saying that I would not recommend this shoe. Overall rating: 5 out of 10

Gear companies are not created equal

2011-04-13T21:17:00.004-04:00

But I don't wanna pay $140 for running shoes!
Who the $%*@ wants to pay $300 a year for two pairs of shoes?
The athletic shoe companies are reaming their most reliable customers!
Is this the price I have to pay for having an athletic hobby?

This is me throwing a tantrum. I am tired of watching the price of gear increase, and to what means? It cost pennies to construct a pair of shoes, plus a little more for the engineers, but come on. I am not stupid. You're gear is not worth a 50% inflation just because people are suddenly deciding to get off their ass and exercise (good for you, by the way).

It's been 5 months since my last purchase and I am already at mile 328. There isn't much left in'em as I have already begun to experience the breakdown/compression in the structure of shoes. Not because they are poorly designed shoes. In fact, they are fantastic shoes. My favorite thus far. I even bought two pairs of the same model last year because I loved them so much. But it would be wonderful if I could get twice the mileage to compensate for the 50% price hike. Gear companies, listen up. We don't want to pay a $%*@ton of money on gear that we use a lot... who does? Give us a break! We know you raised prices to convince new runners into the game that expensive shoes are made with better technology. But we've been running a long time. We are not naive.

A few weeks ago I started running periodically with a running group of older men all between the ages of 40-70. There is one guy in particular that I run with that has to be in his 70s. On average, he runs 80 miles a week, and most of the guys run a 5 minute mile on a great day. It is absolutely outstanding to experience such vigor. Many of these men are retired, single and carefree; maybe even a little off their rocker. But they are the funniest group of old guys I know and they could whoop me in a distance race any day of the week. I have great respect for them. Dedicated to their cause. One guy is back running a week after having splints put in. Another guy had a heart attack and was advised to not run until further notice. He was back out that same week against doctors orders. Do you see what I mean about crazy? But they have secrets they have let me in on like a little magic pill called glucosamine chondroitin (joint lubricant, and cartilage rebuilding), and others I will keep to myself. Their spirit is alive and well, and their mileage is proof of this. But, damn... can you imagine how much they spend on shoes? I shutter to think.

Completely Random

2011-04-02T03:25:00.007-04:00

I realized today that I can only work 3 seasons of the year. This means that summers would be taken off so that I could avoid wearing clothes in the heat and could happily spend every day in my most favorite ways; in the water, sand, on the pavement, and through lens. I've also realized that I would never be able to spend everyday at the beach for any prolonged period of time, but 3 months is nice with the break up from a 3 week job at FIU, opportunities for field work/volunteering in the Bahamas, and the two weeks before school starts where I realize summer flew by despite the occasional antsy day where I wanted to be doing certain kinds of work rather than nothing at all in the heat. There is definitely a balance to everything. I also realized that--despite my enjoyment with the time I spend alone doing school work, listening to music, running and sitting on benches and cozy little tables under trees--I very much need 1-2 nights a week where I can drink whatever I want in whatever quantity and spend the later part of the evening/early morning completely by myself underheadphones, quietly laughing at the ways I lip-sink to certain songs, visually recapping the evening with the different characters met, and how retarded I act sometimes, before my body insists on going to bed and there was plenty that happened in the day to compensate for the next few hours of sinking into fluff. I am 27. I am not an adult. And I am completely fine doing whatever I want, whenever I want to...

Hello April.

Now I am going to post this and enjoy tomorrow for what it is :)

Kill Team

2011-03-28T20:35:00.006-04:00

3rd Bravo Company United States Marines--reason number 1,593,589,348 why we need to pull out of Afghanistan (and all of these other locations).

Once I digress about my interpretation of the US military and all world organizations trained in the art of killing, below you will find a link to an article from this week's Rolling Stones about a group of men from the 3rd Bravo Company of the United States Marines, deployed in Afghanistan and conjured up a scheme to kill innocent Afghan civilians for pleasure on a continuous basis. This is not the only time this has happened.

I am not a fan of the military. There have been maybe two moments in my life where I took pride in certain soldiers. My grandfather on my mother's side from the USAF (formed as a separate branch of the military on September 18, 1947 under the National Security Act of 1947), and my grandfather on my father's side from the US Armed Forces. One fought in combat, and displayed his WWII rifles in a dust case in the basement. The nobility of honoring and respecting your country was admirable, but the brainwashing of soldiers to hunt humans like prey and the psychological training to kill, is not.

I understand it, even more than I did, after knowing well a retired Marine highly trained in the art of killing. He showed me how he learned to kill with knives, guns, and even his own hands. He felt skilled and prepared. Sometimes, I think he even thought that hurting and killing people was funny. This is what the US military teaches our young men and women to do onto others. As military instructors publicly embarrass cadets on a continual basis in front of their peers. They encourage homosexual behavior, starve them, degrade them, deprive them of sleep, give them silly little tasks to break their souls, and tell them that if they can't cut it they are faggots. There was even a cadet that died in his sleep from the hazing from his superiors.

The purpose of said hazing is a psychological mind game meant to teach cadets to rely on each other in difficult situations. The cadets became reliant on each other to get through the day. They conjured up schemes to steal crackers from the chow hall, mastered tasks through repetition, and yearned to receive praise and recognition from their instructors as they properly initiated a successful "direct kill" with live ammunition. One taught killing maneuver was to grab a person from behind, blocking the trachea and oxygen to the brain in a death hold that killed in under 8 seconds. They practiced on each other and were told to "let go at 6 seconds, just to be safe."

Even though I am not a fan of war and all of the death and destruction that comes with, I do find human behavior fascinating. But my fascination with movements of a killing force stops rigid long before the line of nationalism or personal agenda. If history has taught us anything, it is that humans and weapons do not mix, and that violence easily flows in the veins of fanatics.

With that, I will leave you to Rolling Stones latest publication, "The Kill Team" and allow you to make your own interpretations on hate, war, murder/pleasure killings, organized militaries, foreign involvement, etc., etc.

Sunday

2011-03-27T22:35:00.013-04:00

This is definitely the most amazing thing this week.

Life's a Beach

2011-03-18T00:49:00.012-04:00

The life of a beach-goer is an interesting and unique fellowship had by all that love the sun, the ocean, and the sand. There are, of course, different kinds of beach-goers. There are ones that show up with umbrellas and chairs, others with coolers full of beer and Italian water, or plastic baggies full of fruit and cheese. There are the ones that show up in big floppy hats, equally large sunglasses and frilly little wraps. The ones with frisbees and footballs, cameras, backpacks, boogie boards, and kites. The European men with tiny white hotel towels, speedos to match and cigarettes. Some of my favorites are these people:

The ones that bring everything they need to set up camp in a tight-knit circle of umbrella love everyday, all day long. You can never miss them. The most loyal of all beach-goers.

Typically, when I make my way to the beach it remains as uncomplicated as possible. Mismatched bikini-check, sunscreen-check, towel-check; camera, wallet, phone, music--if I remember-check; snorkel and mask-check. And then I remember I have to put on clothes, wear shoes, and should probably grab some water.

This week is Spring Break and my visiting best friend has been gone since Tuesday. I am already antsy with how to fill my day and decided to walk 6 miles to a further beach up North because I am sick of paying for parking when I choose to drive there, and my "hop-skip and jump" of a beach wasn't up my alley. My mission: photos before high sun, shells, and raspberry mango sorbet...

Da Bomb

2011-03-17T23:09:00.000-04:00

Remember the TOMS project I was telling you about? Last Friday my individually specialized TOMS arrived and ever since I have been wearing the 'ish out of them.

The TOMS that I choose, cordones in a rustic Kenyan strip fabric, are equipped with specially designed base padding that is form fitting to the user (i.e. me). I had never owned a pair of cordones before and have no prior experience as to how the shoe fits, but from my understanding, the soles of each TOMS are practically identical regardless of the style. In comparison to my vegan classics, thus far there is a subtle difference in the padding afoot, though more wear time needs to be had for further and more in-depth analysis.

In the meantime, if you are still interested in experiencing you're own specially designed and form fitting pair of TOMS, please refer to my original post with all of the project details and contact information. You can find this post here. There are certain guidelines for the project, all of which can be found at the above link. Stay tuned for further review and updated information of this continuing project.

Crude Intentions

2011-02-24T07:49:00.004-05:00

Tell me if this sounds familiar: corporate giant buys way into small community/unprotected area; disseminates its practices onto powerless land and people; cuts corners, costs, and ignores/lacks regulation; neglects environmental practices, while continuously spreading thick layers of inhumane judgements that poison the living, breathing colonies they have infringed upon. They are liars, cheaters, and murders. And most of the time, no one can do anything about it. I am so sick of these people thinking they can do anything they choose in the name of profit; so sick of the money, the corruption, and this kind of abuse. It happens in China, Africa, Afghanistan, Europe, Columbia, the United States. Every country in the entire world has some form of this abuse from its own people. Our people.. And we let them and ourselves get away with it. Except for this woman...

"We are not held accountable by the law, such as to hinder our spirit through control. We are held accountable by laws of inner consciousness and right onto others. We are held accountable by ourselves, as one self."

RUMIPAMBA, Ecuador (AFP) – She has no legal training, and doesn't speak the Spanish that dominates government in Quito but indigenous villager Maria Aguinda helped bring a landmark judgment against US oil giant Chevron for polluting the rain forest she calls home.
The diminutive grandmother whose modest home sits near marshes clogged for decades in sticky oil has been at the heart of the David-and-Goliath case, and spoke out after Chevron was slapped last week with a $9.5-billion fine, among the heaviest ever handed down for environmental damage.

"Before I die they have to pay me for the dead animals, and for what they did to the river, and the water and the earth," the 61-year-old Aguinda told AFP at her home in Rumipamba, a town in remote Orellana province where pollution caused by 30 years of oil drilling and petroleum accidents had become a sad fact of life.

Texaco operated in the area between 1964 and 1990, and was bought in 2001 by Chevron, which inherited Texaco's legal nightmare.

"The demand (for compensation) is going on track," said the ethnic Quechua woman, pointing to a nearby spot marked by spillage from an oil well run by Texaco in the 1970s.

"Mary Aguinda et al" are the opening words of the suit launched in 1993 on behalf of 30,000 residents of Orellana and Sucumbios provinces, in which they charge Texaco dumped billions of gallons of toxic crude during its operations, fouling rivers, lakes and soil and causing cancer deaths in indigenous communities.

Aguinda said she believes her husband and two of his 10 children died from effects of the pollution, which rights group Amazon Watch says has affected an area the size of the US state of Rhode Island.

Several of her family members "have skin problems, like fungus," Aguinda said as she lifted her granddaughter's foot off the dirt floor to show an outbreak on her leg.

Chevron blames state-run Petroecuador, with which Texaco formed a consortium from 1972 until the US firm departed in 1992, of not doing its part in the clean-up agreed with the state.

"When Texaco came we never thought they would leave behind such damage, never. Then it began to drill a well and set up burn pits," she said, helped in translation by her son William Grefa.
"It changed our life: hunting, fishing, and other food, it's all finished."

She skeptically eyes the ongoing cleanup of a marsh just meters from her house, where workers dressed in oil-stained yellow overalls dredge thick black ooze into suction pipes.

Aguinda said the spill is leftover from a Texaco storage pool which overflowed into the marshes during 1987-1990 operations of the Auca South 1 well about 200 meters (656 feet) from Rumipamba.
Texaco performed operational repairs in the area in the 1990s, and oil extraction continues in the region, according to Grefa.

Six months ago, a dozen workers from Petroecuador, which has managed the concession since 1990, began cleaning up the marshes, reviving bitter memories within the community of the slow-motion disaster.

The company "made arrangements, but they covered everything with sticks and earth and nothing more," said Grefa, a member of the Assembly of People Affected by Texaco, which represents the 30,000 indigenous people in the suit.

The operation has done little to improve conditions, Aguinda said.

"With the cleanup that Texaco left, the air is just unbearable. I can't live above the oil," groaned Aguinda, who grew visibly irritated talking about the disaster.

"If someone comes here from Texaco" he'll get "pepper in his eyes," she winced.

A strong petroleum smell permeates Rumipamba, home to nine families, some of whom complain of headaches. Several areas of Sucumbios are also contaminated, according to the plaintiffs, who argue that merely sinking a shovel into the ground yields a thick layer of crude.

Chevron, which has called the judgment "illegitimate and unenforceable," has asked a judge in Ecuador for clarification of the ruling as it seeks to appeal.

The court last week announced a penalty against Chevron of $8.6 billion with an additional 10 percent for environment management costs.

The plaintiffs, too, plan to appeal, saying the ruling fails to adequately compensate for certain damages and illness. They were seeking more than $27 billion in their suit.
Source: http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20110223/ts_alt_afp/ecuadorcourtcompanyenvironmentchevronusnative

Spring Tigers

2011-02-21T19:09:00.003-05:00

Awakenings

2011-02-01T22:53:00.004-05:00

From 2011 Paradise

A friendly reminder that I have composed a new 2011 photo album that will be added to for the remainder of the year; trying to limit photographs to favorites only. Wish me luck. Feels like a metaphor for all things 2011. This isn't the year where people say, things are going to be different and everything must go. No, it will be the same. But I feel myself moving forward. Hello month two. Hello starling, darling dear.

Do you ever feel like people enjoy reminding you of who you are? Reminding you of your faults and denials? What are the repercussions from this, and who does it hurt? Should I care? Impossible.

Currently, I am loving this. And not getting used to the idea of going to bed at 9pm three days a week for my 4:30am morning arousal.

Time.Time.Time.

Bang.

Vivian Maier

2011-01-13T19:26:00.006-05:00

Watch the full episode. See more Chicago Tonight.

Additional photographs from Vivian Maier.

Back in the surf

2011-01-12T21:56:00.003-05:00

The land I love, Miami, FL was a balmy 80 something degrees Fahrenheit yesterday. Humid, sexy, and beautiful, I sat by the bay waiting for my last class of the day to begin and end as quickly as possible. Yes, Spring semester has begun, and so far things feel fitting and familiar. But admittedly, I am not ready for the semester workload and wish I had just a little more time off to enjoy the place that has made me entirely smitten. For this past weekend, I arrived back in Miami from a month stint in Ohio. My entire "winter vacation" spent in a place where it really is winter, and even though I love that I was able to spend time with my family and friends, I missed the warmth of the Miami air, the sound of the boats in the Intracoastal, and the lapping of the ocean tide. I especially missed Florida's scurrying anoles, geckos, and iguanas whose very existence remind me of how privileged I am to live in such a tropical paradise.

But back in Ohio, it all really wasn't as bad as I feared. For my fear lay tangled in the thought of the bone bitter cold, and the dread of sitting around the house locked in from the gray and gloom that spread vastly outside all mid-west windows. I do not like the winter; loathe it. Just the thought of loathing it makes me depressed. But family and friends left me warm and satisfied, and a chance to work full time back at Whole Foods with my organic friends gave me greater purpose for my choice to spend so much time away. Still, with what little free time I had left, I still managed to keep my fitness in check, despite all of the delicious holiday crap-food consumed. An indoor running track is only a blessing in wintery hell... including all 540 mindlessly repetitive laps of muscle burning glory that comes with. Vacation in Ohio? Ha! Send me to Tahiti...

But maybe this semester already feels a bit like a vacation. So far, I have no homework and am taking one less class than last semester. And by the good graces of FIU, I get to keep my scholarship for the rest of the year even though I did not succeed in achieving a 3.0, nor am I taking 15 credit hours this semester. But things always seem to have a way of working themselves out, and I am glad that this saying actually holds true. Now that I have returned back to Miami refreshed and recharged, I feel better prepared at balancing my work with fun. Afterall, everything I need can be found right here in my own backyard, and it's an immensely comforting thought.

TOMS Innovation

2010-11-30T21:08:00.009-05:00

Recently I began the collaboration of a new project with a rep from TOMS Shoes who had started a student organization at his university in North Carolina. He is working towards a degree in management information systems and industrial operations management, and is working to improve the psychology of the shoe industry by understanding the wants, needs, and habits of its customers. For some time he has been working with colleagues to create a program that analyzes the precise foot structure of its customers to create perfectly fitted TOMS shoes using this digital software. The software analyzes the bend and length of the toes, arch of the foot, width, shape, and size relative to shoes currently worn. It's a fascinating program, still in its first beta test run as I have the lucky privilege to become the first guinea pig. Once TOMS creates the shoes, I get to prance around in their perfection, and critique the design accuracy of this innovative program. How awesome is that?

My TOMS choice

Here is the best part. Other participants are needed to test the software and indulge in a free pair of TOMS in any style of your liking. Participants sought must be female, but as of now, any shoe/feet size, variation, width, or contour has the opportunity to participate in this righteous research project. There are also opportunities to contribute to the habitual side of the research, while making some extra cash in compensation for helping TOMS with their developments. If you are interested, please reply by comment or send me an email at: k_weisass@hotmail.com.

On Edge

2010-11-22T11:02:00.001-05:00

Work by: Ka Xiaoxi

NeochaEDGE is a webzine dedicated to the inspirational expression of the Chinese creative youth. Accidentally stumbled upon by googling such words as "postcards," and "graffiti," I've spent over an hour awestruck by the professional talent of these young Chinese artists thriving in the free expression of their culture through the mediums of visual and auditory design. These are the new Chinese trendsetting youth, filled with brave artistically charged voices crafted by new wave opinion leaders of their time. Another clue to a changing China, and a lucky little peep inside.

First Impressions

2010-11-21T14:02:00.003-05:00

MIZUNO WAVE CREATION 12 shoe review HERE

WAVE CREATION 11 - This is what 400 miles of pavement slapping does to a really good pair of running shoes. This, too. Oh, and this.

For a slight under-pronator with high arches, it has always been a challenge finding comfortable running shoes. And with running shoes being so expensive, it's never really been an enjoyable task. Typically, it would cost me about $100 for the shoes, plus an additional $20-30 for arch support inserts. It always seemed like a worthwhile price for a hobby that has taken me pretty far in fitness and ability, and since the open road is always readily available, it's kept me from wasting my money on workout facilities filled with prudish and uncommitted New Years resolutioners. Then, last year I came across Mizuno's Wave Creation 10 that fit my arches like a dream. They had a neutral base to help with pronation, and lots of cushion for my sometimes heavy stride. They were the first running shoe that I ever found that fit my feet so perfectly. And once I ran those to bits, I upgraded to the Wave Creation 11, and never looked back.

Again, it was time for a new set and since Mizuno had yet to release a version 12, I opted to find the same 11s at better price. And sure enough, I was able to find them at an amazing price from ZB (Zanzabar Bazaar) Sports. Typically, I would never care where I got my running shoes, as long as they were legit, and exactly what I expected. But I have to give credit to ZB, because what I discovered was that they donate a percentage of all of their net profits to animal, environmental, and health research organizations. Not to mention that I found my shoes for $50 cheaper, and that they also price match. Always a sucker for a cause and a great deal--a statement that will be a nice transition for my next, upcoming blogspot.

Remember, remember...

2010-11-05T23:59:00.044-04:00

As I sit here, propped up by bed pillow, adjusting annoying ipod earbuds every half minute, half empty Yuengling perched on my favorite piece of furniture--a nightstand shellaced with pictures from home--I am desensitized. V for Vendetta is on pause at minute 2:11 (it's November 5). At least I made it before midnight. But I don't want to watch a movie... not this movie, in this bed, in this space. Tradition is broken. A broken Tradition. Like watching A Christmas Story in December or eating futomaki for Setsuban. Except you'd rather eat futomaki every week... and would if you could, but once a month will do.

You miss Japan, your friends, bike rides in green spaces, and runs in the country. You even miss bitter cold and trying to balance an umbrella in the gray. Flurries on New Years and companionship in a foreign cab. Trains to Kurashiki and fingers in your hand. Coffee stirred with tiny spoons. You miss it. You do. Like you missed the ocean blue.

Coming soon...

2010-10-25T00:51:00.001-04:00

Blog. Promise. Enjoy.

[daily dose of imagery]

Antique Classics

2010-09-24T00:46:00.012-04:00

From G1 Photo-op

Nobody knows

2010-09-21T07:28:00.003-04:00

Casa Caletas Resort Owner Destroys Caletas, Poisons Wildlife, & Harasses Volunteers

2010-09-05T01:06:00.010-04:00

Two years ago I lived on a small beach called, Playa Caletas located near the quaint town, San Francisco de Coyote in Costa Rica. I worked/volunteered for the nonprofit group, Pretoma with a group of 6 other dedicated and passionate volunteers who were equally present for one central reason--to save endangered sea turtles. We weren't paid, we didn't have running water, or much electricity casted from our tiny LED light powered for three hours each evening by solar energy collected from the day. We didn't have convenient ways of calling home, or obtaining food, nor did we rarely have transportation other than our feet. But we had each other, our camp dog protectors, and we had a well. One shallow freshwater well that was meant to last groups through the rainy season and part of the dry season. That was until an evil man named Sylvester Fiechtinger ordered his henchmen to destroy it.

Before I even get to this point, let me give you a quick run down of the things that he has done to our volunteers since before ripping out our freshwater well. When the 6 of us lived on Playa Caletas, Sylvester sent his men out every morning at 7am to Ario-Caletas National Wildlife Refuge, that existed behind our camp, on tractors to bang and clang and annoy us ever opportunity they could find. Some of us had just returned home from patrols at 5am-7am and hadn't had much sleep yet, if any. One particular morning I awoke to find his men pounding posts around the parameter of our camp and lacing barbwire around these posts to keep us in. In one location, we cut the wires so we could easily go in and out, but in other areas we simply had to climb through the barbwire when we needed to head into town. Sylvester's men were and still are paid to annoy Caletas volunteers. Volunteers that have safely released upwards of 60,000 endangered sea turtles into Costa Rican tides from Playa Caletas, annually. And of those 60,000, only 600 are projected to survive out in the open waters. Imagine if Pretoma was not there to ensure the safe release of these turtles. How many turtles do you think would survive then?

I received the below video today from one of my fellow turtle friends that documents the destruction of Playa Caletas only well used on a daily basis for dishes, bathing, and washing clothes. Caletas volunteers are sure to have a very different lifestyle, despite all of the other absent amenities, but the loss of the iconic blue barrel and the freshwater that was within is just another symbol of the freedoms being stripped from a group of dedicated individuals living at a camp with practically nothing, while doing nothing, but good.

I should mention that the Ario-Caletas National Wildlife Refuge is a protected area full of immense biodiversity within it's marshes, beaches, and treetops. And Sylvester maintains his chokehold on the land by planting phony cash crops to keep it. His only prerogative in maintaing his hold on the land, is to someday build lavish resorts like his preciously tainted resort, which already exists on the North side of the peninsula, Casa Caletas. In the meantime, he will continue to spray the land with pesticides, poisoning the marine life in the ocean, the exotic birds and monkeys in the treetops, the diverse species of reptiles, anthropoids, and eco-sustaining protists that support the foundation for all those listed and more. Sylvester and his henchmen will continue to harass and harm our volunteers until he gets exactly what he wants--the destruction of Ario-Caletas National Wildlife Refuge and the termination of Pretoma's existence and all of their good work and goodwill on Playa Caletas.

I ask you, if you love sea turtles, me, or what has made me who I am today, please sign this petition to stop what is happening to my beloved Caletas. Please ♥

A name is just a "dai hao"

2010-08-26T01:36:00.010-04:00

It's time I confessed...

Paper Rival
I stole this title from a Freakonomics article. And it maybe would have fit with the reoccurring theme of my blog/travels a little better if it were in Japanese or Spanish... or English for that matter. Maybe even porpoise would have made more sense at this stage, but who's really monitoring this crap anyway.

The article says that "daoi hao" is like the Chinese term for "code name" and not necessarily something that is anchored to ones core in any personal manner. I digress in saying that "code words" or any form of "code speech" in general, at least on this end of the aisle, is an absolute confession of admiration. And that goes for just about everything you will find here in my blog, and what goes on in the daily rhythm of my unprinted life.

So what is in a name exactly? Many of my far away visitors probably wonder this often when they come across my blog titled, "Distraction is a Gift". I've even received emails asking for me to explain its meaning. But many of my seekers already know, as they routinely stumble across my blog in search of their favorite lyrics from their favorite band, Paper Rival--alas, the band that inspired the title of my blog, and the music that inspired its initial mood.

Often times I feel guilty that my blog is the first to pop up in google searches. After all, it is the title of one of Paper Rival's most popular songs and it is to them that I owe this gesture. But my hope is that its frequency gives some grand tribute to one of the most influential bands amongst their musical genre and within my playlist. A band that sadly, ceases to even exist anymore, even after conflicting name changes, their rising radio play, and their massive support from their home state, Tennessee. I have missed their exponential ability to create music unlike anything I have ever heard before. And I admire Jake Rolleston's ambition in returning back to school, but I hope that someday in the not too distant future, the members can collectively acknowledge that their impact on their fans--new and old--was something based on truth. The kind of truth that undeniably states their natural ability to put life into words and melodies, and absolutely mean it.

So my question to you is, as my honest and faithful reader... do I do this band injustice by honoring them in this way, or is it time for a blog name change?

And since they can't be found anywhere on the web, it's only fair that I include them here:

"Distraction is a Gift" lyrics

Distractions is a gift
A privilege overlooked
I wish I had one now
To take my mind away
And bury everything
To start a brand new day

All kisses until they see us
As we pass them by

CHORUS
Green eyed and headstrong
They knew what they choose to
Green eyed and headstrong
They knew what they choose

Distraction is a gift
A privilege overlooked
I wish I had one now
To take you somewhere else
To hide under the bed
To waste my time with you

No kisses until they see us
As we pass them by

CHORUS [x2]

No attention span
Is what I wish I had
What I wish I had
Was no attention span
No attention span
Is what I wish I had
What I wish I had
Was no attention

Green eyed and headstrong
They knew what they choose to
Green eyed and headstrong
They knew what they choose to
Green eyed and headstrong
They knew what they choose to
Green eyed and headstrong
They knew what they choose

Lucas

2010-08-16T18:36:00.004-04:00

Lucas was our turtle dog and camp defender when I lived on Playa Caletas, Costa Rica with my 6 other fellow turtle folk. He was a special companion to all of us, but I always felt like he was extra special to me since I had never had a dog of my own. Maybe he had a way of making us all feel that way. He never discriminated against any of us, and as his duties called for the protection of the turtles and of the camp itself, it also called for the protection of each and every one of us as we went out on our nightly patrols. He'd often go out with one set of patrollers--either South or North--often stealthly running between the two divides to check on both groups. His hearing was faultlessly tuned to the sounds of the ocean and could hear poachers whispering to each other in the darkness, away from our view. He'd bark and growl like a wild beast when poachers were near, and we'd tell him to hush as to not frighten approaching loras, but what fuss he was causing probably saved our hides more than we ever really admitted.

He was 100% instinctual to the beach, as he was also to the inland--keeping coyotes away as we slept, and bandits away from our barbed wire doorstep. There were many occasions when I awoke in the middle of the night or early next morning to find him asleep outside Sarah and I's tent, which was isolated slightly from the rest of the camp. One particular evening that I will never forget, was when I had an evening off from patrol and was walking freshly hatched turtles down the beach. Sometimes releases can take up to 20 minutes if you have a bucket full of 50+ baby sea turtles, and after every last one of my turtle babies had disappeared into foamy surf I remember sitting in the sand for quite a time more. For the ocean breeze, crashing waves, the night, the moon, and even the day gave us lots of time to think, as well as lots of quiet. And as I sat there contemplating, I turned to my right, startled to see Lucas sitting right next to me, only a hairs length away. I hadn't even notice him approach. He was that good.

I had tremendous respect for his duty and for his demeanor, but he wasn't all work and no play. When we'd walk into town he'd often travel with us, frolicking into the bushes after lizards, chasing our other straggler camp dogs, Kitty, and Maggie, crashing into low tide pools after black-necked stilts, or rolling in the sand after ghost crabs. He was an amazing companion, and the first time I went into town after living on the beach for three weeks, he sat with me lovingly under a canopy out of the rain to share my favorite carmel popcorn with me. Amusingly, he also was my lookout when I had to pee in the bushes on the side of the road (walking 18K in intense heat is rough!), and he protected me from this one particularly frightening dog that I was absolutely terrified of when walking by the owner's house.

He was amazing, right up until the very last second of my time in Playa Caletas and San Francisco de Coyote. Margarita, Natalia and I stayed up to catch our 2am bus to Jicaral. Or director wouldn't let him inside, but wouldn't you know when we opened that door he was sitting right there waiting for us. He sat there the whole time we waited as we worried if that bus was ever going to come, and he nervously waited, too of his own regard about what was about to happen. How does a dog deal with his family leaving him so often, time after time again? Did he bond this way with everyone, I often wonder? And that bus rolled up just after 2:30am, and we picked up our bags and cried and hugged our dog goodbye one last time. We knew we'd never see him again, and he knew it too... and he got on that bus with us and didn't want to let us go. But he had to, and he knew that, and it crushed us all to dust to pull away from that bus station and see him running alongside and then behind for a good mile for one last moment before we'd be gone forever.

But he's my dog, and he always will be. Our turtle dog, Lucas. Now resting peacefully by the sea and the camp he loved so dearly.

Chris, Sarah, and Lucas

When opportunity knocks...

2010-08-05T16:26:00.004-04:00

Back in Ohio, people would always tell me that perfect moments in time only come a dime a dozen. Or that once in a life time opportunities were so far and few that I had to jump on every possible advancement in my career/life that I could get. It's advice that I have carried with me throughout the years, making me more aware of my needs and more conscious of my life decisions. It has made me grateful for the experiences I have had, and memorable of the times I worked so hard, even when things failed underneath my hopeful spirit. But there has been no short supply of opportunity here in Florida, and this past weekend I had the chance to mark a few things off my list.

Welcome to the Florida Everglades.
Click here for more fotos.
Last Friday I left with a few people from my Marine Biology Club at FIU for some fieldwork down in Ponce de Leon Bay located in the Florida Everglades. I have always wanted to visit the Everglades, and had an opportunity to do a little camping in the wilderness and get out on one of the university boats for some shark tagging and research. Our goal was to set out longlines and drumlines to catch as many bull sharks as we possibly could to aid in research that is being done on the Gulf of Mexico population.

The stars were gorgeous in the non-light polluted space, but as the large moon rose over the sleepy horizon, the Milky Way began to fade, and eyes grew heavy knowing we had to be up in mere hours. Our morning began at 4:00AM, as we packed our gear up and brushed our teeth, carefully spatting foamy toothpaste out in bushes not blocked by gigantic black and yellow argiope spiders. Gear packed, and on the road by 5:00AM, we drove an hour east towards Flamingo where we were to catch the boat and meet our Grad leader, Phil for our day of fieldwork. The mosquitos are absolutely retched in Flamingo and live by the thousands. But once we loaded all of our supplies and got moving on the water, their nuisance thinned and we glided on the still water like glass to our research location on Ponce de Leon Bay.

Relieved to not have brought my nice DSLR camera on the trip, we prepared for our day's catch by covering the haul with icy blood and fish guts as we chopped striped black mullet and bonito as bait for our long and drumlines. After setting the first lines we saw the waters full of plentiful bobbing loggerheads and a phantom manatee I was never able to see. And later in the day we played with a pod of a dozen or more wild dolphins, riding steadily next to our boat haul and clicking in playful curiosity.

Our days work caught us 3 large nurse sharks, and 1 bull shark. The nurse sharks were obsolete to our research, but we were able to tag the bull shark, and take blood and tissue samples for the lab later. It was interesting to see the docile nurse sharks flail in the water as we attempted to determine the sex and set them free, but the more aggressive bull shark seemed much more cooperative as Phil heaved him out of the water and into a large onboard cooler for analysis.

The research we collected serves many purpose, as they with be compared to a large bank of other biologist's data and help to track the health of the bull shark population. One thing I learned is that bull sharks are smart and the ones tagged are unlikely to be caught again. Still hopeful to know that we are still catching sharks.

I look forward to doing more fieldwork in the future. I have already made a lot of contacts and FIU has been a major part in my access to exciting new projects. For example, yesterday I helped a pre-med student with his research on the importance of oyster populations in Jupiter, FL. Later this month, I will be helping another grad student with her research on spawning coral in the Keys. There is no short supply of opportunity down here, and with the combination of the hot weather, the ocean, animal life, and the people, I could see myself taking my sweet time to graduate.

How do you feel about the deep blue sea

2010-07-17T00:25:00.087-04:00

The first week of EcoAcademy has come to a successful and exciting close. First, starting out fairly slow (and super stressful, I might add), has found its niche in its own respectfully spirited groove. So far, amongst other things, the week has taught me how grateful I am for my prior camp experience. For what I've learned is that it's always tough to make an impression on young kids right at the start, especially amidst all of the fresh excitement. Today was, by far, the best day we have had as a marine science team. My kids have already taught me just as much as I have taught them, and I am constantly amazed by this. For we have all equally become the educators as much as we have become the educated.

Some of the various activities that we have had the opportunity to partake in this past week were dissections of squid and red snapper; kayaking to Oleta Island and snorkeling in the sea grass in Biscayne Bay; discussions of plankton, diatoms, whales, saltwater density, and waves; fish printing, and marine animal collection for our classroom touch tank aquariums. Never did I realize that I would be surround by such aquatic diversity. Below are some pictures of some of the wildlife we captured for our touch tanks (not actual pictures).

Scorpion Fish

Brittle Star

Gobie

Tulip Snail

Barracuda (we seine netted much smaller ones)

Pufferfish

Chitons

And this little fella...

... just kidding ;)

One of our fellow counselors also discovered a lion fish in the cove by the beach. These fish are an invasive species to Florida, and even though they tried their damnedest to catch this cheeky bastard, they were unsuccessful at removing it from its foreign environment. Invasive species are common in all areas of the world. Some of our most invasive here can be found in the Florida Everglades--think pythons, anacondas, and lizards, oh my! I met someone here recently who spends some of his time hunting for these reptiles. He calls himself a "herper" (short for herpetologist--study of amphibians and reptiles), and goes out to swampy areas or dense brush to find these creatures. Yesterday he succeeded in pulling off a poor lizard's tail--sorry, no picture to follow.

I have met so many other biologists here that have an amazing amount of knowledge in a wide-range of animal life. And even though many of these scientists spend a fair amount of their time tracking invasive species and studying their effect on the their nonnative environments, we've all been able to at least come to the mutual consensus that this is nature, and there sometimes are things that you just cannot control, nor shouldn't. The sad truth is, is that almost all of these invasive species here in Florida, and everywhere else in the world exist in foreign environments because our own carelessness--a behavior of our species, which cannot be changed. This is why I tell myself everyday, that what I am doing here must be done for myself... because I really don't believe that I can change the world. Call it cynicism, or whatever you like... but I think our inevitable goal in life is to feel that doing good in our hearts does good for all. If you believe in what you are doing, then the world has to be fine.

Honey, now if I'm honest...

2010-07-07T22:00:00.007-04:00

I'm back to running again, and running great I am. This also means that I am back to writing mental blogs, and promptly forgetting them as soon as I return back to doorstep. Not that they are always the kind of blogs that need to be or should be shared, but I think in forgetting them, it has given me some much deserved time to turn over any questioning or doubtful thoughts I have had this past weekend.

In the beginning, I was feeling like I had begun to tumble back into a long road of progress, erased, but I see now that I am reacting much like any time new ideas, opportunities, or emotional distresses are thrown my way. I just have to take some time; learn to deal. Tumbling over all possibilities and outcomes until I land on top of what will be best for me. These have always been my struggles, but being alone has given me the experience in making choices that only inevitably effect myself. And I guess that is the way it should be... most of the time.

I had taken some time a few fortnights ago to write a wonderful tribute blog to the reasons I love the ocean so much; the reasons why I have chosen for this place to be my home over any other place in the world. And I spoke of the ocean like it was my sister, or my soulmate, and that coming here to make a difference really was my duty at this stage in life. And wonderful things really have happened since I made it. Wonderful things like my part in an ocean ecology camp through FIU where I get the chance to show kids just how wonderful their home really is, for reasons other than flying kites on the beach and body surfing in the tide. It's great to know that there are people in the community not only interested in learning marine science at such a young age, but that there are also people just as passionate about these causes as I.

Aside from this opportunity I have to impression young, inspiring marine biologist, I also landed an opportunity in the Gulf. A whimsical type chance combined with new life motions and motivations. I had found myself reaching, seeking for a chance to relieve the monstrosity that is currently poisoning our oceans... 79 days strong. And I turned over and over in my head the consequences--the human health issues associated with this massive Deepwater Horizon Oil Spill project. Health issues, like respiratory problems, severe headaches, nausea, nose bleeds, and in severe cases, central nervous system problems, or damage to blood, kidneys or livers. But what about the other losses? How could I let these risks filter through my head, or my beef with BP stop me from doing what I felt was stitched in the marrow of my bones. I can't. And when I get the order, I am going to the Gulf. Come hell, high water, or hurricanes.

Happy Day of Independence

2010-07-04T23:47:00.002-04:00

The Truth

2010-06-25T15:01:00.017-04:00

**updated June 26, 2010
I am completely disappointed. I posted the below video yesterday of a testimony from a Venice, Louisiana local who had inside access to all practices of BP officials at ground zero during the clean up. It was some of the most detailed, graphic, shocking information the world has had the privilege of hearing, and I really am rather appalled that it has been pulled from YouTube. I'll do my best to try and find it again.

** I've found the video from an alternate source. If it disappears again, stay tuned for my upcoming editorial.

This new information about the BP oil "spill" is not only shocking, it is so very sickening.

Monroe County is currently working on a constitutional ban of offshore drilling for the entire state of Florida. I have no doubt that it will pass, as ocean conditions will only begin to worsen overtime. If you agree with this proclamation, I ask you to visit Change.org to sign this petition.

I understand that many people think petitions are a waste of time; that nothing ever becomes of it, but I ask you... what else are you doing to have your voice heard? I've signed thousands of petitions in the past decade, at least. Some of the most noted ones have stopped the legalization of gray wolf slaughter, the prevention of oil drilling in the ANWR, and, most recently, the obstruction of the International Whaling Commission from reopening waters to legalized commercial whaling (just as of this past Wednesday). If you believe that the benefits of offshore drilling outweigh the consequences, then that is fine too. But if you love our oceans, there is still much work to be done.

Saludos de Miami

2010-06-24T16:03:00.006-04:00

Erica along Biscayne Bay at FIU
Tomorrow will be my first official and complete week living in Miami and it's been pretty dang swell. Technically, I live in Hallandale Beach, just a mere 7 minute walk to the sandy shores, and a 30 minute drive to downtown Miami (not to mention, 50 miles from the Bahamas!). I have spent the past week unpacking and organizing, and even though everything had a neat little place at the start, my room is already a total disaster. I keep thinking that if I obtain more functional furniture that my space won't be such a mess... but this is doubtful.

Erica traveled the 1,100+ miles down with me to stay for a few days. It was great to have familiar companionship and an excellent navigator during my neurotic attempts of driving in Miami traffic. I never could have done it without her. While she was here, we had the opportunity to visit many great places that I might otherwise not have had the opportunity to be introduced to so soon. One of my favorite places we went to was the Wynwood Art District, where a group of over 100 graffiti artists from all over the world have dedicated much of their time into molding the cultural esthetics of the neighborhood through art (www.primaryflight.com).

We also had the opportunity to visit Bayside in Miami to enjoy some great latin music, Cuban food, and Domican beer. It's an outdoor festival marketplace located along Biscayne Bay where many cruise ships come to and depart from port. Later, we spent the evening on Ocean Drive, where I could have sat on the South Beach shores all evening long. The weather becomes perfect here in the evenings, especially by water, which seems to be wherever you go. A handful of drinks later, and a few postcards from the News Cafe, we ended the night peacefully at a hometown Dairy Queen. Couldn't have really gotten much better than that.

I finally had an opportunity today to get my school initiatives in order. One more meet with my counselor and a Transfer Student Orientation in July or August and I should be set. My plan is to join a work study program at some point, and assist a professor with data collection and research on whatever marine work they happen to be partaking in. I know of one professor that specifically works with endangered sea turtles and takes annual excursions to Australia for monitoring. It would be another amazing opportunity.

I've always promised in the past not to make this your typical blog with journal-like updates about whatever ruckus I may be getting myself into during my travels. I can still promise you, it won't be this way. Now that you've been updated, it's back to business. Now more about those cheeky Miamians...

I came in this way and here now I'll stay

2010-06-19T16:37:00.000-04:00

"Why do you always leave?"
"Because I like it that way. I like to love from afar, I guess. And I like to love fully."

How can you not love someone as much as you do when they are so far away? I have no idea... I really have no idea what love is really like, anyway. You'd think I would know by now...

I have made it down to Miami, and I am absolutely astounded by the amount of joy I am contained with. It's not that I love this place, or the people, or the spilled drinks on my jeans, as Jersey girls trying to do their reckless drunken choreographed dance on the patio of Coyotes Bar. I think what I admire most is the plumby cumulonimbus clouds, the water, and the fast-passed crowd. In due time, it will all get old and I will then be in search of something new, once again. But until then, I am happy to be here... but I wish my people were here with me to bask in my joy. For it is them, that gives me the most...

Today, Erica and I had a fine time by the pool, watching the rolling thunderheads creep from afar. The lightening was particularly amazing as we watched, listening to Mishka's, "Above the Bones." I particular enjoyed the older gentleman in his speedo, floating humbly around on his blow-up raft from deep to shallow end.

Later was thrift shopping for odds and ends, and visit to FIU, and a grub at my first regretful buffet in over years. Vino wine bar, peruse around Hollywood, grape flavored swisher sweets, snacks and bed. I guess it looks like I just may be blogging more regularly. God, I hope this doesn't turn into an actual blog.

Hasta mañana. Buenas noches desde Miami.

Save Our Shores

2010-06-14T00:57:00.006-04:00

Since the catastrophic BP oil rig explosion in the Gulf of Mexico on April 20, 2010, millions of gallons of toxic poison have spewed into our precious internationally shared waterway. Controversy seems never-ending between fishermen, locals, BP, and government officials, and justifiably so. Not to mention the rest of us are pretty ragging pissed about it, too. You can view it's seeping path of destruction on CNN's website, here.

Debating control and blame on the spill has been both exhausting and unavailing. I have done my best at avoiding much of the news coverage on the progression of the "spill". Blame the sprawling catastrophe on inaccurate leakage statistics from BP or their failure to implement appropriate safety precautions in the first place; blame the government for "not doing enough", or whatever righteous argument you feel the first amendment has appointed to you. There is truth in saying that talking gets you somewhere, but sometimes talk alone may be cheap and unmotivational when there is not action to back up our opinions.

After too many moving episodes of oil saturated sea creatures, or lifeless sea turtles unrighteously laid to rest in household black garbage bags, I decided there were things I could be doing besides crying in front of the mute television screen at the gym. I am not helpless. And as I was making slow headway on my move to Miami, FL in a few weeks for Marine Biology, I began to feel almost insincere for not doing something good. So I had a yard sale, and all of you came. And guess what? Together we donated $400 to this absolutely terrible, heart-wrenching story that is being lived daily by the people whose livelihoods rely on a semi-clean ocean, and a healthy crop of marine life; the story of choked out sea grass, oil slicked pelicans, and innocently poisoned marine spirits. But it's not enough. It's really not. And who really knows where all of that money will go beyond the blue postal box where it was dropped. There is always more to be done. And there are times that our actions haven't been enough. But instead of becoming defeated by these political arguments, I encourage you to do something. I challenge you to become one of these people that doesn't just care through words, but personal undertaking.

Ghosting

2010-05-14T07:08:00.001-04:00

Freelance Whales

Red lights, blue sky

2010-05-10T18:12:00.003-04:00

Damage Report

2010-04-28T01:09:00.003-04:00

There is something about running--the freedom, the meditation, the closeness to nature. Running has been a huge factor in my life for the past three years. Functioning as a way to cleanse my soul and regain focus. My therapy session at the beginning or the end of the day. It's guided me to make amends, follow dreams, and listen. Probably been my truest companion during all of these hours, difficult or not.

I have ran something like 900 miles since 2008. Of course, this is little compared to what elite runners run, running half of this mileage in a mere month. My accomplishments suit me just fine, though. Attaining a perfectly harmonious running trifecta over mountains, along rivers, and by the sea. It's been my sorrows, my merriment, and my courage that has pushed me beyond any and all unrealistic ambitions of running endlessly day upon day for some cause that has ceased to stay with me.

But over a month ago I procured an injury. An injury, worse than any before, that has left me debilitated from the one thing I love for all of the above reasons. My absence has taught me to become more flexible, spontaneous, and willful of others around me. I'm not out there always running, focusing on me and my inner qualms. So maybe it has been some great blessing in disguise. Maybe... but it has yet to bring me the kind of honesty that a little sole on pavement brings forth.

Nevertheless, my greatest hope is to recover soon and return back to my favorite companion. Back to my part time job of keeping my body and mind disciplined--twenty miles a week, thirty miles. I need it, in this strange kind of way. To reaffirm, or to challenge the things I do not know or feel whilst staring at a mute television screen at the gym. Is it too soon for the truth? I suppose I'll have to wait for my injury to tell me when. But for now...

... it just f'ing hurts.

Happy 40th Earth Day!

2010-04-22T11:58:00.007-04:00

... and happy 3rd annual Earth Day that's been celebrated here on my blog.

I almost refuse to buy magazines when passing through airports. Almost, because there was this one time that I did pay the overpriced $6.99 for a Runner's World magazine on my way to Japan. This time, there were no worries about seeking other content, because Delta's Sky Magazine really pulled through. In honor of this year's 40th annual Earth Day, Delta Sky really invested a great deal of time and research into pulling April's edition together. This April's edition featured several interviews from some of the world's leading environmental activists: Jane Goodall, Robert Redford, Shai Agassi, Sylvia Earle. There was also an amazing article on one of the most environmentally diverse, and tightly controlled places in the world, The Galapagos Islands. Which if you click the link above, you can read about all of these remarkable people, places, and more--for yourself.

Below is an environmental fact sheet that I thought most of you would find interesting. Click foto to enlarge.

"... and the earth and its skin will open up and birth out a perfect mirror that makes all our reflections clear."

I bought a ticket on a plane

2010-04-18T22:45:00.064-04:00

This past weekend I hopped an airplane to venture to my new home of Miami, FL for some moments of r&r, apartment find, and to draw circles in the sand. I haven't been to Miami since 2001 and absolutely nothing is as I remembered it. People of Miami, you are an unfriendly bag of s.o.b.s.

Miami is filled with an overwhelmingly large population of New Yorkers, Haitians, Dominicans, Russians, and Jewish folk, and it shows (think "Meet the Fockers"). Citizens are as spicy as the Cuban Mojo, and as feisty as the Russian mafia. Mid-westerners are easily the minority in this metropolitan mix, and by far the friendliest.

Florida International University - Biscayne Bay

Aside from Miami's unpleasant mix of hospitality, I still had an enjoyable visit--fantastic wine bars, cuban burritos, and maple walnut ice cream on Hollywood Blvd; a glimpse of my new University along the waters of Biscayne Bay, and the discovery of a local Whole Foods Market I can hopefully transfer to once I move in June. And to top it all off, I actually already have a new apartment in Hallandale.

My new backyard. View other fotos here.

The deal-sealer on this perfectly quaint, Spanish-style, gated comunidad located on the Intracoastal Waterway was pretty much just that--a sweet Spanish-style gated community with the Intracoastal as our backyard. Walk out the door, and there it is: coastal waters equipped with sail boats, a perfect place for me to write and dangle my feet over the water every day of the week, and a surprise pair of dolphins lazing past. There are tennis and racquet ball courts, two pools (one facing the ocean) with jacuzzi, a workout room, pool table, and swings in the playground. And it's only a 10 minute walk to the beach. Bliss. Going back to school may not be so hard after all, as long as everything continues to works out as well as this.

"and by the time it landed..."