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After tossing and turning through an uncomfortable night's sleep in Santa Cruz, I was more than ready to head back to Ecuador, to a comfortable bed, a clean shower, and a room without a variety of species invading it. I checked out of my hotel with a big smile on my face and walked to the port to hail a taxi. Everyone I had spoken to in Puerto Ayora told me "yeah taxi ride's are like a dollar." Water taxis, regular taxis, a dollar. So with $10 on me, I hailed a cab and told the driver "aeropuerto, aeropuerto." We started to drive past town and I thought to myself, ok we're out of town, is it still $1 to get everywhere? He continued to drive the Toyota white pick-up truck for a good twenty minutes. At this point, I'm no longer looking out the window enjoying the landscape. I'm now the neurotic New Yorker I left behind and am nervous beyond description. I started envisioning horrific scenes (more reasons why I shouldn't and don't like watching scary movies). I wondered if I was stranded would I scream like the housekeeper in Babel. Ayuda! Ayuda! AYUDA! AYUUUUDA!
To reassure this wouldn't happen, I repeated myself to the driver "aeropuerto." He ignored me and continued to drive. I attempted to distract myself and convinced myself to think like the children in Peter Pan, think happy thoughts. Sour candy. Yellow labs. A field of tulips. About 20 minutes later, which was deemed an eternity in my eyes, the driver pulled up to a small port that consisted of 2 small boats with tanks for scuba divers. I look at the driver like he was crazy and repeated myself "aeropuerto" while making the hand gestures of a plane taking off the ground. There was no sound of nearby planes taking off nor was there an airport in sight. I decided to pay him and get out of the cab. I'd figure it out from there and my anxiety level would somehow lower. Of course, the cab was $15 and I was short $5. I got out of the taxi and asked around for change of the larger bill I had hidden in my wallet. The driver drove off and I stood there, holding up a sign that read "Damsel in distress. Will smile if you have a private jet or wings." Fortunately, a British guy picked up on my invisible sign and came over to inform me that there was no airport here. It's on another island. You have to take a ferry that will take you to the island and a bus will be there to take you to the airport. He could have told me that I had to swim there and I would have smiled. The British have an easy way of making anything sound alright. So I watched him board the boat to go diving while I waited for a ferry to take me to the so-called airport in Baltra. And sure enough it did and I was on my way home.
Stay bitten : )
After the boat trip, I had an extra day to spare in Santa Cruz, one of the four islands in the Galapagos that allows for overnight stay. I spent the morning walking around Puerto Ayora, checking out the souvenirs, local shops, and restaurants. That morning, I stumbled upon a place that made me think twice about my hotel. I'm not going to recommend the place I stayed at. I am going to recommend the place I wish I stayed at. I walked by The Red Mangrove Adventure Inn and ended up walking in to see if they had availability. They had a suite available and as tempted as I was to pamper myself, I figured to save those hundred dollars. I didn't need a honeymoon suite for just myself and I could grin and bear my other accommodations. Barely.
After making a wise decision, I had a very cheap lunch. My meal cost less than some sandwiches in Manhattan forcing me to tip like a Rockefeller. I checked my neglected email and decided to spend my afternoon at Tortuga Bay, a beach a local travel agent had suggested to me. She failed to inform me that it wasn't a stone's throw from town. After 20 minutes of asking "donde estas Tortuga Bay?" I eventually found the dirt road that led to this beach. 15 minutes later, I was alone, in the dead heat, walking around some neighborhood. There were no "gringos" in sight. I wasn't in Kansas anymore, Toto, and being lost was a little unsettling. I finally came across the sign for Tortuga Bay and was relieved and climbed some stairs to the information tower. At the tower, I signed my name, date, and time of entry and I purchased a bottle of water, my smartest move of the day. There, I was informed that it's 3km to the beach but you can't swim there because of the current. You have to walk another kilometer through this cactus sanctuary to get to the beach you can swim to. I realized I already signed in and had signed myself up for a mini trek in the high heat of the day. Whether it's intentional or unknowingly, when you sign up for a destination, you sign up for a journey.
It was well worth it. As most journeys are. With the sun drenching me, my feet buried deep in the sand, listening to only the sound of the waves crashing, I knew I had arrived. I was on vacation and completely and utterly at peace. I enjoyed the solitude, the scenery, and was living the life. A local surfer, Daniel, came over and attempted to strike up a conversation with me. It lasted for a good 5 minutes as he didn't know a lick of English and my 3 licks of Spanish did not suffice. He went back to surfing and I went back to playing in the sand.
One of the best things about choosing a destination and signing up for a journey, is that you get to step out of your element. You surround yourself with new surroundings and meet new people. You learn about your new surroundings, these new people, and moreover, you learn more about yourself. How you react under stressful situations, how you adjust, how you treat strangers, how you welcome bliss. I traded yellow taxi cabs and city lights for sea lions and nature at its finest. And from that choice, I had a sense of quietness and a time to reflect. I was reminded of what I left behind and what I'm excited to come back to. And it reminded me of something that this guy I used to have a huge crush on once said.
Remember two things: you love New York City and leave only your footprints.
Dave Matthews, Central Park concert, 2003.
The following day we headed to the island of Bartolome. If you caught the Bart Simpson reference, read on. If you didn't, well, go ahead and read on anyway. We hiked up this extinct volcanic island to get a glimpse of Pinnacle Rock, Sullivan's Bay, and the flanking half moon beaches. Apparently, it's the most visited and photographed island of the chain.
After taking in the view, we hiked down to check out both beaches. The beach on the right (Sullivan's Bay capped off by Pinnacle Rock) was an oasis. With great snorkeling around the rock and soft sand to dig my feet into, this empty beach could keep me blissfully happy for hours.
I-guana spend all day basking in the sun at Sullivan's Bay.
At one point, our group ventured over to the left side where we saw crabs, iguanas, and sea lions. I finally found a sea lion to take a photo with me. Even though my shorts got wet from the waves crashing, it was well worth it. Ever since I saw a photograph of my sister and her friend Catherine lying on the beaches of the Galapagos with sea lions, I've wanted tor recreate their shot. I added it to my bucket list and have been patiently waiting for this moment. I have to give a special thank you to the 9 year French girl on my trip. She art directed it and suggested that I place my arms outward to mimic the sea lion. As for the kiss face, I'll have to take credit for that. It's no French kiss but somehow the sea lion was intrigued and played a small game of copycat.
After leaving the port in Baltra, we set sail and headed north for the island of Genovesa. While I relaxed on the boat reading my oh-so clever Sedaris book, I realized I wasn't alone. Aside from the crew and my 15 other shipmates, I turned to my right to find these guys just inches away from my face. After flinching and ducking, it was then that I realized that I was at the live taping of HBO's Planet Earth.
Within the first day, I also realized that I had signed up for the French-speaking tour of the Galapagos. I did not mind it because as much as I was here to learn about this remote animal sanctuary, I was also on vacation hoping to clear my head of the noise from my urban lifestyle. So while my French-speaking guide explained the Frigatebird's mating characteristics (the Male's throat swells up and turns red to attract a female), I zoned out and took in the scenery. Oh and in case you were wondering, "boobie" in French is the same as it is in English. I think that even when I'm 45, I'll still retain the ability to laugh at something simple (and silly) as "red-footed boobie."
For me, the Galapagos served as an open window to evolution, a live documentary of nature at its finest. Just from walking along the beach, we had to be conscientious of our surroundings. Not only for the various species that roamed the sand, but for the ditches that were left by sea turtles in attempt to create a place to lay their eggs. For the most part, the animals were not afraid of us so-called "gringos," with the exception of my encounter with a male sea lion. He didn't want to have a photo shoot with me and made it clear as he barked his way into the ocean. Whatever floats his boat. I guess he really didn't want to be tagged on facebook.
Lucky for me, I found some Heidi Klums that were camera friendly.
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