Another Dream Come True

"The life of a writer is absolute hell compared with the life of a businessman. The writer has to force himself to work. He has to make his own hours and if he doesn't go to his desk at all there is nobody to scold him. If he is a writer of fiction he lives in a world of fear. Each new day demands new ideas and he can never be sure whether he is going to come up with them or not. Two hours of writing fiction leaves this particular writer absolutely drained. For those two hours he has been miles away, he has been somewhere else, in a different lpace with totally different people, and the effort of swimming back into normal surroundings is very great. It is almost a shock. The writer walks out of his work room in a daze. He wants a drink. He needs it. It happens to be a fact that nearly every writer of fiction in the world drinks more whiskey than is good for him. He does it to give himself faith, hope and courage. A person is a fool to become a writer. His only compensation is absolute freedom. He has no master except his own soul, and that, I am sure, is why he does it."
From "Boy" by Roald Dahl (author of Charlie & the Chocolate Factory and James and the Giant Peach)

I can relate to Roald Dahl's words here. Writing is not merely typing letters on a page, its the physical manifestation of the author's thoughts and ideas. Writing is re-telling a story-which in turn, feels like re-living that story. Depending on the story, it can take a lot out of you. I've found it exhausting at times to maintain a blog while also keeping up with my own personal journal writing. It may sound like whining, but hey-it's my blog and I'll whine if I want to.

This October I joined Fauna Forever, a long-term wildlife and ecotourism monitoring project in Southeastern Peru where I volunteered as an assistant herpetologist. For five weeks I was looking for reptiles and amphibians in the Amazon Basin. The following is a blog entry I wrote halfway through the trip.


Snake Expectations

I came to Peru to catch snakes. That’s why I’m here, not for the scarlet macaws, giant river otters or howler monkeys. Not for the exotic food or pretty butterflies. My motive is clear, my agenda is straightforward; I quit my job, left my hometown, crossed the equator and joined Fauna Forever to catch snakes in the Amazon. I listed no second choice on my volunteer application, I was either joining the herpetology team, or I wasn’t joining at all.


Green tree viper (Bothriopsis bilineata)

When I arrived, I was excited to meet up with Brian, the lead herpetologist and Dave-who had spent time on the herp team previously-and talk snakes. Just how many would we see? Which ones can I expect to see? How often will we see them? Dave assured me we’d see “loads” of them and Brian agreed when I asked about Imantodes, a certain species of tree snake, it wasn’t if we’d find it but how many we would find.


Blunt-headed tree snake (Imantodes cenchoa)

A week later, we hadn’t seen any and Dave sang a different tune. He reluctantly confessed he had a hunch I wouldn’t see a single snake for my entire stay. It was certainly plausible. We’d been out every night running transects and surveying our trails with nothing to show for it but various species of frogs. By this time I’d begun to doubt my decision to come here. I obviously hadn’t done enough research, hadn’t asked enough questions. I must not have run the numbers correctly before I came. I desperately wanted to prove Dave wrong, but I’ve been on enough walks through rainforests all over the world to know snakes are not easy creatures to spot.


Liophis reginae

I wasn’t completely naive to the difficulty of finding something so elusive and secretive in the vast expanse of an Amazon rainforest. With a million and one places for a snake to hide, where do you begin to look? For the most part the forest is two-toned, green above ground and brown on the forest floor. How then are we supposed to find the local snakes which are predominantly green and brown? Back home I’ve had trouble finding my pet python in my bedroom before. And it was four meters long and bright yellow!


Ornate snail-eating snake (Dipsas catesbyi)

Ten days after my arrival I denied there being any snakes in the forest at all, despite the local guides coming back each day with photos proving otherwise. I was angry with myself for getting my hopes up, I was resentful of the Amazon-whose mere name conjures up visions of giant anacondas and deadly bushmasters-to be honest, I was a little depressed. But I was hopeful. I went on night walks, I brought my snake hook each night thinking maybe tonight will be the night, I quizzed Brian to see which trails cut through the best snake habitat and I was praying for rain, a lot of rain.


Brian and I with a Yellow tailed cribo (Drymarchon corais corais)


The rain came and we still hadn’t found anything. Until finally, while walking a trail late at night Brian froze and immediately dove into the leaf litter and came up with a cat-eyed snake (Leptodiera annulata.) Finally! We all took turns admiring it and taking pictures, if only that snake knew how much we longed to find it! Shortly afterwards on the same trail I spotted a green tree viper (Bothropsiosis bilineata) in a tree. The curse had been broken!


Whipsnake (Chironius multiventris)

From that day to this, our last day at Explorer’s Inn, I’m happy to say not a day has gone by without seeing a snake-sometimes three or four in one day! We’ve found somewhere around sixteen or seventeen snakes so far representing about fifteen species from a six inch long Xenopholis to a monster, seven foot long Drymarchon. Before I came, I made a mental list of snakes I wanted to see and after finding a tree boa (Corralus hortulanus) in our bungalow tonight I’ve now seen them all.


Amazon egg-eating snake (Drepanoides anamolus)

It has been an unreal experience and just when I think it can’t get any better, the forest shows me something that takes me by surprise. It’s almost as if the forest was testing us, seeing just how badly we wanted to see its inhabitants. And now, deeming us worthy, it’s removed its veil and we’ve been allowed an unparalleled view of some of the animals I love the most in this special setting. I’ve seen snakes I have wanted to see for years and I’ve seen snakes I never knew existed.


Tree frog (Hypsiboas punctatus)

I am able to appreciate my surroundings better now that my initiative has been accomplished. I find joy in many things I couldn’t before; like the way the forest flowers smell at night, waking up to howler monkeys in the early morning, a clear starry sky, observing Anolis lizards eating crickets, doing my laundry next to a scarlet macaw, watching giant river otters as they catch fish, chocolate-covered bananas at dinnertime, the sound of approaching rain and yes, even the pretty butterflies.

So for anyone visiting the rainforest hoping to encounter reptiles or amphibians, I encourage you to be patient, be persistent and pray for rain!

THE END

I stayed at two different lodges, Explorer's Inn and Reserva Amazonica. This was written during the last day at Explorer's. Another two weeks at Reserva brought more of the same. We added to our list of species including five more snake species we hadn't found at the previous lodge. A realization hit me one day that I have become a herpetologist. No longer are we young boys chasing snakes in our backyards, the research here goes on to be published in scientific journals, in books and may be taught in universities. And yet, I'm having just as much fun and get just as excited as when I was a young boy chasing snakes in my backyard! Probably more!!


Juvenile black caiman (Melanosuchus niger)


I did see more than just snakes. One day while I was measuring a frog on one of our daytime transects, Brian came over the radio and said there was a giant anteater going in our direction. A couple seconds later and sure enough, here he came crashing through the trees and vines straight for us! I also camped out at a nearby oxbow lake with Krystle and we woke up to find eight giant river otters catching fish and eating them within thirty feet of us.


Amazon tree boa (Corallus hortulanus)

On our last night searching for snakes we found our sixth Blunt-headed tree snake (Imantodes cenchoa,) the most beautiful Amazon tree boa (Corallus hortulanus) I've ever seen, an armadillo and a jaguar! The cat sighting was very brief. It was perched on a log that had fallen across the trail when I picked up it's eye-shine. I froze on the trail, flashlight pointed on the cat and urgently whispered to the others, "Jaguar! Jaguar! Jaguar!" He watched us for a couple seconds and then sauntered off into the darkness. Initially we assumed it was probably a marguay-a smaller, less common species of cat. However, after looking at photos and considering the size of the animal I'm more confident that it was in fact a jaguar.


Rhinobothryum lentiginosum

I can't tell you how surreal an experience it is to be in an environment like that, encountering animals I've only seen or read about in books. Some animals I didn't even know existed! It blows my mind that there is a seven foot long cribo out there right now eating all the frogs and opossums he can find. Or that jaguars prowl undetected through rainforest I lived in and walked through on a daily basis. Its so easy to think of the world in terms of where we live but there is so much out there we haven't seen yet. I often think of a quote my friend and fellow climber Willy wrote after climbing Mt. Rainier he said, "Some things He has made, which are so terrible, so awesome and so beautiful, that I marvel that man be allowed to look upon them!" I couldn't agree more.

Long Journey Home

They wouldn't all fit. They hadn't given me enough space. When entering the US from a trip abroad there is a question on the immigration form that asks which foreign countries you have visited since you left the United States. To be honest, I'd been looking forward to this question for weeks. I squished and scrunched the names, stacking them on top of one another and cascaded them down the margin until all nineteen countries were represented. When I happily handed it to the customs official I expected some commotion, some suspicion or even an interrogation. That's what I wanted. But I'm apparently not the international man of mystery I thought I was, because the official stamped my passport and began telling me how great her trip to New Zealand was (I didn't go to New Zealand) and then asked for the next person in line. I was back in the United States of America.

Although it was a soft transition. Miami carries a significantly higher level of diversity than say, Salt Lake City. So as I joyfully and unhesitatingly drank from sinks and water fountains I still asked for directions in Spanish and received answers in Portuguese. I spent a day in Miami, staying at a hostel on South Beach. Unfortunately, it was rainy so I didn't get the postcard-perfect Miami experience. But I got a glimpse.

After being a backpacker abroad it was interesting to be one in my home country. Fewer people approach me when I'm lost, but more people are willing to help when I ask for it. If it weren't for the bus drivers of the Miami Public Transportation System I never would have found the beach or gotten back to the airport on time. Each time I got on the wrong bus, the driver gave me detailed directions to get me on the right track.

My next stop was Massachusetts where I met my dad and went to my sister's college graduation. I wondered what it would be like seeing my dad again, how he'd changed, how I'd changed. But when I came through those doors and saw he was the only person in the terminal, and it took him three minutes to figure out how to take a picture with his camera before rushing up and giving me a bear hug I realized he's still the same dad as when I left.

We spent the next few days visiting my sister and her boyfriend, getting lost each time we left the hotel and seeing some local sights in the area. I've been to New England before, but I was still blown away by how many trees there were! Trees everywhere! The euphoric feeling of being around so much green was regulated by the claustrophobic feeling they gave me. That's probably why we got lost so much, we couldn't see where we were going. The graduation ceremony was great. There is a lot of tradition involved, the campus is beautiful and the speakers were great. It was a much more pleasant experience than my graduation which was at night, freezing cold and the alumni speakers all awkwardly asked those in attendance to send money to the university.

My next destination was New York City! I took the bus into Manhattan and had the opportunity to spend a couple days with my friend Jewells before flying out to Oklahoma. This was also a different experience than what I was used to. This was the first time I was staying in NYC. To see the city as a visitor and to see it as a citizen are somewhat different experiences. There was no rush to see the sites, no getting up early or calling ahead. We made our own schedule and adjusted it accordingly. My first thoughts were how livable the city is. It reminded me of the Cosby's, and Jewells corrected me saying the Cosby's front step was filmed one street over! The people are also much more courteous than I'd expected. They were downright nice people! People who talk to you in line at the deli or offer their seats to others on the subway. Maybe Crocodile Dundee was right when he said, "Imagine seven million people all wanting to live together. Yeah, New York must be the friendliest place on earth."

We ate mediterranean food at midnight in Washington Square Park, had a picnic on the Staten Island Ferry as we passed by Lady Liberty, ate the best dumplings in Chinatown and had a barbecue in the backyard. Don't get me wrong, we didn't eat the entire time I was there. I refused to leave Manhattan without seeing a Broadway play. A friend of mine recommended we see In the Heights, a new musical set in Washington Heights. Somehow, despite showing up late and missing the discounted ticket lottery, we nabbed seats in the 7th row at 60% off. The show is A-MA-ZING!! There are about thirty songs or so and I was near tears after the opening number! Not because it was a sad show or anything like that, but there's something heartbreaking about seeing something so beautiful, so much raw talent on display just a few feet in front of me. It was an overload for the senses and Jewells and I kept looking at each other after each song with wide eyes and open jaws. If you live in New York, if you're going to New York you must see this production. It is spectacular, the casting was great, the plot is good-it takes place in Washington Heights and it's a latin community so there were great snippets of Spanish and the music was fantastic.



A lot of the subject matter hit home. For example, the girl whose father sells his business so she can finish college and said the only payment he desires is to hear her name followed by "Bachelor of Arts." This after going to my sister's graduation was very moving. Then a few people think of nothing but escaping the barrio and never coming back and at the end discover they are home. That hit me too since I'm undecided as to what or where home is to me. We couldn't stop raving about it to everyone we talked to. Such a good show!

Oklahoma was next. I'd been looking forward to going to the lake with the Mayhew's for months. I had high expectations and I'm happy to say they were all met. We had a blast setting lines for monster catfish, tearing across the lake on a jetski at sixty miles an hour, catching bluegill off the dock, jumping off the cliffs, cooking s'mores on Skunk Island and anchoring the boat in the middle of the lake and having a swim. It was a trip and lifestyle I wasn't in a hurry to leave. And I wrote this little poem as a tribute:

Tan toes, everybody knows
Come from an imbalance of work and pleasure.
You can have your employment, I'ma stick to my enjoyment
and maintain this life of leisure!

Colombi-ahhhhhh... Part II: The Caribbean

Seven months had passed since I'd been on a beach-I mean a nice beach. The cold water, shadeless and windy beaches of Peru don't count. I had been looking forward to the Caribbean for a long, long time. After one last 18-hour bus ride, I was there, in Cartagena, at midnight on a Friday night. Locals and foreigners both sing it's praises and it's difficult to talk about Colombian tourism without mentioning Cartagena

.

I was taken aback when, upon arriving-at midnight on a Friday night-the streets near my hostel were littered with garbage, drunks and the all-to-common salesmen that are found in Caribbean tourist towns. Was I lost? Where's the beautiful Cartagena everyone told me about? Fortunately, I found it the next day as I walked around the walls of the old city, down by the pier and in and out of the narrow cobblestone streets and under the clock tower at the main plaza. I found it again over a plate of fresh seafood and a glass of coconut lemonade. And again walking alongside huge iguanas in the central park. Each day presented another view of this popular city.

There are several day trips from Cartagena that are a lot of fun. The Islas de Rosario is one such trip which departs from the pier in the morning and include a slow boat ride out past the bay where the entire skyline of Cartagena is seen to a chain of small islands. One particular island has an impressive aquarium with a knowledgeable staff and beautiful animals. After visiting the aquarium we went to a nice white sand beach for a fried fish lunch and a dip in the water before starting the return journey back to the city.

One of the more unique experiences I've had was at the Volcan de Tutumo. This is a volcano about three stories high filled with creamy, lukewarm, saline mud. It's so salty in fact you can float effortlessly on the surface. To be honest it's impossible to sink! I've never been to the Dead Sea (yet!) but I imagine its very similiar. The depth of the volcano is said to be over 400 feet, however we all laid on the surface or stood vertically, perfectly and effortlessly suspended in the mud at chest level. Once you get over the weirdness of the experience, it's nice to cover your skin in the mud and relax. After an hour, you walk down the volcano to a nearby lake where everyone washes off, gets back on the bus and heads to the beach were another fish lunch is waiting for us. It's a fun experience I definitely recommend to others.

I was anxious to see what was under the water and spent a few days SCUBA diving in the national park of Tayrona. For a couple days I lived on the beach diving in the morning and afternoons while sleeping in a hammock at night. The Caribbean to me means sharks, unfortunately I didn't see any on my dives but I had a good time underwater and was happy to discover I could still dive after about eight months above water. On our excursion there was a group of dive students getting certified. I went under with them on two occasions and spent some time observing them under water. It had been just over a year since I earned my certification in Australia and I knew I struggled then with some of the skills they were struggling with now. It was fun to be the one to encourage new divers just like many people encouraged me on dive boats around southeast Asia. A lot can change in a year, and my SCUBA skills are proof.

Around this time I could see my time growing shorter and was eager to have another snake encounter before I left the continent. After my dive trip I continued east to the other side of the park and hiked over the mountains to the beach. The hike was fantastic. It wasn't too hot or humid like the rainforest in Bolivia and the activity of hiking was exhilarating. No snakes were found but I came across a different jewel of the rainforest; poison dart frogs. In my experience, dart frogs are common in the forests of Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Panama and Colombia. They are active during the day and eye-poppingly beautiful.

This one surprised me on the trail and gave me a good chase before I caught it. With the frog in one hand I retrieved my camera from my backpack with the other. I took a few photos and watched as he hopped away into the leaf litter. The excitement of the catch made me thirsty and I unscrewed my water bottle with the same hand I held the frog. When I took a drink some of the toxin must have washed from the bottle into my mouth because it tasted a little different, then began to get warmer and my tongue started going numb! I washed the bottle in a nearby stream and spit out what I could and the sensation faded. Never a dull moment huh!

The beach in the park is mostly unspoiled and uncrowded and unsuitable for swimming. I stayed for a few days walking along the beach, sleeping in hammocks, eating coconuts and mango and chatting with a few people along the way.

From Parque Tayrona I went directly to Barranquilla where I would fly out the following week. Many people questioned my desire to go to Barranquilla saying there was nothing special about it. It's not a tourist town, its not as pretty as Cartagena and therefore it's not special. On the other hand a select few told me it was even better than Cartagena because it wasn't a tourist town. After spending the weekend there I can tell you now, it's one of my favorite places in Colombia. It definitely isn't a tourist town, precisely why I like it. This is life for the majority of Colombians. Nobody is touting crappy souvenirs or day trips to the beach. This is what normal life feels like. I like normal life.

Add to that the fact I stayed with couchsurfers, Khris, Mickey and Jennifer the entire time I was there and saw even further into what a normal life is like, and made some great friends and had a lot of fun! Khris' family has a car which made seeing the city much easier and saved time. It was also a luxury I hadn't experienced-riding in a private vehicle-since I was in Argentina. Staying with Mickey and Jennifer exposed more luxuries I enjoyed; xbox, internet and local friends to hang out with. I had a great time eating, going to the movies, playing video games and playing pool with all of them. The most important thing of all was probably that I didn't spend my last days in South America alone. When I arrived in Buenos Aires I had a friend there to greet me and when I left Colombia, I had friends waving goodbye. Time with those friends, from Argentina to Colombia, is what I enjoyed the most.

Colombia:Part I, The Interior

I have wanted to go to Colombia for a long time. First, back in high school when it was considered one of the most dangerous places on earth. My mythology teacher told our class stories of traveling through the country with her husband after they got married. They were in three automobile accidents, their bus tipped over once and they were shot at. Sound like a honeymoon to you?

That is the Colombia of yesterday, a far cry of what you see today. The people and government have tried hard-and succeeded-in changing the country's reputation from a kidnapping and drug smuggling paradise to a peaceful and diverse destination. So much in fact that today the Department of Tourism for Colombia has a slogan that says, "Colombia. The only risk is wanting to stay."

I arrived in Bogota and stayed with a friend of mine, Melissa. Melissa and I had never met face-to-face before but we've known each other for several years through a mutual friend of ours whom I went to school with, Aida. Remember the opening scene in Mr. and Mrs. Smith where the characters played by Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie meet in Bogota at a colonial-style hotel ridden with bullet holes, surrounded by palms and it's about 100 degrees outside and explosions are going off in the distance? Colombians hate that movie. The city has an elevation near 8,000 feet in the Andes Mountains and temps rarely exceed 70 degrees, there are very few examples of colonial architecture or palm trees and the city has never been under heavy fighting like was shown in the movie. I don't blame Hollywood though, I mean who wants to see Angelinain a parka?

For four days Melissa and I cruised around Bogota seeing the sights like the Salt Cathedral, going shopping (I needed to boost my wardrobe) and surfing her internet for free (a luxury I hadn't enjoyed for months.) We also went to a birthday party for one of her friends and I was introduced to vallenato, a type of folk music that's very popular on the Caribbean coast. Its accompanied by an accordion and guacharaca, a ridged stick that is played by scraping a wire fork over the ridges to keep the rhythm.

From Bogota I went to Medellin. I could live in Medellin. The weather is described as "eternal spring" and fluctuates very little throughout the year. (Wyoming readers: "spring" is a pleasant season between winter and summer characterized by warm temperatures, new growth, emergence and renewal. It doesn't exist where you live!) Previous generations might associate Medellin with Pablo Escobar, whereas current generations associate it with Latin pop sensation, Juanes!

I don't know exactly what it is about the city but I got the feeling as soon as I arrived, that I liked it. Maybe its the weather, or the cleanliness of the streets, the convenience of the metro rail, the beauty of the valley or the attractiveness of its people. I'm sure its a combination of all these variables and more, the truth is I liked Medellin instantly!

My couchsurfing host was Veronica. What can I say about her? She's one of the best hosts I've had and she shaped my experience in Medellin into something I could not have experienced on my own. We walked through downtown visiting the botanical gardens, the planetarium and a couple parks. We were going dancing with her friends that evening. The famous Colombian author, Gabriel Garcia Marquez says, five Colombians in a room inevitable turns into a party. There is a lot of truth to that. As we waited for everyone to arrive a party spontaneously began on the sidewalk! A couple drinks, some plastic chairs, a barbecue grill and a stereo brought people together and before you know it I was receiving some vallenato dancing lessons right there on the sidewalk! Before long we went to a street lined with clubs blaring salsa, merengue, vallenato and reggaeton music and danced into the early morning.

The next day we went to town for the Labor Day Parade. Or at least, what I thought was going to be a parade. Veronica called it a march and when I asked if they would throw candy she said no, but they would probably throw explosives! That's when I learned a new Spanish word: lacrimogeno, or tear gas in English. About ninety-five percent of the marchers are normal, peaceful workers marching for recognition, representation or protesting labor rights. The other five percent are made up of the anarchists and communists. A select few actually believe in a cause and desire revolution. For the most part though, they are mostly young people who want to break stuff (Why else would the two groups march together? They should be polar opposites.)

We shadowed this group as they marched through town, spray-painting revolutionary slogans on store fronts, throwing rocks and paintballs at buildings and lighting explosives in sidestreets. The riot police soon showed up and walked alongside them acting as a small, and sometimes futile barrier, between the businesses and the marchers. You could physically feel the tension rising the further we walked and I was confident I was going to see some tear gas. See some tear gas, I wasn't thinking I was going to get shot with it! As soon as we arrived at a wide boulevard the police finally lost their patience. Veronica and I were in between the police and the hooligans (not a good place to be) when they stared running. I turned to look and saw smoke rising from gas canisters in the street and police shooting more into the crowd. I didn't look back again! I grabbed Veronica and turned to run when I was shot in the back. I ripped off the scarf I was wearing and gave it to Veronica and covered my face with my shirt to try to breathe. Tear gas makes it nearly impossible to see or breathe, both of which are very necessary when you're trying to run away from something. The entire morning I was excited to have this experience, but as we were running and my face was burning, and I couldn't open my eyes, I had snot hanging out of my nose and I wanted to puke up my lungs I decided, 'Okay, that's enough! I don't want this experience anymore!' Then just as we thought it was safe to slow down, the armored truck drove through and shot us with a water cannon which prompted us to run further.

Once you get away from the gas, your lungs feel better and your eyes begin to clear up, but your face continues to burn. Fortunately, my trusty sidekick new the antidote and bought some milk to wash our faces in. It quickly took the burning away and we gave it to anyone who needed it. At that moment, when we were standing in the street, soaking wet from the water cannon, our eyes teary and bloodshot, still trying to catch our breath and milk running down our faces, I gave Veronica a big hug thanking her for this experience and we began to laugh!

We were back with the other ninety-five percent in the march within fifteen minutes, eating a popsicle and listening to music like nothing happened. It was going to be another beautiful day in Medellin.