7/19/04  MK

We’d both been looking forward to today since first planning our trip.  We were heading for the Amazon.  Given that our destination was the most remote lodge in the Ecuadorian Amazon, we knew just getting there would be a journey in itself.  Over the last couple of weeks we had received a series of emails from our booking agent alerting us to changes in the travel plans.  In the end, our 2½ hour flight was now to be a 6-hour bus followed by a 1-hour flight, a short hike, and a powered canoe to our camp. 

Kapawi is a unique lodge, not only because it is the most remote in the jungle, but more so because of its partnership with the local community.  Over the years there have been numerous attempts to help indigenous people learn to survive in an increasingly modern world.  Most have tried to force western values and failed as a result.  The idea for Kapawi started with the indigenous people of the area, known as the Achuar.  They were repeatedly on the short end of bad deals with oil companies who took advantage of them, and proceeded to decimate their lands.  Recognizing this, the Achuar approached a tourist company called Canodros and together they devised a plan.  They built a lodge on Achuar land constructed by Achuar people utilizing their traditional techniques. Canodros is to run the lodge for the first 15 years paying the Achuar people about $750,000 per year for land rights and guest fees.  The majority of employees are native Achuar who are involved in all aspects of the lodge from guiding to management.  The intent is to prepare the Achuar to be able to run the lodge, as outright ownership will transfer to them in 2011.  The goal is for Kapawi to provide a sustainable source of income for the Achuar people so they are no longer dependent on the oil companies.  Kapawi appears to be a tremendous success as it has quickly gained a reputation as the finest ecolodge in the Amazon. 

7/20/04  MK

Last night was our first night in the jingle and one of our best nights sleep since leaving the USA.  Besides being at sea level for the first time in weeks, nothing beats the sound of the jungle to put you into a deep sound sleep.  In Africa it was lions and hippos, which took a little more getting used to.  In the Amazon it’s mostly birds, insects, frogs and bats, with the occasional howler monkey.  Actually, the bats were a little annoying with their wings creating a surprisingly loud flapping sound.  They also tended to wander all over the cabin at night including on the roof.  (It is now several days later and I am reading through my journal.  Upon reflection, our first nights sleep was not so sound.  Come to think of it, neither was the second or third nights.  The bats were an incredible nuisance and the night was so dark, literally absent of any light, that your eyes would play tricks on you.  I was certain I saw Lisa walking about the cabin only later to learn she was sound asleep in bed.)

7/21/04  MK

Today was a very special day.  We started with a morning canoe trip down river followed by a 2-hour hike through the jungle.  Amongst other jungle creatures, we observed a colony of leaf cutting ants, which we watched in fascination for about 20 minutes.  Beneath our feet in a long line were thousands of ants each carrying a portion of a freshly cut leaf.  There were actually 2 lines of ants.  One group walking from the ant colony deep into the woods, and the other returning home with a portion of a freshly cut leaf.  The leaves were generally about 5 times the size of the ant making it appear to be thousands of walking leaves.  A short time after continuing our trek, our guide broke a twig off a tree and told us how a specific type of ant feeds off the nutrients in the branch and how those nutrients impart a lemon flavor on the ant.  To demonstrate his point, he broke open the branch exposing dozens of ants and proceeded to lick the branch scooping up a good number of ants declaring it to be full of lemon flavor.  He then broke open another branch and offered us a snack.  Thinking it would make for a good journal entry I took the branch, and before rethinking my bold move, took a good long lick.  Much to my surprise it did in fact have a strong lemon flavor.  Others then joined in and yes; Lisa took a pretty big taste herself.  In fact, sometime later she was still spitting up ants. 

Despite the intrigue of the leaf cutters and our tasty snack, the highlight of the day was our visit to an Achuar village.  The village consisted of about 7 buildings and had a population of less than 40 people.  The buildings are round as the Achuar believe evil spirits hide in corners.  The walls are from trees, the roofs are thatch and the floor is dirt.  Inside is one large room with a few beds made of wood and no mattress of any kind.  There is a small cooking area consisting of a couple of pots and a kettle over a small fire.  There are tables, chairs and a cabinet or two, and that is about it.  Before arriving, we were instructed as to the Achuar customs and how to behave.  We were told to speak with the head of the household only.  We were not to speak with the children and we absolutely were not to have any physical contact.  Regarding the woman of the household, not only were we not to speak with her, but it was imperative that the men did not look directly at her.  Achuar men are very jealous and looking directly at their women would mean trouble.  Trouble was not defined, but it was fairly clear that it would be bad. 

Before entering the home, we were to request permission to enter in Achuar.  After receiving permission, we then sat down alongside each other on a log.  Seated in the center of the room, in a throne like chair, was the head of the household.  The woman of the household offered each of us a bowl of a beverage known as Chicha, which has great significance to the Achuar.  The wives of the house make Chicha by chewing the leaves of the Manioc plant, scraping/sucking out the pulp, and spitting it all into the hollowed out shell of this certain fruit, which I can't remember the name of.  They might add additional ingredients, but that is basically it.  We were told that we do not have to drink the Chicha but that we must accept it.  Feeling bold from my snack of ants, I was intent on having a sip.  Unlike with the ants, I did not move quick enough and thoughts of the substance in the bowl in my hand began to fill my head.  Not to mention the smell filling my nostrils.  After a few more minutes, the liquid began to coagulate and it was all I could do to keep from retching. 

We each took turns introducing ourselves, as did our host, and we then had something of a question and answer session.   We learned that our host was a village elder and a shaman (witch doctor).  He told us about his methods for healing the sick, and spoke of his concerns for the future of the Achuar people and the importance of maintaining their way of life.  All the while, he sat in his chair, drinking the Chicha and spitting repeatedly on the floor.  He struck me as a very proud man, and I believe he wanted us to recognize that.  He wasn’t certain of his age but I would guess him to be close to 70. 

Around the room were numerous children ranging from a few years old to well in their teens.  Some were reading; some working, and the youngest were playing.  There was also a dog, a small red bird, and a number of chicken and roosters wandering around.  I found myself wondering which were pets and which were to be dinner.  After the Q&A, we went outside and took turns using a blowgun, the traditional hunting weapon of the Achuar.  At first glance, it was hard to imagine being successful hunting anything with this seemingly prehistoric weapon.  But after trying it, it was easy to see how effective it could be in the hands of an expert, which all Achuar are.  It was surprisingly powerful, and deadly accurate, not to mention a lot of fun.

I would like to say hello and thank you to our adopted family, the Catapanos.  We first met them at our hotel in Quito and learned they were headed to Kapawi the following day with us.  We immediately attached ourselves to them and proceeded to have a great few days with their family.  They were fun and interesting and we hope to stay in touch.

7/25/04  LPK

The Jungle.

(I am writing from the perspective of “just having returned from the jungle,” but in the interest of full disclosure, we’ve been out of the jungle for days J. )

At about 6 a.m. we start out from Quito for a five-hour bus ride.  The bus is nice enough but as we enter the Oriente, as the Ecuadorians refer to the vast jungle east of the Andes, the “road” starts to become questionable.  Leaning out the window, I can see directly to the river below.  And it’s a long way down.  The scenery is breathtaking but I can’t keep my eyes off of the narrow, windy and muddy road.  The gaping holes in the road, evidence of recent landslides, are not comforting.  The driver doesn’t seem to notice that the recent rain has created narrow but steady streams of water that are cascading in the path of our bus.  Surely these little waterfalls are not good for the dirt road??  Seemingly oblivious, our driver merrily weaves through the forest past random sheep and stray dogs, tiny villages, makeshift soccer fields and general stores perched on the edge of the cliff.   It is hard to believe that people live all the way out here.  And we’re going to a place far more remote. 

At about 1:00 pm we arrive in a small town in the jungle called Shell.  The Americans built an airstrip here during WWII.  We are going to use it today to fly to the remotest part of the Ecuadorian jungle, right near the Peruvian border.  Cool.  Apparently, the larger of the airplanes that usually flies to Kapawi from Shell is broken.  Another small company that sometimes helps out with flights to Kapawi from Shell is out of business.  So, only 12 of us at a time can fly on the one remaining plane.  Luckily, Michael and I are in the first group.  We learn later that our compadres ate lunch at a “restaurant” near the airstrip.  Unprepared for so many guests, the restaurateurs hurriedly killed some chickens out back while our friends waited for lunch.

For the first few minutes of our flight some small huts and farms were still visible and I thought, “Wow, maybe this is not going to be as remote as I thought.“  I couldn’t have been more wrong.  For the next 55 minutes or so, for as far as the eye could see, we saw nothing.  I mean literally nothing except trees and the windy river.  I’ve never seen anything like it.  Had we continued flying past the dirt landing strip at Kapawi, the scenery would have continued that way for hours.  When we did land, we felt like we were sufficiently remote.  After a very sticky walk (the equatorial sun was at its height) through an Achuar village and a 10-minute canoe trip on the Pastazi River, we finally arrived at Kapawi.

As I’m sure you have heard, the Amazon basin is an amazing place.  Many in-depth and insightful texts have been written about its beauty, diversity and intrigue.  I will try to limit my writing to a few personal observations and new lessons.  When you first enter the rainforest, you are struck by its lushness.  You are surrounded by wall-to-wall greenery so you expect to see hordes of wildlife.  Then you start to realize that ironically, it seems strangely destitute of animals and life.

The trick is, you have to be still in the jungle.  You need to focus and hone your senses.  Then you realize the jungle is teeming with life.  And you begin to see and hear it all around you:  A gawky pheasant-like bird, a Great Tinamou, rushes through the brush as you approach.  An endless highway of leaf-cutting ants march underfoot with faithful soldier ants patrolling the edges of the columns while the workers carry pieces of plants and leaves from as far away as a few miles.  All of the ants work together to build their colony and protect their queen.  You notice a colorful poison dart frog perched on a leaf near the ground.  You hear the flutter of a delicate crystal-winged butterfly.  As you continue on, you see fresh burrows dug by armadillos and the strange footprints of a Tapir, a 300-lb. animal with an elephant-like nose. 

At Kapawi, all guests are escorted through the jungle, down the rivers, and into Achuar villages with both a bi-lingual naturalist and a local Achuar guide.  Between the two of them, I feel like I learned more in those four days than I have in a long time.  We learned about the symmetry of the jungle.  Literally thousands of mutual and opportunistic relationships converge to create a natural order among plants, trees, birds and insects.  Everything has a purpose and is useful to some other creature; all of them have adapted to make the most efficient use out of the forest’s resources.  Consider this astounding fact and you’ll begin to get a glimpse of what I mean:  rainforests cover something like 7% of the earth’s surface but account for 70% of it’s diversity. 

The Achuar people and our visit.  The opportunity to visit an Achuar village was one of the highlights to my trip to the rainforest.  I have visited remote places before and even been in African villages where I was the first white person some children had ever seen.  But, in general, the people in those villages were different, they had been “contacted” more than a hundred years earlier.  Their cultures had been significantly changed by the influx of colonialists and all that ultimately brought with it, like different belief systems and modern conveniences such as television.     

The Achuar people live in such a remote area of the jungle that they were only first “contacted” in the 1970’s when oil companies began to exploit the resources of the jungle.  Today, partly thanks to the Kapawi project, the Achuar people still live largely as they always have. 

I think Michael told you about the family that we fell in love with at Kapawi – the Catapanos.  (We basically hijacked their vacation and slipped into their family for the week).  I was discussing the Achuar with Lisa Catapano one of our first days at Kapawi and she made an interesting observation.  Before the ‘70s, the Achuar people were using canoes as their primary mode of transportation.  Besides their own two feet, canoes were all they needed.  In the early ‘70s they began to see a few airplanes overhead, so they had some sense of another mode of transportation.  However, it was not until the oil tycoons started exploring the rainforest that the Achuar had any experience or knowledge of cars.  They had never seen a car nor thought about the need for one. 

The children I had met years before in African villages may never have seen a white person in person, but they certainly had seen them in books, magazines and on TV.  They had a general sense that there were people who didn’t look like them out there.  The Achuar people depended entirely on the resources of the rainforest for everything – building their houses and boats, finding their medicine and their food.  Before they met the oil entrepreneurs they had never even conceived of cars. 

The Achuar people, like everything else in the forest, learned to adapt to their environment.  For example, since the Achuar don’t wear shoes, their feet have adapted.  Their big toes actually grow at a 45-degree angle and their feet are wide and flat! 

Before our visit, our guides briefed us on Achuar protocol.  The community leader of Ishipingo, the village we were to visit, had accepted our invitation and would welcome us in his home.  Puanchir Pitiur, our host, was also a Shaman, which we all found intriguing.  We were to enter his home but not to speak.  We had to wait until the Shaman initiated the conversation.  We were also told that we had to accept the bowl of Chicha that was offered to us by the woman of the house.  A bowl of Chicha was a common offering in Achuar communities and up until recently it was an insult to the host if you did not drink all of your Chicha.  But, as of late, the Achuar have come to accept that the stomachs of many foreigners are not quite as hardy as theirs.  So, as long as we accepted the bowl of sludge, remembering to NEVER look the woman in the eye, we’d be ok.  THANK GOODNESS, because as Michael described, the bowl of sludge was an awful sight to behold.

We silently filed into the Shaman’s house and accepted the bowls of sludge.  We sat quietly on wooden benches waiting for the Shaman to break the silence.  Trying not to make eye contact, I scanned the large circular room.  It wasn’t a house in our definition of the word.  It was made of wood and had a thatched roof.  The “walls” were not solid, with many open spaces between the boards, allowing for the free movement of birds, chickens, dogs and small children.  There was neither a bathroom nor a livingroom.

The whole house was one large open room.  It seemed like many people lived in the room.  Near our bench were two wooden beds.  Two little girls sat on one bed.  They were playing with a small puppy and a little red bird.  The bird was chirping loudly.  One girl flicked the bird’s beak.  The bird’s little foot got caught in between two planks of wood.  Still chirping wildly, the bird seemed to fling itself off the end of the bed.  There it hung unceremoniously upside down by it’s leg.  I bit my lower lip and looked away.  A chicken poked its head from outside the wooden framed wall and walked underneath our bench in between Michael’s legs.  An adolescent boy sat on a stool on the far side of the house.  He was stripping pieces off of a large palm leaf.  We had seen Jorge make string from the strong fibers of a palm leaf earlier in the forest. 

Our host sat away from us, in the middle of the room.  A big Sprite bottle obscured his face.  He didn’t even look at us.  He sat on a stool underneath his rifle, which was precariously slung over a hook.  His blowgun was leaning against the stool.  Did I mention he didn’t look at us?  Our host was busy chewing and spitting on the dirt floor.  Behind the Shaman, the woman of the house was tending to a fire on the floor.  I noticed there weren’t any holes in the roof to allow the smoke to escape.  Another woman, whom we later learned had come from a nearby village to have her baby healed, had a child strapped to her back and was collecting clothes that had been hung around the room. 

Finally, the Shaman spoke to Jorge.  Jorge translated from Achuar to Spanish for Daniel (our bi-lingual guide).  Daniel translated from Spanish to English for our benefit.  We found out the Shaman welcomed us and wanted us to introduce ourselves.  The conversation, though agonizingly long, was wonderful.  We could have stayed there for hours learning about the Shaman and his life.  He didn’t know how old he was, but he was the leader of the community we were visiting.  All 37 of the villagers were relatives of his – children, grandchildren, etc.  When he was a little boy, there was a war between some of the Achuar villages in Peru and Ecuador.  One night, warring villagers from Peru attacked his village.  He lost his mother, father, and siblings.  Years later and just a short while after marrying his first wife, she became ill and died.  He was inspired to learn how to be a Shaman after his wife’s death.  He wished he had been able to save her.  So, departing from tradition, he studied with different Shamans in many villages until he was officially annointed. 

Of course, we were with the Catapanos during our visit.  Lisa Catapano is a doctor so the Shaman had a lot of questions for her.  How did we practice medicine in the U.S.? Why didn’t she bring medicine with her if our medicine was so helpful?  Why does his heart hurt sometimes?  The queries were all potentially controversial so we all held our breath, but Lisa answered his questions with intelligence and grace.

Outside, a lot of the children gathered around as we all took a turn at the Shaman’s blowgun.  It was scarily accurate.  I know because I almost hit the target on the first try.  Jorge had shown us the tree that they made the blowgun from and given us an in-depth description of how they made them.  Suffice it to say that it is a painstaking and laborious process that takes a few weeks. 

In the interest of not dictating each and every moment of our visit, I will leave you with one Achuar custom.  From my brief description of an Achuar home, you may have deduced that there isn’t much privacy.  I was wondering how adults get any “private time” if you know what I mean.  I learned that, despite their perpetual need to hunt, fish and farm, the Achuar take a honeymoon.  After they are married they go into the woods for one week. They walk deep into the forest and lie out leaves and moss for a comfortable bed and spend seven days in paradise.

For more information on the interesting Achuar people and their customs, I highly recommend the anthropological book called, The Spirit of Twilight.

7/26/04 MK

I’ve been having a hard time trying to keep my journal up to date.  We are doing so much and having so many great and interesting experiences that if I were to write about all of them, there wouldn’t be much time left to have the experiences in the first place.  That said, to sum up the last few days.  Our final day in Kapawi was great, as were all of them.  We were a little sad to leave such a magical place, as well as to part ways with our adopted family, but we looked forward to our next adventure.  We had a relaxing day and a half in Quito, enjoying a few long hot showers, something that was lacking at Kapawi.  We then spent a night and very relaxing day at yet another incredible location.  This one was in a small town outside of Otavalo, which is famous for it’s market.  The lodge we stayed at is called Hacienda Cussin.  It was originally a colonial Spanish plantation that over the years went through many stages and is today a beautiful hotel.  Kind of a large and very old bed & breakfast.  Anyway, I’m going to let Lisa tell you more about it. 

Today we were transferred to our next adventure; 3 days in the cloud forest.  Our first night is at a place called Bellavista, which sits high in the cloud forest.  Bellavista is a small lodge that is more of a fancy treehouse.   The main lodge is a 4-story geodesic dome.  The bottom floor is the dining room and the 3 above are for sleeping.  The dome sits on the edge of a valley with nothing but tropical vegetation and wildlife as far as the eye could see.  We stayed in a separate cabin that is made entirely from bamboo.    Bellavista was the dream of a Brit named Richard Parsons.  He visited the area in the early 90’s and fell in love with the view.  He decided to buy the land and build an ecolodge.  After a few years, and from what I understand, a lot of sweat,  Bellavista was born.  Like many of the lodges we've stayed at, Bellavista does a great job of using the natural resources in an ecologically sound manner.  It blends in with the landscape and does not place undue stress on the environment.  Perhaps my favorite part is the large number of hummingbirds that are all over the property sipping sugar water from little feeders.  They are unafraid of humans and allow us to come very near.  They are absolutely fascinating to watch.  With their wings beating as many as 200 times per second, they are incredibly agile, and resemble Tinkerbelle from Peter Pan, or if you’re more of a Harry Potter fan, the flying ball used in the game of Quidich (sp?) was clearly inspired by the hummingbird.  I spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to capture a picture of a hovering hummingbird, something that proved to be very frustrating and only marginally successful.

7/27/04  LPK

Last night we slept in sort-of a bamboo tree house at the Bellavista Cloud Forest Reserve.  I guess I hadn’t thought about it much before, but it was chillier in the Cloud Forest than I expected.  Once again, I managed to sleep in every item of clothing I had with me.  Our room had some heavy alpaca blankets that helped a lot and by the middle of the night we were both pretty warm. 

As its name suggests, the cloud forest is frequently covered in clouds and mist and is at a higher elevation than the rain forest.  Ironically, there is more rain in the cloud forest than in the rain forest.  Though I’m not totally clear on all the specifics, what I understand of the geological explanation (?) for the climate of the cloud forest is interesting.  Picture the huge range of the Andes Mountains, running down the western side of Ecuador and much of South America.  On the western side of the Andes, you have the coastal lowlands and on the eastern side, you have the Amazonian lowlands.  The middle is the Andes or the highlands.  Basically weather collides creating clouds, which cover the Andes.  The result of all the clouds and humidity is an amazingly dense and diverse forest. 

Upon arrival at Bellavista, we set out on a hike with our guide, Gallo.  Gallo was chock-full of information as all of our guides in Ecuador have been.  Each of the guides studied at least five years to make a career out of eco-tourism.  Michael and I have been astounded at how much they know generally about their country, its cultures and customs, and also about their chosen area of expertise. 

The cloud forest looks really different than the rain forest.  It was much more what you might imagine a “forest” to be – full of moss, vines, towering old growth trees, and fields of bamboo interspersed with blooming plants and trees.  Since Ecuador sits atop the equator (hence the name), plants and trees blossom all year long. 

Even though we were only at about 7000 feet, I felt the altitude again almost immediately.  But, sucking wind while trudging uphill has started to become second nature since the Inca Trail.  We were quickly rewarded for our hiking efforts when we came upon the loud toot-tooting of a pair of Plate-billed Mountain Toucans.  We managed to see their lovely yellow wings, red patches and long beak pretty clearly with our binoculars.* The Fruit Loop bird has got nothin’ on these guys!  *(The guides’ binocs have consistently been better than ours, inspiring us to buy a new pair while in New Jersey for Brian’s wedding).

We learned about the symbiotic relationships among the plants, animals and birds here too.  For example, there are hundreds of sub species of hummingbirds found in the cloud forest.  (The lodge has feeders set up all over so we were able to sit and watch these fast, fluttering little fairies, up close and personal).  At one point on our hike, our guide turned over a big green leaf to reveal a gorgeous curved magenta flower with a bright yellow piston.  Not only had the plant adapted to hide its attractive flower from predators, only one hummingbird in the world was able to pollinate it.  One hummingbird had evolved a curved beak to fit perfectly into its curved flower.  This is just one of the magical things we learned in the forest.

July 30, 2004 LPK

My sweet Michael and I are in Quito, Ecuador but I’m sending a “shout-out” tonight to Boston, U.S. and the Democratic National Convention where we are officially nominating the next President of the United States! Go Kerry/Edwards!

July 31, 2004  LPK

In the interest of “keepin’ our journal real,” I thought I’d take a moment to add a dose of reality.  I am HUGELY grouchy today.  Ok, I’ll admit, I may be experiencing some hormonal fluctuations. However, I think the real problem is that for some reason, people are conspiring against me.  For example, we dropped off our absolutely filthy clothing at a “lavenderia” (laundry place) yesterday.  (I would love to find a laundromat where we can do our wash by hand, but that is not available around here.)  For about 50-75 cents per pound, you can get your laundry washed.  Let’s just say, you get what you pay for.  In Peru, our first load of laundry was returned with most shirts and pants splattered with pinkish/red dots and half-pink socks.  I hadn’t included my convertible pants in that load because I have had bad experiences in the past where, being made of such light-weight material, they are returned two inches shy of their original length.  We waited as long as possible to find the perfect lavenderia, but by the time we were post-jungle in Ecuador we were in desperate need for clean clothes.  I caved and decided to give my best presentation of charades and phrase-book-Spanish to beg the washer-folks not to dry my convertibles.  Needless to say, both pairs came back shrunk and we lost two pairs of hiking socks to boot.  I still had one pair of nice Patagonia pants whose length I cherished.  I used these lovely pants for hiking and walking around the city.  They were working out just fine.  Until yesterday.  Clearly, experience should have shown me not to trust that my message had been received.  Perhaps my hormones are clouding my judgment.  Despite assurances that no “caliente” (hot) would be used on my pants, sadly, they returned shrunken and flood-length yesterday.  The only thing I threw around our hotel room were empty water bottles, so nothing was broken.  Ok, I threw the remote control once.

There’s much much more horrible injustice to report, but I don’t want to dwell on the mundane.  Suffice it to say that my mood is currently being assuaged.  We are sitting in one of our favorite Quito cafés, The Mango Tree.  I am eating a Snickers Bar (cure-all) and sipping café con leche (with milk).  Things are looking up. 

7/31/04  MK

4:21pm.  Since we were not able to get a room in our preferred hotel in Quito, Café Cultura, we checked into the Hilton, which is around the corner.  Staying in a Hilton, with in-room internet access and cable television, was in stark contrast to the city and country we’ve been traveling through.  Over the last couple of days we worked-out in the gym, had massages, and watched endless hours of CNN including most of the democratic national convention.  For a couple of days we almost forgot we were in a third world country, and fully enjoyed the amenities of a first world hotel.  Hot water on demand is truly a blessing.

Tomorrow morning we leave for a week in the Galapagos.  This leg of our trip is one of my most eagerly anticipated, and I am certain it will not disappoint.  

Switching speeds for a moment, I’ve been keeping a list of random thoughts and quirks I’ve noticed about Peru and Ecuador.  My guess is that we will find much of this to remain true throughout our South American leg, and possibly most of the third world.  Some are interesting and some are silly, regardless I’m not going to elaborate very much but just sort of list them here.

8/1/04  MK

Our first day in the Galapagos Islands.  Of all the adventures we have planned during our year of traveling, I expect this one is going to be a highlight for me. 

Day one was to be a light day.  After boarding our floating home for the next week, the Flamingo I, we motored to a small secluded beach where we were to go for snorkel.  We were told the purpose was more to test our equipment than it was to be a wildlife experience.  However, once arriving on the beach we realized the black specks we saw from far off were actually a colony of sea lions.  We have sea lions in San Francisco, in fact we have tons of them, but this was to be a different experience.  As the 21 of us exited the pangas (dinghies) and set foot on the beach, it was easy to see the surprise and awe on all of our faces.  We each walked carefully not knowing how the sea lions would react, but it wasn’t long before we realized they couldn’t care less about our presence.  Most simply ignored us while a few lazily opened an eye to see who was crossing their path.  It was as if we, like the sea lions, were wild animals who belonged in nature. 

It was an incredible first day in what is like an entirely different world from anything we’ve experienced.  That night was to be a different story and was a sign of the nights to come. 

During the day the boat is anchored while we explore the islands and bays.  Each night after our briefing of the following days activities, and after dinner, we depart for our next location generally motoring well into the early hours of the morning.  Being in a cabin at the back of the boat, Lisa and I were right next to the engine.  However, worse than the constant sound of a large diesel motor, was the unusually rough sea.  Or so we were told it was unusual.  While not being prone to seasickness, both Lisa and I, each night, were feeling pretty queasy.  The only remedy was to lie down, shut our eyes, and hope for the best.  As if nausea wasn’t enough to keep me awake, each time the ship keeled to one side Lisa would grab me digging her nails into my forearm.  Needless to say, neither of us slept very well.

8/8/04  MK

WOW!!  This was truly a spectacular 7 days.  We met some great people, learned a tremendous amount from our incredibly knowledgeable guides, Renato and Juan Carlos, and the animals…absolutely incredible.  The islands are covered with animals that are both physically different from anything we’ve seen, and are completely unafraid of people.  There are birds like the male frigates with red balloons on their necks that blow up to enormous size when they are trying to attract the females.  There are blue-footed boobys with feet so blue it looks like God put clown shoes on them.  There are tens of thousands of iguanas of different species and colors, which cover the islands.  They are often seen individually or in large groups with hundreds of them lying on top of each other.  Similarly, the sea lions that cover the beaches are usually found huddled in small groups lying on top of each other.  Often you will find two sea lions spooning on the beach or lying arm in arm (flipper in flipper).  We saw mother boobies and sea lions feeding their young, and we saw fathers taking their turn protecting the nest. 

That’s not to say it was all idealistic beauty.  There was gruesome death as well, like booby chicks that were pecked to death by predators feeding off their blood.  We saw one that was missing half its skull yet was still alive.  Lisa wanted to help it in some way, but we were reminded it is not our place to interfere with nature.  We watched in awe as two bull male sea lions fought for a female (it’s the same throughout the animal kingdom).  Forget about Mike Tyson or Hulk Hogan, here were two several-hundred pound animals seemingly fighting to the death.  It was a vicious, violent display.  Eventually one swam off while the other gave chase intent on finishing the job. 

How unafraid are the animals?  While trying to photograph a mocking bird that was standing on the ground, it hopped over and pecked at the lens of my camera.  While snorkeling, we found a hat in the shallows and used it to play fetch with a sea lion.  We would throw it and upon landing in the water, the sea lion would speed after the hat, grabbing it in its mouth and return it to us. 

Of all the places on our list, if there was one that I would recommend getting on a plane to visit, it is the Galapagos Islands.

8/9/04 - HAPPY BIRTHDAY RACHEL!

The Magical Galapagos Islands.  As our little panga (dinghy) skimmed across the turquoise water, I craned my neck to take in the 20-story tall, pinnacle-shaped black rock jutting out of the water.  It was like something out of a science fiction movie – too beautiful to be true.  Blue-footed boobies were flying high above.  When they spotted some fish in the ocean below, they suddenly turned downward, feet pointed and wings pulled close to their bodies, they were transformed into high speed arrows piercing the water at blinding speed.

The panga slowed as we neared the pristine white sand beach.  Before disembarking, one of our guides clapped loudly to alert the curious sea lion that had been closely following our boat.  Once ashore it was clear that the sea lions owned the beach.  Three juveniles were splashing playfully in the shallow surf.  One of them began to chase a little boy.  The boy bolted out of the water, a bit shocked to have an animal of that size in such close proximity.  He quickly realized the sea lion was just being playful and returned to the water whereupon a game of “chase” quickly ensued.  Michael and I dropped our bags on the beach.  About half a dozen groups of sea lions lay draped all over each other drying off in the sun.  At that moment they were neither afraid nor interested in us.  I saw one big sea lion slowly opened her eye to follow our steps as we crossed her path.

A bit down the beach we noticed a small gathering of people.  As we got closer we saw the object of their attention was a tiny sea lion, only about two days old.  The tiny animal was squealing and writhing around in the sand completely unaware of how its body parts worked.  Part of its umbilical cord was still evident.  The afterbirth lie a few feet away near the mangrove trees.  The mockingbirds were pecking away at it since it was one of the few fresh water sources around.  The fuzzy little sea lion was precious; it was almost impossible to resist picking it up for a quick cuddle.  Touching any of the animals, the reptiles or the birds is strictly prohibited in the Galapagos where respect and conservation are constant mantras.  We figured the mother must be out fishing, but it felt a little strange to leave such a tiny vulnerable creature sitting on the shore.  But, that’s how it was in the Galapagos, life and death happened all around you.  The natural order of things, while sometimes disturbing, was clearly evident.  We were merely privileged guests in a still pristine environment, a living laboratory.  It was spectacular.

We continued along the beach to where the stretch of sand narrowed and the banks became steeper.  Another small crowd had gathered to watch a few adult sea lions that were sliding down the bank of sand straight into the water below just for fun.  That’s one of the enchanting qualities of the sea lions – sometimes they do things just for fun.  It’s a luxury some of the other animals don’t have.  As we walked along the now skinny strip of sand, a few feet above jagged volcanic rocks, we had to mind our steps.  Literally every few feet lay marine iguanas in various states of repose.  They looked like they had been flung from far above and lay frozen in that position.  As with so many of the animals, birds and plants on the islands, different sub-species have adapted to the unique environment of each island.  I remember learning this fact in school when we studied Darwin’s theory of evolution, but actually seeing the evidence in person was truly astounding.  Today the iguanas were about four feet (including their long tail) and were tinted red.  The fluorescent red and orange of the Sally Lightfoot crabs along the coastline caught my eye just as the head of a giant Galapagos tortoise peeked above the water.  From where we stood we could clearly see the large shell of the tortoise before he dove deeper into the sea. 

After about an hour of exploring, we reboarded our panga and motored back to our boat, the Flamingo.  We were off to the other side of the island where we were looking forward to seeing a completely different landscape and hordes of Blue-footed Boobies and Frigate birds.  We were not disappointed.  Just an hour’s boat ride to the other side of the island revealed what appeared a dry and desolate place.  As we climbed up the “steps” carved into the cliffside we began to make out the tops of short spindly white trees.  Though they appeared dead, the trees were not.  They were just hibernating until the garua, or rain, arrived.  This year, as often happens, the Galapagos was suffering from a drought.  With each step you could see the evidence of intense competition for food.  Dying and dead sea lions, Boobies, and iguanas were scattered literally every few steps.  In stark contrast, almost every short tree held Boobies feeding their young, preening and tending to their nests, or male Frigates with their enlarged red pouches calling to attract a mate.  This was beauty at its most fundamental.

Blow by Blow of our Galapagos tour:

·        442 nautical miles traveled.

·        9 islands visited.

·        crossed the Equator 6 times.

1 August 2004

2 August ‘04

3August ‘04

4 August ‘04

5 August ‘04

6 August ‘04

7 August ‘04

8/12/04  MK

Our last few days in Quito turned out to be pretty interesting.  We wanted to climb Cotopaxi, a volcano and the 2^nd highest peak in Ecuador, however, when trying to sign up for the trip, the guide said he would not take anyone who had less than 5 days in Quito to acclimatize.  Since we lost our acclimatization in the Galapagos, we wouldn’t have enough time to reacclimatize, so we had to come up with alternate plans.  At the South American Explorers Club (a great organization worth joining before traveling in S.A.) Lisa learned about the opportunity to visit American women in prison in Quito.  Being a bleeding-heart liberal (I’m going to get yelled at for writing that) she was intent on visiting these women who were certainly wrongfully incarcerated.  I, on the other had, was looking forward to speaking with hardened criminals and hearing about life inside the big house.

On the way to the prison we stopped at a local supermarket to pick up items for the women.  Toothbrushes, shampoo, Doritos, fruit, about 4 grocery bags in total.  We arrived early to the prison and had to wait outside, in the hot sun, for about an hour.  Shortly before opening the gates a line began to form.  I scouted out the crowd, curious about the visitors.  It turned out to be a very diverse group made up mostly of men and a handful of women.  Some were clearly impoverished, while many were very well dressed and had the appearance of successful businessmen.  I couldn’t help but notice one guy in particular.  He was very much the stereotype of who you might expect to show up for visiting day in prison; torn clothing, dirty and very loud.  After he approached us, we learned that he was also American.  A blow to my patriotic attitude.  He was born in Ecuador, but grew up in Brooklyn.  In and out of prison most his life, he moved back to Ecuador several years ago.  His wife, a woman from Colombia, was doing time for trafficking.  I can’t recall the details, but it was a ridiculous amount of time for what sounded like a very small amount of drugs; certainly not enough to make her a dealer.  When it was finally my turn to enter the prison I put my hands against the wall to be searched as was done to each person in line ahead of me.  Instead, the guard simply waved me in.  I guess he felt he had nothing to fear from the Jewish boy from Long Island.  I actually felt a little insulted. 

Once in the prison we met several English-speaking women from all over the world.  Germany, South Africa, Australia, Belgium, Thailand; much of the world was represented.  The American women heard we were there to see them in particular and all eventually found us.  We sat on benches in the courtyard.  Of course, my first questions were “what are you in for and how long”.  We learned all were in for drug trafficking and most had a similar story.  They couldn’t make ends meet and after resisting the offers to be a mule, as their financial situation worsened, they eventually agreed.  A mule is someone who is paid to bring drugs back from South America.  Mostly cocaine, but at least one was carrying heroine.  All of the women we spoke with were busted making their first trip, or so the story goes.  Call me a fool but I tended to believe them.  Their sentences, if they were even sentenced yet, ranged from 4 to 20 years.  Many had been in prison for well over 1 year and were yet to be sentenced. 

We spent a good amount of time with several of the women.  Yolanda is a very attractive African American woman from Brooklyn.  The mother of 2, she was laid off shortly after September 11^th and her bills were piling up.  She saw this as a way to get out from under her debt.  She was arrested in the airport in Quito and is still waiting to be sentenced; she is looking at 8 to 12 years.  Yolanda volunteered to give us a tour of the prison and to show us a few of the cell rooms.  While walking through a hallway another woman began yelling at her and tried to kick her as we walked by.  Clearly there was an issue but I didn’t think much of it.  Shortly later we again were passing the same woman.  This time she grabbed Yolanda by the arm, shouted something at her in Spanish, and punched her several times in the face.  These were not gentle blows, and certainly did not resemble what guys refer to as a catfight.  I felt a little cowardly for not jumping in and rescuing her, but I’m not sure who would have rescued me as there were no guards in sight.   Up until that point, our visit had been very friendly and enjoyable and on some level I think we forgot where we were.  This was a sudden and harsh reminder.  We later learned Yolanda was in debt for over $4000 to the wrong people and had no way of paying it.  One of the other girls said very matter of factly that Yolanda was going to get knifed.

Shortly after the incident, Yolanda passed us off to Tamara who continued our tour.  Tamara is a 30-something African American woman from San Diego.  She had a good job with Wella, the shampoo people, when she was arrested in Quito with drugs in her suitcase.  She claims to this day that her boyfriend put them there and that she was completely unaware of what she was carrying.  She has drummed up a lot of support back home and Wella has stuck by her providing some financial support.  She has a new lawyer representing her and even has a website telling her story and the stories of several of the inmates.  Last I checked the site was not yet live, but it should be soon and I’m sure will be worth a look.     

Tamara then introduced us to her friend Christina.  Chrissie recently turned 21 and has been in prison for 3 years.  She was arrested along with her husband and had over 50 heroine balloons in her stomach.  Apparently a popular smuggling technique is to place the heroine into small balloons and to swallow them.  I’m not exactly sure how they are later retrieved, but I’m envisioning someone following you around with a pooper-scooper.  Chrissie is from Wyoming and her father is a federal judge in Arkansas.  She was a state champion swimmer, and had a scholarship to NASA’s Space Camp.  Her dream was to be an astronaut. 

Chrissy and Tamara told us that had we been visiting this past April we would have been their guests for 12 days.  Apparently the inmates took over the prison locking the guards out and keeping the visitors captive.  Once again, we were suddenly reminded where we were. 

All in all, I would say Lisa was largely correct.  While these women certainly broke the law, with the possible exception of Tamara, there is a great deal of injustice in the Ecuadorian jail system.  The women are held well over a year without being sentenced, and when they are the punishment does not seem to fit the crime.  The women we met with were bright, friendly, full of hope, and very thankful for our visit.  They were not the hardened criminals I expected.

That’s it for Ecuador; we’re off to New Jersey tonight.

8/12/04  LPK

Women’s Prison/Quito.  As Michael told you, I wanted to visit the Women’s Prison while we were in Quito.  I wanted to scratch beneath the surface of the typical tourist scene in Ecuador.  By all accounts, Ecuador is an amazing place to visit.  It’s a small country but it is blessed with a multitude of resources including the Amazon rainforest, the Andes Mountains and the Galapagos Islands.  But, like many developing countries, beneath the beautiful attractions lies the ugly effects of poverty and corruption. 

As I had imagined, life inside the prison is pretty desperate.  The human rights of these women are being violated continually.  There is a chaotic, almost surreal atmosphere inside.  During the day murderers and drug traffickers are free to roam around the same courtyard.  (All of the foreigners in the prison are there for drug trafficking).  To make matters worse, there is no attempt at rehabilitating prisoners. Security inside the prison is minimal – I don’t remember seeing security guards at all aside from at the entrance.  In fact, aside from the security at the entrance and one missionary named Joan, evidence of prison administration is all but absent.  Instead, a dangerous subculture has developed.  Women still engaged in personally destructive behaviors, borrow money for drugs or food.  They accrue debts they can’t afford and have no prospect of repaying.  The “lenders” charge exorbitant rates – 100% interest after the first week and $100 additional for each week the debts remain unpaid.   

Women live in fear for their safety and with uncertain futures.  Corruption in the legal system is rampant.  Judges, lawyers, and prison guards routinely take bribes and flout what few laws that exist.  Women languish over one year in prison without even seeing a judge, no less being sentenced.  And, when they are sentenced, there is no guarantee that their sentence time will be honored.  We met one woman who technically finished her prison term over a year ago, but remains behind bars with no explanation or recourse. 

Michael did a great job relaying some of women’s stories.  I agree with him, most of the women made bad decisions.  But they do not deserve the kind of treatment they receive.  Given the current legal system in Ecuador, there is no hope of breaking the vicious cycle of poverty and crime. 

If you’d like to find out more about the prisons in Ecuador, and American prisoners there, please contact the South American Explorers Club in Quito at  http://saexplorers.org/.  By the way, this past June, the girls were featured in an article in Glamour Magazine.  If I can find a link to the story, I will post it here.

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