Publish Post

Sitting outside on a gorgeous morning at the end of August in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, almost exactly three years from when I first moved out here without any idea of what I was going to actually do when I got here, I'm finally feeling the inspiration, and actually have the time to write after several months. I realized yesterday that this is the first time I'll actually be spending consecutive weekends in the same place in months. I'm also reading Nelson Mandela's autobiography, a wonderful book which has given me lots of inspiration (and I'm only a third of the way through), part of which is to stop being lazy and start writing about my recent experiences.

I've been reflecting a lot recently about my life. Over three years have passed since I graduated from college, and I must admit that I've been having some doubts and uncertainty about my life at present. I was visiting my Mom in Connecticut last week (I now hesitate to say “I was home in Connecticut”) when I ran into the father of one of my friends from high school. I hadn't spoken with my friend in years, and speaking with her father, the first thing I realized is how out of touch I've become with my former life. It turns out my friend from high school is now the deputy press secretary for a U.S. Senator. I was happy for her, but the encounter definitely made me question my priorities.

Visiting different friends and family over the past few weeks in different parts of the country, I have had the same recurring observations. Everyone else is going about building lives, establishing their careers and buying houses, developing long term relationships; some are even getting married, having kids and getting a dog. As I wander around like a lost nomad, I can't help but be a bit confused about what to do now. While others are deciding on their latest home improvement, I'm facing the difficult decision of whether to travel to Africa or Southeast Asia this fall. This decision, however, doesn't have the same excitement for me as it did a few years ago. Now, other questions seem to occur more in my consciousness. How much longer do I want to continue this life of travel? Should I be focusing on more concrete, permanent goals? If so, what should they be?

I remember back in high school I used to think that when I went to college, I would gain knowledge and wisdom and all the answers would come easy after that. In college I realized this wasn't the case. When I graduated and started traveling, I had the hope that somewhere between all the diverse experiences I was having, a clear path would emerge. My greatest frustration recently is that this has not been the case. Looking back over the last three years, I know that I would not trade them for anything. Nonetheless, I've been wondering, with more frequency lately, whether I'm now just stalling, procrastinating to make a decision, by continuing to travel, or similarly, if I'm afraid to make any long term commitments or pursue any long term goals. I know that I would be more focused if I had something to set my mind to, but going back in a circle I am still unsure of what that should be. I'm still planning to go into the Peace Corps soon; in 6 months I hope to be busy and focused on all sorts of new things. Nonetheless, I can't repress doubt about whether this is really the right path for me, and whether or not I'll be able to be out of the country for 27 months.

Mandela's book, Long Walk to Freedom, has helped me gain perspective, showing me that in the course of an entire lifetime, three years is a really short period, and time well spent if one uses one's experiences during this time to build a life based on more solid foundations and knowledge. Nonetheless, it has also showed me that the decisions I make in my youth will, whether I want them to or not, determine my future and my destiny.

Another thing Mandela's book reminded me of is how rewarding it is to recall and reflect upon one's life experiences. I sat down with the intention of writing about my summer in Central America, so I suppose I should actually do that while I still have the motivation, and stop rambling about everything else going on in my head.

After my week traveling in Nicaragua before program, I picked up my first of two groups of students in Costa Rica at the San Jose airport. After a night in San Jose at the hotel Los Volcanes, we went Northeast, en route to the Caribbean Coast, and spent 3 days “camping” in the rain forest near the Saripiqui River (in parentheses because we were in permanent tents on wooden platforms with mattresses, electricity, and daily maid service to change the sheets). We went hiking to waterfalls, horseback riding, rappelling, zip-lining, and my favorite, white water rafting. The rafting was on class 2, 3, and 4 rapids on the stunning Sarapiqui River, and certainly didn't lack for an adrenaline rush. In fact, our second group got an unexpected scare when two rafts collided after one got wedged between two rocks at the top of a major class 4 rapid, sending 8 students, 2 guides, my co-lead Heather and myself crashing down several hundred feet of whitewater and rocks. It was definitely one of the more terrifying experiences I've had.

Next we headed to the Caribbean town of Tortuguero, where we spent a little over a week participating in a volunteer program on (mainly Green) sea turtle research at the Caribbean Conservation Corporation. To arrive in Tortuguero, we traveled via the winding canals through the rain forest on one of the coolest boat rides I've ever been on, during which we saw crocodiles out sunning themselves on logs.

Tortuguero was nestled in between a large canal and the Atlantic Ocean, with lush rain forest coming right up to the beach. We saw unbelievable wildlife throughout Costa Rica—multiple species each of toucan, parrot, various tropical birds, monkeys, snakes, frogs, lizards, butterflies, insects, and so much more. But the purpose of the trip was to learn about sea turtles (the program was called Sea Turtle Studies), and we certainly saw lots of turtles. Tortuguero is one of the top two beaches for nesting green turtles in the world, and there are over 100,000 nests laid on less then 20 miles of beach each nesting season. Each night in Tortuguero (with one night break), we would divide into groups and patrol the beach for turtles laying their nests. Shifts were from either 8 p.m. until 12:00 midnight or from 12-4 a.m. I'll never forget the experience of my first turtle patrol.

Walking the path through the trees and vegetation (no lights are aloud on the beach; they would scare away the turtles), we suddenly emerge onto the beach. Wind hits our faces, and a full moon illuminates the dark shapes of the trees in the jungle as we begin to walk. We notice distant flashes of lightning from a storm far out at sea, but for now the sky is clear above head. After a few minutes we see something we've never seen before in the sand, a pattern of strange grooves leading out of the water towards the vegetation. The research assistant leading us explains that they are sea turtle tracks, a new sight which will quickly become commonplace to us. We soon notice a second pair of tracks a few feet further down the beach, and are told that this turtle has already laid its nest and gone back to the ocean. A few minutes later we come across another turtle track, but this time we see only one track rather than two. We are amazed at the site of our first green turtle digging a chamber for her eggs. She is ENORMOUS-- the students help measure her and she is over 100cm long, over 3 feet from head to tail! We help take other measurements, during which time we get to go down into the black sand and marvel at the beauty and detail of the turtle close up—the shape of her shell, the patterns of the scutes, the powerful flippers, and what I will remember most, the small black eyes.

I probably saw close to fifty turtles in total while I was in Tortuguero, some coming from the water to build their nest, others going back after finishing, some building their nests, others laying eggs. I remember, on a dark night in the midst of a pouring tropical rain, seeing the wet shell of a turtle walking slowly up the beach, illuminated for a split second by a bolt of lightning. We also learned about the problems of poaching facing both the mothers and their eggs, and I was surprised to know how common of an occurrence it still is.

I shouldn't romanticize the experience too much . Patrols were tiring and difficult-- walking on sand is much harder than solid land-- and often through either the sticky tropical heat or pouring rain, and on multiple occasions through thunder and offshore lightning. Some nights we walked for 4 hours without seeing one turtle, while other times we'd run into groups of over a hundred other tourists on “turtle tours” watching a single mother laying eggs. There were mosquitos and sandflies. On nights when it was cloudy or the moon wasn't out it would be nearly pitch black and we'd trip and fall repeatedly in the darkness. The hardest part, however, was definitely the exhaustion of walking hours on end in the middle of the night, step after step, and many times the shifts seemed to drag by endlessly. Nonetheless, it was hard not to feel something special, something primordial, walking on the beach and realizing you are witnessing a process that has been going on and hasn't changed much (apart from the impact humans have had) in hundreds of millions of years.

Our days in Tortuguero, while we normally had mornings to rest, were fairly packed as well. The students had lectures on sea turtle biology and ecology every day, as well as written assignments and two exams. I organized community service events at the local high school and daycare center, and I greatly enjoyed (as I always do) the opportunity to play with and interact with a group of young kids. In addition to being a lot of fun, it's an experience which always reminds me of how similar people are.

From Tortuguero, we took an incredible flight on a small propeller plane to Drake Bay on the Osa peninsula on the southern Pacific coast, where we spent our third and last week of the trip. We took boat rides every day along one of the best stretches of rain forest on the entire pacific coast to visit Corcovado National Park and Cano Island, among other places. We got to go kayaking with crocodiles and snorkeling with sharks (or, to be more accurate, one small white tipped reef shark). While we didn't see any more nesting turtles, we did see more unbelievable wildlife. Corcovado has the country's largest population of scarlet macaws, and I'll never forget the unique way they fly overheard through the trees. We saw lots of howler monkeys, and could hear their unmistakable King-Kong like call through the trees from far away.

The most incredible part of Drake Bay, however, was its marine life, particularly its marine mammals. We saw different species of dolphins in enormous schools, including the pan tropical spotted dolphin numerous times. They would surf on the wake from our boat and breach the surface of the water, leaping into the air to heights several times the length of their body. We saw humpback whales breaking the surface simultaneously in pairs, huge schools of fish while snorkeling, a mammoth manta ray leaping out of the water, and a pair of ridley turtles mating in the open ocean. For me, the most unforgettable experience was seeing a school of at least a dozen breaching pseudo-orcas, commonly known as “fake killer whales”. These rare animals are not regularly seen anywhere in the world, and look like a cross between a dolphin and killer whale. They were also jumping out of the water like dolphins, but were much, much bigger. I got a few incredible pictures, but for each photo I managed to get there were countless images I could only capture in my mind. Like turtle patrols, I shouldn't glamorize the boat rides, as they were often long and uncomfortable, often overshadowed by sea sickness for a few students.

Back in San Jose, we got to see a bit of the city and had our final lunch and dinner at two unforgettable local cafes near our hotel in Alajuela. In total the trip was 20 days, and I did it twice with two seperate groups (the above experience are an amalgamation between the two trips)

Despite all the amazing things we saw and experienced, it was definitely the hardest summer I've had leading trips. I believe the main reason is that since I wasn't familiar with the academic content of the course (students were actually able to receive high school or even college credit for the trip), it was hard for me to connect with the groups. Working with groups of young, mainly females from very privileged backgrounds was difficult, although I've been more successful in the trips I led in previous years in South America, I believe because I knew more about the academic content of those programs. Honestly, by the end of second trip I was really ready to be done, but now that it's been over a month I'm able to look back and remember mainly the good experiences and amazing things I got to do.

The morning after sending home my second group, I headed to downtown San Jose to catch a bus to Panama. After making my way to the correct bus stop (the side of a not so obvious street) and discovering the bus left in twenty minutes, I had a frantic rush of trying to return my employer's rented cell phone and find a working ATM. I ran the whole way, looking ridiculous lugging my enormous blue backpack, and made it back to the bus stop with less than 3 minutes to spare, and hopped onto the bus completely out of breath. During the 7 hour bus ride I met a cool Argentine American girl who had done the Peace Corps in the South Pacific, and a family with two teenage sons from San Diego that were going to stay with some missionaries on an island near Bocas Del Toro, Panama, the same place I was heading to.

Bocas del Toro is an archipelago of islands off Panama's northern Caribbean coast, and is Panama's tourism Mecca, with surfing, diving, beautiful beaches and private islands. My idea was to see if I could find temporary work as a divemaster at a dive shop there, like I did back in April in Utila, Honduras. I didn't have my dive gear, however, and only had about a week before I had to go back to fly home from Costa Rica, so I wasn't expecting too much. Nonetheless, I was in luck at the very first diveshop I went to. I introduced myself to John, the friendly American owner, who empathized with my situation (said he'd been there himself), and agreed to let me dive for free in exchange for helping out with a few things such as getting people suited up and bringing a few flyers around town to hotels. Nothing too intense. I got to dive every day for about a week and in the process explore some of the beautiful islands and beaches in the area. Certain aspects reminded me of my time in the Philippines, such as the mangroves and the maze of islands, but I have to admit that the Philippines was more beautiful both above and below the water.

One afternoon after returning from a day of diving I realized I had the phone number of the Phillips', the family I met on the bus from Costa Rica, but hadn't called them yet. I went to the pay phone next to the dive shop and dialed the number. I was invited to go visit them for dinner and to stay over that very night! There was only one catch. The missionary family they were staying with lived on another island, and a boat taxi would be quite expensive. By pure coincidence, they had gone to town by boat for a visit, and were less than a block away, but were just getting ready to leave when I called. They had no plans of going back to town anytime in the next several days. I ran back to my hostel, quickly crammed everything into my backpack, settled my bill, and ran to meet the boat. I grinned the entire beautiful boat ride, passing several tiny islands along the way.

I spent the next two days with the Phillips' and their hosts, the Kapsars, a family from Ohio who have spent the last few years establishing themselves in Panama. They were such generous, welcoming people, I greatly enjoyed getting to know both families. Their house was on the hillside overlooking the islands, and was, to my surprise, very American, or at least Americanized by its occupants. I especially enjoyed sitting down to meals with everyone around the large kitchen table. It reminded me spending time with my own family, something I have not had much of recently. I even got to attend a baby shower for a friend at their house, where I had a great time making balloon animals for all the kids and laughing at the complete randomness of it all.

After a week and a half in Bocas, I headed back to Costa Rica and flew back to the U.S. To North Carolina, where I spent a few days doing paperwork and reports for the trips I'd led. Dora, my co-lead from last summer in Peru who is still a good friend, invited me for a wonderful weekend at her beach house on the shore. I was also invited to a Jack Johnson concert the following Tuesday. Unfortunately, my flight home was on Monday and it was going to cost $150 to change the flight, but through a stroke of luck there were torrential storms at Newark airport the morning of my flight. After sitting an hour on the plane at the gate, we were de-boarded. While the rest of the passengers seemed ready to lynch the people at the Contiental airlines desk, I couldn't suppress a smile while changing my flight for Wednesday morning, and had an awesome time at the concert the following night!

I spent a few days at my dad's house, then went to visit my grandmother, aunts, uncle and cousins renting a house on Fire Island for the weekend, then headed for a few days to my mom's house before flying out to Colorado last weekend.

It's been nice being back here, where the most stable life I've had has been for the past few years. I'm back working temporarily at my old preschool, and seeing the same kids, having them remember me and seeing them grow up before my eyes (kids grow a lot in three years!) gives me a sense of continuity in my otherwise presently disjointed life.

I'm planning to stay here another week or two and am still considering my options for the fall, but will hopefully be traveling through Southeast Asia with my good friend Aaron from here in Steamboat. My current idea is to spend a month working as a dive master somewhere before meeting up in Bangkok, Thailand with Aaron in October, then traveling through Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam. If all goes according to plan, I'll head back here to Colorado in December, then begin the Peace Corps early next year.