Almost, but not quite

October 28th, 2007 by Danielle Denis-Lalonde

Surf camp was great,
sunburns are not.
When sleep-deprived,
even German sounds hot.

(ugh, now I remember why I was never into writing poetry. But for some odd reason, that is the first thing that came to mind as I sat down to write this entry)

I have come to the conclusion that I almost, but not quite, entirely suck at surfing* That´s not to say it isnt great fun. It is! As long as you keep your expectations below sea level, which is where my head was most of my time. Cough, choke, spit…now I understand why sealions always make that awful retching noise. On that note, the ocean is like a giant Netipot…my sinuses have never been so clear, or my piercings so clean.

Initially, Doe and I agreed that certain languages, such as German, Danish and Farroese are so ridiculous sounding that they could never be romantic or sexy. (After hearing Danish poetry, my little ditty above sounds like Shakespeare´s best). But after a week or so, I admit my opinion has changed. I now think it is one of the funniest languages ever, and given the right time and place (i.e. very very very late at night after getting too much sun and inhaling alot of sea water), I can start to perhaps maybe see how it could be remotely appealing.

On a more serious note, the completely erratic, unpredictable and irrational moods swings I´ve been experiencing since I kicked my 10-year dependance on anti-baby drugs (as the Germans call it) have yet to go away. Although I am literally living in paradise, with a near total lack of responsibility, doing very satisfying work, and surrounded by light-heartedness at every turn, I still find myself randomly dancing from happiness to hell, and back again. Ugh. Some days I worry that I am losing it, and other days I am way too happy to care. Although I´m well into my twenties, I often feel exactly like I did when I was 16. Which is wonderful and horrible. I feel sorry for anyone who is brave enough to try to make conversation with me while I´m in one of my ¨off¨ moods…

But that being said, I have chosen not to fight it at all. If I´m down, then I might as well explore the depths, and when I´m up, I will fly high. Perhaps it is simply that my yin and yang have become more pronounced as I have abandoned personal stability for the sake of broadening my human experience.

I guess I should have mentioned this earlier, but I´ve decided to write this jourmal as my own self-record of thoughts, impressions and growth, on top of recounting my adventures here in Ecuador. I brought a paper journal to write in, but the thought of trying to use a pen on damp paper by candlelight after a day of swinging machetes or climbing trees to collect lemons, has zero appeal. So here it is… unedited and intimate.

Rose-colored lenses and dark clouds aside, my first week at the Jatun Sacha station on San Cristobal has been as much about adjusting, as it has been about discovering.

The day begins with breakfast at 7:00 (although I am typically up sans alarm at around 5:30…which I still find shocking). Breakfast is served in the communal cocina house (also made of bamboo) and consists of white bread, PB&J, porridge or eggs. I enjoy it all, although I´m told it gets old after a few weeks. Highly doubtful for a foodie like me.

Then, we all gather for a morning ¨meeting¨ which mostly involves listening to Miguel and Pepo (our two JS leaders) debate the day´s work activity, mingled with bursts of their silly laughter (a truly unique sound if I ever heard one). Funny because no matter how long they debate, we typically always wind up chopping Mora with machetes.

La Mora… invasive evil blackberry-ish plant that has literally taken over the island. Armed with blades longer than my arm, we slash, chop, and swashbuckle our way through it. Damn stuff has the worst thorns on it, getting a hold of everything from clothes to head nets and human skin. But I must admit that seeing a Mora-free patch of land after a few hours of collective effort is more rewarding than most of the paid work I´ve done in my life. And bad moods dont last long when you have a weapon in your hand and an enemy to destroy. Oooo, that sounds horrible! I must remind myself to never become a military dictator…could be ugly.

Other activities include digging holes, planting spanish cedars and scalesia, uprooting poorly planted cedars (from a previous JS coordinator who clearly didn´t know shit about reforestation), collecting seedlings for transplantation into the nursery, and kitchen duty.

Everyone volunteers for kitchen duty at least twice a week, sometimes more often given that it allows you to skip out on a morning or afternoon work shift. But I´m not convinced that kitchen duty is any easier than chopping Mora. It always involves running out into the forest looking for orange and lemon trees, and climbing them or shaking the branches, hoping for a few juicy fruits to give up the ghost for the sake of our daily vitamin C. most people hate fruit collection, but I personally dont mind it. I´ve always loved climbing trees, and it´s physically demanding enough to make you feel really satisfied after. The lemons here are BEASTS and sometimes just as orange as oranges, making it a bit tricky to spot that elusive lemon tree. Oh, and lemon trees bite…hard. The thorn-prick on my finger just finally stopped sweeling and hurting a few days ago.

The past few days, we have been busy digging massive 1-metre deep holes to put up electricity posts. We might actually get power at the station soon! Although to be honest, the onyl reason that is in any way exciting to us volunteers is because it means we can charge our laptops and ipods/Zens. Other than that, electricity will be pretty useless.

Digging these deep holes is exhausting work. The ground here has alot of clay and volcanic rock in it. At one point, Doe and I were working on one of these holes just the two of us, and so we had to lean in head-first with a small bucket to scoop out the dirt. Being the ¨wee¨beings we are, that means that only our legs are sticking up out of the hole, and the risk of falling in head first is high (and freaky as hell!). Don´t know if it was all the blood rushing to our heads, but we were deliriously happy while at this task. Singing anything from Bob Marley to System of a Down to BTO at the top of our lungs.

Speaking of Bob Marley, his music is the anthem of this trip so far. Everyone at the reserve can be heard humming ¨I wanna love you, and treat you right¨ randomly throughout the day, and every bar/restaurant in town has a copy of Bob´s greatest playing. Its great! Makes all the Marley on my Zen seem a bit redundant though.

Other highlights so far include the nights when we all walk down to the bar for some pool, chocolate, drinks and silliness, particularly on the occasions when a new volunteer has arrived at the Station. These days are greatly anticipated and there is always talk about what the new volunteer will be like, where there are from (and the preditable ¨Are they hot?¨). In a hillarious card game they taught us, Doe would up being assessed a ¨penitencia¨ where she had to perform a pole dance in front of everyone, and sleep under one of the pool tables for a minute. This was the beginning of one of the german boys´ obsession with photographing her.

The volunteers are such wonderfully diverse people. A quick run down of nationalities at the moment:

-UK
-German
-Danish
-Aussie
-American
-Farroe Islands…a country made up of 16 islands with a population of 50,000 people, with their own language!
-Mexican
-Portuguese
-Scottish
-Ecuadorian

There is always talk of three hot Russian girls coming to join us…but perhaps that is just wishful thinking on behalf of the single boys.

My only misgiving so far is the near complete absence of human touch. Hugs are one of my favourite forms of human interaction (and arguably one of the most powerful) so Doe and I have decided to institute a random hugs policy (long, intimate ones, not the cursory polite restrained ones). The world needs more hugs, so why not?

Well, so much for trying to keep my blogs at a reasonable length. Meh, screw it, it´s my journal after all!

*Full credit goes to the Hitchhiker´s Guide to the Galaxy – one hell of a damn good read. I personally recommend reading it while lying on a hammock in a bamboo house, the blood orange setting sun creating silver mirages on the vast ocean that surrounds one of the Earth´s most biodiverse islands. And try to remember to breathe.