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2003-03-20 - 6:54 p.m.
As I'm sure virtually all of you have read by now, the Galapagos were absolutely incredible...
Greetings once more dear readers! I haven't written to you for more than a cycle of the moon. Life has changed somewhat -- I'm doing a stint of research work at Popular Science in New York until May, for instance, and the second war on Iraq has begun -- and there are stories I have of nights of dancing with ladies in red in mile-high cities, police chases through snow-laden outskirts of the Beltway, protests on behalf of disappeared Arabs in front of the feds -- all true -- that I will tell you soon.
Still, I'll let lost tales of Denver wait for yet another time. Just a brief recap of the Galapagos. Made the way from JFK before dawn, to see the sun rise from above cloud level like half-a-dozen times before. Landed in the green Andes in Quito, disappointingly empty because of Carnival. Ecuador is more civilized than a lot of places I've jaunted off to in the world, including the U.S. -- there's stunningly good marinated seafood, for instance, even in the mountains. Unfortunately, no half-naked women in parades here before Lent as in Brazil -- no, they just spray water on people.
Only a single night in Quito, anyhow. Zipped to the airport -- taxis here like going through red lights -- mine went through five in a row. And the islands -- wow. I believe I described the Galapagos to postcard correspondents as "life on the other side of paradise." Water like jade and turquoise. That and, hey, a Danish hairdresser in a bikini, who told me tales of Samoa over beer, with breakfasts of poi and bananas cooked in milk from coconuts plucked off nearby trees and lunhces of lobsters caught off the reef, where the water there is so warm you barely knew it was there when you walked into it. Strange rituals about feet abound -- you have to disinfect your shoes upon landing in the Galapagos, that's how seriously they consider ecological contamination there. Life boatside is also bare foot, to keep sand from getting everywhere -- still, the bare feet reminds me of rebirth on another shore, and yes, of New College.
So what have I come away with? Memories of cannonballing off the roofs of boats into the salty waters of the Pacific, for one; strange nightmares of a life ended in small towns where everyone suddenly lost the use of their old language only to develop a strange, new evil one from scrambled letters of dark import, and when my eyes began to make out the words "mute is coming," the sheriff takes a club to my head; but experiences of snorkeling with sea lions another, with five circling around me at once, and one even nipping playfully on my fins to get me to chase him (still have the marks there, if anyone wants to see them)... Letters from a 200-plus-year-old historical post office on a tiny uninhabited island, where a German nudist philosopher vegetarian died from a poisoned chicken during a feud, while others simply disappeared -- the post office was originally started by sailors who dropped their mail off and take any letters with them directed to their destinations, a tradition which continues even now, with me soon hand-delivering three postcards to fellow residents here. Llama dolls made from real llama wool. And some advice -- if you miss one photo opportunity in the Galapagos, there will be others. Case in point -- the first day on the zodiac raft out from the boat, we saw rocks off the shore dotted with a few sea lions, and out came the camera. Next morning, we land on another island, and hey, 20 sea lions. Then, a few days after that, 200 sea lions on either side of the coast. So come on guys, save film.
And hey, it's good to be back.
Best -- M.
Recommended Listening: The Beatles' "Here, There and Everywhere," off "Revolver."
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