So, this is it...

Yep.  That's correct.  Day 30.  It is officially my last day of Galapagueño blogging.  Wow.  WOW!  Thirty days have passed.  I am kind of in shock.  But, here we are I guess.  How time flies...  So, that being said, I guess this would be the time that we do a little cheesy reflection piece on what Galapagos means and has meant for me.  So, sit back, grab a cup of tea, and let's do just that.

Galapagos has been a significant experience for many reasons.  Firstly, after studying abroad in Costa Rica and definitely after going to Spain, I heard a lot of, "Well, it's good you're getting this out of your system now!" or "Do it while you're young and can!" or "What a once-in-a-lifetime experience!"  I hated these comments, still do.  They did and do imply that horrific notion that living abroad and traveling the world is a one-time gig for people in and right out of college.  However, after meeting people like my friend William when I lived in Spain, a robust giant from South Africa with long hair who had visited 60-some countries and had packed up with his wife when she was four months pregnant to move to Guatemala to study Spanish---well, meeting people like this told and tells me otherwise.  It is only once-in-a-lifetime experience if you let it be.

Nonetheless, I am not William or other people I met, and I was afraid--no terrified--that it WOULD be the case for me.  Little girl who talked big and ended up settling for a mediocre job and accepting the mundane plot life had handed me while I sat at a shitty desk job thinking about all of the things I SAID I was going to do while my passion rotted away.  Essentially, that was exactly what was happening to me.  I'll never say that I was "settling in" to Jersey  (it is the only place I have ever lived that never felt like "home"), but I will say that I was settling for Jersey.  I was not happy, in fact a far cry from it.  I was the epitome of discontent and if you want the real scoop---misery.  I had a boyfriend, a good steady job, my own apartment, lived by the beach, lived in the middle of a travel hub...but, in my daily life my passions were WASTING AWAY bit, by bit, by bit.  It seemed the harder I tried to ameliorate the situation within my every day, the more I rotted and the more I became nervous for change.

Finally, one day when the main factor that was holding me there walked out of my life, I realized I was in limbo---I was neither committing to the things I was dreaming of, nor committing to the person who was dreaming of me.  So, within a week of that day, I set my departure day, and I began putting the pieces of my life back together while also putting together the pieces of the puzzle that would be my exodus.  I did not know exactly where, but I knew when and that was all that mattered.  It was as though that spark of desire which had been flickering was ignited within me and I knew that I was either going big, or I was going home; I chose the option one.  I was NOT going to be that girl sitting unnoticed on the sidelines shuffling papers for the others' adventures.  If I was going to be shuffling anybody's papers, they were going to be mine, en route to do something amazing.

I had been compiling a list of opportunities abroad for five years.  So, I set myself to work updating the list, exploring my options, scouring for new ones, and getting things in order for my departure.  I made sure the lease for the apartment I had to find (literally in a week when my roommate sprung the news on me that her significant other and the dog were moving in against my wishes) was a six month lease or less.  As luck would have it, I found exactly that with the first apartment I looked at.  I made some calls and figured out where I was going to camp out once I rolled out of town.  As luck would have it, my brother had a sofa and an open heart.  I began putting money away and figuring out where I could go and for how long.  As luck would have it, all of that saved up vacation time was going straight into my bank account.  It seemed with every step I took off the beaten path, luck was following right behind me and tossing out gold coins along the way.

I applied for this job on a whim, with a start date in January, shortly before getting rid of the majority of my worldly possessions, moving out of my apartment, packing my car, and driving 1,300 miles cross-country by myself in the dead of winter with no life plan.  Amidst interviews for other interesting positions, out of the blue I received an email that a position here was now available for March.  My stomach jolted with excitement as I scrambled to pull up not only the job description again, but also photos of this random place in the middle of nowhere called San Cristobal.  One look, and a few squeals of delight, and I interviewed.

I had been talking for years about wanting to give teaching English another try as I had LOVED tutoring in Spain and, as circumstance and luck would have it, I landed the job. I applied for my visa (that was a project in itself!), it was approved, and booked my plane ticket one week before I was set to arrive on the continent.  I had no idea what to expect and although I was terrified about the idea of being confined to an island of 6,000 people for six months, I was intrigued by the possibilities, enthralled by the mystery that surrounded this mythical place, and lured in by the challenges of life on a volcanic rock in the middle of the ocean.  I was sold.  I packed my bags and landed in South America seven days later.

So, here I am again at a point in my life when my existence and self has undergone a complete transformation.  I am living in an entirely new country, in an entirely new culture, in an entirely new apartment, with an entirely new career, and an entirely new support system.  And, despite everything being "entirely new," coming here has felt so familiar, like I've lived here my entire life.  The sensation of speaking Spanish rolled off my tongue with the comfort of almost my native language.  The sound of the waves crashing upon their aquamarine selves felt like it had been an every day fixture in my life.  The rundown buildings and the gritty streets and saunter of people seeming to have all the time in the world....  This, THIS was home.  This IS home.  THIS is what I do.  THIS is my life.  It isn't a pit-stop in an existence of immobility or a one-time-chance---it is my passion.  Galapagos is my playground.  It is belief in myself.  It is peace of mind and heart.  It is smiling every single day and genuinely believing it when I say, "I LOVE MY LIFE!!!!"  It is waves and sand and sunsets and nature mixed with frustration and grit and limitation and restriction.....  It is the adventure that I craved from the bowels of my existence and the murky depths of my weary heart.  

Galapagos IS....well, it just is.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  I'd like to thank you, my dear readers---whoever and wherever you may be---for sharing in my adventure, even if it has just been in the form of opening your browser.  It has been an honor writing to you and has given me a consciousness that might have otherwise been ignored.  You have allowed and forced me to take a closer look at all of my surroundings both physically, intellectually, and emotionally; as I always say to any student I have---opening your eyes has opened mine immeasurable.  So, I leave you now, some of you for forever, but for most probably not.  I thank you again.  It has been a privilege.  Before we depart, let me just say one last thing--the adventure is just beginning.  From my America to yours, so long!

So, what has been hardest about living on the island?

Nope----not the limited supplies, not the language barrier, not sharing a kitchen, not being without a TV, not dealing the heat, not the mosquitoes, not the cockroaches, not learning a new profession, not relearning English grammar, not teaching students HOW to be students, not dealing with the chaos of Ecuadorian bureaucracy, not going without hot showers, not being unable to bake, not being able to locate tennis shoes larger than a size seven, not waking up at 6:00am and not getting off until 8:30pm, not budgeting on $12 a day...   Nope, none of that.

The most challenging thing thus far (which has been shocking even to me) has been being without my computer.  My computer has been in the USA since May 8th getting repaired.  So in addition to 30 days of daily blogging, I decided during this time I would also make it a 30 day stint (meaning it will arrive June 3rd and will sit in my bedroom as a paper weight for five days---when I am not cuddling it to sleep or carrying it around like a baby that is).  It seems petty and silly, yes, but until now I did not realize how integral it was.  So, let's explore:

1.)  I don't have a phone, so I use it to skype, chat/email with friends at home, and chat/email friends here about plans.  The school computers do not have skype, nor some programs I use to chat, and email is limited to the computer lab.

2.)  I don't have a TV or a DVD player.  In a city with limited evening recreational activities, there's no movie on a Friday night laying low (unless I go to Em's house or ask her to lug her computer to mine.  There's no watching the news or any TV show should I so desire, as even online the internet isn't fast to stream video and even if it did---many programs have international limitations (ie. netflix, ABC/NBC online).  So, unless I want to break into the computer lab and curl up on a horribly uncomfortable chair on a Friday night to watch a movie, this is not going to happen.

3.)  I can't get an international newspaper or magazine, and those from the mainland arrive by boat which comes twice a week.  Yep, that's right---No Oprah/Time/Real Simple magazines here and definitely no paperboy making his rounds.  If there is big news, I generally hear about it by word of mouth---or not.  If I do have time and energy by the time I have finished work in the computer lab to look at the news online, it is only brief.  Needless to say, sans the tornado in Joplin, I have little knowledge of what has been happening in the USA/outside world for the last twenty-seven-some days.  The news and any online leisure reading is kaput for now.

4.)  I don't have my old photos and don't have editing software to edit new ones I take.  So, I don't really take photos which is one of my most enjoyable past times.  I CAN take them, but seeing them on a tiny LCD screen with depleted colors and leaving to them to rot on my camera is less than desirable.  I can upload them on to the school computer, but I'd better have a flashdisk to put them on and accept that won't be able to adjust the settings to actually show the vibrant reality which kind of makes them worth posting.  And, although I do have some printed photos of my family and friends, there are about 10.  So, I can't even take a walk down memory lane when I'm bored, missing certain loved ones, or craving a look at the outside world...

5.)  I can't put on music while I am in my room.  Unless it is on my iPOD or I am using speakers from Emilee (which I have used only once as god knows if they get broken they are not getting replaced on this island), I don't get to have the soothing sounds of music while I'm working, studying, or hanging out.  And, with more songs than my iPOD can hold, that song I suddenly crave listening to....well, undoubtedly it's one of the 1,000 songs which didn't fit on my iPOD, and the internet can't stream music either.  So, start humming, self.  Dance parties just got super boring.

6.)  I don't have access to my computer files including my e-books.  I currently tote around two different flash disks.  One has some of the files that I need which I use for opening and editing.  Then, I have to save them on another flashdisk because I have to ask my colleague to print them, and as computers here frequently get viruses, if I lose any files I haven't emailed to myself----well, I'm screwed.  And, the ebooks I have been reading are gone, so I am limited to the few good reads that hide in the small stacks in the library or that others have left behind.  Pickins are slim....

7.) I don't have the luxury to choose working hours.  Yep, that's right.  The computer lab is "open" from 9-5pm from Monday through Friday.  I say "open" because it will often be closed when my colleagues go to lunch or what have you.  So, my personal schedule now revolves around the computer lab hours.  On weekends I have to wait until the evening security guard is here (he sits two feet from it) to have him open it unless I hunt down the groundskeeper and bother him to open it for me during the off hours.

8.)  I don't have the convenience or luxury to choose/personalize my work space.  Yeah, I LIKE to work from my bed or to have a desk or table to spread out all of my materials on.  When I work in the computer lab, I am contained to a little space to the right and left where I put the materials that I lug down here.  And, anything of value such as my flashdisk I have to remember to take with me if I have to leave the room momentarily for some reason.

9.)  I don't like to suffer in order to use a computer.  Let me describe the conditions of the computer lab in one phrase: "sweatshop."  Yes, it is STEAMING hot in the computer lab such that sweat usually runs down my legs and my shirt is well-pitted out after a short time.  Plus, the chairs are as good as boards or rocks.  And my nimble fingers and brain are not use to typing on a Spanish keyboard.

As you can see from the above, on an island of limitations (finances, resources, possessions, comforts, travel), this has by FAR been the most difficult thing for me.  Yes, I do have the luxury of having a computer lab within a 30 second walk of my bedroom, but by the time I blog (30 minutes - 1.5 hours), do work (1-6 hours), read and respond to student emails (10 minutes to an hour), AND check my own email to see if there's anything I need to immediately respond to----I am running for the doors.

Personal communication/access to information is severed in some senses or limited in others.  Comfort and convenience are basically gone.  Entertainment is downsized and in limited forms.  The reality is---I can go without hummus, I can survive without air conditioning, I can wear "Off" 24/7, and I can smash a cockroach when it comes skittering at me.  But, as I have now learned with my circumstances abroad and living on an island, for me this piece of technology, this luxury, means so much more than I had originally realized.  It is my lifeline to a lot of the outside world, and in some senses has been a key component to keeping my sanity intact.

So, as I count down the final days of daily blogging with a feeling of sadness (only 1 day left!), the jubilation of having my computer back by far outweighs this disappointment.  Although I will no longer be a daily presence on the computer screen, I will regain the opportunity to speak (when the electricity and internet connection permit) and communicate in ways which I have been left me feeling seriously deprived.  As my friend Em said, "When your computer comes back, I'm probably not going to see you for three weeks."  Yeah, she's probably right....

So, I get tired....

...of hearing the phrase "You're SO lucky!" regarding my experiences living/traveling abroad.  Seriously.  Think about it.  Do you ever utter or hear the phrase, "You're SO lucky that you worked hard and graduated college!" or "You're so lucky that you saved money and bought a house!" or "You're so lucky that you packed up your life and moved to Kentucky!"...?  Exactly.  You don't.  Because it's not luck.  Lucky is winning the lottery, buying the ticket was choice.  So, I'd like to take a few minutes to establish what "luck" is and isn't with regard to my living abroad in Galapagos.

LUCK: The fact that opportunities like this exist in Ecuador.

NOT LUCK:  Having a degree, actively seeking it out, having a strong resume, and acing the interview.

LUCK:  Getting my visa approved in time.

NOT LUCK:  Running around like crazy to get the documentation while living halfway across the country from my "state of residence," dropping the money for it,  holding my breath that my passport would not get lost in the mail and would arrive on time.

LUCK:  A change in the position start date from from January to March.

NOT LUCK:  Signing a six month lease so I could go abroad in the new year, quitting my job/life, moving halfway across the country to be ready-for-action, having applied for the January position, having free time to do all the paperwork necessary for my visa.

LUCK:  Getting a $12 a day stipend PLUS free housing.

NOT LUCK: Spending hours over the last 4 years scouring websites, fellowships, intercultural exchange programs, and volunteer opportunities.  (I have a spreadsheet--yes, a spreadsheet--dedicated to this which I have been adding to since college...)

LUCK:  Having a brother who will watch your car for you and store your things.

NOT LUCK:  Moving 2,000 miles to where that brother is and getting rid of basically all of your possessions minus your clothing and your vehicle.

Similar situations go for anyone else living abroad.  We are not lucky because we live abroad---we are lucky because circumstances help is along pathways that we are determined to traverse.  In my case, I drive old cars which I can pay off quickly.  I don't own a home.  I've lived with roommates sans one seven month period.  I buy cheap stuff or get it second hand.  I put expiration dates on relationships by prefacing them with "I'm leaving you eventually" and say goodbye to people I love.  I spend months and years in waiting and planning for things.  I don't splurge on fancy clothes or expensive gadgets.  Instead, I free fall into a world of unknown with nothing but my bootstraps and the naive belief of experience that "Everything turn out okay, and when it doesn't---I'll figure it out."

There is nothing lucky about most amazing things which happen in life---it is choice and determination with the added luck of a few people saying, "Do it!" and the irony of useful coincidences serving your purpose.  The preparation and experience are strenuous, trying, and exhausting.  But, along the way, you learn about yourself (more than you might ever want to know.)  You discover who really does support you (often not the people you thought would or think should).  And, at the end of it all, if and when you make it out alive and a better person---that, my friend, is when you stop and think, "Damn....THAT was lucky."

So, what do you do when....

....you come downstairs at the university and there is a sea lion orking and waddling around in the foyer.  If you're a gringa you:

1.)  Squeal with delight and say something outloud like, "Oh my god there's a sea lion in the foyer!!!!"

2.)  Run back to your room to get your camera while still squealing.

3.)  Take a few photos while in a tizzy that THERE'S A SEA LION RUNNING AROUND THE UNIVERSITY!!!!!

4.)  Switch to video mode and narrate that, "THERE'S A SEA LION RUNNING AROUND THE UNIVERSITY!!!!!" while you proceed to sputter out giggly commentary.

5.)  Wonder why it keeps biting its tail and orcking like a mad fiend, but assuming it is because it's lost and disoriented.

6.)  Follow after it filming when it starts to leave the building.

7.)  Realize that it keeps "biting itself" because its flipper has been chopped off and it is biting at the muscle that is protruding from its tail.  Largely protruding...

8.)  Look up and see one of the classes of local students outside staring at you as you're trekking after the hurt sea lion with your camera and a huge grin, not realizing it was injured.

9.)  Shriek and run away when you realize the angry sea lion is turning around and coming after you.

10.)  Run up the stairs, shut off your camera, and realize that instead of a cheesy, giddy gringa you are that JERK that was standing there filming a suffering animal.

11.)  Feel like a terrible person as you slink out the backdoor.

12.)  Feel horribly embarrassed when you then run into the group of students out front still standing there who spotted you making a spectacle out of a wounded creature, albeit unbeknown to you.

13.)  Sleep with one eye open because you're not sure what kind of connections PETA has on this island.

14.)  Learn your lesson to never assume anything---because you know what they say about assuming---it makes an ass out of you and sea lion.

NOTE:  I still have no idea what the sea lion was doing in the foyer, but I think perhaps someone corralled it in there in order to get help for it.  I noticed a few people perhaps "sitting guard" outside.  That, or, I am naive/hopeful/insane and in fact in a painful stupor the sea lion somehow made it up a flight of stairs (yes, sea lions DO trek up stairs) and went crazy in the foyer.  Who knows...

So, I'm going back to school....

Well, since I am not taking a vacation this year (Galapagos is WORK, mind you) and considering my latest life goal is to swim with Great Whites, I have decided to splurge and give myself the gift that keeps on giving---education.  Nope, not my masters.  Nope, no course here at the university.  Despite the fear that my lungs are going to burst right after I get attacked by a shark, I have enrolled with my friend Emilee in diving school to get my PADI Open Water Certification. I had been debating about doing the courses, mainly out of fear of the aforementioned but also the panic of investing money in something that I might not be fit for, but after reading the first page of the textbook in which it said, "With that first underwater breath, the door opens to a different world.  Not a world apart,  but different nonetheless.  Go through that door.  Your life will never be the same."  I stopped, cocked my head to the side, puffed up my chest and realized, "*I* am a traveler.  It's what I do.  The ocean floor is a new world.  I MUST GO THERE AND CONQUER!"

So, I began this evening with an hour and a half of section I and II of the informational videos and will read the book over the course of my long weekend.  Monday, Em and I will return to Jimbo's diving lair (yes, my instructor's name is Jimbo) to watch the rest of the videos before Thursday when we do our first shallow water dive (or attempt to at least).  Despite being snarky about the cheesy acting throughout the film, my heart pounded with nervousness and excitement.  I mean, as I was sitting there, I held my breath while drooling over the underwater scenes on a flat screen with nothing but a remote in my hand.  And, somehow, while being surrounded by fish and water and equipment and magic, I am supposed to remember to "Always keep breathing!"  (Good lord.  I'm screwed already).

I am prepared to read that book not once, but probably twice because OH MY GOD I'M GOING TO FORGET TO BREATHE AND PASS OUT AND THEN A SHARK WILL EAT MY BODY BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE JUST MY LUCK BECAUSE I KNEW I SHOULDN'T HAVE IGNORED THE FOREBODING WARNING I'VE GOTTEN FROM EVERY "SHARK WEEK"I HAVE EVER WATCHED.  Turns out, it is the same terror I encountered when I made the commitment to study abroad and was boarding that plane---sheer terror mixed with panicked exhilaration.  I questioned myself, my abilities, and my decision that entire plane ride.  But, stepping off that plane, I knew it was an adventure into an unknown world, which, at the time, I had no idea would impact the course of my entire life.

Although I do not anticipate that scuba diving will necessarily change my entire life course (unless I start and fail a battle with a Great White), it will open a new door to something I have never before experienced.  And, just as I did from day one in Costa Rica, I will again fumble my way through this, nervous as hell, with the hope that at the end of the day I will come up for air and gasp, "OH.  MY. GOD. I WANT TO DO THIS AGAIN!!!!!"  The only way to find out is to take that plunge....literally and figuratively if you will.  So, here we go....!

So, I bet you wish YOU had a three day weekend like we do in the USA, huh?

Au contraire, amigo mio!  Thanks to the Battle of Pichincha on May 24, the government reassigned the holiday to Friday so there IS a three day weekend (God bless you Ecuador!)  I had no idea about the holiday until one of my students asked me if we had class.  I scoffed and said, "YES!  Why WHOULDN'T we have class?" thinking they were being their usual selves and trying to skip out on Friday.   But, then I was told it was a holiday, that there was a festival, and that one of the university teachers had nicely changed her class from the evening to conflict with my morning class (because unless you're a prominent local or a gringo with a Ph.D. here---you kind of don't matter).  So, I told them I'd check into it.

I asked my colleagues about the holiday, festival, and class change.  They all knew and assumed the gringos had it on their calendar as well, but did not know some university classes were changed as well.  Some thought there might be a festival, but only because we asked and clearly that implied we knew something they didn't.  Some assumed students might still come to night class if we had it or to the activity (our first Friday Film), others thought not.  Some said the holiday lasted all weekend and everything would be closed, others said the city would be reopened by Saturday.  So, without concrete answers and based all on speculation, Emily and I canceled class.  Naturally, some students questioned our decision or didn't know why there was no class, others confirmed that they assumed it would be canceled since I mean, after all, it is this big holiday that everyone seems to know (and clearly not know) about.

Despite the run around, like most things Ecuadorian (or the "give an answer, even if it's wrong because saying nothing is just impolite not to help" mentality) tomorrow is a day off.  While you will enjoy Monday, I will be enjoying a leisurely Friday in my world.  I too am scrambling to get my errands done this week and smiling at the thought of a three day weekend.  So, worlds apart and reasons contrasted, here am I----along with you my USA counterparts---preparing to enjoy the a three day weekend.  Regardless of where we are in this world, that, my friends, is a beautiful thing.

So, name one thing that has surprised you about the island....

Well, among many, one is especially surprising----the Jehovah's Witnesses.  Yep, that's right.  On an island that lives, breathes, and oozes evolution, we have a Jehovah's Witness Hall here.  A religion that, per their official website says, "“There is no publication in the scientific literature—in prestigious journals, specialty journals, or books—that describes how molecular evolution of any real, complex, biochemical system either did occur or even might have occurred. . . . The assertion of Darwinian molecular evolution is merely bluster" springs up on an island that is harder to crack into that a cement nut----I'd say it is pretty interesting that they have a presence AND a hall here.  Catholicism I naturally expect here considering it is the dominant religion of Latin America.  But with regard to this crew, this I have yet to figure things out.

For awhile, I wondered if it was for recruitment purposes to save us from ourselves.  Yet, three months here and no one has come knocking on my door.  I've definitely not seen anyone using a bike helmet while riding much less donning caterer-esque attire while boasting catchy literature.  And, not unlike those sketchy neighbors the Klopeks, anytime I have passed the King Solomon Jehovah's Witness Hall---I see no one go in, and no one come out.  ("Ray, Raaaaaaaaaaaay!")

So, yeah.  The question remains unanswered.  What ARE they, or aren't they, doing on this island?  Is there a secret society of converts who gather in the night to plot the takeover of San Cristobal?  Maybe.  Are they converting the lobos to help with this conquista?  That would be the wise thing to do.  Every time I pass by their hall does it cause me to look puzzled as shake my head and wrack my brain for answers?  Definitely.  We may not have a library, we definitely don't have a movie theater, and frankly we lack electricity a half of the time.  But by god (BY GOD!!!) you bet your asses we're rocking out a King Solomon J-Hall.  So, eat that, C. Dar-LOSE!