¡Hola Galápagos!

            So it’s been one week since we arrived in the Galápagos, and we’re starting to settle into something of an understanding of life here. It’s a super interesting kind of place with more complex issues than you might expect of a tropical island, so let’s break it down, starting with...

THE TOWN OF PUERTO BAQUERIZO MORENO

            We are living and studying on the island of San Cristóbal, one of the older islands in the archipelago. The main town here (where the university campus is located) is Puerto Baquerizo Moreno, which I am currently viewing from the balcony of my homestay. Compared to Quito, in particular, it’s incredibly quiet and peaceful. A sleepy little fishing village that’s grown up a bit to facilitate the tourist industry, the town is centered around the Malecón, or the boardwalk facing out onto the Pacific. Here, the paver-and-brick streets are lined on one side with little tiendas and tourist-trap-souvenir stops, and the other by wooden railings and a view to the harbor. 

            Now, all down the street one can see the two dominant Galapagueño species vying for the best spots—tourists and sea lions. At this point, I’m pretty sure that the sea lions might be winning. Several park benches are almost always occupied by these furry, lolling tubes of blubber. As a native species, humans can’t hassle them (not that bothering a large bull sea lion is my concept of a good idea), so the streets are constantly replete with the extensive sea lion vocabulary of barks, coughs, and yelps. 

            For all that the nature here is beautiful, however, the design of the town is relatively unspectacular. Perhaps due to the fact that it’s a low-elevation tropical island less than a degree south of the Equator, there are very few trees on the island, and as such, very little wood construction. Instead, the primary building materials are concrete and cinder blocks. The most common approach to external decor is to paint the first floor, leave the second floor unpainted, and have most anything after that as unfinished cinderblock spires reaching to the sky. Gardens and greenery within the city are relatively sparse, resulting in a strangely grey environment amidst the bright natural colors surrounding it. 

            Otherwise, the city is essentially defined by a naval base on one end, and our tiny university campus on the other. (The USFQ campus itself is a strange construction—the dining hall and classrooms in front are in a lovely, colonial-esque building painted in a dark coral, while behind looms the lab building, a modern European looking construction of black and grey and stainless steel.) In between the two are primarily tourist-oriented operations, from dive spots to one-stop shopping, with the occasional support operation for the locals, like the tiny, run-down looking hospital across the street from the house where I live. 

            Architecture aside, though, I must admit that I far prefer Puerto Baquerizo Moreno to Quito—it’s been a beautiful week here so far, and I look forward to another one before we leave to go visit some other islands.

I need someone my height, so we can see eye to eye...

Even before I got to Ecuador, I knew that I was going to be clearly identifiable as a gringo, or foreigner. 

Upon being here for a while, however, I realize that the primary reason I seem to stand out is not what I initially expected, and not something that will go away as I grow more accustomed to life in Quito. It’s not that I’m pale, though the direct Equatorial sun is working on that, or that I’m still somewhat easily lost and confused by the new city (which I’m working on). It’s not even that my Spanish leaves a bit to be desired, though my host family is definitely improving my ability not to be a stuttering incoherent mess. Rather, it’s an issue of physiognomy. 

It’s been coming to my attention that Ecuador is really not designed for tall people. Now, I know that I’m not actually THAT tall, so the fact that even I notice this is a bit bizarre. 

It turns out that there’s actually a very good reason for Ecuadorians to run a bit on the short side. A brief literature search (don’t be judging) confirmed the local anecdotes that indigenous Andeans have significantly greater lung volume and chest circumference than peoples living at lower altitudes. It seems as though through microevolution, high altitude populations have selected for a greater lung capacity to compensate for the thinner atmosphere. Since there is less oxygen in the air, more can be taken in and circulated throughout the body. (In a similar vein—no pun intended—studies have also shown that native Andean women exhibit greater uterine blood flow during pregnancy. Could biology BE much cooler?) From this, it makes sense that people would be shorter, as well, so that the heart wouldn’t be as strained getting blood and oxygen everywhere necessary.

All dorkiness aside, however, it’s still quite noticeable. For example, when my forehead bumps against my headboard, my toes still dangle just slightly over the edge of the bed when I stretch. Most noticeable, was last night at a club down in Gringolandia.

Now, sometimes it’s nice to stand out in a social setting. There was certainly no lack of attention from various fellows at the club, but playing Where’s Waldo with a stalker wasn’t really my idea of a chill night out. When the comment came that I was the tallest girl in the club... just too much.

Update between when I wrote and edited this: Maybe it’s just the high incidence of tourists, but people in the Galápagos seem noticeably taller and my life is less awkward! YAY!

Why Boobies?

Why Boobies?

Beyond the obvious, of course.

Blue footed boobies are marine birds indigenous to tropical islands in the Pacific including, of course, the Galápagos. Inherently awkward on land, raucous, and guilty of the fashion faux pas of drab attire offset by brightly colored footwear, they are decidedly amongst the most ridiculous members of the animal kingdom.

Understandably, I am drawn to these funny birds.

Perhaps it’s the fact we have similarly silly styles of dance (though I could likely even use to learn from some of their moves). Perhaps it’s the loud, bizarre noises. Or the fact that as they’re marine birds, they can be dreadfully clumsy on land—though I have no such excuse. Or maybe it’s just the overall “look”...

[this is the point where the picture of my bright blue sneakers will show up when I don't have internet that runs on island time. I swear the purchase was unintentional]

Regardless, I shall be sure to locate and commune with some Sula nebouxii as soon as possible.

So, my awkward avian friends—our dance awaits.

This is absurd.

There are some things which words simply cannot do justice, and these things include:

- A visit to a Beatles-themed bar rocking out to the melodious voice of Jim Morrison in the middle of South America

- A rousing rendition of the Rusk house cheer in the middle of said bar with a fellow Ruskie

- Playing "Crazy Gringo Faces" with the lovely Emily Wilkes in the middle of the party plaza

- Following sketch Latin men to sketch Latin clubs (for free cover charge!)

- Proclaiming our desire to "get back to Hogwarts" through song in the middle of a Quitanian street after midnight... how ABSURRRRRD

- Waiting in a dingy bus station with a group of Colombians after midnight as one of them plays Brahms' Lullaby on the traditional Andean flute and then asks me what kind of music I like... Fortunately, my attempt to tell them that I often listen to "classical" music was interpreted as "classic rock", which saved me from being a total nerdface.

- Walking back from the station alone and realizing that though the chances of a mugging were pretty high, considering the time of day, there was really no reason to worry- I really had nothing at all valuable on my person, and therefore nothing to lose. What a refreshing feeling.

And finally, realizing that I've been adventuring so much that I'm too tired to write anything but bullet points... what a fail. Or a win, depending on how you see it, I suppose.