tortuga's

It has been a busy week...hard to imagine on my endless vacation? From the coffee plantation to working at the bookstore to various dinner parties hosted here at the house (dinner with George and Heidi - I'm sure an upcoming book) to finally a turtle station.

Dave, a friend from town, had invited me along for a weekend at a tortuga station. He is looking at starting up a project at a station about 2+ hours from here, so he wanted to visit and "talk business" with the guys that run it. He promised that it would be fun for me to see and learn about how the turtles lay their eggs, so I agreed to go, eager to see what the hoopla is all about with the sea turtles.

So we started out saturday morning with surfboards loaded on top of the car. I know, I know, its hard to imagine that me and my forgiving board would be so quickly reacquainted...

After driving for about an hour and a half (stopping twice for the military to inspect us) we turned off the main road and drove about twenty minutes to meet the surf. Thankfully the waves here were designed for me, the beginner. Not nearly as tall, or fast as the ones in Arroyo Seco!

Out to sea we went, once again, Dave giving me even more instructions and yelling, "ok, now...paddle paddle paddle" and with the waves I flew. Ok, so I was still laying down on the board, I have the board rash on my stomach to prove it. But, I kept at it. Figuring out when an appropriate wave was coming that I could catch and with it I would glide to shore. It was so much fun I felt like yelling, "whoo-hoo", which I am sure I did at least a couple of times! Finally I told Dave to go off and do his thing, afterall, it isn't too much fun to hang out with the beginner all the time, and he had given me all the instructions and confidence I needed to play around. After my body couldn't take it anymore (a couple of hours) I went ashore and was pleasantly greeted with a beer (from the police I may add - this is what happens when the only girl on the beach comes in).

When we first arrived at the beach no-one had been around. But soon the fisherman came in and with them came a few truckloads of people looking to buy fresh fish. I'm not really sure where all these people came from seeing that we were in the middle of nowhere, but, come they did. Once Dave came in, we too bought a couple of fish and a HUGE langosta (lobster) to cook up later at the station.

Then we packed up and hit the road - off to see the SEA turtles.

Getting there was a little tricky, we did have a map, a poorly drawn map, but one none-the-less. After a warm welcome at the station, both by the scientists that run the facility and the group of kids and parents in from Guadalajara we set up camp. Both of us agreed that it would be pretty fun to sleep up in the lifeguard tower. It not only saves you from the bugs, it also has a nice breeze to sleep in the summertime.

Immediately we made friends with the kids whose parents run the station, Zach and Martin, who proceeded to follow us everywhere thereafter. In fact, most of the kids wanted to befriend us, but unfortunately for them it was mostly Dave they could talk to since he speaks the language fluently and I don't! Dave and Tonio spent time talking about the future of the station from both prospectives while I lounged around and got to know the surroundings. About 9pm we had dinner and then started gearing up to walk the beach and find ourselves some eggs. I'd liken it to a big easter egg hunt, less bright colors, and daylight.

Two groups went out on Saturday evening, ours being the last, left at 11:30pm. Our job, to look for turtle tracks and mounds of sand as this is where the eggs are deposited. You can't use your lights since you don't want to scare off the turtles, so the leader has a head lamp that is infar-red which the turtles don't detect. So we would walk down the beach somewhat in file and look for tracks that look like a big log had been drug up the beach from shore. When the tracks were spotted it would take little time to find the mound and when dug down there would be eggs freshly laid. Then they would radio the station and someone in a ATV would come and pick them up to be quickly transported back to the protected area at the station. They only have four hours to have the eggs out of the sand. So quickly the eggs would be re-buried.

All this is important because turtles eggs are poached. Apparently it is big business as Mexicans think that the eggs are aphrodisiacs. However the turtle is a protected animal here and it is against the law to do such a thing. But in a somewhat lawless society it happens all the time. This all going through my head at midnight as I walk down the beach..."uh, Dave, what happens if we encounter poachers..." his reply, "don't know".

Unfortunately our group didn't get to see any of the turtles. I'm sure if I had I would have still been out there. But I get to learn more about one of the many endangered species in our world. For instance, once the sea turtles lay their eggs, they turn and go back out to sea and never come back for their young. Thus leaving the young vulnerable to prey or, worse yet, humans. When these young grow up and become "knocked up" they too come to the same spot that they were born and lay their eggs repeating the process. All eggs are laid at night, and even more so when there is a quarter moon. I also got to hold some of the new eggs, they looking like a ping-pong ball but instead of being hard they are still soft so you can easily dent them. After some time the shell becomes hard like we are used to when we see chicken eggs.

Finally our group returned home about 1am and I wearily climbed up the ladder on our lifeguard tower and quickly fell off to sleep.

The next morning after Dave did a bit of surfing, I watching from the lifeguard tower, we had our breakfast of champions: lobster soup. Tonio's wife, who cooks for the groups in for holiday was nice enough to cook our lobsters in some sort of incredible soup. I had told Dave that if I am in charge of cooking it it would be oil and garlic, I know of no other way. Thankfully she offered to cook it up and delicious it was!

The rest of the day was spent entertaining ourselves with the kids, I playing a disney board game with Zach and Martin, imagine how that went with my limited spanish. But, they were small enough (6+ years old) that they didn't really know how to play either so the questions could be easy. Dave continued working with Tonio and checking out the site. We stayed through a late lunch of camarones (shrimp) and finally headed home.

How could anyone beat this life?

Some foto's to see...

my forgiving board against the truck
tortuga station
Dave on top of our sleeping quarters
Pretty sunset
Me with Zach and Martin

Coffee and its makings

What is a good cup of coffee? Many of us, being Seattle-lites, think we know the answers from the Starbuck's to the Peets (thanks Jerry Baldwin) to the small little roasters we all dearly support every morning. Being in Mexico I've learned to "get by" with the coffee. Surprisingly Mexico doesn't have too many places where one can buy, what I classify, as good coffee. Most Mexicans, if they drink coffee, drink instant coffee in warm water and call that good

However, the other day I got to see good coffee and its beginnings.

I had heard of a town called Cuzulapa from many local people and knew that it has a coop coffee plantation and that this coop was run by a group of women. Everyone that had been there saying that I MUST GO. So finally this last Tuesday I got the chance. Even though the town is about 1-1/2 to 2 hours away, the drive alone was worth it; winding through the mountains, slowing for the infamous topes. Finally we get to the house/office/roaster and walked into to warm welcomes. I, being the only one that had never been before, was given the informal tour of the place, being shown the roaster and the huge sacks of coffee and molida mojote (ground mojote) that they sell to various buyers. Also seeing how a small coffee coop works with the process of measuring by hand each kilo bag of beans, grinding them, packaging them and putting labels on the bags. All being done on one huge table in the front room of the house with the ladies talking and laughing always.

Hearing that the women were getting lunch ready for us, I went outside to check out what they were doing. And in a matter of minutes I was handed a bit of dough and showed how to roll it into a ball then flatten it to make a sopita. Onward my cooking lesson went over the wood oven, us talking the entire time. Finally lunch and coffee were served. The food was delicious, without a doubt, but the coffee made by hand with steamed milk was to DIE for. I could have drank it all day - it put Starbucks to shame.

After the dishes were cleared, I was ushered with outside everyone else to start a tour of the jungle. And my lesson began. As with many of you, I've heard the term "shade grown" coffee thrown around. But the true meaning of it never fully conceptualized by me. Two older women from the coop led us, along with Martin, on the walkabout. Also with us was a Mexican women from Guadalajara with her childern and a couple of kids from the coop. Down the path we went, the women showing and explaining to us every plant along the way, giving the name and medicinal value of each. I, being the only english speaking person, had to struggle to understand. But both Maria (woman from Guadalajara) and Martin tried to help me understand. Finally we came upon the coffee plants. The deal with shade grown coffee is that they are not necessarily planted, they reseed themselves well. So, the coffee plants are haphazardly growing throughout the area. There are not organized rows of coffee plants (at least not at this plantation)as I had expected. I liken it to hiking through the NW where we have huge canopies of pine trees and many varities of plants below. But here, instead they have mango trees above, or lemon trees, or mojote trees and on and on. And below are the coffee plants. The taller trees protecting them. Why is it that shade grown is so much better I asked, and the answer was the flavor. Shade grown trees take longer to flower and produce the bean. Where sun grown coffee may be harvested in a few months and even quicker with fertilizers, wjereas a shade grown tree takes anywhere from 6-8 months to produce a coffee bean. But what you get is a deeper, richer flavor. And you create a better eco system; there are more birds since there are more for them to eat, you need less water since there is a natural canopy (with the above trees) and in less space you have many other edibles (mangos, lemons, mojote and natural medicinal herbs). It is a very friendly system for all.

As we walked back, occasionally stepping aside for the cow hearders on horseback or crossing small rivers with shoes in hand. I remind myself how easy living can be with little. These people have learned to live efficiently with nature and at the same time support themselves. Not only do they have beautiful landscapes they also have happiness and knowledge of all that surrounds them.

working

I just finished my first day of "work". Ok, it's not really a job. I get to volunteer at the bookstore for the next couple of weeks while someone is on vacation. But, still the same, I felt very officious as I sat behind the desk and encouraged people to come in and buy books. Fortunately I was able to bring in 500 pesos which is very good at this time of year. This no-one of course believing until they saw the records. Now I have been offered a full-time position! A-ha.

The benefit of working at the bookstore is great though. Not only do I have access to great books, which includes children's spanish books - just at my level. But, the bookstore is 100% donation back into the community. The money going to support the schools, clinics and individuals. So, in a way I too am giving a bit to the community. I'll be honest though, the best part about being at the bookstore is Johan. I think I am in love, whether it is his gold necklace, or the fact that he wears only his panties and socks through-out the day. He speaks no english yet, so my communication with him is strictly in Spanish...but we are on equal levels. And dancing with someone has never been so much fun. Ahh, my little Johan...see for yourselves...


Peace. Heidi

Levee breaks

"If it keeps on raining, levee is going break"...

As Led Zepplin said. And I am here to tell you the last twenty-four hours have shown that this may be true as I sit perched on the porch watching the torrential downpour that has overwhelmed us.

Until about a week ago I wasn't sure what people meant about "amazing light shows" or "thunder so loud is makes me cry". And then I got to experience my first "amazing, crying in your boots type of thunderstorm". Unfortunately I had to drive home in it as I was about a half an hour away from home, and with fingers crossed and lights on I crawled home. The crack of thunder so loud you would have thought that the storm was happening inside the car. And the bolts of lightening seemingly 100's of feet from you. Not to mention the rains that came down, the windshield wipers not even clearing your windshield as it was solid sheets of water. At twenty mph, it took me forever to get home, and with car in 4-wheel drive I slowly climbed up the steep slope to the house. Since then we have had our fair share of storns. Sometimes with lightening only, sometimes with thunder and lightening and sometimes with rain mixed in. Planning anything during a storm is somewhat pointless as you never know when you are going to lose power. The loudest storm I've "yet" - famous last words I know - heard was the other night when we had our weekly dinner and a movie night and during the 34 minutes of the movie that we saw, we lost power 5 different times. Finally the girls said, "take us home" as the storm was brewing for something spectactular. The poor dog was beside herself with the crackling of thunder, and as we sat outside on the porch with no lights other than the lightening lighting up the world I realized that this is amazing. And a little scary. An Alfred Hitchcock movie came to mind as it is pretty dark in this world with no lights. And could the world possibly be coming to an end?

But cool, amazing things also happen when the rains come. All of the frogs come out, arroyo's and roads suddenly become riverbeds with at least a foot of water in them running as fast as class II rapid. The crab's come out which amazes me in itself. Suddenly hundreds of crabs show up on the streets but where did they come from? I even had one outside of my casita the other day and I'm about 8 blocks from the beach! Where do these crabs live when the rains are done? No-one can seem to answer that question. They don't come from the beach, but where? The crocodile's have also come out, or so I've heard. They have crossed the barrier and drug themselves down the beach to the water. So now the dog will not be able to have quite as much freedom when walking the beach. Dogs seem to be a favorite treat of the crocs. And I too will be staying out of the water for a bit, or at least staying way downstream of the mangroves where the crocodiles live.

And then there is my favorite; over night things green up. The hillsides that were so brown with what looked like dead trees and shrubs magically turn green. Vegetation is refreshed and growing again.

So as I patiently wait for the rains to subside just a bit so I can drive into town, and I watch as the rivers that have formed travel both down our road and the water run-off troughs, I think to myself, this is pretty cool.

Staying somewhat dry in Mexico (sounds a bit like Seattle, no?)
Heidi and the dog who barks at thunder.

PS-I heard the rainfall here was at least 6 inches in the last 24 hours. Holy rain a lot. Our beach has flooded out and now the kids are tubing down the once (yesterday) dry riverbeds. Hows that for rainfall?

After eight months, going on nine, I have finally gotten the chance to go surfing. I had figured that while in Mexico I would be given the chance to "ride" some waves, but the opportunity had never come up. Until the other night at dinner, when Dave (local ecotourism expert) invited me to join him for the day up in Arroyo Seco. He admitted that it wasn't the best place to learn the art of surfing, but figured I could paddle around and get the idea of what it is about.

So, after packing up at 7:30am, armed with our cups of coffee and power food we made the drive up north. The beach was as I expected, full of hot sand, big waves and a couple of other local surfers. What I didn't expect was the difficult session I was about to encounter with the open sea. Dave was kind enough to bring his "forgiving" surfboard for me. He saying that it tips less and rides a bit more gentle...ok, I said, that sounds great! I need as much forgiveness as possible.

Then a few lessons were given to me about leaning this way and that way, where the best place to be is when a wave is crashing down on you, how to watch out for the surfboard coming back and hitting you in the head. You know, your basic life survival skills of surfing, or in my case just even being out in the open seas. I, nodding the entire time thinking that I got it all. This should be somewhat easy I thought, I'm used to the open water, I should be "ok" with this. But also knowing as we started out into the ocean that those BIG waves don't look very inviting. I can always swim back to shore and boogie board I reassured myself.

But first, I had to get out over the wave break. Don't kid yourself people, surfers make it look easy. I am here to tell you it is not! So as Dave yelled back to me, "hold onto the end strap and dive under the big waves" I plodded ahead. Tightly, apparently too tightly, I held on and dove just as I heard the snap and realized that the board was flying to the beach and the foot strap was still around my ankle. I had had my first default. The foot strap had broken off. Thankfully my foot was still attached to my body and not to the board that was now floating at mock speed towards the beach. Inwards we went, putting on a new strap and again returning to the ocean.

This time I was determined to make it the 200 feet out past the wave break where I could rest my weary body on this "forgiving" board. It seemed as if it took me hours to get out there, when in reality it probably took 5 minutes, but I swam and dove like I had never before. For those of you that aren't familiar with the ocean pull let me explain it (in layman's since I don't know any other way), every time these huge waves break on the barrier they carry a tremendous undertow that pulls you back and forth so even if you have swam ahead 20 feet you may be pulled back 25 feet closer to the beach. This takes a bit to get used to, Hood Canal doesn't have much of a wave action other than the occasionally water skier that flys by. And that is what I am used to when using the term I am an open water swimmer. I now stand corrected.

Finally I make it over the last wave break and painstakingly pulled myself on the board, which obviously doesn't forgive me and flips me off. Again I try and again that pinche board slids me off. The third time, as always, was the charm. I think I hugged the board (a kiss may have been given too) and swore that I wasn't going to leave it. Ah, but then I looked back and realized that I was floating into the waves again so paddle I did. The entire time Dave yelling at me, you did great, you made it past the waves. I am sure he was being kind. I really was surviving. So I assured him I was going to be fine and told him to go off and have fun. Afterall he was there to surf, not to take care of me.

So that left me alone with the ocean and all that is in it. I practiced paddling, I practiced sitting up (sweet lord even that is hard on this forgiving board) and I watched the waves. I watched them to see how it works, how do you know what each wave is going to do. I would edge closer to the wave break and would then realize the intensity of the ocean for one moment I would be at eye level with the beach and the next moment it was like I climbed up two stories in a building the wave pushing me closer and closer to the sky. I knew I wasn't ready to take the plunge, even laying down. But I did like the way it looked, and I pictured what it would feel like to ride down these waves. But this wasn't the place for me to do it. Because who are we kidding, I'm not 23 and stupid anymore. This 35 year old body isn't quite as forgiving and I did want to be able to walk again, or at least be able to have a cold beer when I was done. So watch I did. And imagine.

But wait, I then realized I still had one more feat left. I had to make it back to shore. Oh, for the love of god, that meant I had to go back over the wave break and go with the waves into shore. So, while looking back behind me, with the Hawaii 5 0 music thundering in my head I began to paddle...and with the foam, half the ocean in my nose and the surfboard still attached to me I finally landed on the beach.

Ah, what a day at the beach! Even though my body feels as if I was thrown into the spin cycle of the washing machine and I walk like I was hit by a truck, I thank god for Dave for giving me my day on a surfboard. Forgiving or not, it will always be a fond memory of mine!

Holy-daze

To all my American family and friends...Happy 4th of July.
Feliz dia cuarto de Julio.

H