Today has definitely been the busiest day so far. I think I'm going to do this schedule-style, accompanied with comments. Otherwise I'll forget things.
6:30 - Another delicious breakfast. Gallo pinto (rice and beans). Fruit. Simple and good.
8:00 - Our first real activity related to biology, a hike into the forest adjacent to the garden. We get into the primary forest, then spend twenty minutes doing solo observations of the forest structure in our notebooks.
10:00 - Small group discussions about what we observed, and providing a brief definition of rainforest structure. Did you know there are plants that start life rooted in the ground, climb up treetrunks, slough off their original connections to the ground, and at some point drop new roots from the trunk down to the ground? This is cool.
11:00 - Look around for a soccerball to play with on the small field in a corner of the garden. No success.
12:00 - Hungry. Lunch. Yum. (more fruit)
12:55 - Go for my first run here with another student, Mike. We trail run through the jungle bit, then crisscross the garden trails. Sprints, core workout. Wash all the sweat off and get to class just in time...
14:00 - Plant taxonomy lecture, then workshop. We basically go over all the ways to describe vegetative structures. We're going to learn how to identify most plant families that live here. You generally don't do genus or species because it's really difficult, and there are just too many of them.
17:00 - Soccer ball appears from somewhere. Twelve or so of us head off to play soccer. Score a couple goals, play until dusk and dinner and get really sweaty again.
18:00 - Dinner, then shower.
19:00 - Lecture on modern Costa Rican history. We talk about CAFTA for about half of it. Costa Rica actually just put CAFTA into effect the first of this month, after a national referendum last October, which was the first referendum held since before WWII. It passed by a very slim margin.
21:00 - Read Plans and write this, surrounded by twelve other students hooked up to their laptops.
The soccer was great. So was the hike. We get a day off on Monday. What should I do?
Friday, January 30, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Las Cruces
I've been at Las Cruces for a little over 24 hours now, and I think I already feel right at home. The botanical garden here surrounds the buildings, and just walking around on the paths is great. I'm looking forward to going on runs, and getting to know my way around them better. I went on a night hike last night with some of the other students, and saw several frogs, tons of spiders, and a cool phosphorescent insect. Other than that, I don't feel like I have all that many stories to report. I guess I haven't been here long enough. I can report, though, that the food is excellent.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Orientation
This will have to be quick, since we're leaving for dinner soon. But, hey! Orientation!
Most of the group met last night at this semi-swanky hotel in an outlying district of San Jose. We went to OTS headquarters today, met all the professors, got some syllabi, did some paperwork, got a few fear-inducing lectures on safety (in the field and in the city).
None of the South Africans (there are two) are here yet, due to plane difficuties. But, from what I can tell, we have a lot of great diversity in the group. Well, I guess we are mostly white kids, and about half from liberal arts schools. But what I mean is that the Americans are from all over the United States, and our academic backgrounds and general experience and interests are quite diverse. We have a natural history buff, a geology major, a pre-dental from Penn, people interested in environmental science and policy, people (like me) more on the ecology side, those who like to try new foods, and those who are more comfortable with hamburgers and fries. I think I can see some purposeful effort put into selecting an interesting mix of students. Which I think will be both challenging and rewarding. Not to sound too much like a brochure or anything.
Tomorrow morning we take the long bus ride to the very southern edge of Costa Rica to our first field station, Las Cruces, in the pre-montane forest. It'll be nice to get out of the city.
Also, I forgot to clarify at the beginning that this is called a "flog" because it's a "field log," a term stolen from the blog for the Echinacea Project, a research project I worked on this past summer. So that's that.
Most of the group met last night at this semi-swanky hotel in an outlying district of San Jose. We went to OTS headquarters today, met all the professors, got some syllabi, did some paperwork, got a few fear-inducing lectures on safety (in the field and in the city).
None of the South Africans (there are two) are here yet, due to plane difficuties. But, from what I can tell, we have a lot of great diversity in the group. Well, I guess we are mostly white kids, and about half from liberal arts schools. But what I mean is that the Americans are from all over the United States, and our academic backgrounds and general experience and interests are quite diverse. We have a natural history buff, a geology major, a pre-dental from Penn, people interested in environmental science and policy, people (like me) more on the ecology side, those who like to try new foods, and those who are more comfortable with hamburgers and fries. I think I can see some purposeful effort put into selecting an interesting mix of students. Which I think will be both challenging and rewarding. Not to sound too much like a brochure or anything.
Tomorrow morning we take the long bus ride to the very southern edge of Costa Rica to our first field station, Las Cruces, in the pre-montane forest. It'll be nice to get out of the city.
Also, I forgot to clarify at the beginning that this is called a "flog" because it's a "field log," a term stolen from the blog for the Echinacea Project, a research project I worked on this past summer. So that's that.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Wet volcano adventures
I woke up at 5am to catch the bus from San Jose to Heredia, where I would proceed to be confused, and miss the bus from Heredia to Sacramento, which is a few kilometers from the entrance to the park. So, not to be defeated, I got a taxi instead, which got me a little closer than the bus would have. I got to see some first-class crazy Tico driving on the way through Sacramento, which is a town simply strung along this single, steep, winding road that just barely contains two car widths. I was surprised that as we got higher, the houses actually got nicer, and a large number of the driveways were gated, and you could often see well-kept gardens inside. As we scaled the mountain, I was also surprised that what began as a mist increased with elevation until it was a full-blown drizzle where I got out of the taxi, the end of the paved road.
I took off up the road at a good clip, eager to get into the park and on to some real trails. There would have been some great views froms the road, I'm sure, if the clouds hadn't been there. A turquoise Geo Metro passed me on the road, one of the few cars, and it was parked at the entrance when I got there. Turns out that I had arrived just after the Geo, because my pace equals that of a car on a dirt road with that many holes in it. So I came to fall in with my three hiking buddies for the morning, the contents of the Geo being John, Adolfo, and Sandra, an eclectic bunch of folks. John is a tough old guy from some town in Southern CA, and he's in his third week of Spanish classes in a San Jose suburb. His host family is a young couple, the Tico Adolfo, always cracking deadpan jokes, and Sandra, a Swiss transplant to Costa Rica, who spoke a little English and fluent Spanish. I enjoyed walking with John, who hadn't known any Spanish before coming here, so we trade small sentences in Spanish. It turns out he does quite a bit of backpacking in the Sierra Nevadas, and has even hiked the entire southern half of California on the Pacific Crest Trail! (Dark picture. oops.)
There are just a few trails in this section of the park, and the main one leads to Lago Barva, in the crater of the volcano. Everything is just thick, green rainforest, and by this time it's raining pretty good, and the trail is muddy and dotted with puddles and mud patches. The lake is in a bit of a depression, and is completely ringed with vegetation. Yup, pretty gray.
We explored one other trail, and it was great to just be in this very rainy forest, instead of a drizzly, dirty city. The only animals we saw were a couple small birds in the bushes from a viewpoint along the trail. When we got back to the entrance, I was unhappily surprised by wet backpack contents. In the last half-hour or so, my backpack had finally given up, and let the water seep through to the main pocket. My guidebook got it right in the chest, and the bus schedule was done for. Of course, bodily I was soaked, although my feet had been bone-dry in my goretex hikers until (I think) the water leached from my pants to my socks. Happily, John had convinced Adolfo to give me a ride to the closest large town, Barva, where I could catch the bus back to San Jose. I was surprised that Adolfo was so reluctant, because up until then he had been incredibly friendly and welcoming. He said something about me being so wet, and that I would need to give them some money. So we went down the mountain, and in Barva, Adolfo asked for 5,000 colones (about 10 dollars), which I gave him, because I didn't feel like bargaining with someone I came to regard as a friend. But really, that's about as much as a taxi would have been, although I suppose a taxi couldn't actually get up that dirt road. I'm just a little disappointed, because it seemed like he didn't trust me.
All in all, though, it was a great trip, and I was glad to meet some people to hike with. I'm just chilling in Casa Ridgway for the rest of the day, and trying to dry out my books with some intense stares. Oh, and naps. Naps are important. Tomorrow I meet everyone in my program! Nervous?
I took off up the road at a good clip, eager to get into the park and on to some real trails. There would have been some great views froms the road, I'm sure, if the clouds hadn't been there. A turquoise Geo Metro passed me on the road, one of the few cars, and it was parked at the entrance when I got there. Turns out that I had arrived just after the Geo, because my pace equals that of a car on a dirt road with that many holes in it. So I came to fall in with my three hiking buddies for the morning, the contents of the Geo being John, Adolfo, and Sandra, an eclectic bunch of folks. John is a tough old guy from some town in Southern CA, and he's in his third week of Spanish classes in a San Jose suburb. His host family is a young couple, the Tico Adolfo, always cracking deadpan jokes, and Sandra, a Swiss transplant to Costa Rica, who spoke a little English and fluent Spanish. I enjoyed walking with John, who hadn't known any Spanish before coming here, so we trade small sentences in Spanish. It turns out he does quite a bit of backpacking in the Sierra Nevadas, and has even hiked the entire southern half of California on the Pacific Crest Trail! (Dark picture. oops.)
There are just a few trails in this section of the park, and the main one leads to Lago Barva, in the crater of the volcano. Everything is just thick, green rainforest, and by this time it's raining pretty good, and the trail is muddy and dotted with puddles and mud patches. The lake is in a bit of a depression, and is completely ringed with vegetation. Yup, pretty gray.
We explored one other trail, and it was great to just be in this very rainy forest, instead of a drizzly, dirty city. The only animals we saw were a couple small birds in the bushes from a viewpoint along the trail. When we got back to the entrance, I was unhappily surprised by wet backpack contents. In the last half-hour or so, my backpack had finally given up, and let the water seep through to the main pocket. My guidebook got it right in the chest, and the bus schedule was done for. Of course, bodily I was soaked, although my feet had been bone-dry in my goretex hikers until (I think) the water leached from my pants to my socks. Happily, John had convinced Adolfo to give me a ride to the closest large town, Barva, where I could catch the bus back to San Jose. I was surprised that Adolfo was so reluctant, because up until then he had been incredibly friendly and welcoming. He said something about me being so wet, and that I would need to give them some money. So we went down the mountain, and in Barva, Adolfo asked for 5,000 colones (about 10 dollars), which I gave him, because I didn't feel like bargaining with someone I came to regard as a friend. But really, that's about as much as a taxi would have been, although I suppose a taxi couldn't actually get up that dirt road. I'm just a little disappointed, because it seemed like he didn't trust me.All in all, though, it was a great trip, and I was glad to meet some people to hike with. I'm just chilling in Casa Ridgway for the rest of the day, and trying to dry out my books with some intense stares. Oh, and naps. Naps are important. Tomorrow I meet everyone in my program! Nervous?
Saturday, January 24, 2009
True Fact: Longest Post Ever
Buenas! That's the standard greeting in Costa Rica, short for "buenas noches," but you can use "adios" as a greeting, too. I have explored downtown San Jose and the immediate surroundings pretty thoroughly now, and I'm getting ready to move on. I spent Friday looking for cool museums and galleries, and was moderately successful. The Jade Museum was an impressive collection of jade artifacts as well as many other pre-Columbian pieces. I found a couple cool little art galleries recommended by the Lonely Planet guide, and had a nice look around. Disappointingly, their modern art museum is closed for renovation until the middle of February.
Later that evening, I found my bunk room at Casa Ridgway had gained a person, Greg, who I've spent a fair amount of time with by now. Greg graduated from Oregon State a few years ago, and works there now, monitoring sustainability for their facilities. He was waiting for a friend to arrive before vacationing for a couple weeks, and we bonded immediately, being the only under-50 guests at la casa. We had dinner at a nearby traditional Costa Rican place with onions hanging in the windows, which is the site of this really sketchy story:
Greg and I were discussing options for him and his friend, and I began to tell him about what I read in Lonely Planet about the sex trade in Costa Rica. I don't know if this is pretty widely known, but large numbers of married (or single) American men show up here as "anglers." I'm sure they fish, but they also hire many lady friends, who are very easy to find in certain parts of downtown San Jose, and in certain tourist communities along the Pacific coast (Jaco is the most notorious). Prostitution is legal in Costa Rica, as long as everyone is over 18, but how often do you think the customers ask for ID? There are some ad campaigns against child prostitution, but it's apparently not incredibly successful. So anyway, just as I start explaining the "anglers" to Greg, the portly gringo at the table next to us leans over and asks for some advice on ordering. There are English explanations of all the dishes, but he wants to know what we have, and what we recommend. He obviously doesn't speak any Spanish, and has never heard of plantains. Now, none of this is necessarily bad, but he's pretty obnoxious in general. Introductions go around (I've forgotten his name), he's from Boston (where it's very cold), and Greg asks if he has any suggestions on where he should go with his friend. Here's where it gets interesting. Portly gringo leans in close, and begins to tell us that we should really check out this place called "Del Rey." Apparently, he says there are a lot of "beautiful girls," and a lot of hotel rooms available. But, he warns that when you go, you have to make sure to lock the minibar in the room, and not leave any money lying around. Greg and I just kind of let him go on, sort of fascinated by his complete disregard for courteous conversation. Portly gringo and his friend are, in fact, heading down to the infamous Jaco later this week. I'm a bit disappointed that Greg and I apparently look like dudes interested in Del Rey, and Jaco. But then again, portly gringo was remarkably oblivious to most things, it seems. He asked the waitress for ketchup for his sea bass. Sigh.
So, that's enough of that sort of thing. Music time! I've managed to find two great free performances so far, one later that night in a bar north of downtown. The guide mentioned several places with live folk music in the district, and Greg and I found one. It was pretty great, two old Ticos in a tiny bar, one with a guitar and mic, the other with bongos. I had really never heard anything like this music before. On the surface it was acoustic Latin folk, but you could definitely tell that whoever wrote these songs had listened to a lot of American singer-songwriters, from the melodic style to some of the guitar playing. Unfortunately, I could only catch the occasional word. Also: best bongo solo I've ever heard, from the very old white-haired Tico. The second concert was in one of the famous plazas, and was a fantastic groove session. It was a pretty hip world fusion group, a collection of percussionists with two guitarists, bass player, and singer. They started out playing in a more cubano or argentino style, but as the two hour show progressed and people gathered, they started rocking out more and more. By the end, there was a small mosh pit in front, which was entirely appropriate, even though the music still held on to its latin groove feel. More great solos, from guitar and flute. Also, it's comforting to know that wherever you go in the world, PA systems will still turn off at random points in a show.
For tomorrow, I have actually managed to plan out how to climb Volcan Barva. Two bus rides, starting at 5am, and hopefully it won't be too hot, and I'll get back before it's dark. I bought lunch at the market, and I'm pretty excited.
Hooray for having followers! I'm going to assume that Jabreal is a stalker, and I should avoid him at all costs. In conclusion, I owe Stephan a prize for being my first follower. Here it is:
Later that evening, I found my bunk room at Casa Ridgway had gained a person, Greg, who I've spent a fair amount of time with by now. Greg graduated from Oregon State a few years ago, and works there now, monitoring sustainability for their facilities. He was waiting for a friend to arrive before vacationing for a couple weeks, and we bonded immediately, being the only under-50 guests at la casa. We had dinner at a nearby traditional Costa Rican place with onions hanging in the windows, which is the site of this really sketchy story:
Greg and I were discussing options for him and his friend, and I began to tell him about what I read in Lonely Planet about the sex trade in Costa Rica. I don't know if this is pretty widely known, but large numbers of married (or single) American men show up here as "anglers." I'm sure they fish, but they also hire many lady friends, who are very easy to find in certain parts of downtown San Jose, and in certain tourist communities along the Pacific coast (Jaco is the most notorious). Prostitution is legal in Costa Rica, as long as everyone is over 18, but how often do you think the customers ask for ID? There are some ad campaigns against child prostitution, but it's apparently not incredibly successful. So anyway, just as I start explaining the "anglers" to Greg, the portly gringo at the table next to us leans over and asks for some advice on ordering. There are English explanations of all the dishes, but he wants to know what we have, and what we recommend. He obviously doesn't speak any Spanish, and has never heard of plantains. Now, none of this is necessarily bad, but he's pretty obnoxious in general. Introductions go around (I've forgotten his name), he's from Boston (where it's very cold), and Greg asks if he has any suggestions on where he should go with his friend. Here's where it gets interesting. Portly gringo leans in close, and begins to tell us that we should really check out this place called "Del Rey." Apparently, he says there are a lot of "beautiful girls," and a lot of hotel rooms available. But, he warns that when you go, you have to make sure to lock the minibar in the room, and not leave any money lying around. Greg and I just kind of let him go on, sort of fascinated by his complete disregard for courteous conversation. Portly gringo and his friend are, in fact, heading down to the infamous Jaco later this week. I'm a bit disappointed that Greg and I apparently look like dudes interested in Del Rey, and Jaco. But then again, portly gringo was remarkably oblivious to most things, it seems. He asked the waitress for ketchup for his sea bass. Sigh.
So, that's enough of that sort of thing. Music time! I've managed to find two great free performances so far, one later that night in a bar north of downtown. The guide mentioned several places with live folk music in the district, and Greg and I found one. It was pretty great, two old Ticos in a tiny bar, one with a guitar and mic, the other with bongos. I had really never heard anything like this music before. On the surface it was acoustic Latin folk, but you could definitely tell that whoever wrote these songs had listened to a lot of American singer-songwriters, from the melodic style to some of the guitar playing. Unfortunately, I could only catch the occasional word. Also: best bongo solo I've ever heard, from the very old white-haired Tico. The second concert was in one of the famous plazas, and was a fantastic groove session. It was a pretty hip world fusion group, a collection of percussionists with two guitarists, bass player, and singer. They started out playing in a more cubano or argentino style, but as the two hour show progressed and people gathered, they started rocking out more and more. By the end, there was a small mosh pit in front, which was entirely appropriate, even though the music still held on to its latin groove feel. More great solos, from guitar and flute. Also, it's comforting to know that wherever you go in the world, PA systems will still turn off at random points in a show.
For tomorrow, I have actually managed to plan out how to climb Volcan Barva. Two bus rides, starting at 5am, and hopefully it won't be too hot, and I'll get back before it's dark. I bought lunch at the market, and I'm pretty excited.
Hooray for having followers! I'm going to assume that Jabreal is a stalker, and I should avoid him at all costs. In conclusion, I owe Stephan a prize for being my first follower. Here it is:
Friday, January 23, 2009
en la casa de la paz
My parents will be very relieved to hear that I made it to Casa Ridgway (Quaker-run hostel) last night without a hitch. I talked to the taxi driver some on the way, but felt far too tired too understand more than the occasional word. The hostel is pretty great, and I look forward to not missing breakfast (7:30-8:30) tomorrow morning, so I can meet everyone else who is staying here. Today will consist of me wandering around the city, going to museums, and hopefully making plans to climb Volcan Barza. But I suspect there's no way to get close enough by bus. We'll see.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Beginnings with rocks in them
So, the original plan was for Hart and I to spend three days in the capital San Jose before our program starts on Monday, but those got rather interrupted by Hart's appendix. She had to have an emergency removal on Wednesday, so that means she can't come to Costa Rica for two weeks, due to a lack of stomach muscles. This leaves me with three days to spend in the capital on my own, where I'll arrive in less than 24 hours!
Excitement (and a little panic) sets in. Next post will be from Costa Rica.
Excitement (and a little panic) sets in. Next post will be from Costa Rica.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Premonitions
This is where I will post about my semester abroad in Costa Rica, studying tropical biology in all sorts of different habitats. Two days! Oh my. I have to go pack now.
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