Settled in

It’s been a busy week this side of the Atlantic. On Monday myself and Cara headed back in Puerto Jimenez, ate chicken quesadilla (a culinary masterpiece), bought our boxer shorts (surprisingly comfy, and a perfect addition to the hippish all-my-clothes-are-damp look I prefer to call ‘jungle sheek’) and swam in the warm waters of the Golfo Dulce. The next day, on route to our first turtle survey of the week we stumbled across a Neotropical otter nibbling on his breakfast. It was my first sighting and a pretty special one at that, considering there is no research regarding their population. The turtle patrol however put a sadder emphasis on the morning, as one of the greens had laid her eggs too high in the sand causing the tide to turn up the nest. None of the eggs survived. Nature even in all its beauty can be cruel, especially on the already hard done by turtle hatchlings.

Wednesday morning saw a new addition to our weekly schedule; trail maintenance. For five hours, armed with spades, machetes and chainsaws we dug a completely new trail through the dense rainforest. The heat was made bearable by the water fight Kirsty and I had and the fresh orange juice the cook at OSA gave us. It was quite an accomplishment digging up roots that gripped the ground like a child does its mother. Whilst it was tough, as proven by the blisters on my thumbs, it was physically rewarding and actually rather enjoyable. As the work we were doing was part of collaboration with OSA Conservation it meant spending the morning with the guys who work here, who are possibly the nicest and funniest people I’ve met. Juan Sito for instance has the cutest smile and would laugh at me sweating and say “mucho aqua?” to which my reply was always “si!” Then half comatose I cooked for everyone, slept and then cooked again.

The next morning I woke up at 2:45am and crept out of camp, led by Nathan and followed by Sam and American Sarah for my first ever Peje. The tales that had preceded the journey were not wrong, it was a tough walk. We clambered down steps, under fallen trees, passed razor grass, through swamps and lagoons and came out into a pitch black clearing. It felt as though I were in a big dark room, all I could make out were the outlines of leaning palm trees  and a line of bright white froth thunderously crashing seconds after the last wave ripping the silence in two. And then, I looked up. Above me the milky way eloquently lit up the night sky, so bright that you’d think that if I reached out to touch a star, I’d be burnt. The poignant night sky slowly faded into a subtle pink glow that was delicate and just so pretty. By this point we’d been waking for hours on the sloped sand and my calves ached, we had 43 sectors to survey and each was the length of two or three buses lying next to one another. But the end, sector 43, the finish line, was so indescribably worth it. Words do not do this perfect little corner of the world justice. The rainforest fell into a lagoon that cattle crossed as the sun rose, and the birds swept their wings in amongst the palm trees. You could see for miles above the tree tops to your right and miles across the ocean to your left. I was entirely humbled to be one of the few people who got the complete privilege of seeing this private and protected landscape, so entirely untouched by tourists with no trace of the 21^st century.  ‘The circle of life’ ran through my head on repeat whilst Nathan sang ‘Hakuna Matata’, I had to remind myself that someone hadn’t just picked me up and dropped me into a Disney movie. This was real. And I was there.  I even turned to Sam and said “all we need now, is a good soundtrack”.

On our way back, we had to walk up the stairs of doom. Which went like this; Sam pushed me up, I nearly passed out, got to the top and had a semi-asthma attack, fell over and got razor grassed. All I could do was lie there, in the middle of the jungle and laugh, life was too perfect.

On Thursday I went on an Otter survey all the way to the top of Piro river, another 5hour trek.  We were joined by the lovely Juan Carlos, the head of science at OSA who, whenever I would turn around would be doing something funny such as putting a feather in his hair and exclaiming “I am the Mexican Pocahontas!” or wearing a leaf as a mask. I managed to find a few otter tracks on my own, which was a rather exciting considering I’m the non-scientist on camp. We also saw a poison dart frog carrying its tadpoles on its back, which apparently is unbelievably rare, and we just happened to see it. The way back down the river was absolutely terrifying. If ever there was a way I would die, it would be walking down a fast flowing stream of water up to my waist, that’s bed was made up of rocks like marbles, during torrential rainfall with trees falling down around me. Its not the place for the clumsy, wet rocks are not sturdy walking ground but they do however, make you appreciate pavement in ways I never have before.

On Saturday we walked across the beach with Toucans flying low above our heads to the waterfall. On our way back I saw a figure in the sand making its way to the sea. My first thought was that it was a turtle so screamed out and pointed towards it “WHAT. IS. THAT?!” Carlos, Malorie and myself just sprinted, a rather peculiar site for Sarah and Kirsty behind us. Turns out, it was a baby crocodile. I can’t believe I just saw a baby crocodile on the beach and we strolled along, its hard to put these sort of moments into perspective.

The lagoon brought more fun, as a tree trunk had fallen into it and was floating on the surface like a banana boat. This provided endless entertainment, Kirsty did backflips off of it and I did my best impressions of Dirty Dancing and the Jesus Christ lizard (walks on water) whilst Malorie clinged to it with dear life and Natalka and Carlos swam around in the background collecting coconuts. Then we returned ‘home’ for Yaka chips and a little bit of Madagascar and fell asleep listening to the rain on the tin roof of the hammock deck.

Now, I’m off to learn more Spanish, which will save me a lot of awkward situations, so ¡hasta luego.

Sun, sun, sun!

Sun, sun, sun!

I begin this week’s entry rather worryingly with my cooking. Saturday it was my turn to take the reins over our gas stove. With endless trails happening throughout the day in heat that can reach 37degrees, people were expecting a feast (or as close to one as you can get to in the jungle). Let me start by saying that camp is entirely vegan (except powered milk), something I thought I would find difficult to stomach – pun intended- due to no electricity. Whilst this means no brie and mango chutney on crackers in one hand and a chilled Corona in the other, it does create a rather angelic atmosphere as we eat – and laugh – by candlelight. Regardless of our many setbacks, (which now include water being cut off from camp and resorting to drinking from the river, which is something rather special during  the century of chemically purified everything)  I have yet to not enjoy a meal here! For lunch I rustled up a sweet potato (which on a side note, is white here) mash and onion gravy. It went down well, considering I don’t cook, ever. At all.

After lunch we went on a stroll through one of the many rivers that intertwine across the landscape, soaking in our surroundings. On our return Elle suggested we head to the beach to gather drift wood, an idea I enthusiastically welcomed. There is no limit to the amount of times I can fall in love with the ocean. I walked across the lapping waves and watched the afternoon sea mist engulf the rainforest before swimming in the lagoon to cool down. On our way back Helen summed up our perfect Saturday afternoon by saying “don’t you just feel completely content right now?” and I did.

For dinner I stuck to the good old English spag-bol, although to ensure it fitted in with our camp’s hippy facade it was, of course, entirely vegan and made with soya. People lapped it up (probably shouldn’t say that as mum might actually get me cooking when I return home).

On Sunday Sam, Charlotte, Cara and myself headed into town via the cattle truck I’d previously mentioned. I have come to the conclusion that the collectivo’s lack of seatbelts, windows, comfy seats, rules and even properly formed roads is completely and utterly liberating.  You can stand and watch it rumble on through the jungle as the wind beats your hair and be lost in your own world. Three things in town made me a very happy girl:

1)      They had Heinz tomato ketchup. An essential for every meal.

2)      They had white Lindt chocolate. Looking back, this wasn’t my most sensible buy, but when have I ever been practical!

3)      I got a beautiful yellow sarong. I now live in it.

For lunch we had Margarita pizzas, beer, and pizza on a bench that had us literally seated in the sea, watching planes land overhead.

Mario the ‘bus driver’ waited rather happily for us for 10 minutes so we could make an entirely essential rum dash, which sums up the Costa Ricans laid back attitude. When I got back on the collectivo one of the elderly local men, who I had sat next to in all my previous rides, smiled when he saw me and tapped the seat next to him, which made me laugh. A drunken local also took our photo, claiming that white people were beautiful, so I took his photo to make it fair!

On Monday after a primates survey and double checking the canopy traps for butterflies, which required climbing under a tree that had fallen over a river creating a tiny gap I decided to sunbathe for half an hour at 10am. Sun in Costa Rica is entirely different from sun back in the UK, mainly because we rarely get it and we do it reaches 28 degrees max. And so, this is where my entry ends, as the rest of the week I have spent suffering through the not-so-nice end of the dehydration spectrum. Learn from my mistakes kids, sunstroke is awful and recovering in a tropical environment is not easy.

I am thankful for the tree frogs, millipedes and snakes for keeping up my amusement whilst spending all week at camp. And with my spirits high I am confident I’ll make a great recovery and roll into another week of jungle madness.

Adios!

Costa Rica PART 1

So, after months of forwarding planning and years of saving, I find myself in the middle of a tropical rainforest. I am no more than a puma, a neotropical otter or scarlet macaws’ guest and – wow - is their home beautiful.

After a long flight (my first long haul) and an overnight stay in San Jose I took to the sky in a Nature Air plane. The pilots of the tin-can-with-wings were pretty laid back and casually turned up five minutes before our flight. The ride seemed a tad too much for some (mainly the little girl in front of me who threw up into her father’s lap) but the other five people, including myself, were mesmerised by the view. As we soared over mangroves, beaches and the jungle I half expected to hear David Attenborough in my ear.

As we arrived I was hit by a wave of humidity, grabbed my own luggage from the hold and was a greeted by a very smiley and tanned blonde, who I now know to be the lovely Elle, our project coordinator.  Walking down Puerto Jimenez I felt as though I had stepped into the novel Wide Sargasso Sea and it was a very sudden realisation that I was a long way away from home. We were quickly shuffled onto the collectivo, a cattle truck with seats, for an hour into the depths of the jungle where we were met by even more friendly faces and introduced to camp.

Now, I could spend a fair amount of time telling you how the rest of my first day unfolded; how I chose a hammock over a tent, or how I ate stir fry and fried bread for tea. How the howlers are so loud at 4am each morning you contemplate getting a BB gun sent in from home, or how the squirrel monkeys swing from tree to tree as you take a butt naked shower in the middle of the jungle. Or even, perhaps, how the scarlet macaws are my favourite bird (never thought I’d have one of those) but I just don’t have enough space on the page.

All the staff are incredible and instinctively passionate about the nature around them, and the animals they specialize in. Helen for instance, cries out when she sees her ‘babies’ the capuchins, despite seeing them a hundred times, and Nathan is astounded by the coolness of a type of Iguana he’s never seen before whilst on our night walk, and Sarah affectionately calls the turtles ‘crazy’ when she looks at their lopsided tracks and false lays. Meanwhile Elle inspires me with her creativity and experience of the world. All of their knowledge is completely beyond me, but it’s an honour to learn from them all and contribute to a world of science that my eyes are only just being opened to.

Now for the exciting part, yesterday was my best day by far, despite my crippling homesickness! I woke up at 5am ready for my first turtle patrol, not expecting to see much as the season is currently in a lull, so I found myself just enthusiastic to see the beach. I was not disappointed. The rainforest meets the black sand with a perfect line of palm trees, the waves reach three metres at least and roar as they crumble onto each other whilst pelicans skim the water top. I couldn’t tell if I was looking at a desktop background on a computer or standing in the real thing, the experience was surreal! We walked down the beach looking for turtle tracks and to our surprise we found nine green turtle tracks, and whilst seven were false lays, two had nested, which means that in 45-55 days time we’ll be greeted with hatchlings. Whilst this may seem a lot, only 1 in 1000 hatchlings will survive to maturity, and it isn’t until they’re 26 that the females can start nesting.

Once we’d recorded all of the turtle tracks, and had lost half our body weight in sweat (grim I know) we took a dip in a lagoon, which is situated between the rainforest and the sand and is host to a crocodile! I was reassured before diving in with the words “if you see a croc, get out as fast as you can!” Comfortingly I heard no ticking noise and returned to camp rather merrily although exhausted.

Despite being ‘knackered’ (a phrase that the American girls on camp just can’t get use to us English folks saying) I went out and got annihilated by the local guys at football to the soundtrack of thunder and lighting, although no rain, which means the Osa is particularly hot and humid.

After a lovely dish of ratatouille for dinner I headed out on a night walk with the all-knowing Nathan, Sam who I’d travelled with and Sarah, a very enthusiastic American girl (who also is a great chef). Our aim was to see a puma, well at least everyone else was dying to, I on the other hand am in no rush to come face to face with a puma. As we trekked through the pitch dark jungle we were confronted by an iguana, a cute guy whose defence mechanism was along the lines of ‘if I stay as still as I possibly can then you can’t see me’, a spider that catches its prey by dropping a net on it as it flies by and many other creepy crawlies.

And then came the big moment…

Nathan pushed me back and ushered for us to retreat as a venomous Fer-de-Lance snake slithered its way in front of our path. A Fer-de-Lance, I had learnt only hours earlier, is the deadliest snake in the Osa Pensiula, one bite will make you bleed from your eyes and without an anti-venom, you’d be dead in four hours or less! Our initial plan was to wait for it to move off the track but the Fer-de-Lance was unwillingly to cooperate. Instead as it veered to the left, Nathan crossed past it on the right. Just as it was my turn to do the same, the snake noticed our lights and went from a relaxed position to its strike position in less a second. With my adrenaline racing, I carefully and slowly managed to shimmy across, staying as close to the edge of the right hand side of the path as possible. Once we’d all gone past, we headed back to camp to crash into our hammocks and come to terms with our new fear of snakes on any midnight toilet trips!

Week one, Costa Rica, what an introduction!

Number Eightttttt.

Me and Mr Charlie Crawford

I heart cake mix.

So I don't know why I didn't list this as number five, seen as no.8's task was to make a FIVE tiered cake.   With a little help from my good friend Mr Charlie Crawford, a trip to Tescos, a lot of chocolate, and best of all, LOADS of mess (I have to own up as the main culprit here, after all I did flick brownie all over Charlie), we did it!

"Baby steps" is a common phrase advised to all, and whilst baking a five tier cake wasn't a watershed moment, it was the first and, as Charlie pointed out, most cost efficient, step towards completing my list. And lets not forget, it was really fun!

The finished product

Admittedly it doesn't LOOK that amazing, but it sure as hell did taste good, we even switched it up a bit and alternated layers, one brownie, one sponge. Besides I'm not shallow, and if you are sitting their judging our rather interesting concoction then "shame on you! You'll be sorry when we enter into our own wedding cake company and earn a billion!"

My little cupcake top

Now, who wants cakeeeee?! Seriously though, I keep eating and more just appears.. its like its duplicating itself.

All my love.

Jess.

No.9

Hello all,

So now the bestfriend has left to go to University, and the other bestfriend has left to her own gap year in Australia, both of whom are the two people I care most about in the whole entire world, excluding family that is, (a massive down side to having a gap year is watching the people you care about leave your 'home town' and you behind) all that is left for me to do is to get cracking with the list.

I happened to stumble across this video and decided it is the perfect basis upon which I shall 'learn a dance' No.9.

Here you go, take a look for yourself. Inspiration for No.9; the dance.
So, when I'm done being sad (I always knew September was going to be a toughen) and I'm ready to be distracted, I'll get learning it in my spare time and upload a video of my own cheeky rendition.

All my love
- Jessica

Gap Life?

So the summer is over, and has been quickly replaced by September. A month I thought would be full of empty 'gaps' of time, pondering over what to do next! I was wrong. I can't remember the last time I was quite this busy. My life is a rush of trying to get everything done and said before each individual leaves for university or gap years as well as working, desperate to get as much money as possible to do the things I actually want to do. And here I was, believing that my rush hour ended after the crazy four day boozer surrounding my 18th birthday (including having to say goodbye to one of my closest friends). However two weeks later and here I am.

The next year scares me, because I simply don't know what to expect. I barely know what's happening tomorrow let alone next week, and for somebody who likes a sense of socialized order, its kinda driving me crazy!!

I had one of the best summers of my life, but I can't help but wonder if its meant to be a summer of closure, or the beginning of something better. The line between the two is thinner than I expected.

Being an adult means that regardless of what happens to me, of who leaves and enters my life, and what experience's I may or may not be blessed with, I have to deal with it maturely. I have to breathe, take a step back and gather some perspective. Because gap years and university's and goodbyes, they aren't forever, they're just for now. So for now, being brave takes on a new meaning; it means trusting the direction your life is going in even when it feels like its not heading anywhere at all.

Trust God. He has this crazy plan, right? At least I believe that's true, because I sure as hell ain't working in a cafe claiming that I'm on my "gap life" forever. I think it's time to once again consult the list...

Mistakes

I think its fair to say that no body is perfect however the hardest imperfection to deal with is our own. It is easier to neglect those that are honest with you. True honesty is hard. The truth is you will never want to hear what a friend has to tell you, and we can find ourselves "shooting the messenger" per say. When in fact we should be grateful that a friend is brave enough and loyal enough to tell us the truth, not only about others but about ourselves.

You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye. - Mathew 7:5 

Its not easy to admit our own faults. Its even harder to try and change them. We would far rather run away from the honesty of our friends than face it directly, because if we stay we must suffer the consequences of consistent reminders of guilt. The understanding of hope, that is found in forgiveness is essential to a journey of change. The hardest step in changing, is forgiving yourself.

But your mistakes do not define you, nor should your past!


So it is time to wave the white flag, admit your part and say that with sincerity, you're sorry. Only then can you start the somewhat difficult journey of change, because I am a firm believer that: 

It is never too late, to be better. 


Those that know everything about us and still choose to love us, are precious and should be gratefully treasured for a life time.