Mark and I felt like the only flaw in last year's cruise was an inability to control how long we stayed in port.  A bit of research turned up an intriguing alterative for later adventures --- renting a seaworthy sailboat ("bareboat") with a couple of friends for a week would cost no more than a cruise of a similar length.  Bareboating would let us enjoy the sea, but still give us that element of control we craved.

Of course, the first step in this ambitious plan is to learn to sail, so I was thrilled when Mom finagled an invitation for us to take out a friend's little sailboat on a nearby lake.  The problem was Appalachian geography --- down in the coves that make up TVA lakes, wind is nonexistent.  We learned a lot about putting up the sail and steering the boat, but with only an occasional gentle breeze, I'm not sure you could say we were sailing.

Next step --- a formal lesson in October on a big boat in Maryland.  I'll be studying a textbook and practicing knots and terminology until then.

Mark and I splurged on a Canon Power Shot SX20 IS last week, and ever since I've been a photo-taking spree.  Here are a couple of my favorite shots from the week --- sure signs that fall is on its way.

I've been using a Fujifilm Finepix S1000fd for the last couple of years, and am still enchanted by its vivid colors and intense magnification of macro subjects.  But I've literally worn the front of the camera off with two years of hard use, so I figured it was worthwhile to experiment with the next grade up.  Photos from the Canon appear to be at least as vivid, and the documentation promises that our new camera will focus even closer than our old one.  So far, I'm quite pleased with the upgrade.

The epiphyte flowers Maggie was constantly collecting from the trail all seemed to be cast from a similar mold.  Most of the blooms had long tubes and were either pink, orange, or red --- clear signs of hummingbird pollination.

Scientists estimate that about a sixth of Monteverde's plants are pollinated by these tiny birds, and whole families seem to have placed their reproductive potential into the beaks of hummers.  Ericaceae, Gesneriaceae, Bromeliaceae, and --- on the forest floor --- Heliconiaceae are all hummingbird pollinated.

As you ascend the mountain above Monteverde, hummingbird-pollinated flowers become more and more numerous.  Cooler temperatures at high elevations make it tough for insects to fly, so hummingbirds are the best pollinator around (although bats and hawkmoths are also common pollinators.)  So it's no wonder Monteverde's cloud forest floor is littered with pink and orange tubes, leftover from yesterday's hummingbird feasts.


3-26-01
Today we got our housing contract made --- quite an ordeal, but we did it.  The contract even explains that I have one surname since I'm from the US --- apparently everyone here has two.  The lawyer was very unfair to us, and I had to make him go back and change part of the contract, but after 2.5 hours, it was done.

I have to admit that armchair travel is nearly as much fun as the real thing, and my list of places I want to visit is probably already too long for one lifetime.  But Minerva Spanish School in Xela, Guatemala, is going on the list.

Xela ("Shay-la") is the commonly used name for the unpronounceable town of Quetzaltenango, located at 7,000 feet above sea level in southwest Guatemala.  The school regularly leads trips to nearby attractions like volcanoes, hot springs, and Mayan and Olmec ruins, and it sounds like just walking around the 65% Mayan city is an adventure.

As part of the $175 per week tuition fee, you get to stay and eat with a nearby family --- true immersion in both culture and language.  And, of course, you receive 25 hours of one-on-one Spanish language lessons.  Or, if you'd rather, you can take Mayan Ancestral Anthropology: "An exclusive course concerning the true esoteric and ancient thought of the Mayas—psychological, philosophical, esoteric, practical and extraordinary."  Or perhaps you'd rather learn about Guatemala's ecology or history?  Classes are available on those topics as well.

The most expensive part of the proposition is getting to Xela, but even that is not outlandish.  I've seen roundtrip flights on Spirit Airlines from Atlanta for under $400 apiece.  Add in $60 roundtrip bus fare from Guatemala City to Xela (or much less if you're willing to stand for four hours on a "chicken bus"), and your trip is complete!

I caught this pair of Pipevine Swallowtails mating in the garden Tuesday.  Although clearly the same species, the striking blue band on the top butterfly makes me think that Pipevine Swallowtails are sexually dimorphic.

On the other hand, it's just as likely that the bottom butterfly is merely older and faded from a hard life.  The Polyphemus Moth I posted about in July was a prime example of how tattered and faded the wings of butterflies and moths can become after a few months of flapping around and evading predators.

Whatever the explanation, I appreciate these butterflies holding still and letting me snap a shot.  Thanks for reminding me to pause my incessant weeding and take in the world's beauty.

Anna:

After spending some time in Monteverde's cloud forest, I returned to the lower elevation of the town with new questions on my mind.  For example --- why were thorny trunks prevalent on trees lower down, but not up in the cloud forest?

Although epiphytes can benefit the host tree, too many epiphytes put the host in real danger of splitting or falling under the added weight.  A cloud forest tree has to perform a constant juggling act --- a few epiphytes are a nice addition to its canopy ecosystem, but the tree doesn't want to make its surface too conducive to epiphyte growth.  And the latter is precisely what thorns would do.  Just imagine how easy it would be for falling leaves to be snagged by thorns and rot into dirt, providing the perfect niche for epiphyte seeds to germinate.  Cloud forest trees just can't risk thorny trunks.

At lower elevations, though, ecosystem variables shift in favor of thorns.  The extended dry season makes it difficult for epiphytes to survive, but also means that trees have more to lose if they are munched by hungry predators.  As a result, many trees in the seasonal forest grow thorns, while those in the cloud forest do not.


Maggie:

3-22-01
We set off to the library with our empty bookbags 5 minutes away walking. We picked up an old version of the Fanny Farmer cookbook, told our news about the house, and departed for the supercoop. We had piled several potatoes and some fruit in my hat before realizing that there are baskets. With thorough price comparisons, we took the basics of the kitchen for only 26 bucks.

When we got home we merrily put away the groceries. Then I started supper while Anna assembled a bookshelf in her room. Supper was served: spaghetti with vegetables and our $1 pineapple for desert. Which brings me here to the living room where the sun is just almost disappared from view. Only with time, the warm orange ball will rise again.

Ever since reading Maggie's comments about the annoying tourists in Monteverde, I've been thinking a lot about whether ecotourism is a bane or a boon.  In a perfect world, ecotourism would prompt local people to protect their wild areas by putting a high price tag on the environment.  At the same time, sustainable ecotourism would impact the local ecosystems and culture as little as possible.  Is that combination realistic?

Here are a few factors that an ethical ecotourist should consider when deciding where to spend their money:

• Pay local guides.  In essence, you are voting not only for the park you are visiting, but also for local people to become educated about the beauty and importance of their natural surroundings.  On a similar note, staying at a locally run establishment and eating meals at local restaurants will put your cash straight into the local economy rather than into some big corporation's pocket.
  
• Choose tours carefully.  If you're going with a larger company rather than setting up the whole trip yourself, choose one that commits to spending some of its profits as contributions to the parks you are visiting.  They should also hire local people for all of the services they provide.
• Consider visiting during the low season.  Seasonal businesses make times tough for tour guides and other ecotourism support staff.  If you can swing it, visiting outside the usual busy months will also save you money and let you see parks in a more natural state.
  

Mark and I adore cruises, so in a way we're skipping step two.  On the other hand, I was able to find both a local driver to take us to a ruins and a locally run Mayan steam lodge excursion to reserve for our next trip.  (The internet is amazing.)  And, being cheapskates, we picked a time right before Christmas, when normal people prefer to stay at home with their families.  Hopefully our next cruise will not only send me into months of enjoyable reminiscenses, but will also positively impact the local environment.

One of my Yucatan field guides lists the habitat for the Spiny-tailed Iguana (in part) as "on rocks, in trees, on buildings and around archaeological ruins."  I think we saw at least two dozen of these big, gray lizards during our tour of Uxmal, and I might have taken a picture of every one of them --- they're very photogenic.

Later, I learned that only the mature males have the row of spines down their backs.  In the photo at the top of this post, the lizard on the right is a male and the one on the left is probably a female.

Spiny-tailed Iguanas blend in with their surroundings extremely well not only because they seem to enjoy hanging out on gray rocks, but also because they can change their skin color to match their surroundings.  Some of their smaller relatives (such as anoles) are better color-shifters, but even the huge iguanas at Uxmal can move pigments within individual skin cells and become lighter or darker as a result.

Local people eat iguanas and their eggs, a habit that dates back to the ancient Mayans.  The Mayan name for the species is "huh", which sounds a lot like my surprised exclamation the first time I came across these mighty lizards....

My recent interest in Native American history reminded me that I haven't taken a history class since high school, and I could use some brushing up on the bigger picture.  So I checked the 1980 edition of Arthur Cotterell's The Encyclopedia of Ancient Civilizations out of the library to put North American prehistory in perspective.

The book begins with a discussion of what "civilization" means, which I found intriguing.  All civilizations came about after agriculture stabilized the food supply, but the presence of cultivated crops isn't enough to give an early society the label "civilization".  Instead, other tell-tale marks of civilization include urbanization, a complex centralized state with large distinctions between the rich and poor, division of labor, trade and money, religion, writing, and advances in the arts and sciences.  Interestingly, all of the features of civilization aren't found in every location --- for example, Cotterell notes that Mayan culture has been described as a "civilization without cities."

So where am I going with this technical description?  As someone who has turned down some of the major advances of recent civilization, I'm curious about whether the good parts of civilization could have come about without some of what I consider civilization's evils.  Specifically, civilization seems to have evolved as a way to put a lot of power in the hands of a few.  Could we have developed complex arts and sciences without sending tribute to a central leader?  Were the environmental and behavioral problems created by cities really worth the cultural advances created there?  I have no answers, but maybe you do.

Anna:

5-10-01
Clambering around on a fallen tree laden with epiphytes, I realized that tropical rainforests aren't as devoid of small herbs as they seem to be --- the herbs are just all up in the trees.  Epiphytes live in a very different land where competition for light is rather irrelevant and the problems are finding water and nutrients and clinging to the branch for dear life.  Because while some larger epiphytes can survive for up to two years if knocked from their perch, a tiny Peperomia would be quickly lost in the shuffle.

Epiphytes are the most striking feature of the cloud forest.  The phrase literally means "upon plant" and refers to species of all shapes and sizes that perch on the trunks or branches of trees.  Here in temperate U.S.A., epiphytes are limited to crusts of lichen and mosses, but in tropical areas with a nearly constant rainy season or daily heavy fogs, epiphytes can tear down branches with their weight.  A little lower down the mountain, the Pacific slope seasonal forest has a pronounced dry season, so epiphytic plants tend to dry up and are much less diverse around the elevation of the town.  You have to travel to the peak to see the real epiphyte circus.

You might think that trees would do their best to shed epiphytes, but it turns out that epiphytes do their part to keep their hosts healthy.  The pockets of dirt held in place by epiphytes stimulate the tree to grow crown roots out of their trunks and branches, allowing the trees to suck up some of the nitrogen and water captured by the epiphytes from the surrounding fogs.  In return, the crown roots keep the little clumps of soil from sliding off the side of the tree, which provides a better habitat for epiphyte seed germination.

Although the diversity of Monteverde epiphytes is staggering, once you break them down to the family level, there are just a few main contenders.  Orchids and Piperaceae enjoy living on the outer branches of trees where their succulent leaves help these epiphytes put up with water stress.  In the sheltered center of the canopy, bromeliads and members of Ericaceae colonize the larger branches that can sustain these generally heftier plants' weight.  Finally, the upper trunks of trees are often populated with aroids and members of Gesneriaceae, epiphytes whose fruits are dispersed by birds and mammals perched on the first branches.

Of course, no post on epiphytes would be complete without a quick mention of hemiepiphyes.  Strangler figs are the classic example of this category of plants that begin life as epiphytes, then send down roots and finish their career as terrestrial trees.  In the Monteverde area, Clusia was another extremely common hemiepiphyte, its unique leaves resulting in Quaker children giving it the nickname "Mickey Mouse plant."

(Please note that most but not all of the plants included in this post are epiphytes.  I've thrown in a few species that are members of common epiphytic families, but which grow on the ground.)

Maggie:
3-22-01
I am writing by the light of the setting sun through our large windows in our newly rented house. Yesterday, Anna drew a graph of our emotional ups and downs. She probably should have waited for today.







Anna:
I nearly didn't survive this day.  I tried to call Silvia [our new landlady] in the morning, but couldn't get through and didn't want to ask repeatedly to use the hotel phone.  So we took a chance --- packed up and checked out and set off down the road.  Surprisingly, I had the same joyous feeling of being a vagrant that I always feel when moving to a new place.  Even though the Mammoth was packed to the brim with library books, I still had a spring in my step.





Maggie:
Last night the phone line was cut off when Anna was going to ask Sylvia if we could move in today. So after our breakfast, we packed up and began our journey to the Supercoop [grocery store]. The walk was mostly painless despite the heavy bags. When we arrived at the Supercoop, we attempted to call Sylvia, but failing, we walked on to our beautiful yellow home.








Anna:
The house sits on a hill, down which we can look at neighbors, conifers, eucalypts (!), and a row of windswept, native giants.  On the south side of the house lies a woods with trails, which may be quite extensive.  As I write this, I'm stiting on my thermarest in the living room, looking downhill --- west --- at the sun setting behind the trees.  But then I wasn't so peaceful.  I was worried about getting the house, and I jittered around a bit.






Maggie:
We lay in the sunny yard until Sylvia and Tino (the worker who greeted us with a machete on our first arrival) came walking up the road. Another "Anna" came with them, also to look at the house.











Anna:
At 11:50 am, Silvia arrived and gave us the tour and didn't seem to find it too odd that we had all our stuff here and wanted to move right in.  But she put us in a state by going back to wanting us to pay utilities, which is, quite simply, over my budget.









Maggie:
My Anna repeatedly asked if Sylvia would pay the utilities, only to receive avoidant answers or no answer at all. "I have friends who are renting smaller houses for $500."

I can barely see the page in this dim light but the beat of a neighbor's drum is guiding me along the page. Mostly the house is quiet. It is blessed with its very own woods. Also there is a shed where Sylvia's husband used to make instruments such as violins.

Anna:
After Silvia left us, Maggie pounded granola against the wall and I was generally angry.  We didn't unpack, but sat, playing cards, while waiting for her to return with sheets and blankets and kitchen stuff she'd promised us.

When Silvia returned, my game plan was in place.  I asked her a hundred questions, including things like --- what are those cracks in the ceiling?  Will the roof leak?  What's with the piece of wood which blew off the roof?  Then came the ultimatum --- we can't take the house if we have to pay utilities.

The answer wasn't perfect.  For the first month, we won't pay utilities, then Silvia will look at the electricity and water bills and we'll renegotiate.





Maggie:
Anna even made it clear that we would not pay for utilities the first month. Only after we pointed out every flaw in the house. Luckily a piece of roof fell off just before she arrived. Reluctantly, she agreed on our rental offer.

Soon after she left, we exploded with joy. I attempted to cartwheel in the hall. The bare house grew in our minds, acquiring a tremendous beauty.