We stayed at a B&B near Montezuma that was pretty isolated — surrounded by farms and jungle. It was being run by a Belgian couple and the man, Henry, liked to sit with a whiskey and chat with the guests after dinner.
I mentioned that this was the first trip I'd taken with no cultural agenda, such as previous trips to Brazil, and he mentioned that he’d lived there for a few years.
It was decades ago, and he and partner were in a town somewhere in the middle of the country. The town may have bordered on the jungle, because he told a story about penetrating the jungle, a kilometer a day, by machete.
I mentioned that I'd recently read Claude Levi-Strauss, the famous French anthropologist, whom I thought, being Belgian, he may have been familiar with. No luck. I said I thought Levi Strauss was a wonderful writer but that his behavior was questionable — traipsing into the jungle with relatively huge retinues and trading guns — unavailable to the Indians at that time — for artifacts.
Henry seemed to concur. He and his friend eventually encountered a tribe in the jungle, and were made welcome. But, Henry said, as he realized what a totally different worldview and universe they had come upon, he began to ask himself "what are we DOING here?". He felt ashamed, embarrassed. He said "We didn't belong there, we had no business there."
He recently talked to this former partner who recently flew over part of the Amazon in a Cessna and, according to Henry... he cried. So much has been chopped down and the land, once the trees and everything else is removed, is not good for farming or even ranching. It becomes a wasteland.
Henry claims it is the Japanese who are bribing the appropriate politicians and are paying the requisite prices for the hardwoods.
It is Xmas everywhere.
In Austin...
...and in Costa Rica.
I'd brought some snorkeling gear, which we tried out at beach on the Northern Pacific Coast, but the water was cloudy and we couldn't see much. There were pelicans near us, which Tracy said meant there were fish in the water, but we couldn't see them.
As we left the coastal areas and were heading back inland we had one more chance to go snorkeling — we'd pass by Isla Tortuga on the way to the car ferry and I figured there'd be enterprising small boat owners who would take us to the island, which is supposed to be surrounded by reefs and good for snorkeling.
A sign on a tree offered snorkeling or scuba boat trips for $15, which seemed reasonable, and we were at a point where the island was closest to the mainland, so the trip wouldn't take long and we could presumably get back in time for the ferry.
At the beach where the boat left from, part of another reserve, we were told to wait for Juan, who was due to leave for the island at 10:30. As it was already 10:45 we wondered how accurate was this information. By almost 11:30 Juan and another man appeared from around the corner in a little outboard.
The snorkeling was OK, not fantastic, but I love drifting amongst fish and coral so it doesn't have to be extraordinary. I'm glad Tracy suggested we give it one more try. Scuba diving is even more delirious, as one experiences a pleasant dislocation — up and down are less meaningful and one can spin, rollover and slither uninhibited by gravity. Even I become graceful in my own eyes.
