My attempt to see myself through the eyes of another:

In contemplating this theme of “seeing myself through another’s eyes” the first challenge has been to figure out which person I should choose. This has been my initial challenge because, in the last seven weeks, I have been travelling around the country, meeting many people. I have encountered countless people from Costa Rica, Venezuela, Mexico, Columbia, America, Canada, Germany, Spain, Italy and Nicaragua. After getting to know only a few, I have been given a small glimpse into the differences each of our cultures bring, and have gained a small understanding of what each person may deem valuable or important.  Whether these differences are culturally constructed, I am not sure. In considering whether or not a person's culture influences their perspective in life and the people in it, I am confronted with an even harder challenge when trying to write about how a person may see me, a Caucasian female from Canada pushing 30.  In attempting to see myself through another person’s eyes, would I not be assuming something about that person culture or values that, perhaps, I really shouldn’t be assuming?

Generally, I have decided that it is best not to generalize, or assume anything. For example, most people around the world have their own ideas of what is "a typical American". In Canada, many people pride themselves on the differences between Americans and Canadians. At one time in my life, I myself also claimed that there was in fact a huge difference between the two (during the Bush administration years to be fair). But since then, I have met many American people that don’t fit the bill of what I used to think of as typical American:  they don’t all wear Holister t-shrits; listen to Dave Mathew’s Band; or drink bad beer like Coors Light or Budweiser! Well, maybe some "frat" boys do, but the truth is, everyone is different.

Rather than trying to pick one person, and go into great detail of what they must think of me, and accidentally make some crazy assumptions about their cultural background along the way, I have been thinking about some occasions where I have made a somewhat ass of myself, and I can promise you, people were thinking “what is wrong with this crazy Canadian girl”?

First, I would like to share with you a little more about my work conditions. My fellow coworker (Chris: who is quite unlike what I used to deem a typical American) and I have shared small quarters throughout our journey across the country. This can be a challenge for anyone, no matter how much you know them, or like them, or respect them. The fact is,  little is kept private… from bowel movements, to eating patterns, to how many pairs of socks or underwear the other owns (and how many of those are clean). This new style of living is uncomfortable for me at times, because, I have realized that I am slightly obsessed with cleanliness. Now, I know some of you may laugh or would contest to that (probably my parents and maybe my sister), however, my years of working in a kitchen (and washing my hands 500 times a day) has trained me to be abnormally obsessed with bacteria, and dirt. This obsession has been really hard to let go of, especially when birds crap on you the moment you lay your eyes on them!

In my first few weeks working with birds in Tortuguero, Chris would raise an eyebrow at me every time I ran to the bathroom to wash my hands… which was about every five minutes. Since he is used to working with people that are “wilderness people” (meaning comfortable with being uncomfortable), I think it probably  has been interesting for him to share space with a wannabe nature seeker. My first night, I shrieked at the sight of a cockroach in our room, and wrinkled my nose at the musty mattress they gave me to sleep on. I shooed all of the geckos out of our room, because I “didn’t want to get pooped on”, and complained constantly about the mosquitos, humidity, the rain, the heat or… the cold. Not to say I have been particularly negative during my stay here, rather, I have realized that I have the habit of making a conversation about everything. I would find things to complain about just to pass the time, with conversation. Did the humidity really bother me, or the rain? Nah, it’s just something to talk about.

Chris has also had to listen to my speech approximately 4 times daily, to anyone who would listen, about how rice is the primary cause of food poisoning, and how important it is to refrigerate (in broken Spanish). No word of a lie, I tell anyone who will listen… usually to people who have left rice and beans on the counter every single day of their existence. Usually, people guffaw at the very idea that this habit will make anyone sick, however, I contest that I haven’t had a day without a stomach cramp since visiting this beautiful country…. and I damn-well blame the counter rice (No, not the cookies, or the ice-cream, or the greasy fried plantains).

Strangers in the street have laughed me at in my attempts to cross the roads. Politely waiting for the green man to tell you to walk, as you do in Canada, just doesn’t cut it here. Traffic never slows, and rarely, do stoplights convince people they should in fact stop. Once, it took me almost ten minutes to cross the road to get to my bus stop.  An elderly gentleman, wearing a toothless grin and a machete on his belt, chuckled at me as I nervously and politely made my way through the cars.

My Costa Rican coworkers and supervisor have also been exposed to my fixation with promptness and punctuality. These things, I have realized, are relative in the world. In Canada, I often arrived 2 minutes late for work (everyday); I often just missed my bus/train, and have had to sneak into my lectures 5 minutes after it has begun (everyday); also I am known to pressed the snooze bar 4 times each morning,  if not more (everyday). In Costa Rica…I am golden. I know I promised not to generalize anything, but here I will make an exception. In Costa Rica, no one does what they say they will, people constantly forget things (sometime important things, like picking me up from a remote part of the Island after work) and no one; I mean no one is on time. There is a phenomenon here, and it is referred to as “Tico time”, and everyone is infected with it. This causes me to constantly fill my supervisor’s inbox with friendly “reminders”, and to hopefully get that meeting that was promised two weeks ago. 

If my being here would represent what Canadian people are in the world, I am worried that they would see us being very cautious and nervous complainers expecting everything to be done for them yesterday. However people see me, I would prefer not to worry to much about it. I like to think that all my previous mistakes and idiosyncrasies are something of the past, paving the way for a braver, less-nervous, stronger new life. This is the reason we explore the world right? To find a missing piece of ourselves along the way?

Here are a few photos I would like to share. I have been taking much less in the last few weeks, because, I have realized, things are beginning to become more familiar.  

The view from one of our many "offices". we built a desk out of drift wood and examined birds in the sea breeze.

I would be lying if I said I knew what this is. I know its pretty though.

Our bi-weekly bird- banding classes with University students who study Biology or Natural Resource Management. This is INBio Parque in Santo Domingo.

A white-necked jacobin (humming bird) making himself comfortable in my hands.

A flower of the ginger family.

Me holding my first snake. It is a bromeliad boa (not dangerous at all).

A ruffous-tailed humming bird perching on one of the students fingers.

Something I will remember... Mother Nature's cruel ways

                                            

One of the purposes of this blog is to fulfill a request made by the YIIP team to cover six themes over the course of the summer. One theme that I feel is particularly appropriate to utilize in this blog, is the theme of "something I will remember".  In the last five weeks of my internship there have been many memorable occasions. Some beautiful, pleasant, and even magical. Some have been painful, stressful, and maybe even a little dreadful. Nonetheless, all of these moments I am sure will be burned into my mind for the rest of my life.

Cerro de la Muerte

So, I will start with the beautiful. My internship has slowly morphed into an experience I have failed to anticipate. It has brought me to many different locations in Costa Rica from the jungles of the Caribbean coast, to the Central Valley of San Jose, to the Highland region reaching 2500 meters. Just yesterday, I returned to INBio in Santo Domingo, from a week-and-a-half visit in Cerro de la Muerte (the Highlands). Here, I stayed and worked from a in a beautiful family-home-come-research-station that is owned by my supervisor's own family (Pablo Elizondo). Throughout the day, clouds quietly envelope the station, and there is a cool calm that settles over the place. In the evenings, the two of us (me and my co-worker) warmed ourselves with a wood-stove (there is frost sometimes in the night) and used the time to catch up on some humming-bird band making, whilst listening to some of my favourite music. There is truly something special about this place. Not only is it stunning, but also, the community is home to some of the warmest people I have met since being here in Costa Rica. It was also heart warming to meet the family of,  and be in the home of my own internship supervisor, and get a glimpse of what it might be like for a young person growing up in this country.

Although this beautiful landscape gave me a sense of peace and tranquility, it also has a bit of a dark side that I would be smart not to mention, and allow you readers to be filled with envy over my amazing experience. However, since I already gave away that there is indeed another side to the story, I must continue to tell you about the cruel and heartless ways of mother nature! Coming into this internship, I must admit, I have been slightly softened by my years of living in the city. I have forgotten what a difficult place the "wilderness" is, and I think I may have simply chalked up this difficult side to just being "what Manitoba is like" (my home in the Prairies). I also think that my years of city dwelling has caused me see nature as something to enjoy... like a well kept park. Anyway, back to these memories that will be forever burned into my brain...

During my second day working in the beautiful hills of the Cerro de la Muerte, I was trying my best to climb the hills as fast as I could to gather the birds from the mist-nets for banding. In approaching one of the nets, I heard a melodic hum in the distance. Not realizing the goings on around me, I continued to go about my business and start removing three squawking birds out of one particularly busy net. After wrapping my hand around the body of one of the birds I suddenly felt a burning sensation that was quite unusual... and then I felt it again, but this time stronger. I turned over my hand and see an interesting looking wasp stabbing me with its stinger. I yelped a little, and with a shaky hand I finished retrieving the other birds. Leaving the net, I removed the stinger only to be stung again by another. I ran from the net flapping my arms like a fool and running up the hill with a bagged bird hanging from my mouth (umm, not standard procedure). 

Later that day, swollen handed and all, I climbed down the hill to another net (there are about 20 at this station, quite a lot for two people to handle on such a wide spread and hilly terrain). I realized that I had become slightly lost en route to my destination, and found myself in a bit of a black-berry bramble. Trying my best to squeeze out of a very uncomfortable situation, I headed towards a fence I thought best to climb over, to get myself on track. Pushing through the patch, I got some black-berry thorns stuck in my skin... exactly where my wasp stings were, then, upon reaching the fence, I began to climb over but my boot gets caught on something. Here I find myself straddling the wire fence... only to realize that it is indeed an electric fence, and yes, this location seemed to be up and running! 

After climbing back up the hill to vent my concerns to my coworker, it suddenly started to rain... as it always does in Madre de Selva. A little rain is a little rain to most, but here, it can be the death of birds if they are caught in a net. This means we must run down the hill, and as quick as possible, remove the birds, and close the nets. Overhead, lightning cracked a little close for comfort, and in my hands I held a metal pole in the which the mist nets are hung. I just shook my head, and my life flashed before my eyes. I really thought that with the luck I had that day, that those would be my last moments. Luckily, I survived to tell you that, I have come to realize that, Mother Nature can sometimes be a bit of a b*@ch!

You will be happy to know that after that rocky day, there were some days of smooth sailing. I am lucky enough to look back and laugh at how horrible it had been, but in the big picture of this summer experience, I have had many many fantastic memorable moments. One very good experience I feel I must mention, quickly, was the night I got to walk the beach with the turtle researchers. Seeing a green turtle creating a nest and laying eggs is something I will never forget. These animals are truly majestic. There is a lack of words to explain the quiet sureness and trans-like state they seem to be in when choosing a place to nest and slowly creating it. It is truly heart breaking to see nests dug up, and their eggs stolen the following morning. 

Now, I will end my long winded entry, but not without showing you a small collection of photos from the past month. Stay posted, more to come. 

(P.S. Grandpa I hope you are feeling better, and Grandma, I hope you like the pics!)

White tent bat I found in a net (I did not take it out... someone else did!)

My York cup of coffee for my early start bird-banding.

Turtle skull collection at Caribbean Conservation Corp. in Tortuguero.

My temporary home in Cerro de la Muerte. That is Chris swinging a machete around like a crazy person. Note the rad vehicle to the right.

  

I think this is a Hercules beetle. Apparently they can get much bigger than this.

Your typical leaf cutter ants working hard as always.

My supervisor Pablo discussing Motmots with the cameras.

A Blue-Crowned Motmot up-close (beautiful!)

A Collared Redstart, i think my favourite little bird.

Being bitten by a Ruffous Browed Pepperstrike

Feeding a Lance-billed Humming-bird some sugar water.

Teaching some Costa Rican youth the ins and outs of bird banding.

Writing data on this ambiguous Mountain Gem Humming-bird

This is how big the freakin' Humming-bird bands are... and I made them with these hands!

Climbing the hills...

A Motmot not in our hands, but in the trees