#28: Have more me time

I have just returned from 10 days of "me" time.

Sort of.

I was very fortunate to be part of a family trip (16 of us!) to the Galapagos Islands--not a destination many people have the opportunity to visit. We toured the islands sailing on a trimaran (for you non-boaters that's a catamaran with three hulls). Yes, I am very aware at how privileged I was to have this opportunity.

It's not often you come face to face with a 500 lb land tortoise. And I can't remember the last time I had the opportunity to swim beside a penguin as it dove to the ocean depths. Of course I can't forget the sea lions! Oh the sea lions! Basking on rocks and waddling their way up to you--such magnificent creatures. It is a very magical place--although more populated on a few islands than most people may think. The island of Santa Cruz has a little town no different than the shopping districts of the Caribbean, albeit much cleaner and adjacent to a National Park. It was amazing. Truly amazing.

When I first found out we would be taking this trip, I had visions of sailing on the ocean and viewing wildlife on the beaches from a far. Basking in the sun, sipping cocktails, and reading a book with the pleasant background music of sea lion conversation completing the experience.

What I did not anticipate was an eco-adventure with daily excursions including 7am wake-up calls, hikes harder than my weekly work outs, and nightly lectures about the wildlife, flora and fauna. Apparently, you must have a guide with you to visit many of the islands in the Galapagos. We had Whitman. The "endemic" Galapagos guide. At first, I felt like I was reliving third grade science--before the Discovery channel was "cool". Eventually, the 7am wake up calls got easier and I couldn't fathom not going on the excursion for fear I would miss a blue-footed boobie doing the mating dance. I even came to look forward to Whitman's lectures, if only to understand how long our next navigation would be.

"Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip..."

The navigations. I am referring to the distances we had to sail between islands to reach our next destination. I don't think any of us realized how many miles we would have to travel, or that the Pacific is a mighty force in the "windy" season (should have picked up on this, no?) below the equator. Side to side, up and down, crash, bang, broken glasses--with a crew that didn't speak English. A fucking rubber ducky in jacuzzi. We're gonna need a bigger boat.

Needless to say, I was certain we would die every night. Sleep was not something we got much of. All that rocking made me have to pee more than a pregnant lady--getting to the bathroom was one thing, but I'd like to see you try and sit on a toilet that goes vertical ever three minutes while water from the ocean shoots up through the toilet/sink/shower combination floor drain and sprays you in the face.

I unbelievably never got sea sick (thanks to my friends Bomine, Triptone, patches and Advil PM), but I am still wobbling as I write this.

Despite the above described activity, the trip was an absolute delight. Really. What made it all the more enjoyable is the whole family had an excellent attitude and made the best of the situation--from the matriarch and patriarch to the young ins, no one complained and kept the perspective that this was a ONCE IN A LIFETIME experience. And it was. Truly.

This video speaks volumes about the experience. A baby sea lion, a day--maybe even hours--old, being protected by it's mama as we looked on. Unbelievable.

Given the hell I have come back to, I'll gladly get back on that bucket of bolts and even sit in the bathroom during navigations.