Moving on...

This may be a bit premature (not to mention tempting fate) but at the moment - I feel pretty good about everything! It struck me the other day that there's a lot of baggage I used to have that I feel completely over. Of course everyone has issues. Things that happened at school that still affect you years later. Critisisms that make you explode at people. Topics that you never let yourself think about because it's too painful. But now...I can let my memories drift happily and it all feels fine. Maybe I'm delusional; I'm suspicious that confident well-adjusted people may be a Disney invention just like true love and happily-ever-afters.

However, despite my reservations, I would just like to say to all me ex-issues: I am like soo over you!

Secondary school, people dying, not being great at singing, temporarily losing a brother, being permenantly boyfriendless, not getting a first, having to leave my friends in Cambridge, having a tough time on the island, not knowing what the hell I'm supposed to be doing with my life....
...OVER YOU!
OK, well maybe not so much the last one. ¬_¬

Anyway, being able to say these things is great. Like I said, everyone has issues, but why don't you take a moment to think about those things that don't bother you anymore. Make a list. Laugh at them and call them names. Then give yourself a pat on the back and a chocolate biscuit. If you like you may also give me a chocolate biscuit.

Here's to moving on!

Off the island.

There was more that happened in the last few days but there was never time to write in the rush of leaving. One of the best parts of the whole two months was the trip to Santa Clara on Franco and Richard’s boat. It’s just next to Robinson Crusoe, round the back where the airstrip is – inhabited by seals and sea-birds. We found a pink-footed shear water nested under the single park-owned hut, and disturbed numerous crabs and a whole colony of fur-seals while making our way up the cliff. Getting onto the island was an adventure in itself – as in South Africa it was a case of steering the boat as close as possible to the treacherous rocks and leaping off when the sea brought the boat up to the level of the rocks. This time there was the added fun of still feeling sea-sick while doing it and then having to form a chain to get our piles and piles of bags safely off the boat and far enough away from the waves and rock-pools not to get wet. Then there was edging round some cliffs clinging on with our hands while trying to carry large bags, then trying to avoid the occasional huge waves and slippery algae over the flat rocks (most of us failing on both counts), then we (mainly Libby) molested some marine mammals in order to get past them, and finally all our things were carried up the cliff to the grassy plateau where the house was.

Due to most of us failing to keep our feet dry, our hiking boots were piled up in a wall above the newly built fire to fry them. Cooking began as things were unpacked, as did drinking. Unlike the rest of them I am unable to develop any sort of fondess for beer – but the guys had thoughtfully brought along some yummy vodka and orange. I generally blame Franco for giving me more of it than I might otherwise have consumed, all before the lentil dinner was ready. I then spent some time ranting at Franco in very bad Spanish about how beautiful the stars were. And they were – ours were the only lights for miles around – we were in the middle of the ocean with the entire milky way spread out above us! Libby and Richard went off to play with some very expensive night-vision binoculars (for the nocturnal shearwaters that occasionally flew over head making creepy noises) and I waved my socks in front of the dying fire.

When it got late and people were starting to bagsy bunks in the house (apart from the guys who kept getting up to shine a torch at the boat far below and worry about how much water it was taking in) I left my hiking boots on the edge of the now gently glowing cinders and crawled into my sleeping bag and onto a plastic foam mattress. Some time later someone helpfully decided to put more wood on the fire. Going outside Erin was greeted by the sight of meter high flames shooting out from my slowly melting left boot. She bravely kicked it out of the fire while Franco stood in the door way and told me cheerfully (as far as I could understand it) “your shoes are dead!” My shoe was indeed somewhat dead.

By bashing the deformed plastic I was able to squeeze my foot inside and hobble back to the boat. And then all the way back up the hill once we got back to town. The next day’s trip to Rabenaal required the borrowing of Franco’s rather large boots and wearing almost all the pairs of socks I owned. It was just lucky that the great boot melting only occurred near the end of my trip, since shoe shops are not abundant on Robinson Crusoe. On the morning I left I dropped the boots into the large metal bin on the side of the street.

Almost two months after arriving I one again climbed aboard the small plane and headed for the mainland along with Erin and about 20 boxes of live lobsters. Spiny lobster fishing is the main occupation of the islanders and us gringas had been lucky enough to be treated to a lovely lobster soup the night before courtesy of Franco and Richard. As we flew back to Santiago the lobsters probably increased in value by the mile. Needless to say I did not choose to purchase a lobster dinner while in the city. Instead I stayed at a youth hostel and found a market for cheap clothes shopping!

The end of the story for anyone who hasn’t noticed my sudden reappearance is that I’m back in England – just in time for another winter. J But in the mean time there’s blackberries and pumpkins and dew dripping cobwebs in the sun. And here there’s the internet and hot water, tv watching and driving lessons, my mum’s cooking (and my dad’s ain’t bad either) and my brother’s AS work, telephone conversations, familiar faces at parties and a houseful of friends.

I’d now rant about how wonderful my friends are but I don’t want to make them big-headed. So maybe I shall occasionally keep you updated about my life, or give you some interesting things I have written, but I make no promises. All adventures from now on are likely to be of the more mundane variety.

One more short section that I wrote in the last two weeks before leaving the island – once again away from work and back to how beautiful it is – and I think that’s what I ought to remember.

1^st October, continued.

The best part of all the work here and even (or especially) after all the painful hours of hiking up slippery hills, are the beautiful views. From every clear space you can see the sea – sometimes blue, sometimes dark grey, and from town, or from high enough, you can see all the small fishing boats anchored in the bay. I remember one scene I never took a picture of – the little boats silhouetted black against the reflection of the full moon in the water.

The other day, Kelly and I were returning from counting eucalyptus flowers, walking along an uninspiring red dirt road leading towards the town dump, when I saw white spray sparkling in the sun out to sea. Then there was a half-familiar spurt of white mist. “Look!” I exclaimed to Kelly as I fumbled in my backpack for my binoculars, while responding to her complete confusion by repeating “There! There!” in an unhelpful manner while pointing towards to the now flat blue sea. Suddenly it seemed as though, far away, a great white fish had leapt out of the water; somehow I wasn’t sure if I had imagined it. The second time the whale breached we both had our binoculars pointed at the right spot – it leapt completely out of the water – its glistening white belly turned towards us with a glimpse of its grey sides. Then to one side appeared a dark dorsal fin, so small that it almost looked like a dolphin’s. For ten minutes we sat in the dirt on the hillside watching and we caught splashes of tail and fin and blow-spouts and three more times glorious breaches. Kelly tentatively identified it as a humpback – a mother and child said one of the fishermen when we asked later. The splashes stopped and I was able to drag myself away just in time to run up to Plazoleta for an afternoon behaviour session – but it was so beautiful I wanted to stare at the sea all day in the hope of seeing it again.

The mountains, like the sea, are constantly changing in the light. My favourite times are when the tops disappear and you can see the clouds pouring down and swirling in the valley. There are times when you go into the forest at Rabenaal with a view of sun-lit hills, a sparkling sea and the buildings and boats of the town visible in the next valley. Then when you come out onto the cliff again the whole world has disappeared and all you can see is a narrow path floating in a great white space. Of course this means rain and dangerously slippery mud path on the way down, but it stills feels thrilling to be in a cloud – I wish it was solid so that we could swim home through the sky.

I love the forest at Rabenaal – it’s an hour and a half walk into next valley, far enough away from town to feel like you’re the only people for miles. From the ridge above, the Luma trees are a beautiful patchwork of colours from greens to reds. Under the canopy is a dark cool space stretching into the distance, carpeted brown with fallen leaves; The ground is smooth so you can run through the tree trunks, and there is such silence – all the wind and sounds of people and birds and all the sky and sea and sun blocked from entering. It feels like a great empty room, but endless and unexplored – just for you. It always makes me want to run. I always want to run when I am happy.

Have you ever tried counting the flowers on a Eucalyptus tree?

So, I promised you details about work...*sigh*...ok then – I’ll give you the brief run down

The Juan Fernandez Archipelago is the pointy top part of a volcanic mountain chain – on the cliffs from a boat you can see the stratifications as layers of lava were layed down and numerous conduits/pipes that cut straight up through the hills. Since the islands have always been completely isolated numerous unique species have evolved here that are found nowhere else in the world – including the Juan Fernandez Firecrown, the hummingbird which is the focus of the study. Since people have discovered the island they have introduced numerous species which compete with native vegetation (such as Maqui and bramble), contribute to soil erosion (grazing animals including wild goats and rabbits) and animals that directly harm native birds (cats, rats and coatis). People have also driven a native tree, the Sophora, nearly to extinction due to logging. The trees that now survive are those that were to twisted or innaccessible to be useful, and it takes several hours walking from town to find them. When they are in bloom the hummingbirds flock to the multitude of yellow flowers for nectar so that standing by the tree trunk is like being in a golden aviary. The only nearly terrestrial vertebrates native to the islands other than birds are an endemic species of fur seal – these were hunted for their meat and at one point considered extinct before an isolated population was discovered. The seals are now thriving and a few of them can usually be seen with their flippers raised out of the water, messing about near the shore in front of the town.

The other species of hummingbird on the island – the continental species which is probably the sister-species of the endemic – appears to have made it to the archipelago alone in the last couple of hundred years. Much of our work also applies to these birds and part of the aim of the study is to examine possible competative interactions and to determine whether the vegetation changes caused by humans may be of benefit to the continental species over the endemic. Behavioural observations of birds that enter specified areas during half hour periods will help determine possible differences in feeding strategy, energy budgets, and preffered food sources between the larger endemic and smaller contintal firecrowns. Aggressive interactions between birds are also noted. Ok, so now I sound like a journal article – jeez. Maybe it’s better to say: we sit around in the cold, someimtes in mud, and watch the pretty birdies. :-) Mud problems are solved by the use of waterproof trousers which are an awesome invention – like clothes you can get as dirty if you want and don’t have to wash! The cold is countered by numerous layers – although after hiking up a steep hill, the bottom layer usually stays horribly damp which doesn’t help. The birdies really are very pretty though. The endemic males are the biggest – completely brick red with darker almost-black on the edges of their wings, and when they face you head on a flash of irridescent gold or red on their forehead which gives them their name. The Green-Backed Firecrown males also posses this red crest but apart from this they are small and inconspicuous – dull green fading to grey underneath – much better camouflaged from a history of having to cope with predators. The endemic females are my favourite though –they are irridescent emerald green on top, and bright white underneath and on the edges of their tails when they fan them out. When sitting in a forest clearing you often hear the buzz of the female’s wings before spotting them doing crazy acrobatics in the air while feeidng on insects.

These humminbirds feed on both nectar and insects – and so we research both of these food sources. We count flowers on trees, determine nectar production, and trap and sort insects from various locations. Other work includes measuring trees and finding, measuring and regularly checking nests of both species.

There we go then – blah blah blah. I think next post I’ll go back to how pretty everything is.

1st October - and not a fresher in sight.

When I heard Kelly get up this morning it was already light and the cockrels were making their usual racket, however since I knew that Kelly and Libby were going off earlier to do behavioural observations I managed to ignore it all. I dreamt about whether I should be getting up interspersed with ‘cock-a-doodle-doos’ and the need to itch my flea bites. As people who have ever lived in a room next to me will know, I have a very loud cockerel alarm clock that was a present when I went to Uni to ‘remind me of home’. I now have a super-sensitivity to crowing noises in the early morning leading me to jerk awake in a panic several times before sunrise each day. Why can’t somone tell those bloody birds that they’re only supposed to crow when it’s time to get up, and while you’re at it how about persuading them not to do it right outside my window. Grrr.

Eventually Erin stuck her head in the door – “Erm, I didn’t know if you...” – I sat up and looked at my watch: It was 07:55 – five minutes before we were supposed to be leaving. I half stood trying to leap out of my sleeping bag and crashed into the celiling. Bunk-beds. I sat down again and wriggled. I have always prided myself on the fact that I once woke up at 8.55am in my first year and still made it to a 9 o’clock lecutre before it had started (this is where living really really close to your department comes in handy). So I launched into my usual super-speed get-ready which involves eliminating all unnecessary hygeine and tidiness. Erin told me that it was ok, I had time for breakfast so I grabbed the instant oats, sugar, milk, the coffee and the thermos of hot water. In a moment of inspiration I decided to combine all of these in a bowl. I mean, you know porridge? And you know coffee? Is there really any need for two separate items? Turns out yeah, there is.

When Chupa arrived I managed to say “Sorry – I to sleep” in beautiful Spanish which seemed to confuse him. He and Erin left and I grabbed my things and followed them out the door around ten minutes later. Due to the fact that they both walk ridiculously fast this meant I would not reach Plazoleta until at least 20 minutes after them, but luckily this didn’t matter so much for the nest-measuring we were doing. I located them in the forest just in time to help pull Chupa up a tree so all was well. I want to describe to you what it’s like here so I think I’ll start with the walk up to Plazoleta – it’s not the most beautiful one we do but we do it a hell of a lot. I’m proud to say though that it now takes me less time than when I started (or at least it seems shorter to me)!

So, let’s start out on our porch: raised wooden slats for kicking dirty boots against – and from there hard reddish mud in every direction (including under the porch and under the house where we hang our washing). So I go out the door and climb up onto the wider smoother area of earth that constitutes a lane, past numerous chickens (grrrr), a dog, and a couple more raised wooden houses on either side until I run out of road. I pick my way up and down between abandonded planks and small pine trees through a sort of in-between town area of nothingness until I come out onto another path. This one has stones and everything! On my left is a loud but invisible narrow mountain stream and beyond that a Eucalyptus-covered hill. Occasionally I may have to step over a rope tethering a horse or mule grazing on the verges. The path passes the last isolated house (home of ‘handsome man’ who we like to spy on from our window sometimes) and enters the park proper – marked by a wooden arch which reads:

Bienvenido

Parque Nacional Arch Juan Fdez

That’s the Juan Fernandez Nacional Park in case I haven’t mentioned this which is a UNESCO world biosphere reserve or something due to the high numbers of endemic species found here. It includes most of all three island of the archipelago – Crusoe, Selkirk and Sant Clara.

Anyway – having come out of the trees in town I now have a clear view of the mountains again. The slope that the path is climbing comes up from the sea, past our house, and merges into the base of the mountains where it finally loses the cover of Eucalytus, Conifer and Pines planted around the town. The native woodland has been pushed out of the valley so it sits in pockets at the bottom of the mountains, creeping up the slopes until not even the smallest plants can cling to the sheer rock faces. One great castle of rock sits directly above the town – wiry looking bushes clinging on where they can find a hold on its near vertical sides. On the narrow plateau on top, which is often hidden by low clouds, larger plants are able to live. On the crests of many of the ridges around the valley, one can see the sillhouetes of isolated palm trees sticking out into the wind looking completely out of place. I can’t think how a large palm seed would get to such a precarious position – and until relatively recently there was not much on the island big enough to transport them there.

As the path heads downhill slightly again it finds a park campsite, set surrounded by pines. Apparently there are enough visitors here in the summer months for many islanders to earn money from tourism; this time of year though, tourists are very rare. Past the campsite is a suddenly jungle-like swamp of enormous Gunneras, their giant leaves looking like a suitable backdrop for dinosaurs or Carboniferous insects. My imagination doesn’t take into account that angiosperms hadn’t evolved at that point. Past the jungle is a tiny idyllic meadow filled with forget-me-knots; the carpet of small blue flowers may be another introduced species but they smell heavenly. Finally I reach the narrow path, lined with stones, that winds in an arc through the forest. The most abundant tree here is the luma, which is the only species in which the native hummingbirds will nest. For this reason we spend a lot of time training our binoculars on clumps of leaves and scanning for the small green and brown bowls. I say small, but the Juan Fernandez firecrown is actually one of the largest species of hummingbirds and so their nests are noticibly larger than those of the continental Green-backed Firecrown. The nests are woven with moss, and those of the endemic species are speckled with dots of white spider’s web – though why they go to all that trouble I cannot figure out.

There you have muchos description - it's not so exciting but hopefully it gives you more of a feel for where the hell I am. The next topic shall be about the work to cover the 'what the hell am I doing' side of things. Oh the excitement - can you even wait?

Antimini is...

...either cold, tired, hungry or all three, all the time.
...in need of an Angie. After two months she’s taken to hugging a post.
...really really glad that she’s absolutely 100% sure that there is definitely. nothing on this island big enough to eat her. Definitely. (before sunrise in a very dark forest)
...at the top of a mountain at least ten minutes before everyone else! This is amazing despite the fact that she left about 20 minutes before them. She thinks she may actually be getting high on those endorphin things people are always claiming make exercise enjoyable. She stands on top of a rock in a cocky pose – “You’re late!”; “I arrive” says Gandalf in her head, “Precisely when I mean to.” (sunrise, 25th Sept)
...making arrangements in case she gets blown, or pushed by a goat, off a cliff. Please read ‘The Soldier’ by Rupert Brooke at her funeral. She doesn’t care whether it’s appropriate, she likes it.
...it sucks to be me.
...making her standard meal – dahl and rice!
...eating her standard meal alone with three empty places set around her. *sigh*
...so internet deprived that she’s even missing the complusory ‘is’ in facebook statuses and the way you have to talk about yourself in the third person.

Home (where there are no mountains)

Where I come from there are no mountains.
Just soft rolling hills
which aren’t so hard to climb.

Where I’m from the clouds stay in the sky
and the animals out of sight
and the people all work inside.

Where I come from there are parties
and I wear fancy clothes and impractical shoes
and my friends wait for me if I can’t keep up.

Where I’m from I can understand people,
we all speak the same language
so I can participate.

Where I come from I am capable and intelligent,
I know what I’m supposed to be doing,
and I’m not bad at it.

Where I’m from my friends laugh at my jokes
and I’m not miserable
or always moaning.

Where I come from I know who I am.

This isn’t me.


24th Sept

Scraps

Life
is full of new faces and friendships,
new places,
adventures to find;
It’s full of new skies.

But life
constantly heaving and changing
means leaving an old life behind;
It’s full of goodbyes.

If life
means living without you then all that I want
is to be left behind,
let me turn back time
‘till I find you again and hold on to then,
but if my life
won’t let me be with you then let me know
that I am there in your mind.
There, as always in mine.

19th Sept...five weeks in.

Man, it’s been ages since I last wrote – not that you’ll notice since it’ll be instantaneous for you but still. In fact , my current motivation for writing is the apparent disappearance of the ‘sin connexion’ sign from the library door – this seems like a good sign (the lack of the sign that is, not the sign itself, that was a bad sign). So anyway, I’m keeping my fingers crossed and feeling a duty for further explanations etc.

*An important note I am adding while typing this up – you’ll need to read the previous post first or much of this one will make no sense. Just scroll down, it’s not that hard - even for the old fogeys! Go! Go!*

So, I’m sitting at our dining room table. Surrounding me on four sides are large windows with lace curtains so that the neighbours can see what the crazy foreign people (‘gringas’) are doing. The floor is all wet coz Kelly and I (grammar corrected for my grandmother), having gotten back early from work, have been cleaning. My chore for this week is ‘family room’, which usually involves repeatedly sweeping out of the door all the mud that people bring in; today it also involves mopping. Erin and Libby have just come home from checking nests – they (probably meaning Chupa) climbed up to get a look into nest 5 today and saw (via a mirror) a tiny chick, which is surprising since we’ve never seen a female visiting that nest; Erin is thinking maybe it’s dead. And at nest 47 apparently they found egg shell on the ground – it doesn’t sound like a good day. Usually it’s just ‘ooh look eggs!’ and ‘ooh chicks, they’re so cute!’ and more recently, as the spring arrives, ‘aw, the chicks have fledged!’. I’m talking about hummingbirds by the way in case there are still any really slow people out there. :P Ooh there’s a page in September’s ‘national geographic’ about it btw, though I’m not sure if you’d be able to find it on the internet. It has an illustration and all. :-)

Erin and Libby seem to have been banished from coming inside. Erin has given up waiting and has asked Kelly to pass a can of beer out; the party atmosphere still remains (despite our having worked this afternoon) since we’re at the end of a five day holiday in honour of Chilean independence (Viva Chile!). Yesterday we all went down to the beach (think stones and wind, as opposed to sand and palms) and made chicken soup over a fire (the chicken was brought alive, Kelly killed and managed to get blood all over her face – fun!). In the evening we had a BBQ and it was delicious and I have now had my full of yummy yummy meat. On other evenings we went down to one of the party sheds rapidly knocked together around town – they have delicious meat-based foodstuffs also, and sweet sweet goodies, and people doing the Chilean national dance with handkerchiefs all night. We studiously declined repeated invitations by crazy and/or old men. Last night I gave up and went to bed though – these things never seem to start until after midnight which I just can’t get used to.

Today I got up at around 11 (god, I love lie-ins), had breakfast, then immediately had lunch, and then we left. While everyone else went round all the known nests with a mirror on a pole, I started off checking the status of tiny Maqui flowers. Maqui is an invasive species but the hummingbirds do feed off the nectar – we’re going to try and find out about the nectar production of Maqui flowers as opposed to other native and introduced species. Then I did behaviour with Kelly – which involves three half an hour blocks at different clearings within one site, doing behavioural observations on focal individuals. Today was cold and we got pretty much nothing – an hour’s watching and all I got was a ‘Hover, fly...not visible. Drop.’ which basically means that it left pretty much as soon as I spotted it. “H, F, NV” was noted down by Kelly with stopwatch times.

There are dogs fighting outside, well playing really. Have I told you about the dogs? They’re everywhere – all shapes and sizes – mostly just wandering about as they please, looking like they have no owners (though I think they all do). Sometimes early in the morning this place looks like a dog town – you pass them on the street and they seem to have their own doggy business to attend to. Lots of them are very cute but we generally resist stroking even the adorably friendly ones. As Chupa told us “A dog without fleas isn’t a dog”. My bites itch every time I get warm.

Erin and Libby (still outside, now joined by Kelly, Chupa and Roak) are discussing what to cook tonight. The Navy boat came in time for the holiday so we have all these beautiful new vegetables – we were down to our last onions and had only one carrot left. The shop ran out of manjar too so I’m afraid I’m back on chocolate. I have however reconsidered my Milo addiction after translating a slogan on the side of the tin as meaning “Makes You Grow Big!”. It’s supposed to be for children. Possibly starving ones. I have replaced it with coffee (less calories = good!) which unfortunately I don’t really like so I have to dilute it with lots of sugar and powdered milk (=more calories, damn). As I said though, hot drinks are vital. The last time the Navy boat came they decided not to bring a whole bunch of stuff, including ‘superocho’ chocolate wafer bars. We were very sad when the shops ran out of them. Anyway, a few weeks ago when we went to get our gas cannister refilled we discovered that there wasn’t any. All the gas was apparently sitting at the dock back on the continent along with our superochos. Horror of horrors – we had no gas! Nothing to boil our kettle with, or make dinner or have a delicious shower! There was much worrying and desperation before we were finally able to borrow some. Phew! In the end we only had to go without for one morning (meaning no instant oats and no thermos to take into the field) but it felt like an age longer!

Ah food talk again – but it’s very important! Did I mention that I learnt to cook? I’m gonna come cook for you all! Anyway, I think I’ll go wait for dinner now. :D

6th Sept...Explanations and food!

On Saturday I read a book...In Spanish. Get in! OK so it wasn’t exactly a novel, more a children’s book with large friendly pictures. In fact it was Winnie the Witch (‘La Bruha Winnie’) which I was very excited about finding in a bookshop in Santiago. It turned out to be written in some crazy form of past tense that I don’t ever need to learn, but, armed with a dictionary, Libby and I were none-the-less able to decipher the thrilling tale. I now know how to say ‘magic wand’ in Spanish (always useful). I then forced Erin and Chupa to listen as I attempted to relate the details of the intricate plot, converted into the present tense. By which time I suppose you think you deserve an explanation of who all these people are and I have finally reached the point where I’m forced to tell you what’s going on around here.

I am currently living in a wooden house (with a corrugated iron roof that looks like it’s all been screwed together and which shakes when the wind blows), on a hill of mud at the top of a mud road with a concrete path up the side on the Eastern side of a small town (500-600 people) in a valley on a volcanic island some however many hundred miles off the coast of Chile. I can’t seem to find that handy little tourist pamphlet thingy or I’d be able to give you more exiting and specific historical and geographic details but I think this’ll do for now. I think you’d be unlikely to come here as a tourist anyway – but hey if you wanna come visit me feel free! (NB further research gives a figure of >400 miles)

So anyway, I am living in aforementioned wooden box with three other people. I shall now do you some brief biographies in order to assist your comprehension of my ramblings...
Erin: La Boss. In that it’s her project – the beginning of a long American PhD. She’s been coming to the island for about six years having previously been involved in a study on some endemic and endangered sea-birds. Vegetarian.
Libby: From Washington State (apparently no-where near DC; am learning lots of American geography!). Has just finished her Masters. Did two years of Spanish in ‘high school’. Vegetarian. Likes opera, birds and getting up early.
Kelly: Graduated from APU two years ago. Often works as a vet nurse while in England. Likes working, cookies, walking very fast and her Argentinian boyfriend. Speaks Spanish.
Other important people...
Chupa: Islander who works as a guide during the summer. Likes conservation and being only man and hence the most manly. Knows only swear words and the word ‘lesbian’ in English.
Pau: Lives down the road. Works with us three days a week. Is possibly housewife the rest of the time.
Sari: Islander, helps out on her weekends, incredibly good at spotting nests, seems to like my dancing.
Roak: Chupa’s dog, a golden retriever who comes along with us most places.
There are also various friends of Erin’s and Chupa’s who often come visit in the evenings such as Peri who has a cute three-year-old son, and Franco who has four horses.

OK, are you satisfied yet? Look how much I told you! I think it’s very generous of me. :P

The weekend before last there was a disco on Saturday and a bar open on Friday (I think rare events). There are numerous things I didn’t expect to find on Robinson Crusoe’s ‘desert island’ including: Street lamps, A disco, A circus, and also Bailey’s. I can complain only about the street lamps which are everywhere, since they confuse nocturnal sea birds looking for the sea and nocturnal foreigners looking for the stars. I should also admit that when I say circus I mean two circus people who do classes and shows with the children – but it was still cool – they juggled fire! Well the 18 year old did. Not sure what their health and safety regulations are like around here. :S

Last weekend was a turning point on the graph of ‘mood’ against ‘time’. I got bogged down in a lot of maths trying to work out whether it was the bottom of a y = x2 curve, or if I should shift it to y = (x + 10)2 – 100, or if the change point was actually going from –ve to +ve; anyway I think there’s going to be lots of going up from now on, possibly even at an accelerating rate. I studied lots of Spanish which made me feel all knowledgeable and motivated and capable of learning. I also like waking up warm and in the daylight and not having to hike up hills, which may be why the weekend was accompanied by unexpected cheerfulness. However work this week is also going well – the end of the third week seems to have finally brought a reasonable degree of proficiency at most of the multitude of tasks we spend our days doing. It feels good to go off with Kelly and Libby and get some things done in the necessary time without forgetting things or having to follow other people. I’ll tell you about all the work another time.
Which probably doesn’t actually matter since I’m pretty sure you’ll be getting a load at once. The normal problem with the internet is getting a slot; this was made impossible when normal Don-Internet left on the navy boat and there is now only someone in the library during working hours (when we are, unsurprisingly, working). The ultimate problem is a sign saying ‘sin connexion’ on the door of the biblioteque. Apparently last year the internet worked for about two weeks out of 3 or 4 months. However I remain optimistic, in complete denial about the possibility that I might actually have to live *without* the internet (you know like people in the olden days).

Erin has a laptop and Kelly brought some music. Whenever ‘Mr Brightside’ comes on I remember the graduation party – crazy dancing Sonya (which Ravi has an awesome picture of), running off with Fiona, attempting to forcibly prevent Adam from leaving, boogey-ing with Raviji, hugging Rob, talking to Angie, and going to find Dunni in a big circle of M people. I’ve been thinking lots about all the good times I’ve had with so many people and wonder what some of you are up to (damn facebook deprivation!). I miss you guys. I also miss my music, DC++, a digital camera, freely available fruit and vegetables (man Adam would love it here if it wasn’t for the complete absence of grapes), meat and chocolate.

Fresh fruit and veg come on the Navy boat once a month so you have to make it last – apart from Chard which we go and pick from a patch of green along the sea-shore in front of the town. Erin and Libby are vegetarian (mostly) so I’ve had to learn to cook meals not based on meat. Saying that, in the past week we did get delivered to our door an entire leg of a goat which ended up sitting in a bucket in our kitchen. Chupa cooked it for us – it was tasty but impossibly chewy. I have also cooked crab all by myself. Yes I am now a gourmet chef! Except that it turns out it’s really easy – you just dump them in boiling water for five minutes and they go all red. Cooking them was certainly a damn site easier than eating them – though they were yummy! As for chocolate – I have successfully broken my addiction. Yes, that’s right – I do not *need* chocolate! Unfortunately I have found a replacement in the form of Dulche de Leche (sweet of milk) – which seems to be common in South America, and is known here as ‘manjar’. Correct pronunciation: man-haar. Our pronunciation: man-jar.

The first rule of manjar is: there is nothing that cannot be improved by the addition of manjar. The second and third rules are also the same. You are allowed to talk about it though.

It is like a thick sticky caramel, dark brown and sweet and syrupy and horrendously calorific. We usually have it on biscuits for pudding – though it can also be added to apples, porridge and even Milo. For porridge I have finally discovered that wonders of good old fashioned jam – yummy. Although, now I mention it, Milo is pretty much hot chocolate though it doesn’t say so on the packet – I’m drinking some now as I write this on the dining room table and I couldn’t tell the difference. Milo or coffee or just plain hot water are vital for being warm around here – in the evenings in our completely un-insulated house, or at lunchtime in the cold forest from a thermos lid.

OK I think that was a bit much information about food there. I’ll stop now – it’s almost 10pm – past my bedtime. Heck, I don’t need the internet to communicate with you – good night guys!

xxx

First post about the island despite my having been here for almost two weeks.

The first views of la Isla de Robinson Crusoe are spectacular, although I’m filming them so I don’t notice at first. In my small fuzzy view screen is black rock and blue sea with white along the edges where they meet. Then I raised my eyes and took in the full shivering detail of the sheer cliffs, delicate surf and rolling greens on top. I am often wary of taking my video camera about with me; often you can either film a moment or live in it, not both. But so many times since I left the baboons (which I filmed plenty) I’ve wished I had a decent digital camera. I even considered buying one but have told myself that a cheap one won’t take really good pictures – not to mention the fact that I’m currently spending far too much on plane tickets and am now officially unemployed. So I remind my self that I’m poor (which makes one feel rather noble) and focus on absorbing the image instead – oh, and steal other people’s photos later! :)

I don’t know quite how to describe this island and this town to you. Rather than tell the story in the order that I saw it I want to describe this place in terms of the life here. I’m going to be here another two months at least, doing our work (studying hummingbirds, for those of you who are wondering what on earth I’m on about) and living in this small town (where everyone pretty much knows, and often is related to, everyone else) – and I want to have my own life here that I am in control of and am myself and comfortable within. But after ten days I’m only beginning to get there (while being very philosophical about it too) which is why I’m not sure I want to describe this place to you yet. I think I’ll wait for my feelings to balance out and reach a nice equilibrium – because you can’t describe pure fact without emotion and mine are all confuzzled so I’m going to be irritating and leave it. Despite the fact that I suppose you’ve all come here to read it, as opposed to my mad ramblings.

I’ll just give you the basics to keep you going:
Hi! I’m on Robinson Crusoe Island! Weather is always cold and generally muddy (a perfectly valid descriptive term for weather, and possibly even climate). Have seen lots of hummingbirds! Got tipsy in local bar last night – fellover in mud. Am learning Spanish! Most used phrases: No entiendo. No hablo espanol. Thinking of all you guys – hope you’re enjoying the end of summer, appreciate it! xxx Shamini

P.S. Sorry about the whole posting three things all at once thing and then confusing you into reading the story backwards which would clearly have made no sense. This may happen frequently from now on - I like having more shorter posts and am writing them down in my notebook as I go along as opposed to typing them all up here. Anyway, my suggestion would be to look at the "archive" list down the right hand side and see how many I seem to have added since you last read!
P.P.S. Thanks so much for the comments guys!

Finding Santiago

In my first terrifying foray into Spanish I had successfully (I think) made a reservation at the Hotel Foresta. After arming myself with more Spanish phrases and then failing to find a baggage enquiries office, my bag had mysteriously appeared on the carousel with all the others, so I took a van from the airport with a few other people in. As we were driving I kept having to remind myself to look out of the window – to see where I was, what it was like. I was in Chile! What was Chile? I had no idea what to expect. I remember those first taxi rides from the airports in Hyderabad and Bombay, how I would always drink in the atmosphere, the experience of India! The only feeling I got from Santiago was that of a city. Just any city. I got to the hotel where the clerk spoke enthusiastic English, a little old man carried my heavy case up in the lift, I tipped him (probably not enough) and finally collapsed on the bed in the small room looking at stripy wallpaper with flowers on.

Having arrived on Sunday evening, I ended up staying another two days in Santiago before flying out. Having found the two other volunteers for the project who were also due to catch the same plane, I set out to find Chile. I found mountains! They had snow on!!!! I may have been illogically overexcited by this, but – there was snow! And they were huge! Just sitting there next to the city! Anyway, I don’t think I’ve ever seen snow-covered mountains before so I thought that was pretty cool. We also found a zoo, in which lived elephants, lions, tigers, two polar bears and some condors in some quite small enclosures. The condors’ cage did not resemble jungle. We found various unhealthy types of food, a posh Italian restaurant that didn’t open till 8pm, cheap clothes that we didn’t have room to buy, museums that were all closed on Mondays and some hummingbirds on a hill. On the night before we were due to leave, after dinner and a hot chocolate, we failed, for some time, to find an ATM at which to withdraw all the money we would need for our 2-3 months stay on the bank-free island. We eventually reached a room of cash machines in the centre of town which you used your card to get into and withdrew some quite large sums of money – I had 200,000 Chilean pesos (about 200 quid) stuffed into my back pocket. It was around 10pm. Coming out of the ATM room I didn’t see anyone hanging around looking suspicious which was reassuring, and we set off back to the hotel. We were particularly wary after an incident earlier in the day when two young guys had run into us from behind (quite hard) and then made off down the street followed some time afterwards by a poor man yelling; they had made off with his laptop and he seemed to have little chance of catching them. Halfway back to the hotel Kelly (who it turns out graduated from APU in 2005) commented that she may have been being paranoid but a guy with a lip-piercing had passed us while we were getting out money and had then changed direction twice and had been following us. Worrying, but he’d luckily disappeared. At the next crossroads a skinny guy passed in front of us then started up the same street on the other side just slightly behind – “that’s him” muttered Kelly. I decided she wasn’t being paranoid. We marched back to the hotel really rather fast, hardly speaking until we got there. We decided that next time we’d get money out in the day time.

On Wednesday morning we left early in a large multi-seater and ended up in a pretty posh-looking lounge in a building round the back of the international airport. In the car park-sized space in front of us were two small planes and a helicopter. The luggage allowance was 10kg so I was charged 25 pounds for the extra 9 kilos of my large suitcase, but luckily not for my suddenly 87kg person. I drank my first latte – it was very nice. We squeezed onto a plane with about 10 seats in the front and the luggage in the back and the pilots visible through the open curtain at the front. I accidentally sat on my lunch, packed into a brown paper bag. Less than half an hour in we had left the coast of mainland Chile behind us.

At the airport, wish you were here.

I spent the entire flight from Jo’berg to Sau Paulo worrying about missing my connection (partly to avoid having to watch Spiderman 3 again). I had 40 minutes to catch my plane to Santiago, Chile, with a completely different airline, and I was constantly thinking about how late we’d left, how much the wind would slow us up, whether the original ETA was still accurate, whether that included taxi-ing, how long it would take me to get off from the back of the plane and what I was supposed to do before being able to get on the next flight. In the back of a small notebook in my bag I found all the Portuguese phrases I had written down when Adam and I got stuck in Brazil due to a gone-bust airline and thought we’d have to spend the night at the airport last summer. Instead we got flown first class to Frankfurt (reassuringly in-Europe) but I wasn’t planning on relying on such good luck again. I disembarked with five minutes until my flight was supposed to leave with no idea whether I had the slightest chance of being on it; I rushed anyway. I arrived at the gate far quicker than I had expected/feared. Some people looked at my e-ticket and nodded and talked in Portuguese. I got handed over to a helpful looking man. It was 16.30 – the exact time my flight was supposed to leave and I was standing in front of the gate. “Ah,” said the man looking at the print-out, “you’re supposed to be on this flight!”. Yes, I nodded, that was the problem. Typing things into his computer he commented that it was too late, the doors had closed. I resisted the temptation to go to the window and watch my plane leave in a tragic-looking way. The man handed me something – it was a boarding pass. He’d put me on the next flight in two hours. Oh! Well that was ok then! I was so relieved I forgot to ask what would happen to my luggage. I waited for the next flight at the suspiciously familiar-looking departure lounge (where over 12 months before I had emerged from the toilet to hear a mangled version of my name on the tannoy and then failed to understand why they were changing our boarding cards) and decided that Sau Paulo airport was more fun when Adam was there.

The rejuvination of my career as a marine biologist.

It is also the first post from Chile and a ´nueve entrader´ but I´m afraid I´m too behind in updates!

On the evening of the naked mole rats with which I left you I got a text from Alta asking if I could come out on the boat with her again since some other people had dropped out. Despite the fact that I knew I would feel differently once the sea-sickness set in I readily agreed!

The day everything went wrong:

3.30am: Wake up. Wish I´d gone to bed earlier.
6am: Alta finally arrives 30minutes late.
It turns out Alta hasn´t slept having been up all night making decoys. The phrase "I really shouldn´t be driving does nothing to reassure me. We drive through Simon´s town but the pharmacy isn´t open yet and the shop doesn´t do motion sickness tablets.
When we get to the harbour Alta realises that one of the small keys for the two motors is no longer on the keychain. Damn. We look around futilely. We go to check the boat and get it ready (somewhat optimistically I felt but aparently we can work on one motor). While using a rope to let myself down to the small row-boat we use to get to the bigger boat and have to perform a stretch which proves too much for the crotch of my rather inflexible waterproof trousers. They now have a huge tear in them - but I decide this may be an improvement in terms of climbing ability; I can also now sit in an unladylike fashion with my legs apart. Alta fails to find the key in the boat. I go ask some random navy people. Also futile.

By this time it was getting light. Most predations happen early when the sun is low making the silhouettes of the seals more easily visible from below. We could have gone out on one motor but by the time we got out there we’d have missed most of the predations anyway, so Alta decided it was more important to get the key copied (since the one we had fit both engines). The reason for this was that the priority of the day was to get onto Seal Island which would require another skipper and preferably two working motors. We were going to collect the skipper George, and Alta’s supervisor Justin, and then Alta and Justin were going to get onto the island to get two months worth of data from a box which recorded the presence or absence of tagged seals. We were supposed to be picking the others up around 10am and getting back around lunchtime, so we had time to go off and get the key copied first.

We tried about three different places nearby, none of which could make a copy of the unusual boat key. The up-side to all this driving was that I was able to find a pharmacy and purchase some motion-sickness pills! At some point during all this we had a call from Justin – skipper George couldn’t make it. No matter, said Justin, he could drive the boat; I think his phrase was “How hard could it be?”.
So finally, a key, motor and skipper short, we set off towards Seal Island. The tourist boats which come to watch the shark acrobatics had gone so there was just us and an interested looking marine police boat. Now Seal Island is basically a big flat rock covered almost entirely in seals and a flock of cormorants. Can they be a flock when they’re sitting down? Anyway, they kept to their own little patch away from the seals. Oh, and I also spotted a couple of penguins! I think they were Jackass penguin, which is actually the new name for African penguins; the other kind they had at the aquarium were Rockhopper penguins.

So, this rock is inconveniently lacking any sort of pier, harbor, slipway or any kind of sandy beach. We drove round it a couple of times looking at the large slippery-looking sides against which the waves were crashing. In a probably illegal manner, Alta taught Justin to drive the boat, then we waited for the marine-police people to get bored and leave, and picked a nice looking rock. Alta stood at the front of the boat with a backpack containing a plastic bag of useful/expensive equipment including the laptop for downloading the data. Justin drove the boat slowly towards the rock, freaking out the mass of seals in the water in front of us. At the moment that the boat started bumping into the rock, Alta stepped carefully off and Justin hit reverse. Alta was safely on the island!

We drove off to a distance and watched Alta slowly edge towards a grey structure in the middle of the island with some solar panels and a light on top. She had to move a few steps at a time then wait for all the alarmed seals to lumber out of the way. The entire flock of cormorants took flight and started circling the island repeatedly, like a storm with Alta in the centre. While she reached the computer and started opening it up and fiddling, Justin and I sat on the bobbing boat chatting. The sea-sickness tablets worked amazingly – it was brilliant! Alta took a looong time. We discussed naked mole rats, annoying teenagers, and whether I was any good at genetics (answer no, although apparently there is a PhD waiting to be done on the baboon genetics; Justin is also Tali’s supervisor). I was perched happily on the inflated side of the boat (less than a meter above the surface) when Justin looks behind me at some seagulls circling the water and says “I think there’s a shark there”. Even as I got up (rather quickly) and turned round, an enormous Great White appeared in the water a couple of meters away. We had a beautiful view as it circled and swam right under the boat – we even caught a glimpse of its teeth! Justin was as excited as I was, laughing when I jumped away from the side and exclaiming “you owe me a sandwich!”. He certainly had food on the brain, having been disappointed to find out that Alta had not brought lunch.

Alta really was taking a long time – it was getting past lunchtime. All the seals had stopped being freaked out and had filled in the gap. When she finally returned, she didn’t have the data; apparently the solar panels weren’t charging the machine and there wasn’t enough juice for the download.

There followed many technical discussions (once we’d managed to avoid waves coming from two directions and get Alta on the boat again). A plan was formulated by which Justin would carry the ridiculously heavy battery from the non-working motor to the island. We found a new, less wave-battered rock to use as a stepping stone; it was also covered in mussels providing more grip. His jump onto the island was accompanied by a painful-sounding scraping of hull against mussel-shells. He went, connected up the battery, and came back. As Alta steered the boat in a wave pushed as sideways away from the rock, so she decided to go in for another try, but Justin didn’t seem to want to wait and leapt across the bow ending up sprawled across the front end of the boat. While more technical discussions were taking place I split the remains of a small bar of chocolate between us and guiltily consumed my one cheese sandwich. Alta hopped back onto the island to reattempt the download, preferably finishing before the swell/waves increased which was forecasted to come in at around 5pm. Once again she was gone a looong time. I saw spray in the far distance across False Bay and caught a glimpse of a whale body pushing out of the water and crashing back in. We saw some dolphins, presumably herding a school of fish since a group of seagulls turned up and started diving into the water.

Justin was really frustrated not knowing what was happening and worrying about the potential loss of two months of data; he kept saying “she’s taking too long!” and running through the various possibilities in his head. Somehow all the mobile phones had ended up in bags on the island which was not so helpful. When it got to the point where Justin was considering swimming I finally said (somewhat redundantly) “Do you want to go?” and persuaded him to let me maneuver the boat. How hard could it be?

I’m sure you’re all expecting some disaster story now but I’ll have you know my first ‘command’ as a boat Captain was a great success! My steering skills were wonderful if I do say so myself. I sat in the boat by myself drifting away and having to steer back to the island every so often. Five o’clock came and went without the advent of huge thunderous waves and my excellent piloting skills were able to retrieve Alta and Justin and the equipment successfully from the rock! The retrieved battery didn’t appreciate all the jumping about and started leaking acid into the backpack, dissolving the back of Justin’s water proof trousers. Other than that it was all a success!

On the way back we saw more dolphins who couldn’t keep up with us, and the back of what was presumably a Southern Right whale quite close by. I would have liked to stop for a look but the sun was setting, Justin had missed his 3 o’clock meeting and no-one had eaten properly all day.

When we got back the harbor Justin skedaddled off back home and Alta and I put the boat away in the dark. Alta managed to drop her keys off the side, necessitating a rope-assisted clamber down into the little boat in order to retrieve them (the keychain has useful floaty part) in the pitch black. It seemed that after successfully obtaining the data (which I may have forgotten to mention in the midst of extreme exaggeration regarding boating skills) our bad luck felt the need for some vengeance. While steering the big boat (aka the rubber duck) out of the bay towards the buoy in the dark, Alta hit a piece of metal on the side and punctured one of the inflatable sides of the boat. Not good. Although that was our last mishap for that day, the harbor master called Alta a few days later to tell her that the boat had capsized. The last I heard Alta and Justin had rescued the boat and were trying to dry out the engines – so fingers crossed!

I got back to the flat that evening after 8pm, some 14 hours after I’d left. It was a long day; and a long story! I’ll spare you details of BBQing, drinking too much wine and saying goodbye, and leave my adventures in South Africa there!

Final Post from South Africa! :(

Hi guys. Well this is it, I'm flying off to Chile very very early tomorrow morning so I just thought I'd write a note to let you know that I have no idea what internet access will be like from now on!
I also owe you a post on the rejuvenation and reincarnation of my career as a marine biologist but I fear that it may have to wait.
In the mean time all comments are welcome, since I'm writing this for you guys (I'd never have the motivation to do it for myself!) but if I don't know if you're appreciating then my motivation is less. Even constructive criticisms are welcome! Erm, unless they relate to the numerous typos I don't have time to fix - sorry! :(

PS I just spoke Spanish - my first Spanish conversation! It sort of worked. At least, I think I have the hotel booked for the right occasion! Though I did keep saying 'perdon' and I'm not sure if this actually means 'sorry' or just 'excuse me'. Oh dear. Why did I do deutsch in swanmore? Well I know why but I feel Spanish could have been more helpful.

The Best Animal Ever

Hello again people. Still lazing around in Cape Town at Lena's! Mostly.

After Sunday Morning's sea-sickness disaster, that afternoon instead of sleeping (which I really wanted to do) I decided to go to the aquarium where I could watch fish floating around...floating...bobbing...up and down... and sideways...ohhhh....
Ahem. No actually it was fine, I blame the 4hours interrupted sleep the night before for my needing to sit down for a rest occasionally! It was absolutely brilliant though - the most gorgeous creatures - lion fish and little sea horses, huge sea urchins and giant alien crabs (See stolen photos below)


I arrived for predator feeding time - the ragged tooth sharks gently took big pieces of fish off prongs held by two divers, a big short-tailed ray kept flapping all over them and an adorable loggerhead turtle got annoyed when the sharks were fed first and tried to bite the divers. They also had a really cool kelp forest, penguins (both African and Jackass) and seals - the seals were swimming around continuously - I could have watched them for hours. Ooh and I also touched a star fish and a great big sea anemone...mmmm sticky...and that's actually because of the tiny harpoons they're firing into your skin you know! :P

I don't know what I did with the next few days. Sleep mainly I think (I can't remember, since I was asleep). How I love just not getting up in the mornings!

I do recall going to see the Simson's movie - much lolling, and then paying 50 Rand (that's like almost fours pounds according to my maths!) an hour for internet at the touristy waterfront.

Tuesday I went into UCT's Zoology department and saw the most amazing animal in the world (possibly). They're not big or especially fast, they can't fly or breathe fire, but they do have thermoregulatory physiology and a social system unique among mammals (which is almost as good).
I'm sure all sensible biologists will know what I'm talking about by now...it is of course, the Naked Mole Rat. *sighs with adoration* They are small and pink and wrinkley (and I refuse to see any similarities to tiny willies), completely blind and have huge front teeth. They live in burrows underground where a single female 'queen' has all the babies (just like in ants or bees) which makes them so amazingly interesting I can't even describe it since not having babies (worker sterility) is a big deal and only previously known among insects. They run around (sometimes backwards for some reason) and bump into each other, then clamber around all over each other. They are very cool. Here is another stolen picture (this is quite a big one):

I shall leave you with this beautiful image and hope that you will take it upon yourself to join the Naked Mole Rat appreciation society on facebook, or possibly just build a small alter at which to worship them.

Touristing in Cape Town!

So, the winter field work season over, I have about a week to spend in Cape Town before flying off to Chile. I am staying with Lena, a friend of the family who used to visit us often when she was studying in England, and her boyfriend Ganesh. They have a lovely flat in the centre of Cape Town with views of Table Mountain (which I have yet to climb) and Signal Hill (been there!) where they fire a cannon at noon for some reason.

The first job was shopping - I am now the proud owner of a lovely new digital watch! And I'll have you know I went into a very posh looking shop all by myself to buy it - fortunately when you translate it into pounds everything is very cheap here which is great!

Then on Friday afternoon I visited the nearby South Africa Museum. I wasn't sure what to expect but when most of it turned out to be Natural History with a bit of Anthropology thrown in I was very happy! Most of it was really awesome, with great detail in some of the displays - particularly the section on whales and sharks and things. I was also excited to find lots of fossils of mammal-like reptiles recovered from the nearby Karoo (a dry area with lots of succulent plants). Mammal-like reptiles are pretty obscure really - which is why I was so pleased to find them - us scientists do like our obscure knowledge as most of you will know. :)

Sunday was the day on which my career as a marine biologist began and was cruelly cut short. Alta is another PhD student who was staying, with her own team of volunteers, with the baboon people in the house at Kommetjie. She is studying the response of the Cape Fur Seals at Seal Island to predation by Great Whites, but since all the seals bred late this year, the whole season has shifted, and all her volunteers have gone home. So I went off to be a seal-person for the morning along with a random Masters student who she called in at the last minute. I left the house at 5.30am and we drove to the harbour to set-up the boat. It's a smallish boat, the kind with an inflatable ring round the outside - she kept calling it a 'rubber duck'; it's bigger than a car, maybe about the size of Jenny's old hovercraft if any of you saw that. We sped off at alarmingly high speeds to Seal Island - a big flat rock covered in seals - which is some way out.

The idea of going so early was that the seals, which stay near the surface, can be most easily spotted from below when the light is at an angle i.e. sunrise and sunset. The adults have generally learnt to come and go from the island under the safe cover of darkness (a behaviour which may be unique to this population as a response to the predation threat) but the juveniles are a bit thick. Some of you might have seen what happens next on 'planet earth' and I have provided an illustration below. Basically - say hello to the flying sharks. They come leaping out of the water, a behaviour called breaching, and grab the poor seals.

Being a bit late due to various problems that morning we didn't manage to spot any good predations - when seen Alta collects data on the age and size of the seal (if possible) among other things. However, not to be beaten we made our-own shark-bait (I say we, I think Alta stayed up most of the night with pieces of foam, polystyrene, scissors and a staple gun). Behind our boat we towed two 'fake seals' cut out from black material, pulled along with long pieces of rope (our boat is aproximately shark-sized, so the long is important). The experiments Alta has been carrying out up till now have shown that the sharks tend to (7 out of 8 predations) go for the larger of the two cut-outs, i.e. the adult rather-than juvenile sized seals. As a control we towed two adult-sized cut-outs at different distances from the boat (necessary in order to separate the two, though they still sometimes get tangled).



We managed to get three breaches on our decoys that morning - it was awesome! Although the third time I was daydreaming about whether a 'rope burn' was in fact a 'friction burn' and remebering the time Jayames ended up upside-down in a tree after relying on me to pull on the end of a piece of climbing rope, and when I absent-mindedly noticed "ooh a shark, that's good" I forgot to let go of the rope quite quick enough - ouch. After each 'predation' we waited a bit, then turned the boat around to recover out pieces of dismembered foam seal. The scariest bit was having to get close enough to the broken and intact decoys to pull them into the boat while praying that the shark wasn't still around and planning another leap!

The reason that morning also ended my shark-watching career was I got appallingly sea-sick, mainly when we were stopped and fiddling around trying to untabgle the long ropes. NOT good. I spent all the bit in between decoy-towing trying to be asleep. It was very irritating as I've never really been sea-sick before, but at least now I know. :( I think it was worth it though!

The final days of babooning - part II

Sorry for abandoning the story before - it shall now be continued at the expense of extortionate waterfront (touristy) internet place prices!

So I left off in the morning with Kanonkop and us roaming the hills and Buffel's keeping a low profile - fair enough, Kanonkop is at least three, if not four times the size (having the whole troupe in sight at once to count them can be tricky, but our maximum is 44!).

So, suddenly BB King (head of the Buffel's clan), watching from the Dunes below decides he's had enough of keeping a low profile. In he charges at top speed causing widespread panic. The troupe, previously scattered over the hillside, suddenly bunch up trying to group together for safety (or possibly just trying to hide behind each other). BB charges round and round like he's herding them; everywhere he goes baboons are literally leaping over each other to get out of his way. The whole troupe are in one big circle and BB goes runs around launching apparently random attacks with no apparent preference for age, size or sex. As the mass of baboons sways this way and that in their attempts to get away it dawns on Tali and myself that we are standing rather close to them; that, in fact, there are only a few metres of low scrub between ourselves and a horde of mad stampeding baboons. We beat a hasty retreat up the hill, and then over to one side - which turns out to have been a good move when Kanonkop retreats that way a few moments later. We pass a random lone male wandering casually over a hillock towards the sound of the screaming and hastily move out of his way attempting to look innocent. All BB's females are standing on the Dunes watching and yelling - presumably shouts of encouragement. A few of them come over and the large loner (presumably a Kanonkop hanger-on) also rushes into the fray that is now unfortunately obscured by the hill we vacated. Some time later BB and his females go streaming back to the rest of the Buffel's bay lot over on the Dunes. We come over the hill and eventually locate Kanonkop foraging serenly in the bushes of the same valley both troupes had been in the day before. There are numerous questions, and of course that was the day I didn't bring my video camera which could have helped! We're not sure what BB was actually trying to achieve - he basically seemed to be just beating them up! Did he get bored - or was the male we saw the dominant one and saw him off? The males that were present were pretty pants, hardly doing a very good job of defending the troupe - were they just the younger and perhaps older ones? Did BB notice that the alpha had gone? Was he sussing out their defence, did he want a take over, or was he just warning them off?

Kanonkop didn't actually leave Buffel's 'territory' - they wandered along the shore and, alarmingly, Buffel's casually followed some distance behind. Tali and I couldn't stop casting nervous glances over our shoulder and made a particular effort to overtake Kanonkop so as not to be in the middle of the two troupes. Eventually Buffel's headed away on one of their usual routes back to the visitor's centre and Kanonkop carried on foraging in the short grass just above the rocky beach. We found another of their sleeping sites that night - yet another rocky cliff - which is very important for being able to locate them in future.

The next day they came down from their cliff and onto the short grass. Some hours later they moved a little bit to the South. Then a few hours later a bit more to the North. Then, late afternoon, back to where we started again. It does make a change from cliff scaling and 'jungle' traversing - but they did nothing all day! We made up for it by educating each other - Tali gave me a quick course on South African history and I attempted to relate to Tali the story of the Ramanayanam. You know the thingy with Rama and Sita and Lakshmana and their other brother Benjamin. Ok so I forgot some of the names. And some plot points. I did manage to include lots of bits that were completely irrelevant to the main story though!
I just must say about apartheid though - my god, I can't believe how recent it was! I mean Gandhi gets chucked off a S.African train (well that's what happened in the film anyway) and then goes to India and creates social reform and India gains independence by 1947. The South Africans then invent the apartheid and go around being appalling untill the early 1990s! I mean jeez!

And to take a brief foray into modern South Africa - two things strike you. 1. Security measures everywhere like grilles on all the shop doors and the have to buzz you in and things. 2. All black people are poor and white people are rich. As simple as that. Which changes the whole way you make assumptions about people - in England it might be because of their job, clothes or accent. Which apply here too of course, but now it's largely race and you're like - oops, this is suddenly really bad.

Interesting diversion into the social sciences over - back to zoology - sorry SPSers!
So the next morning, at the same place, me and Tali tell the baboons that we have nothing left to say to each other so they darn well better do something today and they reward us by suddenly disappearing over the top of the cliff. While Tali remains to collect poo samples (another joyous part of the research for someone else's project on intestinal parasites - we get to much up still-warm baboon-poo in a little plastic bag then put it into little tubes) I heave myself over the cliff to see the whole troupe in the distance having crossed the valley and heading over the next hill. I raced after them, using great restraint to only collect two of the lovely poo samples I see long the way, shoving the little sandwhich bags into my pockets for later. We might have lost them had Tali not proved to be fitter than me, catching up and overtaking me and managing to spot them going over another hillock in the distance. The rest of the day was a trans-peninsula trek from one sea to another (except that they're both actually the Atlantic but never mind) during which time the seat of my nice new blue combat trousers became turned inexplicably blue. We collected more poo, we followed the baboons, and we finally reached the end of our last 11+hour day.

I was sad that it was over, despite being exhausted after a four-day stint. Tali, who can come back anytime, was mainly just happy - apparently she can go back to her life now!

Last Thursday we packed up our things, tidied the house and took all the perishables from the fridge. And that is the end of that.

Except the bit about the sharks which I shall have to tell you next time!

The final days of babooning.

Well now it's done. We have left the beautiful seaside house at Kommetjie and I'm sitting in an internet cafe somewhere between Table Mountain, Devil's Peak, Signal Hill and Table Bay. This means I'm in Cape Town for those of you who gave up Geography in year 9. And yes of course I knew all of this before I came here...*gives a shifty look incompatible with S.African keyboards*...

There is much to tell but I think I should begin where I left off and describe the last few days of following Chacma Baboons round the Cape of Good Hope.

The weather luckily cleared up (for the most part) for the last week of the field season, which ended up being mainly myself and Tali (the masters/PhD student type person) collecting the final data for the Kanonkop troupe. Most of the other volunteer's had left, although South African Simon did stay until the night before 'Varsity' (ie Uni) started again.

As I think I've said before, the home range of the Kanonkop troupe is HUGE and they will happily travel across all of it in a day. So, if you've been sitting at home hiding from the rain the day before you basically have no idea where they'll be the next morning. So the usual start is - we drop Tali at one car-park to check the sleeping site there and then walk for about 50 minutes to the central sleeping site, while me and Simon drive all the way down the Peninsula to start at the other end and walk up to the other sleeping sites that we know of. I did once see a very convincing baboon shaped bush...but apart from that no luck.

We checked out another set of cliffs that they once slept on from the road with binocs but couldn't see any. Our next plan was to go north and head for 'Kanonkop' mountain itself where they tend to spend the summers, but we decided that we deserved a treat and started heading down South towards the visitor's centre where one can find tea and coke and chocolates (my interests clearly being in the latter)! We spot some baboons on the road - right near the visitor's center which is where the Buffel's bay troupe like to sleep. Hmm. Must be them. Tali stands on the car and peers into the bushes - it soon becomes clear that numbers of baboons we have are somewhat greater than Buffels' ten. Maybe the Cape Point Troupe then? The matter is settled when a hoard of juveniles appears on the road behind us - it's Kanonkop - hoorah! That was some serious luck there, it really was - Tali has spent whole days before looking for them!

We were quite excited too since they were pretty much in Buffel's territory - what would happen if they met? Kanonkop has about six recognisable grown males though only a few of those are proper adults with big shoulders. Buffel's has just one adult male - BB-King, and he's on the small side.

We followed the troupe through almost-impassable reedy swamps (i'm just glad there aren't too many snakes around here - I was ploughing my way through the reeds with no idea where I was putting my feet) and peered through the rain to spot them in the bushes; We went right past the back of the visitor's center, pole-vaulted over a small stream, trekked over sand dunes and finally lost them again in more bushes. The trouble with these guys is if you try to follow them through the bushes you can't get close enough to see where they go because they're too nervous - it only really works if you're literally on their tails and sometimes not even then. So I decided to stay on the road and espy them in the valley from the comfortably-tarmacked tick-free vantage point.

They tend to spread out a lot so I was catching glimpses of heads and tails here and there. Then I spotted a couple walking past a gap a little to the left and heading up hill - then another, and another and another. I thought I saw about ten heading that way - which I figured was better than the odds and ends Simon was trying to follow down in the valley in front of me so I called to him that I was going to keep up with this little group! They hit the road and graciously decided to walk up it so I followed them easily, trying to count how many were there ahead of me. They glanced at me but didn't seem too afraid which was good. I eventually settled on the original figure of ten - one adult male, several females with infants and a couple of juveniles. I'd left Simon quite away behind and was feeling very pleased with myself to have managed to hang onto such a big group of them all together when I spotted the tail of one of the mums. It had a kink in it just like that adult female 'Cher' from the Buffel's Bay troupe..........sh*t! I'd spent the last 15 minutes following the wrong baboons! Far from the fireworks we'd expected - the resident troupe has simply slunked carefully and quietly away and were heading home to the visitor's center completely ignoring the 'invaders'!

Later on Kanonkop also headed off to bed - towards the Buffel's sleeping site trees at the visitor's centre! The Buffel's troupe could be seen at a safe distance hiding behind a bush on the dunes, only coming forward and climbing the trees once Kanonkop had gotten out of the way on the other side of the building. The next morning they once again quietly disappeared in the opposite direction - the Kanonkop mass looked up as the left but didn't seem to have any inclination to follow. We followed Kanonkop again as they headed over the Dunes and onto a scrubby hill - we could see Buffel's picking on some tourists in the background but had given up hopes for exciting clashes.

I'll have to leave it there for now - it's ten to six which means sunset and I've gotta get back to the flat before dark. If I'm very clever I may write the next post on Lena's (the family friend I'm now staying with - yes, they're everywhere!) laptop and transport it here by some magical means tomorrow. Anyway - part two of the exciting baboon-following adventures in the next couple of days!

(Here's a teaser - we got our fireworks)

Whiling away an afternoon.

Bored bored bored.
Have struggled down to the post office braving the predicted gale force winds. Ok, well maybe it wasn't that bad - but this is a very windy place! At least it stopped hailing. :S On the way, in one patch of flooded green I saw several beautiful sacred Ibises (Ibi? :P), some small white egrets, two egyptian geese and three guinea fowl - not bad birding for a ten minute walk.

Anyway what with all the rain and hail and winds we've been sitting at home far too much. Already watched three films this morning before coming down here - luckily the internet is the perfect and ultimate procrastination tool as ever - more so when you've been deprived for a while! Getting on two hours now but luckily the pony-tailed guy who seems to be in charge of the post office today is also procrastinating, so all is good. :)

We've only been out once since I last wrote I think. Me and Amy went off to find the Cape Point troupe. Since Winnie has a radio collar on, we got out the antenna again and now I was in charge of trying to work out which direction the strongest signal was coming from. Hmm. The result was, at various times and from various suitably high rocks, all four compass points, and very frequently two opposite directions simultaneously. This is largely blamed on the fact that the signal won't travel through cliffs or hills but is exceptionally happy to bounce off them and pounce at you from random angles. We eventually put our amazing tracking skills to the test - we gathered excitedly round poo going 'this looks fresh!' and then followed fresh baboon footprints through the shrubland! Well not so much through shrubland as along a conveniantly earthy hiker's path. I love it when baboons follow paths. :D Paths and roads - wonderful inventions!

So anyway we located the troupe - hoorah - and set about following them. They helpfully reached a road and set off along it so Amy hiked back to the car and brought it down so we could sit inside and safely eat our lunch.Unfortunately I'd just finished my first sandwich when they all disappeared into the bushes again. Darn! So off we went. The area turned out to be full of restios - tall dry grass/reeds - that are always full of ticks. It was practically impossible to move without getting covered with them and once they get on to you they head upwards until they find somewhere warm - little buggers. Frequent stopping to brush them off seems to have done the trick though, but it does slow you up. The bushes there were so tall and dense we often couldn't see the baboons - we were just following the sounds of their crunching. The problem with that is it's not very easy to notice a sporadic sound stopping.

While I was retracing my steps to recover a dropped GPS device (I have GOT to stop losing expensive pieces of equipment! :S ) the baboons disappeared again. However we were confident that they were heading away from the road to the beach. Our plan was to race them there and wait for them to come out. This was all going fine until we hit a long strip of marsh with a tall, furry green plant growing in it. It wasn't too wet but this plant was growing densely and was over our heads. We ploughed in, alarmingly getting closer and closer to the sounds of frogs. Eventually we came to a stop, not knowing if we had made it halfway through, or if we were only metres from the end. I also had the feeling we weren't heading straight across since the easiest route always seemed to be tending to the right. Amy decided we should go back; though I hated to admit defeat I had no idea where we or the baboons were, so we followed our path back to the reassuringly short bushes we'd come from.

Once out of the marsh we were still about halfway between the road and the beach with the tick infected grasses between us and the car. It was at this point that it began to rain. Thunder rumbled ominously from black clouds on the horizon. We set off and hoped the damp would put off the ticks! We eventually made it back to the car (of course) and leapt in - I went straight for my unfinished lunch. While we sat there munching as the rain strenghthened we heard baboons barking nearby on the other side of the road. Grrrr.

We decided that we'd definitely completely lost the bloody baboons and set off home.

Which is of course where we've been since. As I said there's been lots of DVD watching and I've managed to borrow Caroline's Harry Potter (it made me happy) and am now going through some ancient 'Just William' books I've found which have turned out to be very amusing. I was considering how I should read them to my children, when I came across the word 'nigger' and decided to check through them first. :)

Speaking of which, 'coloured' is apparently a valid descriptive term here. I shall have to remember next time to enlighted you all with my completely naive and ignorant report on South Africa. I failed miserably to wiki the politics before I came. I'm hoping I can get along with 'Mandela good!'.

Till next time!

Brief update

Hi guys!
Gale force winds today - hoorah!
Yesterday was a complete baboon-oriented waster-day at the park. After helping Tali and Simon locate Kanonkop (they keep turning up at crazy new sleeping sites!) me and Caroline went off to look for Cape Point. Winnie, an adult female, is wearing a collar so we were going all over in the car waving a radio antenna about looking for them. We eventually decided they were in some thick bushes we didn't want to go into (the same impenetrable ones I forced my way through just before realising I'd lost baboons, a walkie-talkie and Simon last week). So we decided to have a nap in the car instead. :) One hour later there was still no sign of them and since it was already 2/3pm we eventually gave up and went off to be touristy! We went to cape point proper with all the crowds of tourists and we even went into the gift shop! Then we went to a nice beach and found pretty shiny shell things that look kind of like mother-of-pearl but more blue. Caroline calls it 'aboloni' or something. :S Then we got a call from Tali saying she'd lost Simon. Hehe. So we went off and helped her found him and generally lazed about until he'd finished all his data collection. For the sake of not being too wastery I did climb the same painful hill twice. Go me!
Am hoping to be super-fit by the end of this. Kanonkop in particular helps by travelling 10km in a day, and they all make you climb ridiculous hills. Chile will be lots of walking too - and probably less days off.
I don't know if any of this baboon babbling makes any sense to you guys but this is what I'm up to!
Cool animals I've seen:
Puff Adder; small snakes and lizards; a small stripey frog; tiny tortoise; frickin enourmous tortoise; eland; 'bontabok'(?); grysbok (?); chacma baboons; a lone zebra; ostriches; sacred ibis; other weird ibis; endangered black oystercatchers; sunbirds; sugarbirds; some sort of awesome eagle with a white head; some cool beetles.
That should keep my dad happy!

P.S. This post was actually from two days ago - monday - managed not to actually post it - sorry! Will try to re-update you soon! :)

What I learnt from University

Going to Cambridge has taught me that things will always be easy;
It's taught me how to love new kinds of people,
to make new families,
and that these will be the best years of my life.

Cambridge has taught me that being the best is all that matters;
I've learnt to hate new kinds of people,
that home is temporary,
and that real friends are not.

Leaving Cambridge has taught me that life isn't an exam;
Now I know which people matter,
to never say goodbye,
and that this
is only the beginning.

Week number two!

I am now in the very small local post office which I managed to walk to from the house - which means as much time as I want - wohoo! There is a rather cute dog in here too which is distracting me some what.

A whole 'nother week without a post - I'm sorry - there has been much baboon following you see. And it'll be a while more again, weather dependant. Luckily we don't go out when it's raining or gale force winds like yesterday as we would get washed/blown off the mountains. Today babooning has been called off due to an inability to find the baboons!

Have been out with three different troupes this week: Kanonkop, Buffel's Bay and Cape Point. They all have slightly different home ranges within the Cape of Good Hope reserve.

The Kanonkop troupe is huge - with about 40 adults, and they also have a huge range which means finding them is a real pain if you didn't follow them the day before to find out where they were sleeping. The first day they went out they never found them all day but last Sat I went out with Tali (the PhD student/organiser) and managed to spot them in the early morning sunning themselves on a tower of rocks which we now know is one of their sleeping sites. Following them is tricky because they're not accustomed to humans, plus they spread way out rather than sticking together so you never know which ones to follow and where the rest are! Fortunately most of their range is quite flat with low vegetation. It looks a bit like a rock garden sometimes - all low shrubs! We saw a puff adder that day - it was big and orange and entirely the wrong shape for a snake, moving more like a caterpillar.

I've worked Cape Point quite a lot this week. These are the guys which have the moniters chasing them and like to jump into cars. Just the other day they led us straight up the most appalling thick-bush-covered mountain. Ouch ouch ouch.
A couple of days before that while partner Simon had gone off to fetch the car, the moniters chased them into tall bushes that I had already been warned were impenetrable. Ok, I thought, I'll stick really close and follow their paths. This sometimes works and sometimes doesn't. :S However, I inevitably lost all sight of any of them though I could still hear the moniters whistling behind me so I decided to forge ahead and get to the road on the other side at the same time as the baboons. Oh so not a good plan. Tho I did manage to get through it! Just.
So I finally make it to the road absolutely exhausted and scratched to bits where I realise the walkie-talkie is no longer in my pocket. Sh*t. I could go back in, but there is no sign of Simon and I have no phone. So I wait, and I wait. Helpfully the baboons turn up. Great - one less lost thing! While sitting around waiting for Simon I realise that one of the females is carrying something that looks vaguely like meat or leather. It turns out to be a dead baby that appears to have been born prematurely. Not good. I grab my camera, leave my bag and stick and go over for a better look. I really should have known better. Brutus, the dominant male, goes straight for my bag and proceeds to take everything out and gnaw at my (luckily empty) sandwhich box. So I just stand there while all the tourists who've stopped along the road watch. Man do I look stupid! Brutus eventually got bored and left, I eventually located Simon, and we came back the next day and managed to find the walkie-talkie pretty easily. So that was ok!

The Buffel's bay troupe are smaller with a very small territory. These are the real menaces as they have no moniters and a visitors centre and picnic site in the bay - these are the guys that raided the picnic and went for me and Lily last week. A few days ago BB King, the dominant male, and Elvis, a sub-adult male, went for some kids at the visitors centre. By which I mean they threw two small boys to the ground. Not good. It may be that one of the kids had a sweet or something - the parents came in and stood between them and the males backed off. So not good. I think the park want to rubber-bullet them to try and scare them a bit - they're far too tame.
Not just tame - they're mean. Simon and I went without researcher jackets with Al once. Britney, a pregnant female, was getting left behind. She finally passes us whereupon she stops, looks carefully at Simon and I and starts screaming. Not in pain or panic, but calling the others. We didn't even have backpacks on at this point, but the all came running up and surrounding us. We pointed our sticks at them till they went away. They did it to me again a bit later, just coming up looking far too interested - it's possible that they thought the camera I was holding was food. Anyway they're clearly used to preying on tourists!
We went to watch some University of Cape Town (UCT) people darting them with darts that fall out containing a small flesh sample. The first time it was Britney that got hit, she ran off screaming and BB King was straight in there at the guy with the blow pipe thing. After that he got a bit more nervous though and gave up charging. The guy decided darting him without the safety of a car was maybe not such a good idea though. I kept WELL out of the way while all this was going on!

Ok, I think this is probably enough of a mega-long uber post to keep you going for a while! I think I shall go back to the house and watch some more Prison Break DVDs. :D

First *proper* post from South Africa

Aiaiai that last one was close. Just as I clicked 'publish post' my time ran out - I didn't think it had gone through - phew! Once again I'm running short on time - today because Caroline's on cooking duty - so how about a quick recap?

One week ago: Managed to avoid Dr Who spoilers until literally my last hour on British soil - *echoes adam's sentiments less rudely* : Aw man!
One week ago 2 hours later: Damnit - can't take off due to a technical fault. Luckily a team of skilled engineers are working on fixing the toilets.
Day 1: Arrive in Cape Town (Thank you Pratibha!). Manage not to get mugged. Leave Cape Town. Arrive in beautiful house on the beach full of biologists - awesome! Play poker with a South African and an American - it's good to know that gambling crosses cultural boundaries. Lose all raw macaroni to American due to ridiculous string of aces on his part. Think it might be fun to learn to surf.
Day 2: First day in the field - off to Cape of Good Hope Park. Or something. There's a cape there anyway. There are also ostriches. Climbed enormous hill to locate baboons. There are no trees in South Africa. Followed baboons aaaalllll day. Baboons raid picnic -> Researchers appear too interested in large loaf of bread being consumed -> Suddenly confronted by two faces full of sharp white teeth screaming at us -> Back off pretty damn quick. Go to bed as soon after dinner as is polite, completely unprepared for yet another 6am alarm.
Day 3: Follow different baboons. They don't have trees but they have many bushes here making finding aforementioned baboons very difficult. The bushes are also prickly and contain ticks. Mmm. Saw four tortoises. Lose baboons. Decide it might be painful to learn to surf.
Day 4: Have the morning off -> Sleep 13 hours. Follow Lily following baboons down sheer cliff. Get stuck in bush at bottom. Almost lose walkie-talkie to over-interested female. Film baboons eating grass in front of beautiful waves and Cape Point.
Oh by the way, it's not just following that we do. There is also looking. And writing. Things like "BB King eating bread" and "Adult female foraging on leaves". These things are written down every 20 minutes along with the GPS position. This is very important for researchy things.
Saw bontabok. (deer things).
Day 5 and 6: Days off due to gale force winds - hoorah! Go wine tasting. Less hoorah. Do not taste wine. Go shopping -> Fail to avoid being talked into buying things in market -> Succeed in new skill of bartering! Woo!
Today: Back to work. Find abandond Ostrich egg. Lose use of pronouns. Steal Adam's jokes.

Some of these baboons really are terrors - they're really not afraid of people. As Matt commented they will happily leap into cars (and restaurants according to Jayames) and raid innocent picnickers. Everyday we have to search for distant rocks to hide behind before opening our back packs and having lunch; which is fine if you can then locate the baboons again afterwards. The park employs two 'moniters' for one troupe who follow them around chasing them away from the tourist areas at the point - which means the occasional bout of running as we try to keep up with baboons being chased into think bush.

I've been filming and taking a very few dodgy camera pics but I'm not going to be doin any uploading I'm afraid [P] as this would involve too much hard work and memory sticks and installing of software. :( However my plan is to make a shaky documentary which you can all see (when I get around to it)! What I wouldn't give for a magical tripod.

Voila! Actually that took quite a while but it's ok as Caroline is still fiddling around trying to book plane tickets - and it's a good job she needed to, coz she drove me to the mall and otherwise I would have had adam yelling at me for lack of posts again!

Thanks for reading guys - and to those ppl who commented. :) As I said, about once a week is likely for posts - but maybe more. This may not satisfy those who need work-avoidance procrastination but I'm a busy person you know! Anyway, I'm having a good (if exhausting) time here so I'll catch you all later!

P.S.(Not bad for a 'quick' post!)

P.P.S. Day 7: Log off. Leave Mall.