I realised that I was excited about coming home about two weeks before my trip ended, which was a silly thing to do, because I spent the rest of my time in Exotic South America counting down the days until my return to Beloved Canada.
And suddenly... I was home. And suddenly, I didn't know what to write. I figured I should write a closing post to let you readers (Muchas gracias for all your enthusiasm over the past few months!) know how everything wrapped up... Was it "happy ever after"? Of course I don't mean that this is the end of the story, but I think you know what I'm getting at... I thought of it as the, "Hooray!! I'm home!.... Now what?" edition of the blog. But that's about as far as I got. I just couldn't pin it down with words.
There were only three things I knew for sure:
1. I missed Ambue Ari.
2. I missed fresh (as in, hack-a-chunk-off-a-mango-and-put-in-a-blender-fresh) mango juice.
3. My old friends are wonderful.
It's so nice to come home and find that someone actually noticed you were gone! I was not expecting the huge outpouring of love and welcome I got from everyone! Thank you all so much.
At first, being home felt totally normal. I think, after moving every couple days for a few weeks that even my own house felt like just another stop I would be leaving soon. The weirdness started to set in as realised I wasn't going anywhere! After only a few days, I felt like none of it (the last three and a half months of my life) had actually happened. And I was kind of panicked at the thought that everything I experienced would just fade away. That's one of the dangers of traveling alone, more than mugging or loneliness or eating solo; not having anyone who experienced everything as tangibly as you did. Though they experienced things differently they are proof that you were there(!), you did that(?!); that you lived it, not dreamed it.
Shenaniganizing resumed almost as soon as I had changed out of my three-point-five months wardrobe and into something I hadn't worn in over two days. That night-time sandcastle stomping and the Maple-Bacon sundae that Dylan ordered ("Only in Canada!") convinced me that Home was the only place in the world right now that I could be as happy to be as Ambue Ari. Alright, fine, maybe it was a combination of the sand, the maple-bacon and the people I was with.
"We all struggle with forward motion... "Cause forward motion is harder than it sounds."
That song by Relient K pretty much sums up my transition back to my "normal" life. But life is moving forward once again and I'm looking forward to the next time I'll get to write from some far off place. For now, Oyama is far enough.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Every day at Ambue Ari
This entry, in all it´s rushed imperfection, is dedicated to the memory of my Grandma Jeanne, who died this morning; a fighter and a gentle spirit to the end. Je t´aime Grand-mère.
I´ve just arrived in Santa Cruz after a month at Ambue Ari wildlife sanctuary. I´m not made for the city; already I miss the sounds of macaws and howler monkeys through the walls of my room rather than cars and their blaring horns. The mattress here is hard and lumpy too, but not because it´s made of straw. I feel like a fish out of water... kind of like that catfish I saw swimming across the patio when it rained yesterday at Ambue Ari, just barely able to breathe. But you can get used to almost anything...
It´s amazing how quickly the exceptional becomes normal.
Every day at Ambue Ari I would go out and spend 6 hours of quality time with a puma named Wayra. Feeding her, walking with her, swimming with her, giving her neck rubs, napping near her, having her lick my hands affectionately, playing with her, swimming with her and even feeling her her teeth and claws on my skin once. At home I would be in awe just to see a puma up close... heck, I have pulled ticks out of Wayra´s neck and ears! I hate ticks! I don´t even pull them out of my self! (I had two.) Back at camp for lunch I would ask my friends how their jaguars and ocelots were doing. "Yuma almost caught a tejon(coati) on our walk today!" "Meh, Amira´s in heat, so she was really lazy. It was pretty boring." "Sayan hasn´t had a shit in 6 days! Zandro doubled his laxatives..."
Right now it feels like that is real life and this is the abnormal. But it is more real, in a way...
Every day at Ambue Ari I woke up and worked for a purpose. No wondering what the point of doing what you´re doing is. No superficiality, floating through towns and activities like a spectre, trying to take all the new-ness in. Your mind doesn´t block the jungle out in that way that I´ve struggled with during seeing things like Machu Picchu; it gets into you and you only realize after the fact how far in. At least for me.
I got a piercing from my cat partner, Angela, in my left ear this morning before I left the park. We did it in the vet clinic... the same place they keep Sayan´s laxatives and cut Bora Bora worms out of volunteers arms. (Life is funny, I think.) It will remind me of the Parque for as long as I have it and, though I didn´t realize it at seven o´clock this morning, as the needle slid through my cartilege, it will also remind me of my sweet Grandma Jeanne-Marie. The jewellry is a ring. A never-ending circle reminding me that everything is connected. That as some things end: my time at the park, Grandma Jeanne´s life, others are beginning.
A New Day.
Ambue Ari.
I´ve just arrived in Santa Cruz after a month at Ambue Ari wildlife sanctuary. I´m not made for the city; already I miss the sounds of macaws and howler monkeys through the walls of my room rather than cars and their blaring horns. The mattress here is hard and lumpy too, but not because it´s made of straw. I feel like a fish out of water... kind of like that catfish I saw swimming across the patio when it rained yesterday at Ambue Ari, just barely able to breathe. But you can get used to almost anything...
It´s amazing how quickly the exceptional becomes normal.
Every day at Ambue Ari I would go out and spend 6 hours of quality time with a puma named Wayra. Feeding her, walking with her, swimming with her, giving her neck rubs, napping near her, having her lick my hands affectionately, playing with her, swimming with her and even feeling her her teeth and claws on my skin once. At home I would be in awe just to see a puma up close... heck, I have pulled ticks out of Wayra´s neck and ears! I hate ticks! I don´t even pull them out of my self! (I had two.) Back at camp for lunch I would ask my friends how their jaguars and ocelots were doing. "Yuma almost caught a tejon(coati) on our walk today!" "Meh, Amira´s in heat, so she was really lazy. It was pretty boring." "Sayan hasn´t had a shit in 6 days! Zandro doubled his laxatives..."
Right now it feels like that is real life and this is the abnormal. But it is more real, in a way...
Every day at Ambue Ari I woke up and worked for a purpose. No wondering what the point of doing what you´re doing is. No superficiality, floating through towns and activities like a spectre, trying to take all the new-ness in. Your mind doesn´t block the jungle out in that way that I´ve struggled with during seeing things like Machu Picchu; it gets into you and you only realize after the fact how far in. At least for me.
I got a piercing from my cat partner, Angela, in my left ear this morning before I left the park. We did it in the vet clinic... the same place they keep Sayan´s laxatives and cut Bora Bora worms out of volunteers arms. (Life is funny, I think.) It will remind me of the Parque for as long as I have it and, though I didn´t realize it at seven o´clock this morning, as the needle slid through my cartilege, it will also remind me of my sweet Grandma Jeanne-Marie. The jewellry is a ring. A never-ending circle reminding me that everything is connected. That as some things end: my time at the park, Grandma Jeanne´s life, others are beginning.
A New Day.
Ambue Ari.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
In the Bolivian Amazon.
So, amazingly, I have internet today (though it won´t happen often) and thought I would tell you that I am in love. With Parque Ambue Ari.
So far I have:
-cuddled with monkeys and baby pigs
-eaten dinner in a rustic candlelit shack
- maintained a perfect record of domination in rock-paper-scissors for dish duty
-slept on a mattress made of straw
-built quarantine cages and dug a hole
-drunk tap water for the first time in eight weeks
-chopped fruit and veggie peels for tapirs and pios
-been eaten alive by mosquitoes
-met a guy I met in the airport when I arrived in Lima
-performed glow poi at a volunteer costume party
-taken three cold showers
-gazed at the brightest stars through the forest canopy
-had a chunk of my hair ripped out by a macaw named Lorenzo
-taught poi to a group of Bolivian kids
-slogged through thigh-deep water on a jungle trail while snacking on cocoa pod fruit fresh off the tree
-seen pumas, ocelots and jaguars close enough to touch
-been so overwhelemed by my surroundings and emotions so that I could barely think
I have been here barely 48 hours.
Con amor,
Jungle Jules
So far I have:
-cuddled with monkeys and baby pigs
-eaten dinner in a rustic candlelit shack
- maintained a perfect record of domination in rock-paper-scissors for dish duty
-slept on a mattress made of straw
-built quarantine cages and dug a hole
-drunk tap water for the first time in eight weeks
-chopped fruit and veggie peels for tapirs and pios
-been eaten alive by mosquitoes
-met a guy I met in the airport when I arrived in Lima
-performed glow poi at a volunteer costume party
-taken three cold showers
-gazed at the brightest stars through the forest canopy
-had a chunk of my hair ripped out by a macaw named Lorenzo
-taught poi to a group of Bolivian kids
-slogged through thigh-deep water on a jungle trail while snacking on cocoa pod fruit fresh off the tree
-seen pumas, ocelots and jaguars close enough to touch
-been so overwhelemed by my surroundings and emotions so that I could barely think
I have been here barely 48 hours.
Con amor,
Jungle Jules
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