Category: Adventure

galapagos, viewpoint, ocean

Planning for a Last-Minute Trip to the Galapagos

Mollie Bloudoff-Indelicato 5 Comments

The Significant Other and I just got back from a trip to the Galapagos. Rather than gush about HOW COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY AMAZING IT WAS, I’m offering some tips to make your vacation planning easier. The devil is in the details! I think this is pretty extensive, but drop me a line in the comments if you have specific questions.

Booking a Last-Minute Galapagos Cruise

Cruises sound expensive right off the bat, but when you consider how much it costs to explore the Galapagos on your own, cruises can actually be cost-effective. For example, a day tour of North Seymour Island is ~$160. Add $20 for the hostel and $10 for home-cooked food. Factor in all the time and energy you’ll spend booking your own trips, and you’re already pushing $200. When you do the math, cruises aren’t that pricey.

NOTE: It’s impossible to base your budget off anything you read online or in a guidebook. Prices are constantly going up. Keep that in mind, and always bring extra cash in small bills $1, $5, $10.

If you can wait until two weeks before your vacation date to start looking for cruises, you can snag amazing discounts (~60 percent!). Book a flight to Quito, and stay at a hostel in the Mariscal District (NOTE: We stayed at the Traveler’s Inn. The breakfast is free and includes eggs, toast, yogurt, fruits, juice and tea/coffee. The wifi is incredibly slow, and the showers are luke-warm.) This is where all the tour companies have offices. Visit each tour office and see what kinds of deals they’re offering. Tour offices are generally open between 10 a.m.-12 p.m. and from 3 p.m.-5 p.m. They will NOT be open after 12 p.m. on Saturday or at all on Sunday.

Please be aware that all tour operators expect you to pay in cash for the tours—even if it’s a couple thousand dollars. Luckily for U.S. citizens, Ecuador operates in American dollars.

Most tour companies will offer to book the flight for you. I booked the flight on my own so I’m not sure how cost-effective this is, but it’s definitely an option.

NOTE: We almost booked a cruise with Yate Darwin and would highly caution against it. There were many frustrating problems, which I won’t go into here. We ended up booking a four-day Angelito cruise using PalmaRoja Tours. I can’t recommend the Angelito highly enough. The staff was incredibly friendly and helpful. I have several food allergies, and the cook made special meals and snacks for me every day. I never had to worry! It was amazing. Plus, our guide Maja, was the best guide I’ve had in all my years of traveling. Really fantastic company.

If you can’t find a tour you like in Quito, you can hop on a plane to the Galapagos and head directly to Puerto Ayora in Santa Cruz. Tour companies also have offices in this city and will offer deals.

sea lion, galapagos

How to Pick a Galapagos Cruise

After days of research, all the cruises started blurring into one, and I suffered from information overload. I recommend picking the cruise based on the ease of access, animals you want to see, cruise size, days at sea and budget. Make a spreadsheet and assign points—it’s the only way to stay sane.

  • Ease of Access: You can (to my knowledge) take day trips to Santa Cruz, San Cristobal, North Seymour, Floreana, Bartolome, South Plaza and Santa Fe. We chose cruises that took us to islands we couldn’t reach on our own, like Santiago and Espanola.
  • Animals: Each island is known for specific animals. No guarantee you’ll see them, of course, but there were a few endemic species that I was dying to see. For example, North Seymour: blue-footed boobies and frigate males, Santa Cruz: tortoises, Espanola: albatross, Santiago: iguanas, Santa Fe: iguanas. The cruise that promised the most animals won.
  • Cruise Size: Pay attention to the number of people on the boat. Our head count was 16, and it was perfect. Anything larger, and you’re going to get lost in the shuffle. Anything too small and your boat will be so tiny that it bobs up and down with each and every wave. Ugh.
  • Days at Sea: I’m the kind of gal who likes her feet firmly planted on the ground. It was important that we got to see what we wanted to see but didn’t spend unnecessary time on the water. We ended up with a four-day cruise, but I think we also would have enjoyed a five-day. NOTE: six- and seven-day cruises are rare. It’s usually four, five or eight days. Also remember that a “four-day” cruise is really just two days because the cruise doesn’t start till late afternoon on the first day, and ends before 10 a.m. on the last day.
  • Budget: Go in with a budget for your cruise, and follow it. I had tour operators send me “deals” that were two- to three-times more than my max budget. It was tempting, but I had to put my foot down.

frigate, galapagos

Getting to the Galapagos

Flights to the Galapagos: There are two airports in the Galapagos: Baltra and San Cristobal. If you’re thinking of taking a cruise, fly into Baltra. Most (if not all) of the cruises start/end there.

Three airlines go to the Galapagos. TAME appears to be the cheapest at first-glance, but they tack on a whole bunch of fees at checkout that actually make them more expensive. I used Avianca for the most cost-effective flights.

NOTE: Don’t forget that there’s a $120 fee to get into the Galapagos. Airport officials will also search your bags for fresh fruit and animal products. I would highly recommend bringing in your own snacks since healthy food is hard to come by on the islands. They’re OK with dried, packaged fruit, granola bars, even peanut butter sandwiches! If you don’t want your bag locked with plastic ties after getting searched, tell the officials. Keep a pair of nail clippers in case they lock your bag anyway.

Getting into Santa Cruz from the airport: You’re not allowed to walk around Baltra because it’s a military base. You’ll take a short (free!) bus from the airport to Baltra’s dock. A $1 ferry will take you across the river to the island Santa Cruz. From there you can catch a (~$5) bus or take an $18 taxi (in total NOT per person) into town. It’s a 40 minute drive via taxi and longer with the much slower bus.

Taxis are poorly labeled, white Toyota pickup trucks.

Taxis in Santa Cruz: Once you’re in town, taxi rides should be about 50 cents per person up to $1 max. Taxi drivers often pick up multiple people so don’t be alarmed if a few strangers hop into the cab.

Snorkeling tips: Snorkeling is transportation, right? A few tips to enjoy your snorkeling experience: Try on your mask before leaving land. If you can press it to your face (without using the straps) and it stays in place, it’s a good fit. If you need glasses, bring your own prescription goggles as there aren’t any (that we saw) on the islands. Or you can make your own prescription goggles. Spit on your lenses or use baby shampoo to keep them from fogging up. If you have facial hair, your mask might not fit well. Slather on some vaseline to help make the seal. Your flippers shouldn’t fit comfortably when you’re on land. They need to be a little tight because they’ll loosen up in the water. Check the snorkel mouthpiece to make sure it has two notches to bite on. I’d recommend renting a full-body wetsuit for sun protection, added buoyancy and extra warmth (the water can get chilly).

Galapagos

Things to Do in the Galapagos

I’ll write another post with an outline of our cruise. These are the two day trips we took outside the cruise.

San Cristobal

We went snorkeling off Kicker Rock and explored Cerro Brujo beach for $100 with the tour company Cindy Sol. They were very professional and served a delicious lunch. I would highly recommend their services. I don’t have the cross street for the company’s office, but the harbor area is tiny (only ~five blocks) so you can either ask for directions or walk up and down the streets until you run into Cindy Sol). NOTE: Tour agencies close in the afternoon to avoid the heat and open up again in the evening. I’d recommend booking a day trip the night before. However, most tours leave at 8:30 or 9 a.m. so you can also show up at the office around 8 a.m. and book any available seats on the spot.

Stay at Casa Mabell for $20 per person. The hostel doesn’t have a microwave, and the owner doesn’t speak English. But the place is spotless, has AC, is two minutes from the shore, and if you can speak a little Spanish, the owner will help you book tours.

Get your laundry cleaned for $1.50/kilo at La Lavanderia Rosita. We gave our clothes to them at 8 p.m., and they had everything done by 3 p.m. the next day. Great service.

North Seymour

Booked this tour with Esmeralda III. We wouldn’t recommend this boat. The guide was unnecessarily rude. The tour also promised to take us to North Seymour in the morning (better wildlife pictures!) and then snorkeling in the afternoon (cooling off!). Instead, we spent far too much time snorkeling in the morning and saw no wildlife. Then, during the heat of the day, we were rushed around North Seymour. I absolutely loved the island (we saw blue-footed boobies and frigates!), but go with a different tour company.

Signing off for now! More tips later, and please add your own!

I Am the Queen of Nausea

Mollie Bloudoff-Indelicato Leave a comment

I’m kind of an expert on nausea.

I get queasy standing up too quickly after watching a movie. The slightest motion is enough to make my stomach do summersaults. (It’s annoying, but also pretty impressive. Can your stomach do gymnastics? I didn’t think so.) Any movement has the power to instantly turn my face the color of pea soup. Throw in some undulation, and it’s immediate misery. (Note to my enemies: Please don’t get any ideas.)

I’ve been motion sick in amusement parks, cars, buses, trains, carriages, motorcycles, horses, the D.C. metro, bumper cars, ferries, dune buggies, boats, kayaks, taxis, combis, crop planes, airplanes, scooters and (get this) surfboards. I’ve never ridden a segue, but I’m fairly certain we can add that to the list, too.

At this point, my extreme nausea engenders a certain amount of pride. But pride cometh before a fall, right y’all?  I thought I knew everything there was to know about motion sickness. Then I took the Drake Passage on my way to Antarctica.

DEAR LORD, WHY?!

The Significant Other says the waves were only 15 feet, but that’s the understatement of the century—akin to calling a ginormous, blood-thirsty rabbit with fangs a small, blood-thirsty rabbit with fangs. See what I mean?! He has no idea what he’s talking about.

While our boat had epileptic seizures on the open sea, I tried very hard not to lose it. (You can take “it” to mean anything from my lunch to my sanity. Everything was up for grabs that weekend.)

To make matters WORSE, the motion sickness medication just didn’t do it for me. Mostly because I accidentally drugged myself the first night, but that’s not really my fault.

So doctors recommend 25 mg every 12 hours, but the pills I had came in 50 mg doses, and those things taste like lumberjack feet when they’re broken in two. Plus, since I’m so ridiculously queasy all the time, I figured I’d go for the 50 mg dose. What do those quacks know, anyway?

This may or may not have been a problem by itself. BUT, then Significant Other says I woke up at like 3 a.m. and took another 50 mg dose, which I vaguely, fuzzily, dreamily half-remember. Pro Tip: Hide the meds at night.

The result was a not-altogether-there, out-of-body feeling that lasted a full day. Coupled with the nausea and dizziness from my inability to eat, let’s just say it’s an experience I won’t be repeating soon. (Unless you’d like to get me a science reporting gig in Antarctica, in which case I’ll just suck it up. Or read the directions on pill bottles. Either or.)

The journey back to Argentina from Antarctica via the Drake Passage (AGAIN?!) was just as bad. Since the meds failed me so miserably the first time, I decided to try a completely different tactic—sleep through it.

This seemed like a great idea because I love sleep. (I’m sorry it had to come out like this, Significant Other.) And I love it so much that I kind of thought it was like crunchy peanut butter—you can never have enough.

Turns out, I was wrong. There comes a point when you just can’t sleep anymore. Your body absolutely refuses. And then you’re stuck in the middle of the ocean, rolling back and forth on your bed, feeling like BLARGH and wishing you’d never flown to Portugal as a teenager because you’re pretty sure that’s where your love of travel originated.

Ladies, sleep lets you down hard. Don’t trust it.

But after two days, we were back in Ushuaia, Argentina. I’d seen Antarctica, a life goal; I’d done science journalism, and I’d triumphed over the Drake Passage. It was a victorious journey in oh-so many ways.

My next goal? Conquer that segue!

colombia, bogota, gold museum, jewelry, penis

OK, I Admit It, I Have Penis Envy

Mollie Bloudoff-Indelicato Leave a comment

I’ve always had a teensy bit of penis envy.

It’s not that I don’t value my chromosomes. Estrogen has its perks—amiright, ladies? And who wants to clutch their crotches in fear every time a baseball hurtles by? or deal with embarrassing teenage erections? Ew.

But the lack of certain equipment makes my XX world more challenging.

Stake outs, for one thing. I want the stuff of ’80s cop shows, Lifetime movies and bad paperback mystery novels. I want—more than anything else—to ‘case the joint’ while huddled in a station wagon, it’s brown, stained interior peeling and musty. I want to stay up all night getting buzzed on the marriage of blue Gatorade and Twizzlers. I want to have a puppy-like sidekick who will do most of the work but get little of the glory.

Sadly, it’s not to be. All that liquid blue sugar has to go somewhere, and peeing in a bottle is every woman’s nightmare.

Writing my name in the snow. OK, to be honest, I’ve never actually had the urge to try this, but after further consideration, it seems vital. What if I was stuck on a mountain, at the precipice of death, and my last chance to communicate with the world before succumbing to the elements was snow writing? A dude could urinate something pithy. My last words would be a puddle—how very profound.

Then there’s hiking. If a bear poops in the woods, so can I, and squatting behind a tree is par for the course when you’re an outdoorsy gal. But I’m in the Peruvian Andes, and there aren’t any trees of substantial size. I have to hike far off the path to find a safe hiding spot—nobody wants to see my moon hit the sky. Ew.

Weekend hikes throughout Peru have become female map-making expeditions. For my testosterone-filled Significant Other, gorgeous outcroppings of rock are just landforms. For me, they’re the perfect bathroom. For him, the uncharacteristically fat eucalyptus we just passed is a curious anomaly. For me, it’s an emergency latrine.

And despite my constant vigilance, I usually don’t get lucky. Most of the time, when nature calls, Mother Nature doesn’t provide (for shame, woman!), and I end up playing Twister with a bunch of prickly bushes.

Women need backgrounds in espionage and circus acrobatics just to relieve themselves.

For several years, I’d heard of companies like SheWee, pStyle and Go Girl, which attempt to solve this problem for the female adventurer. #innovation But using appliances that are little more than glorified funnels painted feminine hues seems, I don’t know, icky.

It wasn’t until last month that I decided to man up and try them out. Peeing standing up can’t be more difficult than the alternative. Because even if I find a hidden place to pee; even if I manage to avoid the jagged rocks, curious bugs and unfortunately placed cacti, I still—invariably—run the risk of peeing on my shoes. Ew.

So I ordered a couple products and read the instruction manuals front to back. I’m only two steps in, and I figure I’m already way ahead of any dude. Now, I just have to find a suitable place to give it a go.

Anybody up for a stakeout?

UPDATE: After trying out a few models and doing LOTS of Internet research, Freshette is the best. Check it out.

huacachina, peru, sandboarding, desert

Pro Tip: Close Your Mouth

Mollie Bloudoff-Indelicato 1 Comment

My elementary school bus driver didn’t speak Spanish, but the few phrases she’d memorized were scary as mierda.

¡Cállate! ¡Silencio! ¡Sentarse sin hablando! She’d sweep the back of the bus with her omnipotent glare and scowl into the rearview mirror. If she made eye contact, you were as good as muerto.

I grew up in a farming community where half of us rooted for Mexico and rest backed Italy. The gringos jóvenes had no clue what she was saying, but her threat—however foreign—scared the bejeezus out of us all. If you didn’t shuttheHwordupRIGHTNOW then you’d have to sit at the front of the bus with *gasp* the nerds.

Sitting up front was worse than getting a yellow card. It meant you’d miss out on everything. Maybe Suzette would finally kiss Jose. Maybe you’d barter your chips for a Lunchable. Maybe Antonio would stick his hand out the window again, and it’d get knocked off by a tree branch. He was a brave, but dumb, boy (weren’t they all?), and we were easily entertained.

To sit up front meant you’d lose your front-row seat to all the action and, thus, your social standing for days, if not weeks. The horror.

I was a regular at the front of the bus (shocker). With horrible motion sickness, my hour in that yellow tank was hell. I passed the time talking to the bad kids (re: cool kids) who really didn’t want to sit next to the chick in penny loafers with her eye on the vomit bucket.

But I won them over with my charm. Or they were bored. Either way, I spent a great deal of time chatting. They didn’t adopt my sense of style, but I was quick to mimic their behavior. From first grade all the way into middle school I never, ever ¡Cierras la boca!

That poor bus driver.

huacachina, peru, sandboarding, desert

(The Significant Other killin’ it on the sand slopes!)

Apparently I haven’t changed much since third grade because my bus driver’s warnings still fall on deaf ears. A few weeks ago, I found myself standing at the top of a HUGE sand dune in the Peruvian desert, clutching a sandboard in shaky hands.

Sandboarding is kind of like snowboarding but not. The Huacachina desert is far more gorgeous than a snowy mountain. However, face-planting in sand is a lot less thrilling than belly-flopping into a snow drift.

huacachina, peru, sandboarding, desert

While our tour guide mechanically waxed my sandboard, he waxed poetic about the many ways white people have screwed up this sport—enough to land themselves en el hospital. Muy peligroso. He laid out his list of do’s and don’ts in perfect Spanglish: Don’t lean forward. Never hold your hands out in front of you. Always keep your torso curved upward.

But his main advice? ¡Cierras la boca!

*sigh* I never listen.

huacachina, peru, sandboarding, desert(I’m smiling here, but that’s because there’s so much sand in my teeth that shutting my mouth feels like licking a lumberjack’s face.)

Everyone Else is Doing It (NYE Resolutions)

Mollie Bloudoff-Indelicato Leave a comment

My mom loves me (I’ve fact-checked).

This poor woman sat through every single one of my school plays, pretended to enjoy my band concerts and put up with my (very brief and pathetic) teenage emo phase. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.

Even though she’s my biggest supporter, sometimes I’m sure that having a globe-trotter for a daughter can be rather trying. So after accomplishing BOTH my life goals in just a year—moving to Peru and reporting from Antarctica—the female parental unit was understandably worried.

I could see the words written in her frown: What is this offspring of mine going to tackle next?

Well, Ma, since you asked. Life Goals 2.0!

Write for NYT: Alright, I ADMIT IT, I haven’t written for The Gray Lady. Now, that’s never been my scene, but in high school I was voted “Most Likely to Write for the NYT” (“Most Likely to Nerd Out Over Stargate Atlantis” was already taken. Damn you, Jessica!), and I’d like to make it happen. #letsdothis

Study physics: I took chemistry instead of physics because I heard we’d get to blow stuff up. Unfortunately, our class watched “Fat Man, Little Boy” a couple times, and that was about as close as I ever got to actual chemistry. </regret> Unfortunately, this didn’t pick up a physics book until much later in life. And, GUYS, physics is SO COOL.

Learn hip hop: I don’t like dancing. Unless someone is blasting Journey or Fleetwood Mac, you can count me out. But I suppose I’m still too young to say “screw it,” order Chinese food and watch Golden Girl reruns on late-night TV while lounging in a sports bra and underwear. So I suppose I should learn polish my skills with something other than YouTube videos. This. Will. Happen.

Now where’s the takeout menu?

Be less judgey: I hold myself to impossibly high standards (which is something I’m working on, too) and naturally that bleeds into my perceptions of others. BUT what’s best for me, obviously isn’t necessarily what’s best for others. I have to learn to cut people some slack and let them be them. It’s a process!

Read one non-science book every week: For years I haven’t read anything but science-related books, and hot damn, have I been missing out! I asked all you brilliant peeps for recommendations back in October, and so far I’ve read ~a story a week. I feel more fulfilled, smarter, richer, happier, all the awesomes are belongs to me.

Visit NYC at least 4x per year: I haven’t seen a rat in 365 days; I can barely recall the smell of subway urine (public restrooms just aren’t the same!); and I now (*gulp) own a bed bigger than my last apartment. How I miss La Ciudad!

Broaden my understanding of philosophy: Freshman year of college, I was super-duper stoked!!!1 (17-year-old me’s words and punctuation, not mine) for Philosophy 101. But my professor spoke like The Dude, and after three hours listening to teenagers argue about whether black widow spiders had souls, I was ready bang my head on a desk that may or may not have existed. I dropped the class. Of course, I’ve studied philosophy in other courses, but there’s so much more to explore!!!1

Attempt taxidermy: I lurk on this FB group for taxidermy enthusiasts. It’s a private group (yeah, I’m cool *shoulder brush*) or I’d paste the link here for peeps to follow. Taxidermists are just ridiculously awesome and creative. But since I’m a chronic lurker, I feel like it’s time to put up. Sadly, I missed the Valentine’s Day Rat Taxidermy seminar, but there’s always the Anthropomorphic Mouse Taxidermy (One or Two Headed!) class. I’m not sure how that works anatomically, but I’m pretty stoked to find out. Plus, I’m pretty sure this is a tax write-off. It’s basically career advancement. If I decide to leave journalism, I’ll have a similarly lucrative profession to fall back on. </sarcasm>

Play fútbol: I played soccer for, jeeze, 12 years? 13 years? anyway, a long time. Then I stopped. For no good reason. When I was working in the rainforest, the guides and researchers played pickup games every afternoon on the beach. I tagged along, and it turns out I’m kind of a soccer god. (Or, at least, I can hold my own.)

Read “The Listserve” every day: It is amazing and brings me down to earth. Check it out.

Rewatch the TV series Just Shoot Me: Everyone needs easy life goals. Don’t judge me.

Be more thoughtful: Most people aren’t bad, they’re just super unthoughtful. Hold the elevator door. Write an honest-to-god PAPER thank-you note. Don’t bail on friends. Think before hitting send. <–I talk the talk. Now I want to make a concerted effort to walk the walk.

Learn rock climbing: Anything perched higher than my nose scares the crap out of me, and I’m a firm believer that in order to grow as a person you have to conquer your fears. Plus, rock climbing is great exercise, and once you get good enough, gives you access to parts of the world untouched by guard rails and pedestrian walkways.

This is a list in progress. I’m thinking of adding more camping, taking an improv class, writing more often about fungus, taking a glass blowing class, completing a javascript-filled data project, and, well, we’ll see!