Around the Barrio

The barrio looks ragged.  Tropical greens are overgrown and twisted together, like miniature rainforests in between houses that resemble squat, concrete boxes, barricaded by iron gates.  Some are tattered and run-down with possessions scattered around the front yards, while others are double-stacked boxes, manicured with fresh paint.  Trash lines the sidewalks and Latin music blares from the passing cars, just like back home.  Stray dogs wander the streets and take a rest on the side of the road, looking incredibly dejected.  Meanwhile, nearly every home seems to have resident dogs hurling themselves at the gates and fences to deter passers-by from setting foot on their turf. 

It was about a twenty minute walk to the bakery, where we struggled to order bread and pastries with butchered Spanish and fingers pointed to what we wanted.  The clerks seemed to be slightly amused by this, yet also, perhaps, jaded by the ignorant English speakers in a Hispanic province. 

I neglected to think about exactly how hot and humid Puerto Rico would be.  I was primarily focused on the prospect of whale research and the ocean.  However, a short walk was nearly unbearable, as if it were already the peak of summer, even though it’s still only March.  I also forgot about the bugs down south, but the mosquitoes aren’t nearly as ruthless as those that I’ve encountered in the woods of Vermont.  When I did trail work in Vermont a few years ago, the mosquitoes, assisted by black flies, ate rings around my legs, just above the edges of my wool socks. 

I’m analyzing, on average, a hundred spectrogram frames an hour.  I’m sure that will improve, as I become more confident in identifying sounds, or even just the visuals of the frequencies, instead of spending so much time hoping that sounds will become more recognizable with persistent back-to-back repetition.  I’m finding it challenging to spend the entire day staring at a computer screen, even though I was just doing exactly that at home.  It’s just as exhausting.  I still don’t understand how electronics’ screens drain one of so much energy.  But this is an important cause, a good purpose, and a useful learning experience.

Arriving in Puerto Rico

At about 3:30am my plane landed in Ponce, Puerto Rico.  I was greeted by the boss' husband and two of the long-term interns, with whom I drove back to the field station in the dark, humid night.  I found it difficult to sleep, as I had drifted off sporadically on the plane.  Also, I could already hear the rooster crowing in the early morning hours and dogs barking into the darkness.  Unfortunately, the lie in that I was allowed the next morning seemed to do little for my jet lag, but I pulled through the best I could with a cup of coffee. 

I received a brief tour around the small property, which is heavily gated and locked to deter theft by the young generation of Puerto Ricans, who apparently feel that they are entitled to others’ property.  Aside from the gate, the front entry way is open with a stone floor and several items piled off to the sides, including a large bunch of bananas that had been cut straight from a tree in the backyard the day before.  The first room of the house is the largest, with a nook for a couple of cots, one in which I sleep, cabinets, and some kitchen appliances.  The other four interns have a bit more privacy with a shower curtain shielding the door to their room, and the two college students, who newly arrive each week for a field intensive program here, have a space.  The kitchen is small, but loaded with food in two refrigerators.  There is running water in the house and a microwave, but there isn’t the modern convenience of a stove and oven, only a hot plate and a toaster oven.  The bathroom is even modern-looking enough, with the exception of the wrench hanging onto the knob in the shower to turn on the water.  In addition, water pressure is low, so someone can’t shower, while another person washes the dishes at the same time.  The other bathroom quirks include spraying the shower down with bleach after use to discourage its development as a mosquito breeding ground and not flushing toilet paper, so that the toilet doesn’t become clogged.  The boss and her husband share the bedroom just before the entrance to the patio area, which has a concrete floor and simple, flat tin roof.  This is the dining area, work station, laundry room, and space to relax all in one.  The patio is surrounded by various flowering plants, a pomegranate bush, and papaya, plantain, and banana trees.  The village harbor can be seen from here as well, but I have not yet had the opportunity to venture to the ocean.

Most of the occupants had left for a survey trip earlier that morning, so the two interns, who had met me at the airport had been assigned to the task of familiarizing me with the project and the acoustic files, through which I would be sorting.  I set to scouring the recordings for various sounds, including humpback whales, fish, and non-biological objects.  I found it particularly challenging to distinguish between the knocking noises made by fish and non-biological objects, and the frequencies of some less frequent humpback whale calls that looked very much like those of fish.  I just finished sorting through my first three thousand files, waiting to hear from the intern, who is checking my work, if I have a knack for acoustics or will need some more practice. 

In a way spring here seems similar to spring back at home, as the environment is filled with the sounds of birds’ mating calls and human chatter, and constant activity with brightly-colored birds flitting among the bushes, lizards scampering along various stationary objects, and random cats lolling through the yard.  There is never a dull moment, even once the sun goes down.

In Transit

Traveling today was far less painless than I had expected it to be.  I had anticipated needing to make flawless transitions among bus, subway, and train, in order to arrive at Rockville Centre at a reasonable time.  Megabus’ stop had changed, since I last traveled from New York in October and was supposed to be farther from Penn Station, where I needed to be.  Fortunately, the bus arrived remarkably early, even with a long layover in Hartford, and I didn’t even have to navigate the subway because Penn Station just happened to be only four blocks away. 

It felt wonderful to be outside in the warm, fresh air, or as fresh as you can get in New York City, after being stuck in the congested bus for hours.  I didn’t even feel particularly anxious as I wandered Penn Station, following the signs for the Long Island Railroad.  However, I did feel a twinge of nervousness, once I had purchased my train ticket with no indication as to where I should go next.  I approached the ticket counter to inquire about where I should board, and was instead directed to the information desk at the end of the row of windows.  Throughout my trip planning with Google Maps, the only trains that ever appeared to be traveling to Rockville Centre were Babylon trains, so I was rather confused when I was directed towards a track with a train bound for a final destination of Massapequa Park, especially with a Babylon train waiting on the adjacent track.  I decided to just trust the information desk guy and boarded the Massapequa train. 

I was struck by how spacious, clean, and cool the train was in comparison to the subway.  Even the lobby of the station had been far stuffier.  But here, there was climate control and people weren’t crammed together, looking miserable.  It seemed as if it would be a pleasant enough ride.  I sat down with two gentlemen in a cluster of four seats with one bag sitting in the adjacent seat, as the overhead rack was far too near the ceiling to fit any bags.  The train’s first stop just so happened to be Rockville Centre, as we were only passing through Jamaica Station. 

I was also very grateful that my dad had insisted on me taking his cell phone with me, so that I was easily able to inform my friend which train I had made it onto and locate her once I arrived, since there were several directions, in which I could start walking.  I haven’t seen her in years, but we’ve kept in touch through e-mail, Facebook chat, and the occasional phone call.  It felt like we just picked up where we left off.  I love that feeling, when there’s no awkwardness, no need to get to know the person all over again, and instead, you just resume. 

She took me out to dinner at a Greek restaurant near the train station that she and her sister frequent quite regularly.  The waitress knows her by name and quite possibly knows what she orders by now as well.  I couldn’t figure a way to eat my lamb gyro to keep it in one piece, so I opted to use the fork and knife.  Hunger had caught up with me finally, as I’ve had little appetite over the past couple of days due to nerves, and I polished off the entire meal.  Even now, hours later, I still feel rather content. 

After dinner, we raced back to the Lakeview Public Library, where my friend works, for the knitting class that she was scheduled to teach.  A handful of women showed up, eager to continue with the past few weeks of lessons.  For most, this was the only time that they had to do anything for themselves, away from family and work.  One woman was ecstatic to have made something with her own hands, even if it was slightly deformed and holy, where she had dropped several stitches.  I didn’t remember how to cast on, so my friend started me off and I spent the evening plugging along with twenty stitches back and forth on the needles.  It was quite relaxing and I make good progress with a more professional looking knit than my first and only piece at home. 

Later, we spent our last couple of hours together chatting over tea, before heading for the airport.

On the Road Again

At this time tomorrow, I will be in the village of Guayanilla, Puerto Rico, commencing my first internship of 2012.  I will be working at a marine station with a Ph.D. student and other interns on a project to determine why humpback whales are showing up in Puerto Rico and how they are using this habitat, based on analysis of behaviors, photographs, and acoustics. My primary duty will be listening to the acoustic data that have been recorded on hydrophones stationed off the coast of the island for humpback whale calls.

It will be a good foot in the door, if I decide that marine biology is a field that I would like to pursue, as I will gain some valuable experience in just a month's time.

Similar to my work in Ireland, the marine station in Puerto Rico is supposed to be fairly removed from civilization with patchy and/or limited internet access, so I will do my best to keep up with blog posts!

Chaotic Trip Planning

I was supposed to be spending this past week engaged in preparing for my upcoming trip.  I remember looking at the newly posted work schedule, wondering if I would have enough time to brush up on my Spanish, reread the information I had found months ago on humpback whales, theodolite tracking, and Puerto Rico ecology, make travel arrangements for my next trip, organize my living space, pack, and do all of the other detailed things that I needed to do.  But I promptly fell ill with the flu, and instead, spent my week passed out in bed, trying to rest and recuperate, so I could at least get myself to Puerto Rico.

 

Even since the fever broke, I haven’t felt up to par to get anything done, not to mention I’ve just been so worried about having only a few days to do what I had planned to do in a week.  I awoke this morning still fretting about all of the last minute things that I needed to do, worrying if I’d get it all done in time. 

Before leaving for Ireland and British Colombia, I’ve felt nervous excitement at the prospect of those trips.  Now, I’m just terrified.  I don’t know if being so ill has thrown me off this much, as I’ve been battling headaches and disorientation all day still.  I’m surprised that I even managed to pack.  Or perhaps, there has been too much down time, during which I’ve been able to push off thinking about the future.  Maybe that’s another reason for this fear; the future is here, and it’s no clearer than it was before.  I’m hoping that I’ll get over this hump once I start moving again. 

Also, there was a time when I was organized and everything had its place, so that I could easily locate whatever I needed.  Now, I’m lucky if I’m able to find an important piece of paper.  Twice already, I’ve nearly lost a train ticket for my next trip, as it floats about in my desk drawer.  When did this happen?  When did my life become so chaotic?  When did I become so chaotic? 

Single Status

Flashback to...1 February 2010

Romantic songs and such don’t depress me like they used to, when I have been single in the past.  It’s been nearly a month since my ex and I broke up, and that’s about when I would start getting desperate for another guy, another relationship.  But now, I’m enjoying the time that I have to myself.  I also do have my fixes at contra dances with bountiful opportunities to flirt without romantic involvement.  Perhaps, this helps me to be more accepting of my single status. 

However, a month is certainly not a long enough time to deal with my dependency issues.  Eventually, I will apply what I’m learning to a relationship.  If a guy is truly interested in me and respects me, then he will be happy to spend time with me as a friend and won’t push me.  Let that friendship develop first.  I don’t want to fall into something and learn about it as I go along.  I want to ask questions first, so I can decide if a relationship is the best option for me.  Be selective.  Get to know what I want and see how it compares to what he wants and who he is.

What Will You Do When You Can’t Dance Anymore?

What will you do when you can’t dance anymore?  This was the question posed by director Zach in “A Chorus Line.”  What would the dancers do when no longer able to pursue and live their dream?

Diana admits to not feeling like she’s getting anywhere by landing small roles in shows, but when she shares these experiences with others, they are floored.  They find it incredible that she’s been living her dream, working her way to where she wants to be.

Shelia comments that she too felt that way once, and had a timeline set for herself.  Achieving her goal in “just a few more years” ushered her on, but now, at thirty, she’s become disillusioned and wonders how much longer she has to wait for her time to come, her big break.

Is it realistic to be chasing a dream when it seems near impossible to achieve it, when it keeps eluding you?  How do you determine when it’s time to choose another path and move on?  Is it really because it’s impossible?  Or is it because it’s a challenging path that requires more time and greater dedication, as there is no standard time line for a less traditional route? 

Am I being realistic or am I just being naïve, believing that a dream come true would certainly happen for me?