A huge stingray washed up on the beach in front of the main town this afternoon and these black vultures got to enjoy an early dinner of tasty stingray eyes.The birds were roughly half a metre in height when standing upright. If anyone can ID the family or species of stingray from this terrible phonecam photo, feel free to send me a message. The stingray washed up on the South Pacific side of Costa Rica.
I was drawing this from a skull in a display case at the Field Museum and this kid walks up and
Kid: Is that real?!
Me: Yeah, it’s a real skull.
(Kid starts violently tapping glass. The skull does not respond, for obvious reasons)
Kid: Maybe it’s sleeping
This kid’s gonna be someone someday
“This time-lapse animation simulates how waves caused by the magnitude 8.2 earthquake in Chile on April 1 spread across the Pacific Ocean over 30 hours. The animation really highlights the reach of a dangerous tsunami. Though this earthquake wasn’t large enough to send destructive waves across the entire ocean, a quake closer to magnitude 9 certainly could.”
I’m re-watching this and thinking two things: what if I had been closer? IAnd wow those reefs near New Zealand really slowed shit down.
The sun had commenced its descent, and we watched it from where we were up in the albizia, forty feet above the ground, suspended by ropes and harnesses and complete trust in the strength of the tree. Rays of light stretched far beneath the sparse canopy, under which we perched, in the forked place at which one branch becomes two. I would say more, but once a sunset is described its magic is gone. It is reduced to a postcard cliché. It could be violence to capture a sunset in a picture and immortalize something that is in itself as ephemeral despite its regularity. In postcards each sunset is as beautiful as the next and therefore indistinguishable. This is a tragedy, because waiting through a sunset, waiting long after the light recedes from the sky changes something in my brain. I remember the pensive, open faces of the people I watched it with, or what it was like to be at peace with myself, alone but content to be so. I remember my feet, the bow of the boat, the wheels of the bus and the thought that brought me here.
You’re just my kind.
Pickup line for conservationists
Here is a bad boat photo featuring my thumb, a wire from the tarp and a boat ride to Bahiá Drake in the Osa Peninsula. It took over an hour and took us past the mangroves and towards the bay. Far in the distance there are three little black protrusions lined up in the opening between the forest - those are the rock forms that mark the opening to the ocean. We were steered smoothly through the tight space between two of them. Once past there the water changed from an uncertain dark brownish blue to flying fish blue and it was the open Pacific.
Ana Tijoux is what I’ve been listening to lately. I wish I’ll have the opportunity to see her live one day. I definitely don’t know the lyrics as a native speaker would, but it’s good anyway. It’s been a crazy three weeks in this city taking classes and exploring the city (the only bouldering gym in Costa Rica!) and getting to know some guanabana smoothies. Spring break begins this weekend. I am going to be in a tree this Saturday (Yes.) and then taking a long bus ride to Corcovado National Park for the week. I’ll post more nature things then, I promise.
I’m a guy, so I have no experiential insight to give with regard to the challenges women face in modern society. However, I have noticed a few shifts.
The movement of feminism has done some impressive things. First and foremost, it has caused women to actively shape and redefine the meaning of…
To digress from the usual. Because this is a post that has to be shared.