Over the course of our stay in Manu our truly wonderful guides, Jose and Enrique, took us on:
* An introductory basic loop hike.
* A night hike.
* A raft tour of a huge Oxbow Lake.
* A canopy lookout 120 feet above ground in one of the countless gargantuan trees.
* A viewing of a Macaw claylick.
* A nightime viewing of a Tapir claylick followed by a night hike back to the lodge.
Dear god... I was once again unprepared for the stupendous quality of this experience. There was just so much to see and hear and smell and learn, it was almost overwhelming in its majesty!
The Intro Hike: While botany was an ever-present quality of Manu`s unofficial curriculum, this first hike was definitely the one most focused on it. Ye gods I completely understand Dr. Meloche`s fascination with plants now. There were so many incredible adaptations to life in the rainforest. First of all, the root systems of Amazonian flora are very wide and close to the surface as opposed to deeper and closer (radially) to the organism. This is because there is water in abundance in the rainforest, so unlike other species elsewhere in the world water is not the primary limiting resource and they don't have to send their roots as far down in search of it. Rather, they need nutrients! The surface soil of the rainforest is generally rich in nutrients due to the constant decomposition of organic matter (fungus and other decomposers are crucial in this, and really any, ecosystem). However, it is a shallowness of nutrients. Going straight down in Amazonian soil one will quickly hit sand, then clay, then bedrock. So, again, it makes sense for roots to spread out in all directions neat the surface then drill doggedly down.
As you may have heard, competition among plants in the jungle for sunlight is intense! The race to the canopy is vicious, with some small fraction of sunlight ever actually hitting the forest floor (while hiking it seems like night sets in hours before the sun actually sets). As such some truly remarkable and fascinating adaptations have evolved within this cutthroat environment. There are too many to divulge about here, so I will instead focus on the two most startling, unique, and to me just plain cool examples we came across.
First, there was the Strangling Fig tree, an awe-inspiring parastic plant. Parasitic may in fact be too misleading a word for this organism; I am more prone to consider it a carnivorous, preadatory angiosperm the likes of which would shame the more well-known Venus Fly Trap. This arboricidal creature first takes root at the very top of a host tree. From there it will start to send probing, creeping, almost vine-like extensions down the host tree until they eventually reach the ground and take root. In this seemingly backwards manner of growth it will, over several years, completely encase the host tree and leech nutrient from it; eventually killing, decomposing, and completely consimuning it. The end result is that the Strangling Fig becomes a massive, fully grown tree with ample access to canopy sunlight and soil nutrients (at which point of course the mature organism can get whatever it needs in a more traditional manner), which is completely hollow, consisting instead of a ring of tracheated stems. A fully-grown Strangling Fig with its host long-since digested will immediately jump out as a tree among the forest and beg investigation. Our group of course explored its inner cavity, discovering in the process that it creates new habitat for a variety of animal species, such as nesting bats. A final point of note about this organism is that Strangling Figs do not attack each other, you will never find one Strangling Fig consuming another.
Secondly, there was the Walking Palm. I still can't get over this remarkable fellow! A great many trees in the rainforest (as well as swamps, marshes, or anywhere where the substrate they grow in is exceptionally hydrated) have at their base a very broad, almost pyramidal root morphology which acts to stabilize the organism within its precarious position. Some trees, like the Penis Tree, will grow first from a stabilizing central root stem and then send out ancillary root shoots (which look extremely phallic) at triangular atragectories from their trunks which once submerged in soil will then create more stability as well as focus on nutrient extraction. The Walking Palm exhibits an extremely wonderous variation of this adaptation which demands a student's awe. As I have mentioned, competition for sunlight is highly intense in the rainforest. If the Walking Palm has taken root and grown up in a position with little or insufficient sunlight, or if it had enough sunlight but is now being denied full access because something taller grew up around it, the tree will, in all seriousness, start growing root shoots out in a particular direction (likely the one where it still recieves the most sunlight); they will take root and it will then detach from roots on the opposite end which were anchoring it to its previous pocation. Over a handful of years this palm tree can literally walk to a more advantageous position! It was inarguably one of the most spectacular things I have ever beheld and learned about (and of course, the obligate nerd in me immediatley thought of Treebeard and the Ents from Lord of the Rings =D).
There were countless more noteworthy exemplars of ingenious adaptation, the rainforest is truly the manifestation of a botanist's most private imaginations. For now however, we must move on to...
The Night Hike: If a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to hear it, does it still make a sound? This question is of course silly, and a good example of philosophers thinking themselves into inescabale Descartian bondages. We however were there to hear it, and it did make quite the sound! The night hike, intended to appreciate the diversity of nocturnal jungle stalkers (mostly invertebrate), began with a bang, or rather a crash. As we tramped down one of the few well-worn paths in this enivron, just after crossing our first bridge, an ominous crashing sound reverberated from the front of our line as a massive tree smashed smack-dab across our trail, mere feet in front of our guide, Enrique. It was quite the exhilerating start!
What followed was an exciting menagerie of nearly every cool critter which can fit in the palm of your hand imaginable. The only absentees were tarantulas =( and reptiles (though a very rare yellow-footed tortoise had been stumbled upon earlier during the day there were unfortunately no fer-de-lances or bushmasters to be found on this year's journey). Animal life abounded though. Every ten feet it seemed we found a massive, 2-inch legspan hunting wolf spider. Whispy moths fluttered everywhere and many different kinds of frogs were discovered underfoot. Remarkebale among the amphibians were one small species which gave the appearance of its entire body being just a big head, laying perfectly camoflauged among decomposing leaves. Then there was a great fat cane toad, of the same genus as the ones which were introduced with such disastrous effects in Australia, willing to eat anything it could fit in its mouth. Also, in accordance with the Jurassic Parky theme I have imposed upon this adventure, it was one of the types of toad spoken of by Dr. Allen Grant which has the ability to spontaneously change sex when there are no or not enough individuals of the opposite sex within a particular breeding range.
A 4-6 inch platyhelminthes, or flat worm, sporting a ribbon of purple coloration on its dorsal side was seen forging a slimy track across the trail. Spit-Bug nymphs metamorphosizing within their frothy cocoons could be found, as well as a sizeable Griffin Moth caterpellar. Rivers of nomadic army ants bustled through our path here and there (did you know that ALL army ant species are nomadic? There is some cool info on this phenomenon coming up in the journey to the Tapir Lick). Then there was the tree where we found both a small black scorpion hunting as well as a massive crab-like arthropod as big as your hand scurrying. This second one was a Tailless Whip Scorpion, and truly looked as if it belonged in some Primeval Silurian clime.
The coolest critter by far however was the Social Spider. We saw these frequently on the day hike, but it is more appropriate to mention them here. This particular breed of spider, otherwise rather small and unremarkable, exhibits the most stupendous cooperative social behavior, which is almost unbelievable because spiders as a rule are very solitary animals, only ever coming together (briefly) to mate. These guys however, are members of the same family who all construct a large matrice of spectral silk which varies in size based on the size of the colony (some of the largest ones create webs several meteres in diameter). Everywhere you look you see tiny earth-orange abdomens skittering about in a bustle, hapless hexapods harnessed everywhere (our guide has even seen hummingbirds trapped and dead in these webs, though the spiders don't eat them). A mating pair will establish a new colony, laying a typically large batch of eggs. However, instead of dispersing like most spiderlings do this species sticks together and creates a familial network which works together to construct and maintain the webbed scaffolding of their home and to share prey amongst themselves. They are not like ants or bees in that there is a queen individual and a regimented caste system which operates based on some kind of hive-mind; this is much more individualistic. The smaller webs will have dozens of spiders, and the larger ones can easily support a hundred or more of these fascinating organisms. It is especially hair-raising to shine your flashlight on one of the webs at night and see a see a mosaic of tiny green eyes reflecting back at you.
Alas, I must leave you waiting for the thrilling conclusion of Manu as it is late and I must get packed, we leave for the Galapagos Archipelago from Quito here tomorrow morning! I do not know if there will be any more internet for the remainder of the trip. If not, I will fill this thing out the moment I return. Hopefully there will be something though, we will see.
Friday, May 15, 2009
The Amazon Basin - Manu
So I have just returned from a 4 day stint in the middle of the most remarkable landscape I have ever had the privelage of beholding.
We began by boarding a tiny propellar plane at the Cusco airport (of course, being the flagrant nerd that I am I was listening to the Indiana Jones and Jurassic Park themes the whole time, that really helps get an already pumped fellow even more excited). What followed was the shortest and most breathtaking flight I have ever been on. It was only 45 minutes, but as soon as we passed over the Andes mountains we were greeted by this... staggering expanse of rainforest that stretched well beyond the visible horizon. There was just SO much biomass! I have never seen so many trees! We were literally flying over nothing but dense jungle, occasionally crisscrossed by veins of Amazonian tributary, for half an hour, and when we finally landed on the grassy airstrip there was still an unfathomable expanse lying ahead. It really did my heart good to see so much pure and uninterrupted wilderness.
And that was just the beginning.
Manu is actually a massive swath of private property set aside specifically for conservation. You need permission to enter the actual Manu preserve. Though our lodge is called and associated with Manu, it really rests in a large buffer zone between unprotected rainforest and the Manu site. Could have fooled me though. This place was breathtaking. The rainforest is simply indescribable. No matter how eloquently I craft my descriptive portrait, no matter how many pictures and videos I upload when I get back (and there will be many, rest assured), you just are not going to be able to appreciate it as it should be. There is no way to convert this sensation to binary code.
So, back to the narrative: After landing we hopped on a small motor-boat and began an hour and a half aquatic sojourn to the lodge. The river we traversed was absolutely massive, and yet it is a mere tributary of the Amazon River! Lined on both sides by uncannily swift-growing vegetation that at less than a year old (regular floods obliterate most waterside flora, which returns immediately via opportunistic pioneer species) was already a solid 15-20 foot tall wall of palm and chloroplast, the river wound and weaved, snaked and forked, throughout the landscape like a colossal hydra. That`s one of the remarkable things about this place, the landscape is constantly, kaleidoscopically, rearranging itself. The floods are always opening up entire new pathways that didn`t exist before and shifting in other parts to cut off portions, forming massive oxbow lakes.
Manu is home to some 1700 of the 1800 species of bird which can be found in Peru; their website boasts that an entire 9th of all avian species the world over can be found here, a factoid which I was loathe to disbelieve as we sailed away on this Ornonoco flow. Everywhere you looked you saw birds. Macaws, parrots, and parakeets flying overhead, turkey and black vultures circling patiently here and there. Kingfishers and who knows what others darting every which way along the water, skimming the surface and keeping pace with the boat, all manner of heron, crane and spoonbill dotting the shores... who said the dinosaurs went extinct?
Finally we arrived at the lodge, a picturesque escape free of electricity sewn delicately into the jungle. My very first stroll around the compound yielded an exciting sneak-peek of what was in store: Countless flowers in the richest, deepest, most vibrant hues all fit for paradise, massive 2 and a half foot lizards scurrying into the underbrush, frogs hopping away upon my approach, a hummingbird buzzing to and fro, a penis tree (more on that fellow in a bit), a 3-4 inch black scorpion sleeping on top of a broad leaf at eye-level, the most remarkable fungal growths, a tiny lizard welcoming me to the steps of my cabin (I was in Jaguar cabin), butterflies everywhere representing every stage of the visible light spectrum (including an enormous and striking blue variety), and so many other insects of the most remarkable shapes and sizes; my jaw dropped when we discovered a titanic locust that was literally 5-6 inches long, it was one of the coolest things I`d ever seen, I must`ve snapped about 25 pictures of that one guy alone.
And then came time to depart for our first hike.
I must away for now. Manu: Part 2 will follow soon, I promise.
We began by boarding a tiny propellar plane at the Cusco airport (of course, being the flagrant nerd that I am I was listening to the Indiana Jones and Jurassic Park themes the whole time, that really helps get an already pumped fellow even more excited). What followed was the shortest and most breathtaking flight I have ever been on. It was only 45 minutes, but as soon as we passed over the Andes mountains we were greeted by this... staggering expanse of rainforest that stretched well beyond the visible horizon. There was just SO much biomass! I have never seen so many trees! We were literally flying over nothing but dense jungle, occasionally crisscrossed by veins of Amazonian tributary, for half an hour, and when we finally landed on the grassy airstrip there was still an unfathomable expanse lying ahead. It really did my heart good to see so much pure and uninterrupted wilderness.
And that was just the beginning.
Manu is actually a massive swath of private property set aside specifically for conservation. You need permission to enter the actual Manu preserve. Though our lodge is called and associated with Manu, it really rests in a large buffer zone between unprotected rainforest and the Manu site. Could have fooled me though. This place was breathtaking. The rainforest is simply indescribable. No matter how eloquently I craft my descriptive portrait, no matter how many pictures and videos I upload when I get back (and there will be many, rest assured), you just are not going to be able to appreciate it as it should be. There is no way to convert this sensation to binary code.
So, back to the narrative: After landing we hopped on a small motor-boat and began an hour and a half aquatic sojourn to the lodge. The river we traversed was absolutely massive, and yet it is a mere tributary of the Amazon River! Lined on both sides by uncannily swift-growing vegetation that at less than a year old (regular floods obliterate most waterside flora, which returns immediately via opportunistic pioneer species) was already a solid 15-20 foot tall wall of palm and chloroplast, the river wound and weaved, snaked and forked, throughout the landscape like a colossal hydra. That`s one of the remarkable things about this place, the landscape is constantly, kaleidoscopically, rearranging itself. The floods are always opening up entire new pathways that didn`t exist before and shifting in other parts to cut off portions, forming massive oxbow lakes.
Manu is home to some 1700 of the 1800 species of bird which can be found in Peru; their website boasts that an entire 9th of all avian species the world over can be found here, a factoid which I was loathe to disbelieve as we sailed away on this Ornonoco flow. Everywhere you looked you saw birds. Macaws, parrots, and parakeets flying overhead, turkey and black vultures circling patiently here and there. Kingfishers and who knows what others darting every which way along the water, skimming the surface and keeping pace with the boat, all manner of heron, crane and spoonbill dotting the shores... who said the dinosaurs went extinct?
Finally we arrived at the lodge, a picturesque escape free of electricity sewn delicately into the jungle. My very first stroll around the compound yielded an exciting sneak-peek of what was in store: Countless flowers in the richest, deepest, most vibrant hues all fit for paradise, massive 2 and a half foot lizards scurrying into the underbrush, frogs hopping away upon my approach, a hummingbird buzzing to and fro, a penis tree (more on that fellow in a bit), a 3-4 inch black scorpion sleeping on top of a broad leaf at eye-level, the most remarkable fungal growths, a tiny lizard welcoming me to the steps of my cabin (I was in Jaguar cabin), butterflies everywhere representing every stage of the visible light spectrum (including an enormous and striking blue variety), and so many other insects of the most remarkable shapes and sizes; my jaw dropped when we discovered a titanic locust that was literally 5-6 inches long, it was one of the coolest things I`d ever seen, I must`ve snapped about 25 pictures of that one guy alone.
And then came time to depart for our first hike.
I must away for now. Manu: Part 2 will follow soon, I promise.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Machu Picchu
Lima was fun. Cusco is impressive. But Machu Picchu... That old mountain... I had seen all the pictures, I had done my homework on the Inca Empire and its brief but extraordinary gasp, I had come prepared to be impressed. In a sense, if the cliche can be forgiven, it was nothing at all like I expected; both in a marvelous way and a somber one.
Rushed as we were we did not get to see everything (It is worth noting that you really have no impression of the size & scope of this thing until you're standing in it. Even gazing upon its terraced contour from the entrance surrenders no appreciable conception.). What we did see though staggered the senses unapologetically. Today I have had my first exhilarating flirtation with a truly ancient people and their knowledge. Today I walked in awe among the shades of half a millennium past. Today I touched with disbelieving hands stones polished and placed by Inca (Quechua?) hands over 500 years ago. If one has nurtured their imagination to any kind of extent it is not difficult to be enchanted by the sight of over 600 Inca citizens bustling about this mountaintop citadel tending the irrigated crops (some of the irrigation is still functioning today!), trading in the central courtyard, working the granite quarry, and observing the rituals and duties required by the temples.
Oh my goodness the temples... These were by far the most impressive part. The religious caste (class? not sure if the Inca were a Caste or Class society) seemed to have controlled the majority of the culture's knowledge, as it seems is the case with all ancient peoples. Even after the erosive caress of 5 centuries and the looting by Hiram Bingham this knowledge offered countless tantalizing crumbs hidden in plain sight. I think that as one so accustomed to the ink-stained footprints of knowledge I was not expecting so much, so many clues, to be so artfully worked into the very foundations of this place (which in retrospect makes perfect sense, considering they did not even possess a system of written language). Today saw my first humbling, true lesson in the archaeological aspects of my life's ambitions. Every temple reminded me in their stoic vigil how unobservant I really am.
Our guide, Martha Bustamante, was wonderful. I peppered her with volley after volley of eager questions about Machu Picchu and the Inca Empire. With a few notable exceptions she misunderstood every one and started telling me about something completely different (my monolingualism is a sore point of shame). However, she was invaluable to the experience, as it was she who pointed out the equinox-capturing windows at the first temple, the sacred numbering almost omnipresent throughout all the architecture, the shadow of the Andean Cross cast within the Room of 3 Windows, the inconspicuous sundial which Dr. Johan Reinhard also determined acted as a compass, pointing towards a specific sacred mountain in each cardinal direction, the stone with 36 corners and the ingenious acoustics within the sacrifice preparation chamber, the carefully thought-out purpose behind even a puddle of water at the top of the Temple of the Sun (not to mention the famous sun-stone itself), the remarkable topographical carving of the immediate area (Huanya Picchu, Machu Picchu, and the Urubamba river/valley), and then the Temple of the Condor, by far my favorite part of the whole complex. Condors were one of the 3 sacred animals enthroned upon a quarter of the Andean Cross, representing the (or a) connection to the realm of heaven and between the 3 primary realms of heaven, earth, and the spiritual path (if you're getting a sense that the Inca liked the number 3, you would not be wrong). This open-air temple had two of its walls carved straight out of the very form of the mountain, which Ms. Bustamante of course had to point out to me were in the shape of a condor's wings taking flight. The body was to found on the ground, carved with black stone (white for the downy collar feathers) to resemble a dorsal view of the massive raptor. Then there was the Temple of Water, again open air, with a pair of shallow stone bowls carved into the ground, representing dualism and through the reflections of their accumulated water the Inca studied the stars... I am told they created remarkably accurate astronomical charts and models of our galazy, something I'll have to look into.
As breathtaking as it all was... there was a subtle but unpleasant gravity to the experience. Ms. Bustamante mentioned her schooling a few times throughout the day. Curious, I asked what her focus had been. There was something quite disillusioning about hearing her reply: "Tourism". This one word, an otherwise harmless statement, was a heavy-handed reminder of the one ugly fact which had been coiled patiently near the back of my mind all day; the fact that despite my especial interest in and excitement over Machu Picchu, I was still just, as that little boy so insightfully informed me yesterday, a "no-good tourist". I'm not actively doing any good here. I'm not carrying out any legitimate research or conservation, no preservation and no restoration; I'm barely getting to use the excuse that it is academic and I am learning a substantial body of material. The reality of today was that I was that I was simply another face amongst a torrent of hundreds of thousands, beating down abrasively on this unique treasure with our boots and placing a pressure upon it which it cannot sustain.
I have a lot of work to do!
Rushed as we were we did not get to see everything (It is worth noting that you really have no impression of the size & scope of this thing until you're standing in it. Even gazing upon its terraced contour from the entrance surrenders no appreciable conception.). What we did see though staggered the senses unapologetically. Today I have had my first exhilarating flirtation with a truly ancient people and their knowledge. Today I walked in awe among the shades of half a millennium past. Today I touched with disbelieving hands stones polished and placed by Inca (Quechua?) hands over 500 years ago. If one has nurtured their imagination to any kind of extent it is not difficult to be enchanted by the sight of over 600 Inca citizens bustling about this mountaintop citadel tending the irrigated crops (some of the irrigation is still functioning today!), trading in the central courtyard, working the granite quarry, and observing the rituals and duties required by the temples.
Oh my goodness the temples... These were by far the most impressive part. The religious caste (class? not sure if the Inca were a Caste or Class society) seemed to have controlled the majority of the culture's knowledge, as it seems is the case with all ancient peoples. Even after the erosive caress of 5 centuries and the looting by Hiram Bingham this knowledge offered countless tantalizing crumbs hidden in plain sight. I think that as one so accustomed to the ink-stained footprints of knowledge I was not expecting so much, so many clues, to be so artfully worked into the very foundations of this place (which in retrospect makes perfect sense, considering they did not even possess a system of written language). Today saw my first humbling, true lesson in the archaeological aspects of my life's ambitions. Every temple reminded me in their stoic vigil how unobservant I really am.
Our guide, Martha Bustamante, was wonderful. I peppered her with volley after volley of eager questions about Machu Picchu and the Inca Empire. With a few notable exceptions she misunderstood every one and started telling me about something completely different (my monolingualism is a sore point of shame). However, she was invaluable to the experience, as it was she who pointed out the equinox-capturing windows at the first temple, the sacred numbering almost omnipresent throughout all the architecture, the shadow of the Andean Cross cast within the Room of 3 Windows, the inconspicuous sundial which Dr. Johan Reinhard also determined acted as a compass, pointing towards a specific sacred mountain in each cardinal direction, the stone with 36 corners and the ingenious acoustics within the sacrifice preparation chamber, the carefully thought-out purpose behind even a puddle of water at the top of the Temple of the Sun (not to mention the famous sun-stone itself), the remarkable topographical carving of the immediate area (Huanya Picchu, Machu Picchu, and the Urubamba river/valley), and then the Temple of the Condor, by far my favorite part of the whole complex. Condors were one of the 3 sacred animals enthroned upon a quarter of the Andean Cross, representing the (or a) connection to the realm of heaven and between the 3 primary realms of heaven, earth, and the spiritual path (if you're getting a sense that the Inca liked the number 3, you would not be wrong). This open-air temple had two of its walls carved straight out of the very form of the mountain, which Ms. Bustamante of course had to point out to me were in the shape of a condor's wings taking flight. The body was to found on the ground, carved with black stone (white for the downy collar feathers) to resemble a dorsal view of the massive raptor. Then there was the Temple of Water, again open air, with a pair of shallow stone bowls carved into the ground, representing dualism and through the reflections of their accumulated water the Inca studied the stars... I am told they created remarkably accurate astronomical charts and models of our galazy, something I'll have to look into.
As breathtaking as it all was... there was a subtle but unpleasant gravity to the experience. Ms. Bustamante mentioned her schooling a few times throughout the day. Curious, I asked what her focus had been. There was something quite disillusioning about hearing her reply: "Tourism". This one word, an otherwise harmless statement, was a heavy-handed reminder of the one ugly fact which had been coiled patiently near the back of my mind all day; the fact that despite my especial interest in and excitement over Machu Picchu, I was still just, as that little boy so insightfully informed me yesterday, a "no-good tourist". I'm not actively doing any good here. I'm not carrying out any legitimate research or conservation, no preservation and no restoration; I'm barely getting to use the excuse that it is academic and I am learning a substantial body of material. The reality of today was that I was that I was simply another face amongst a torrent of hundreds of thousands, beating down abrasively on this unique treasure with our boots and placing a pressure upon it which it cannot sustain.
I have a lot of work to do!
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
To Peru, in search of Ithaca
Departure draws breathlessly near... Already I can almost make out the majestic Andes (ye gods of old Antisuyu), the barren Atacama Desert (the driest place on Earth), and the lush rain forest of Manu's pristine wildlife reserve. Soon the fog of imagination will finally yield to the the warm glow of experience!
As I anxiously brush my finals under the table I am constantly reminded of a certain poem my father introduced to me earlier this year (credit of the late, talented Greek poet C.P. Cavafy). I keep thinking that this is what I want to be going through my head as the airplane takes off and as it draws within sight of Peru.
As excited as I am for this class, there is something bittersweet and poignant about this piece which rarely fails to precipitate upon my cheeks...
Ithaca:
As you set out for Ithaca
hope that your journey is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians and Cyclops,
angry Poseidon-don't be afraid of them:
you'll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep you thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare sensation
touches your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians and Cyclops,
wild Poseidon-you won't encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.
Hope that your journey is a long one.
May there be many summer mornings when, with what pleasure, what joy,
you come into harbors you're seeing for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfume of every kind-
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to learn and learn again from those who know.
Keep Ithaca always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you're destined for.
But don't hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so that you're old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you've gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaca to make you rich.
Ithaca gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you would not have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.
And if you find her poor, Ithaca won't have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you'll have understood by then what these Ithacas mean.
- C.P. Cavafy
As I anxiously brush my finals under the table I am constantly reminded of a certain poem my father introduced to me earlier this year (credit of the late, talented Greek poet C.P. Cavafy). I keep thinking that this is what I want to be going through my head as the airplane takes off and as it draws within sight of Peru.
As excited as I am for this class, there is something bittersweet and poignant about this piece which rarely fails to precipitate upon my cheeks...
Ithaca:
As you set out for Ithaca
hope that your journey is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians and Cyclops,
angry Poseidon-don't be afraid of them:
you'll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep you thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare sensation
touches your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians and Cyclops,
wild Poseidon-you won't encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.
Hope that your journey is a long one.
May there be many summer mornings when, with what pleasure, what joy,
you come into harbors you're seeing for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfume of every kind-
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to learn and learn again from those who know.
Keep Ithaca always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you're destined for.
But don't hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so that you're old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you've gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaca to make you rich.
Ithaca gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you would not have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.
And if you find her poor, Ithaca won't have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you'll have understood by then what these Ithacas mean.
- C.P. Cavafy
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