The Island

November 14th, Saturday, 04:00 hours. The radio starts and old classics pour from it in a scratchy voice of less than good inbuilt speakers. Time to wake up, or something like that. It's more a matter of "something like that" for me, as I can hardly detach myself from the warm blankets, the soft cushions and the sheets. Thursday my thesis mate received a call from our tutor telling her that there was a trip arranged to the Venado Island this Saturday, and that we should be at the University at 6 o'clock. After months and months waiting form the trip to be arranged, going once by our own device only to have a terribly disappointing experience, a trip out of the blue, arranged in two days was "strange" to say the least.

The plan was to go to the island and come back the same day. That was a bit strange for me, because the first time we went to the island we had to leave at 2 am to be at a small port at 6 am to leave on a fiber glass boat with there was still high tide.

Having been there once already, I prepared for myself a small backpack, my "goosegreen" Bruxelle bag with a tablette to write on for the surveys, two black pens, in case Milena forgets hers or her pen stops writing or something. It's good to be prepared. A pair of rubber flip flops that tie around the ankle with velcro strips, an extra shirt just in case, wallet, cellphone, PDA, the notebook where I collect all my notes on the thesis... well, some of them, sunblocking cream, asthma pump, chap stick, keys.

I took a cab to get there in time, and minutes after my thesis mate, Milena, was being dropped at the meeting place by her husband. Hell, I just don't get used to Milena being married, even though she has been married for years now, to someone like him. Older and not that handsome. The bus, and then the people from the Venado Island Project, with whom we were going to the island, started arriving half an hour later. That was a bit unsettling, since the more late they came, the later we would arrive to the island, and we had to take the tide in consideration to get there.

Finally the people was gathered, we dropped here and there to pick people, leave stuff, and then off to the road. Naturally stopped to have breakfast at a some place on the road, where everything is insanely expensive and yet cheap in quality, with nearly degased sodas, melted candy and typical breakfast options, none of which I really dig. After lagging too long, almost as if the team were on a pleasure trip, rather than a work one, we were all back in the bus, where people choose their seat lines to stretch out and sleep, while I quickly recorded in my notebook some of the comments from the sociologists coming with us.

Puente de la Amistad. The "Friendship Bridge", donated by the Government of Taiwan. It's strange to see such a modern structure in the middle of such a poor, rural place.

I didn't feel quite safe there talking to Milena about the thesis and our tutor, telling her about my doubts, so we remained in silence. Milena drifted off to sleep and I watched her, smiling, because she looks quite child-like, almost like an angel, and then took a picture or two while entertaining myself with playing up stories in my head, many of them stories I sat down to write a long time ago, but either never finished.

Topoyo, our sailor, and Rainer, Oscar's (the head of the tour)... mignon? This is when we are leaving La Penca, the port on dry land.

Oscar, the tour organizer, and who will be the woman in Swatch cap and Swatch watch? Of course, me.
Milena, my thesis mate and... "I should know her name". She teaches the people of the island, mostly women and kids, how to do different artisan things, such as sandals and jewelry.

Neither the trip nor the arrival were anything like what we had expected. If I suspected that it was a ruse from our tutor to trample our efforts, now I was certain. With no plan, no aid, only the transportation to the island, Mile and I had to find our way and start finding fishermen to fill surveys. We made eight from the 59 we need to do. However, this time around, the fishermen were easier on us than the last time. They were more willing to talk to us and be interviewed. Though we spent all morning travelling, and then had little time to go look for fishermen, we didn't get half as tired as last time. We were also better prepared, and could get some additional information here and there about the island and what it's like to live there.

Fisherman's home in the island, quite close to a swampy area.

When they are not fishing, due to prohibition, fishermen find very creative ways to use their nets. I liked this one.
The island from the boat. An inhabited part, which is not that much common.

I was telling a penpal of mine the other day about what's like to live there and be a fisherman. Life there is, indeed very simple. It amazes me how my tutor and Oscar, the tour head, say that they live well and make amazing amounts of money, when you walk around and you can't see a single well built house anywhere. I'd be amazed if I were to find a single house in the island with a ceiling. They all dress simply, walking around the island in flip flops or bare feet. There are no streets, maybe only one, but no cars, except one or two belonging to a few richer fishermen, who now make money out of plucking it from the poorer ones.

I started this thesis theme not believing in it, agreeing to it because it was imposed and I thought it would be a fast way out, but it proved to be quite long. I had an encounter so bitter, I've got to hate them, and wished to finish soon with the topic and move on, get my title paper, pay my dues and fly home to Hungary. But after yesterday's visit, even after getting home at 10 pm, in a small bus filled with people from our University, with a flirty theater guy, a dancer, a woman who makes jewelry and looks like a hippy, her hot, muscly boyfriend and an array of very fac-looking guys, nerdy, lanky and uninterested in being manly, I was filled with hope. There's still something we can do with the island, there's a spark of hope, and I would like to pursue it.