After a while, you get used to a routine. This occurs every day and under several circumstances so I'll trust you enough to know what I mean. Once you get into a system where you are expected to be in certain places at certain times you get comfortable within your routine. I find this kind of comfortable uncomfortable. I'm afraid I can get bored easily. I like new things going on all the time. I have been compared to having the attention span of a Labrador. So even though its the best day of my week and pretty much the most exciting thing going on in my life, I did begin to find my day at the Aquarium long and... predictable. So I began to look about for some new mischief to get into. I found it.
After a certain amount of training and after gaining basic knowledge about the animals, its possible for a volunteer to help take out whale watching boats. Now, its a bit of an understatement to say that I love whales. When I was eleven and cds became popular and all the other girls my age were into N*Sync and that kind of thing, my first cd ever was recorded whale noises. I have some of them memorized (for the record I still have the cd and its now on my ipod. Sometimes when I need to get to sleep I play them still). To avoid senior thesis work this year I embroidered a humpback on my rain jacket. The very mention of whale biology gets me wiggling with excitement.
So I signed up.
The day arrived and I was fussier than usual. I was antsy during the rest of the aquarium routine and practically ingested my food whole. When it was time to go I had to carry out the bag of Education Materials. Essentially a guidebook of whales, fun facts, a few bones, and some toy models. We got to board the boat early and I scampered around making friends with the crew before we opened it to the public to board. Off we went- it was sunny and sparkly on the water. I was the assistant Educator, so my specific job was to answer any questions people might have, but more importantly, it was my job to find the whales. The head Educator was responsible for talking on the microphone. She informed everyone of what we were looking for, and reminded them that we cannot know for sure where whales are along our coastline. We can only guess, so please ladies and gentleman, think of this as a fun boat ride, and if we get to see a whale (A whale) it will be a special privilege and we'll all be excited.
We saw seven.
We were admiring a buoy covered in fat sea lions when a radio call from a ship on the horizon told us to head east. We came about and headed into the wind, choppy waves causing the boat to rock around and increase excitement on board. I was up in the high part outside of where the captain sits (my nautical vocabulary is stunning I know) scanning the horizon. The wind was whipping and my hair was flying into my eyes. Then, there it was! My hand flew out before my head could construct a word to use instead. Instantly I felt the captain shift the boat onto the direction I had pointed. I had seen a far away plume of water sprayed from a blowhole.
Fin whale, I would learn later. I concentrated on the area, squinting against the sunlight on the water and continuously changing the direction of my arm to keep the captain on course. I distantly heard the head Educator describing the characteristics of fin whales but I was too excited to listen, or think much at all. We arrived as the whale had descended. We turned off the engine and sat in relative silence. I had a great view from my perch, and I almost felt nervous as I looked around tentatively for a sign of our leviathan friend. I was looking starboard when I heard a spout from port. I whipped around in time to see a graceful curving back and a beautiful dorsal fin slipping under. Fin whales are the second largest species of whale and the second largest animal on earth. They are so long that when diving their tails or flukes are rarely seen. They don't need the leverage to dive by moving their tail high- they just put their head down and they're already there. The spout I heard was the sound of a whale breathing. Its a release of carbon dioxide and excess water and an intake of breath so deep you get a sense of its size just listening to how long the air takes to fill the lungs. Its the most incredible noise.
All of a sudden we heard it again- coming from ahead. The Educator came over the microphone exclaiming "Two! Ladies and gentlemen we are in the presence of TWO fin whales right now." They would rise and sink together in unison, and we watched them in silence (save for the occasional gasp of amazement) for about fifteen minutes. Then the captain pointed north and wordlessly mouthed the word "Look." Two more dorsal fins arced gracefully to the other side of the first two. Four fin whales. About 60 tons each, approximately 180 feet long. My heart ached. The radio crackled- a fishing vessel closer to shore had a sighting too. It was getting time to return, so we left the fin whales in hope to catch the others on our way back. As we turned to leave, an enormous whoosh of air caused me to turn around in time to see the entire body of a whale come to the surface and roll. All 108 feet of her. She turned her pale stomach to the sky (we also observed she was a she).
We buzzed inland and soon had a sighting of the fishing vessel. We radioed them again and they said that two whales, Grays, has fluked (tails out of the water) minutes before. We drove in closer but there was no sign. Finally the fishing boat radioed in again and yelled "Stop! stop you're right in front of them!" We halted and cut the engine. Floated for a while in silence, and this time both blowholes breathed at the same time on either side of us.
He came up right alongside the boat, only he was much longer. A giant blue gray beauty. Head tilted to one side and pectoral fin brushing the surface. I got to look him in the eye. One long look. What amazing things do they know? I wondered. Then an enormous sigh to fill his lungs and he was gone, an enormous fluke in the air to guide him downward (grays are smaller than fins and need the leverage to dive). I yelled in joy. I couldn't help it... it was too amazing not too. Many other people did too.
The ride back was a hum of activity. Everyone wanted to know where they came from, where were they going, what do they eat how fast do they swim, everything. I used the models and the guide book to describe some of the behaviors we saw. I had reached this state of euphoric calm.
For the next three days afterward I was mentally elsewhere. There is something about being the presence of a creature so great and ancient and unknown that made my everyday routine seem so arbitrary. I kept thinking about that long look that the gray whale took of us. What did he think?
I happily went back to the aquarium routine twice. I needed a break from all that excitement, and couldn't push my luck with the education department right away. But I'm going again for sure. Tomorrow. More deep breathing.
Did you know: Fin whales have a two toned underside. Black and white, same sides on each whale. No one knows why.
Did you know: You can tell if a gray whale is right handed or left handed by its baleen. The side they use most is worn down more from scraping against the ocean floor for crustaceans.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
I love Fridays
So I lead a really good academic life... I am challenged enough in my classes that I feel like I am learning many things, and not too challenged, so I often feel accomplished and pleased with what I do. My social life is a little less productive. I am lucky to have lots of really wonderful friends; college is perhaps the only time in your life when twenty people you really enjoy are just a phone call and five minute walk away. I admit I've been less proactive about leading a bustling social life this year (so far! I have made some resolutions for the new year that I intend to keep!) and part of that is because I often just don't feel like the typical college social scene. Don't get me wrong, I love dancing and carrying on with friends. Bars with dance floors are pretty much the best things ever, but the idea of going to a college party, where song lyrics tend to include "Up in the club with all dem bitches," drinking some combination of a colorful drink for children and something that smells like it came from a hospital, and rubbing up against some stranger I might have sat by in Spanish class sophomore year have entirely lost its appeal. Any college student can tell you that driving somewhere to go out is simply something that cannot be funded on a regular basis. As a result, my college life is pretty mild and uninteresting. Any good college stories I accumulate through the week are lived by others.
In short, I live for Fridays.
I get very antsy on Thursday evening. After stealing something to eat the next day for lunch that night at dinner (its amazing what you can carry out of a dining hall in a 12 oz paper coffee cup! I once managed two healthy sized pieces of pizza!) I try and get to bed early, but my sleep is always restless because I am so afraid of sleeping through my alarm. Its set to go off at 6, but by 5:30 I can't take it anymore so I'm up. I shower, put on my uniform, eat a big breakfast, and make the long and quiet drive to the coast. Its quiet, because its morning, and even if you are in the middle of Times Square things still manage to be less noisy in the morning. Its long, because I am on the road with what seems like every other member of the LA County, and the traffic is truly bad. Even at seven am. But at least its quiet.
I show my badge in the Aquarium parking garage, and am let in. I park in the same place every day. I hop down the stairs to the bottom floor. Sometimes the speakers are turned on by then and hear salutations by recorded noises of water splashing, seals barking, whales humming, or David Attenbourough's grandfatherly voice describing the wonders beneath the sea. I slide my badge in the side staff door and am let in, feeling increasingly smug every time I do it. By the time I am within the Aquarium's main hall, I am practically skipping. I arrive with several other Education Interpreters at 9. The staff members: aquarists, biologists, trainers, have been there for hours already. Everyone is getting their breakfast at this point. By everyone I mean the animals. As soon as I get inside, the noises are no longer recorded. There is the spray sound of the hoses outside. Sea lions and seals are barking their way through breakfast. Diving birds and sea birds are calling in turns, and are answered by the lorikeets. The otters gurgle happily to themselves, and even the rays find ways to make noise by smacking their fins against the sides of their exhibits. All the while there is the steady background noise of the bay outside. By now I am sure I can power a small city with the energy of my enthusiasm.
The volunteers meet in a classroom for Morning Update. Sometimes we try out a new game for school groups, pairing the names and adaptations of unusual sea creatures with their pictures, or drawing our own. Sometimes we are sent footage by nature shows highlighting a creature or showing something never before caught on footage. We are also given out schedules, and then its time to start. By then the public is let in, and I wade through families and school groups to each of my posts, where I can usually stand behind or climb something to be out of the way and in control at the same time. I answer hundreds of questions every day. Every day, the number of times I have to say "You know, I'm afraid I don't know the answer to that" is fewer and fewer. Every day there are amazing moments, where I witness someone falling in love with part of the natural world, or that "Aha!" moment when someone learns something incredible. Every day there are horrifying moments, like when a child physically grabbed an anemone and tried to squish it with his fingers (parent came and took care of the child, I took care of the anemone, both were fine, though my heart is still recovering) or when a bat ray gets stranded on the ledge around their tank (they're curious little guys and often try and swim over the ledge). Every day I am learning too; about the species of animals in the aquarium, about the animals as individuals, and about how to share with the people who visit. Break time is spent in the Staff Library rather than the dining hall (though I'll make a visit there for a cup of water, whatever thing I managed to swipe from the dining hall the night before, a brief visit with Aquarium people friends, and always to affectionately pat the 'Toyon Bay' marking on the map of Catalina Island). And then out I go again. Often I am never at the same station twice, but sometimes I am. Sometimes I am running from one place to another, often I am giving directions to restrooms, answering when the sea lion show will start (always the same answer; this is an Aquarium. Not a theme park. Our animals aren't forced to do petty tricks for food. But they'll be fed in half an hour!), helping to find lost parents or children. Somehow or another, five hours passes, though I truly have no idea how it goes by so fast. All of a sudden its 2, and my work day is over. I go into the locker room and quietly get my bag and change out of my uniform shirt. Then I take another hour and visit some friends. This hour goes by more slowly, because the time is my own. As soon as the uniform is off, the afternoon seems to get quiet again. I go and watch the otters. They are playful and graceful, with thick, slicked back fur and black intelligent eyes. They are also all very beautiful, silver and brown, except for Sunshine, who is kind of yellow and has a plain face. She is my favorite. I say hi, and then its time to go.
The traffic is even worse on the way back. I always end up imagining the cars as different sea creatures. The smaller colorful fish- like cars darting around the slow whale- like semis. I get back in time for dinner, and this time I am the one with the stories to tell about what happened today. Then, even though its Friday and the College Weekend has begun, I spend a quiet night in my room because I am so damn tired, and go to bed around ten with thumping "Up in the cluuub seexy biiitcheeees!" pounding the windows from outside. Maybe I'll go out tomorrow night. Maybe. Its loud outside, but my dreams are dark and quiet, occasionally bits of color dart through my head, large shadows hum overhead, and there is that ever present noise of the ocean.
In short, I live for Fridays.
I get very antsy on Thursday evening. After stealing something to eat the next day for lunch that night at dinner (its amazing what you can carry out of a dining hall in a 12 oz paper coffee cup! I once managed two healthy sized pieces of pizza!) I try and get to bed early, but my sleep is always restless because I am so afraid of sleeping through my alarm. Its set to go off at 6, but by 5:30 I can't take it anymore so I'm up. I shower, put on my uniform, eat a big breakfast, and make the long and quiet drive to the coast. Its quiet, because its morning, and even if you are in the middle of Times Square things still manage to be less noisy in the morning. Its long, because I am on the road with what seems like every other member of the LA County, and the traffic is truly bad. Even at seven am. But at least its quiet.
I show my badge in the Aquarium parking garage, and am let in. I park in the same place every day. I hop down the stairs to the bottom floor. Sometimes the speakers are turned on by then and hear salutations by recorded noises of water splashing, seals barking, whales humming, or David Attenbourough's grandfatherly voice describing the wonders beneath the sea. I slide my badge in the side staff door and am let in, feeling increasingly smug every time I do it. By the time I am within the Aquarium's main hall, I am practically skipping. I arrive with several other Education Interpreters at 9. The staff members: aquarists, biologists, trainers, have been there for hours already. Everyone is getting their breakfast at this point. By everyone I mean the animals. As soon as I get inside, the noises are no longer recorded. There is the spray sound of the hoses outside. Sea lions and seals are barking their way through breakfast. Diving birds and sea birds are calling in turns, and are answered by the lorikeets. The otters gurgle happily to themselves, and even the rays find ways to make noise by smacking their fins against the sides of their exhibits. All the while there is the steady background noise of the bay outside. By now I am sure I can power a small city with the energy of my enthusiasm.
The volunteers meet in a classroom for Morning Update. Sometimes we try out a new game for school groups, pairing the names and adaptations of unusual sea creatures with their pictures, or drawing our own. Sometimes we are sent footage by nature shows highlighting a creature or showing something never before caught on footage. We are also given out schedules, and then its time to start. By then the public is let in, and I wade through families and school groups to each of my posts, where I can usually stand behind or climb something to be out of the way and in control at the same time. I answer hundreds of questions every day. Every day, the number of times I have to say "You know, I'm afraid I don't know the answer to that" is fewer and fewer. Every day there are amazing moments, where I witness someone falling in love with part of the natural world, or that "Aha!" moment when someone learns something incredible. Every day there are horrifying moments, like when a child physically grabbed an anemone and tried to squish it with his fingers (parent came and took care of the child, I took care of the anemone, both were fine, though my heart is still recovering) or when a bat ray gets stranded on the ledge around their tank (they're curious little guys and often try and swim over the ledge). Every day I am learning too; about the species of animals in the aquarium, about the animals as individuals, and about how to share with the people who visit. Break time is spent in the Staff Library rather than the dining hall (though I'll make a visit there for a cup of water, whatever thing I managed to swipe from the dining hall the night before, a brief visit with Aquarium people friends, and always to affectionately pat the 'Toyon Bay' marking on the map of Catalina Island). And then out I go again. Often I am never at the same station twice, but sometimes I am. Sometimes I am running from one place to another, often I am giving directions to restrooms, answering when the sea lion show will start (always the same answer; this is an Aquarium. Not a theme park. Our animals aren't forced to do petty tricks for food. But they'll be fed in half an hour!), helping to find lost parents or children. Somehow or another, five hours passes, though I truly have no idea how it goes by so fast. All of a sudden its 2, and my work day is over. I go into the locker room and quietly get my bag and change out of my uniform shirt. Then I take another hour and visit some friends. This hour goes by more slowly, because the time is my own. As soon as the uniform is off, the afternoon seems to get quiet again. I go and watch the otters. They are playful and graceful, with thick, slicked back fur and black intelligent eyes. They are also all very beautiful, silver and brown, except for Sunshine, who is kind of yellow and has a plain face. She is my favorite. I say hi, and then its time to go.
The traffic is even worse on the way back. I always end up imagining the cars as different sea creatures. The smaller colorful fish- like cars darting around the slow whale- like semis. I get back in time for dinner, and this time I am the one with the stories to tell about what happened today. Then, even though its Friday and the College Weekend has begun, I spend a quiet night in my room because I am so damn tired, and go to bed around ten with thumping "Up in the cluuub seexy biiitcheeees!" pounding the windows from outside. Maybe I'll go out tomorrow night. Maybe. Its loud outside, but my dreams are dark and quiet, occasionally bits of color dart through my head, large shadows hum overhead, and there is that ever present noise of the ocean.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Day 1
It happened! My first day as an official employee of the Aquarium! I arrived late (not my fault- just putting it out there now) and rushed out to the Morning Update all the floor staff members attend. The Morning Update consists of any news from the other departments (husbandry, management, special events, etc.) and features an Animal of the Day which the aquarium has been donated and either cannot have on display for one reason or another, or is brand new to the aquarium. This particular morning we met out by the Lorikeet Forest because it was such a nice day outside, and our Animal was a beautiful hawk which obviously could not be indoors. The bird had been donated to the Aquarium, which does have a terrestrial animal program (the lorikeets and wallabys are on display, several animals like the hawk are not because we don't have a place to put them. There is a large 'barn' on the aquarium grounds where the animals are kept and cared for, but isn't available for visitors). We also learned that the sponge display had been disassembled and that the halibut in the 'Sex Changing Fish' gallery don't actually change sex, we just needed a bottom feeder in the tank. So you know, basic stuff.
Then I got my uniform! Trotting nervously after the Day Captain, Steve, a man who manages to be several places at one time, we whisked around various back rooms so quickly the memory is a blur- the first stop was some back room where they took a terrible picture of me that got put on an official looking badge. I later learned that this badge is my key to the kingdom- it allows me access to any room, free parking, free admission, discounts in the store, and I must wear it at all times, even if I am visiting the aquarium on a day I am not working. I cannot help but feel particularly smug about this. We then found the name tag station, where there, etched into a beautiful magnetic piece of plastic, was my name and the title 'Exhibit Interpreter.' There were lots of other new volunteer badges on the board, and they all had really dopey looking ribbons attached that said 'Employee in Training.' By some divine providence I did not have one and Steve seemed particularly concerned about this because he was afraid I would get asked questions. I politely told him I was not worried about being asked questions, and would be happy to defer any I didn't know to the person I was going to shadow for the day. I took the job to be asked questions!!!! Remarkably enough the hardest question I was asked that day was where are the restrooms... I know marine organisms much better than the layout of the aquarium. Then I was whisked to another closet of an office where a bunch of ladies were sitting at computers among stacks and stacks of clothes. Finding my name on a list they held up various shirts to me with an alarming speed, and tried to sell me other pieces of clothing at the same time. I eventually just took one and ran out of the chaos, probably with more shirts being flung after me.
Steve waited outside as I assembled it all together. I had my 'stone' colored pants on already. The ladies locker room in the back garage has huge floor to ceiling mirrors, buckets of free tampons, and lockers for our extra junk. I put my things away and put on my uniform, clipped on my badge, attached my name tag, and pinned on my little shark pin that says 'commitment to service excellence' (you get rewarded for excellence by different animal pins. The shark is given to all new volunteers. The starfish is a pretty big deal, and I hope to get it someday!). Then I inspected myself in the mirror. Yes its cheesy and yes it sounds dopey, but it was a pretty incredible moment. I really liked what I saw. It fit, and I gave a silent nod to the small girl somewhere inside who touched a slick fish and dreamed of being a mermaid. I don't live in the ocean, and I don't have a tail, but I am now a teacher, and as such I am also a protector. That is good enough.
Breathless and ready to go- I met Jim, a kindly retired man I was supposed to shadow all day. Jim is friendly and about 1000000 feet tall, and told me that he will remember my name only because he has a daughter named Lauren. I laughed and told him that the only way I was going to remember his name was because I once had a horse named Jim. We became friends. First half hour was at the plankton station!!! We collected a sample of seawater from the bay and put droplets under a microscope which is hooked up to a projector which displays all the nifty microorganisms swimming around. People don't really seem to find plankton interesting, I have discovered. Either that, or they think the touch tanks on either side of the plankton lab and the sea otters across the room are more interesting, but I didn't have any interaction the first hour. This was fine- it allowed me to get my feet wet (no pun intended, various parts of me got soaked all throughout the day) and just become a pair of eyes. I watched the staff at the touch tanks and listened for what kind of questions are asked. Then it was Jim's and my turn to man the touch tank station. It was supposed to simulate temperate pacific ocean environments, and thanks to CIMI I was already familiar with lots of the species. While busily trying to detach a crab from a sea cucumber, I heard a small voice on the other side of the tank. "Um...excuse me... whats that?" she said. A tiny Hispanic girl who barely reached the top of the tank motioned at a brightly colored anemone swaying just below the water. I froze. She looked at me expectantly. Jim looked at me expectantly. I knew exactly what it was... it was a rose anemone from northern California. It eats small fish. It has thousands of tiny stinging cells. But I couldn't formulate a single word. For a long moment I was paralyzed with nervousness. Jim acted quickly, he leaned over and prepared to take the reins, but somehow that movement caused the last little piece of whatever was missing to slide back into place. "ITS A ROSE ANEMONE!" I nearly shouted at the poor thing, and Jim leaped back like he'd been lit on fire. "Its an animal, and an invertebrate, which means it has no bones. Would you like to touch it?" She nodded eagerly and I showed her how to gently let it wrap its sticky tentacles around her small fingers. "Wow!" She giggled. And then, "Guess what?" "What?" I said. She smiled shyly. "My name is Lauren too." I returned her smile, and for the second, but not the last time, I remembered little me and my long ago encounter with the fish. "Oooh! Whats that?!" Lauren said again, this time pointing to something else. And I told her.
I was up to my waist in hundreds of children from 10 until 2. The most frequent questions I was asked were "WHATS THAT?!" "IS IT ALIVE?" "CAN I TOUCH IT?" "WILL IT BITE ME?" and "WHERE IS NEMO?!" Remarkably, adults ask the very same questions. I met lots of children who knew more about the animals than adults did. Maybe when we are children we are less focused on 'adult things' and therefore are closer to nature, but it made me wonder what kinds of things I knew as a kid that slipped away as I reached adulthood. Of course there are some questions that were closer on adults minds. "How does it reproduce?" "How can you tell if its male or female?" and "What eats it?" were things only grown ups asked. Squeamish noisy women were hardest to be patient with. They squealed and screamed "GROSS" and splashed water everywhere after poking anything... even starfish, which don't even have texture. Babies splashed alot too. A bunch of mothers with small babies came by the touch tank station and with the combination of splashers I was soaked in minutes. Teenage boys want to pick animals up and hit their friends with them.
My very favorite part was looks on their faces when people touched unusual animals. Anemones for example are in the jellyfish family, and people don't ordinarily touch those. They feel like congealed jello but move of their own volition, wrapping delicate tentacles around extended fingers and balling up to protect themselves from harsh pokes. Aside from some women who scream, people's faces light up with wonder at the sensation. A few children would try, and then snatch their hand away and unabashedly tell me they were scared. Another amazing feeling was seeing the looks on people's faces when they learn something new, or especially when you help children figure out something for themselves. Again anemones are a great example. I would say "They feel sticky to touch, don't they? But did you know they are actually stinging us? The skin on our fingers is too thick to feel the sting, so its jut sticky. But to a fish that doesn't have skin, just thin scales, it would really hurt! But there are some kinds of fish that don't get stung and like to live in anemones. Can anyone tell me what kind of fish that is?" And the school group in front of me all frown and think hard while the anemones are busily stinging away at their little fingers. Then I give them a hint "Maybe a fish you've seen in a movie recently?" And then it hits. A look of complete victory crosses their faces- theres an excited intake of breath as the revelation is reached, and a chorus of little voices scream at me "NEMOOOOOOO!!!!!!" Its hilarious, and wonderful. Then I get to tell them all about clownfish. Everybody wins.
I spent alot of time at various touch tanks that day, as you can tell. But I did other things to- like man the Whale Cart, where I show off Orca skulls and pieces of baleen, and explain phenomena like echolocation and the use of blowholes. My blue whale friend suspends majestically over me and I make lots of references to her. I also manned the Shark Cart, where I display a fully extended jaw of a great white, try to ease many fears about the vicious nature of sharks, disprove the movie Jaws on several counts, and stamp sticky fingers with "Sharks are cool!" stamps.
Lunch. I hung out with Topaz, the aquarium cat, which I think is ironic. She was a stray living in the empty lot before the aquarium was built, and since they were putting her out of her home they figured they might as well provide one, and here she is to this day. She is ancient and sneezes alot. I rushed back out to the Bat Ray pool, where I spent the rest of the day. Bat rays are often confused with manta rays because they are both black and don't lie on the bottom like sting rays, but glide around flapping their wings like slow motion birds, but bat rays are much smaller, and have big sweet eyes and a smiling mouth. They swim in circles around the ray pool and I sat on the rocks in the middle or hung out around the edge talking with visitors. I learned how to use the microphone to address crowds and how to teach the infamous "Two finger touch, from nose to tail." When Steve came out to tell me my shift was over and it was time to go, he reached into the water and pulled out a small pearly flat rectangle the exact color of the sand. It was a bat ray tooth, and he gave it to me as a present. Its on my desk.
And that was my day. I drove back to school, exhausted, still damp, really hungry, and smelling very strongly of fish. It was amazing. I go back tomorrow.
Thank you for reading!
Did You Know: Whale calves gain about 5 pounds an hour when they are newly born because their mother's milk has a higher fat content than butter, and they drink about 100 liters of it a day.
Then I got my uniform! Trotting nervously after the Day Captain, Steve, a man who manages to be several places at one time, we whisked around various back rooms so quickly the memory is a blur- the first stop was some back room where they took a terrible picture of me that got put on an official looking badge. I later learned that this badge is my key to the kingdom- it allows me access to any room, free parking, free admission, discounts in the store, and I must wear it at all times, even if I am visiting the aquarium on a day I am not working. I cannot help but feel particularly smug about this. We then found the name tag station, where there, etched into a beautiful magnetic piece of plastic, was my name and the title 'Exhibit Interpreter.' There were lots of other new volunteer badges on the board, and they all had really dopey looking ribbons attached that said 'Employee in Training.' By some divine providence I did not have one and Steve seemed particularly concerned about this because he was afraid I would get asked questions. I politely told him I was not worried about being asked questions, and would be happy to defer any I didn't know to the person I was going to shadow for the day. I took the job to be asked questions!!!! Remarkably enough the hardest question I was asked that day was where are the restrooms... I know marine organisms much better than the layout of the aquarium. Then I was whisked to another closet of an office where a bunch of ladies were sitting at computers among stacks and stacks of clothes. Finding my name on a list they held up various shirts to me with an alarming speed, and tried to sell me other pieces of clothing at the same time. I eventually just took one and ran out of the chaos, probably with more shirts being flung after me.
Steve waited outside as I assembled it all together. I had my 'stone' colored pants on already. The ladies locker room in the back garage has huge floor to ceiling mirrors, buckets of free tampons, and lockers for our extra junk. I put my things away and put on my uniform, clipped on my badge, attached my name tag, and pinned on my little shark pin that says 'commitment to service excellence' (you get rewarded for excellence by different animal pins. The shark is given to all new volunteers. The starfish is a pretty big deal, and I hope to get it someday!). Then I inspected myself in the mirror. Yes its cheesy and yes it sounds dopey, but it was a pretty incredible moment. I really liked what I saw. It fit, and I gave a silent nod to the small girl somewhere inside who touched a slick fish and dreamed of being a mermaid. I don't live in the ocean, and I don't have a tail, but I am now a teacher, and as such I am also a protector. That is good enough.
Breathless and ready to go- I met Jim, a kindly retired man I was supposed to shadow all day. Jim is friendly and about 1000000 feet tall, and told me that he will remember my name only because he has a daughter named Lauren. I laughed and told him that the only way I was going to remember his name was because I once had a horse named Jim. We became friends. First half hour was at the plankton station!!! We collected a sample of seawater from the bay and put droplets under a microscope which is hooked up to a projector which displays all the nifty microorganisms swimming around. People don't really seem to find plankton interesting, I have discovered. Either that, or they think the touch tanks on either side of the plankton lab and the sea otters across the room are more interesting, but I didn't have any interaction the first hour. This was fine- it allowed me to get my feet wet (no pun intended, various parts of me got soaked all throughout the day) and just become a pair of eyes. I watched the staff at the touch tanks and listened for what kind of questions are asked. Then it was Jim's and my turn to man the touch tank station. It was supposed to simulate temperate pacific ocean environments, and thanks to CIMI I was already familiar with lots of the species. While busily trying to detach a crab from a sea cucumber, I heard a small voice on the other side of the tank. "Um...excuse me... whats that?" she said. A tiny Hispanic girl who barely reached the top of the tank motioned at a brightly colored anemone swaying just below the water. I froze. She looked at me expectantly. Jim looked at me expectantly. I knew exactly what it was... it was a rose anemone from northern California. It eats small fish. It has thousands of tiny stinging cells. But I couldn't formulate a single word. For a long moment I was paralyzed with nervousness. Jim acted quickly, he leaned over and prepared to take the reins, but somehow that movement caused the last little piece of whatever was missing to slide back into place. "ITS A ROSE ANEMONE!" I nearly shouted at the poor thing, and Jim leaped back like he'd been lit on fire. "Its an animal, and an invertebrate, which means it has no bones. Would you like to touch it?" She nodded eagerly and I showed her how to gently let it wrap its sticky tentacles around her small fingers. "Wow!" She giggled. And then, "Guess what?" "What?" I said. She smiled shyly. "My name is Lauren too." I returned her smile, and for the second, but not the last time, I remembered little me and my long ago encounter with the fish. "Oooh! Whats that?!" Lauren said again, this time pointing to something else. And I told her.
I was up to my waist in hundreds of children from 10 until 2. The most frequent questions I was asked were "WHATS THAT?!" "IS IT ALIVE?" "CAN I TOUCH IT?" "WILL IT BITE ME?" and "WHERE IS NEMO?!" Remarkably, adults ask the very same questions. I met lots of children who knew more about the animals than adults did. Maybe when we are children we are less focused on 'adult things' and therefore are closer to nature, but it made me wonder what kinds of things I knew as a kid that slipped away as I reached adulthood. Of course there are some questions that were closer on adults minds. "How does it reproduce?" "How can you tell if its male or female?" and "What eats it?" were things only grown ups asked. Squeamish noisy women were hardest to be patient with. They squealed and screamed "GROSS" and splashed water everywhere after poking anything... even starfish, which don't even have texture. Babies splashed alot too. A bunch of mothers with small babies came by the touch tank station and with the combination of splashers I was soaked in minutes. Teenage boys want to pick animals up and hit their friends with them.
My very favorite part was looks on their faces when people touched unusual animals. Anemones for example are in the jellyfish family, and people don't ordinarily touch those. They feel like congealed jello but move of their own volition, wrapping delicate tentacles around extended fingers and balling up to protect themselves from harsh pokes. Aside from some women who scream, people's faces light up with wonder at the sensation. A few children would try, and then snatch their hand away and unabashedly tell me they were scared. Another amazing feeling was seeing the looks on people's faces when they learn something new, or especially when you help children figure out something for themselves. Again anemones are a great example. I would say "They feel sticky to touch, don't they? But did you know they are actually stinging us? The skin on our fingers is too thick to feel the sting, so its jut sticky. But to a fish that doesn't have skin, just thin scales, it would really hurt! But there are some kinds of fish that don't get stung and like to live in anemones. Can anyone tell me what kind of fish that is?" And the school group in front of me all frown and think hard while the anemones are busily stinging away at their little fingers. Then I give them a hint "Maybe a fish you've seen in a movie recently?" And then it hits. A look of complete victory crosses their faces- theres an excited intake of breath as the revelation is reached, and a chorus of little voices scream at me "NEMOOOOOOO!!!!!!" Its hilarious, and wonderful. Then I get to tell them all about clownfish. Everybody wins.
I spent alot of time at various touch tanks that day, as you can tell. But I did other things to- like man the Whale Cart, where I show off Orca skulls and pieces of baleen, and explain phenomena like echolocation and the use of blowholes. My blue whale friend suspends majestically over me and I make lots of references to her. I also manned the Shark Cart, where I display a fully extended jaw of a great white, try to ease many fears about the vicious nature of sharks, disprove the movie Jaws on several counts, and stamp sticky fingers with "Sharks are cool!" stamps.
Lunch. I hung out with Topaz, the aquarium cat, which I think is ironic. She was a stray living in the empty lot before the aquarium was built, and since they were putting her out of her home they figured they might as well provide one, and here she is to this day. She is ancient and sneezes alot. I rushed back out to the Bat Ray pool, where I spent the rest of the day. Bat rays are often confused with manta rays because they are both black and don't lie on the bottom like sting rays, but glide around flapping their wings like slow motion birds, but bat rays are much smaller, and have big sweet eyes and a smiling mouth. They swim in circles around the ray pool and I sat on the rocks in the middle or hung out around the edge talking with visitors. I learned how to use the microphone to address crowds and how to teach the infamous "Two finger touch, from nose to tail." When Steve came out to tell me my shift was over and it was time to go, he reached into the water and pulled out a small pearly flat rectangle the exact color of the sand. It was a bat ray tooth, and he gave it to me as a present. Its on my desk.
And that was my day. I drove back to school, exhausted, still damp, really hungry, and smelling very strongly of fish. It was amazing. I go back tomorrow.
Thank you for reading!
Did You Know: Whale calves gain about 5 pounds an hour when they are newly born because their mother's milk has a higher fat content than butter, and they drink about 100 liters of it a day.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Aquarium 101 Training
Man oh man was I nervous on Saturday. Having been admitted into the aquarium's volunteer community we had our first official training day for new employees. I was jumpy as could be and sleepy too- having stayed up too late at a pictionary tournament (important I know). Rolling along through the first fog of the winter, I made the early drive to the coast. I parked as instructed and gave the security guard my name, which he had on a list and therefore grants me free parking and aquarium admission as long as I am an employee. Feeling still nervous and a little bit like a big shot after that, I made my way inside.
There is something particularly amazing about any huge public place that is temporarily empty. The aquarium is no exception. In the quiet of the early morning the main hall was devoid of the swarms of shouting children, fussing parents, picture snapping tourists and other visitors. The only life was the dozing security guard at the information counter and the housekeeping staff which quietly go about their morning routine. I made a huge mistake- there was no other human life. The aquarium is full to the brim of life that is particularly busy at this hour. The thousands upon thousands of water dwelling inhabitants were rapidly turning circles in their plexi glass galleries, holding several thousand tons of seawater freshly pumped daily from a location far out at sea. The barks of sea lions, screeches of seabirds echoed through the hall. It was noisy, but lacking human noise, and so it was significantly quiet. You could even hear the sighing of the metal chords that hold up the life size model of a blue whale mother and calf that suspend majestically over the first floor, frozen in mid- swim. The female, I learn later, in real life would weigh several tons- more than any other living thing combined. Her tounge alone would be heavier than three african elephants. Her heart is the size of a small honda. She has the kindest face I have ever seen.
Our classroom was outside in the back past the sea lions and touch tanks. The moment I opened the door to the outdoor back half I was surrounded by a new noise- one that caused me to tear up at once because I recognized it immediately. The screeches and whistles of hunderds of rainbow lorikeets floated out of the newest exhibit. Lorikeets are native to northern Australia, and are in fact so numerous they borderline pestulence. In the evenings they roost together in the hundreds, making so much noise its impossible to think within 100 feet of them. Smart, talkative, and incredibly colorful, they are popular pets in the States. It has become one of the saddest things in the world to see such a social bird that comes from the unlimited freedom of the Australia sky locked up alone in a PetCo cage. Here they have tons of them in an enormous walk through exhibit. Its not the Australia sky, but its not bad either. Hearing them gave me this huge wave of Australia- sickness, and the thought of being able to come to the aquarium whenever I want and be surrounded by a sound from the country I miss so much was unbelievably precious.
Jeez I haven't even made it through the first five minutes. Sorry guys.
I was nervous because I was scared the job had just landed myself was going to be something different than I thought, dispite the research. That instead of giving talks about whales, supervising the touch- tanks, wading through the shark exhibit after someone's lost toy, or taking groups through the beautiful lorikeet exhibit I would be preparing powerpoint presentations or doing paperwork- the horror!!!! But within the first few minutes those fears were put to rest. After the first half of the day, learning about safety in the workplace, our responsibilities as volunteer employees, leading by example, and the mission of the aquarium (to instill a sense of wonder, respect, and stewardship for the ocean, its inhabitants and ecosystems), we were then given the ULTIMATE aquarium tour. The good stuff that not everyone gets to see. The tops of the tanks where divers jump in and fish are fed (after thoroughly disinfecting our shoes), the staff library (no one leaves the aquarium without getting all their ocean questions answered. If we the staff do not know it, we find out for them), the veteranary clinic that joyfully doesn't need to be used often (first non- human to recieve a cat- scan was a seal at this particular aquarium!!! She was alright, don't worry) the staff lounge where I don't plan on spending lots of time, and best of all the quarantine areas, where animals that are new or sick or under surveilance of some kind get put to rest away from audiences. I saw medicated fish, fish not yet on display, 17 day old seahorse babies (or rather the tank they were in. The babies themselves were about the size of my pinky nail. Perfectly funtioning independent things...soooooo tiny!!!) and, wait for it, a baby sea otter too young to be put in an exhibit. Good god it was marine science disneyland. I was trying my best to behave like a responsible scientist but I was having mental spasms of joy.
Lunch. Break (went to visit the otters again). Then we divided into our specific groups to learn more about our responsibilities. I'm in the edication department. It is my job to educate the public on the creatures (both marine and otherwise) at the aquarium. Sometimes I will have specific stations, like the shark table or the bat- ray exhibit. I explain what the animals are, where they come from, how they behave, etc. Please wash your hands after touching them boys and girls. They are covered in mucus (the sea creatures are, but the kids are too I suppose). Sometimes I will wander the floor and answer questions, give impromtu tours, teach teach teach, learn learn learn. All under the watchful eye of my new plastic blue whale friend (who needs a guardian angel? I have a 300000 pound infinitely wise mother creature looking after me).
And that was training day one. I have one more session- a several hour night class with basic biology and information about the marine creatures I am the newest steward of. Then I can start. Oh my god!
I left the aquarium on Saturday feeling lighter than a fairy shrimp. I said see ya later to my new volunteer friends and the lorikeets, waved to the sea lions, the fish and invertibrates. The aquarium was packed full of guests, cramming themselves in front of tanks and running in circles around the exhibits. Through the crowd, I winked at the blue whale on my way to the door. I saw her smile at me. Soon I'll start.
Did You Know: The fish- eating creatures under aquarium care are fed 5 star restaurant quality fish. Only they are fed sustainable species, which I wish humans were more careful about too.
There is something particularly amazing about any huge public place that is temporarily empty. The aquarium is no exception. In the quiet of the early morning the main hall was devoid of the swarms of shouting children, fussing parents, picture snapping tourists and other visitors. The only life was the dozing security guard at the information counter and the housekeeping staff which quietly go about their morning routine. I made a huge mistake- there was no other human life. The aquarium is full to the brim of life that is particularly busy at this hour. The thousands upon thousands of water dwelling inhabitants were rapidly turning circles in their plexi glass galleries, holding several thousand tons of seawater freshly pumped daily from a location far out at sea. The barks of sea lions, screeches of seabirds echoed through the hall. It was noisy, but lacking human noise, and so it was significantly quiet. You could even hear the sighing of the metal chords that hold up the life size model of a blue whale mother and calf that suspend majestically over the first floor, frozen in mid- swim. The female, I learn later, in real life would weigh several tons- more than any other living thing combined. Her tounge alone would be heavier than three african elephants. Her heart is the size of a small honda. She has the kindest face I have ever seen.
Our classroom was outside in the back past the sea lions and touch tanks. The moment I opened the door to the outdoor back half I was surrounded by a new noise- one that caused me to tear up at once because I recognized it immediately. The screeches and whistles of hunderds of rainbow lorikeets floated out of the newest exhibit. Lorikeets are native to northern Australia, and are in fact so numerous they borderline pestulence. In the evenings they roost together in the hundreds, making so much noise its impossible to think within 100 feet of them. Smart, talkative, and incredibly colorful, they are popular pets in the States. It has become one of the saddest things in the world to see such a social bird that comes from the unlimited freedom of the Australia sky locked up alone in a PetCo cage. Here they have tons of them in an enormous walk through exhibit. Its not the Australia sky, but its not bad either. Hearing them gave me this huge wave of Australia- sickness, and the thought of being able to come to the aquarium whenever I want and be surrounded by a sound from the country I miss so much was unbelievably precious.
Jeez I haven't even made it through the first five minutes. Sorry guys.
I was nervous because I was scared the job had just landed myself was going to be something different than I thought, dispite the research. That instead of giving talks about whales, supervising the touch- tanks, wading through the shark exhibit after someone's lost toy, or taking groups through the beautiful lorikeet exhibit I would be preparing powerpoint presentations or doing paperwork- the horror!!!! But within the first few minutes those fears were put to rest. After the first half of the day, learning about safety in the workplace, our responsibilities as volunteer employees, leading by example, and the mission of the aquarium (to instill a sense of wonder, respect, and stewardship for the ocean, its inhabitants and ecosystems), we were then given the ULTIMATE aquarium tour. The good stuff that not everyone gets to see. The tops of the tanks where divers jump in and fish are fed (after thoroughly disinfecting our shoes), the staff library (no one leaves the aquarium without getting all their ocean questions answered. If we the staff do not know it, we find out for them), the veteranary clinic that joyfully doesn't need to be used often (first non- human to recieve a cat- scan was a seal at this particular aquarium!!! She was alright, don't worry) the staff lounge where I don't plan on spending lots of time, and best of all the quarantine areas, where animals that are new or sick or under surveilance of some kind get put to rest away from audiences. I saw medicated fish, fish not yet on display, 17 day old seahorse babies (or rather the tank they were in. The babies themselves were about the size of my pinky nail. Perfectly funtioning independent things...soooooo tiny!!!) and, wait for it, a baby sea otter too young to be put in an exhibit. Good god it was marine science disneyland. I was trying my best to behave like a responsible scientist but I was having mental spasms of joy.
Lunch. Break (went to visit the otters again). Then we divided into our specific groups to learn more about our responsibilities. I'm in the edication department. It is my job to educate the public on the creatures (both marine and otherwise) at the aquarium. Sometimes I will have specific stations, like the shark table or the bat- ray exhibit. I explain what the animals are, where they come from, how they behave, etc. Please wash your hands after touching them boys and girls. They are covered in mucus (the sea creatures are, but the kids are too I suppose). Sometimes I will wander the floor and answer questions, give impromtu tours, teach teach teach, learn learn learn. All under the watchful eye of my new plastic blue whale friend (who needs a guardian angel? I have a 300000 pound infinitely wise mother creature looking after me).
And that was training day one. I have one more session- a several hour night class with basic biology and information about the marine creatures I am the newest steward of. Then I can start. Oh my god!
I left the aquarium on Saturday feeling lighter than a fairy shrimp. I said see ya later to my new volunteer friends and the lorikeets, waved to the sea lions, the fish and invertibrates. The aquarium was packed full of guests, cramming themselves in front of tanks and running in circles around the exhibits. Through the crowd, I winked at the blue whale on my way to the door. I saw her smile at me. Soon I'll start.
Did You Know: The fish- eating creatures under aquarium care are fed 5 star restaurant quality fish. Only they are fed sustainable species, which I wish humans were more careful about too.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Background
The QUESTIONS. When we are eighteen, we suddenly become interesting to adults, and the first major QUESTION is asked; "What colleges are you looking at?" No seventeen- eighteen year old can get a moment's peace at any family reunion or dinner party- its simply unmerciful. As I am just now learning, the very moment you turn twenty one and senior year rolls around (correction- senior year does not roll around. Senior year comes screaming around the corner going 100000000000 miles per hour and smacks you in the face, leaving you on the ground rubbing your face wondering what the hell happened to being eighteen and looking at colleges) and all of a sudden everybody instantly asks you the next big QUESTION. "What are you doing after college?" Which of course is code for "What are you going to do with your LIFE?" My current answer; Gulp. "Something... I hope!" I really have no answer. I don't want to go to grad school, yet anyway (what the heck would I go for?!). I have no money to travel. I have no money period. I have no internships or companies angling for me to bite. I'm not particularly promising for any kind of business really... being an art/environmental studies dual major. All I know is that what I want to be in life is Happy. As long as I am that, I'll be anything.
Anyway, my point is that before we turn eighteen we as youth in general are not particularly interesting to adult audiences not usually experienced with dealing with us. They don't know how to include us in their conversations (we don't really want that anyway) and they don't know what we talk about. So starting from the minute we can articulate some kind of structured sentence we are asked the big one. The introductory QUESTION, the one that someone should have told us prepares us for the others (I can only assume "When are you getting married?," When are you having a baby?," and "When are you retiring?," all follow the ones I've been asked). The big beginning QUESTION; "What do you want to be when you grow up?"
Now that one I could answer. As soon as two year old me could put the words together in decipherable syllables I knew and would tell you. The answer was a mermaid.
I remember the first day I went fishing. I was two again. Maybe three. Little. Bowl cut. Yellow shirt. I sat in my Dad's lap by a pond in the mountains and he held the rod but it was my job to turn the thing (my fishing career really took off as you can tell by my vocabulary). We caught only one fish the whole day. Little. Like me. Silver and shiny, slick as ice. One pink stripe down its side. My dad held it in a paper towel and I shyly touched its heaving sides with one finger. It was from the water, and it was out, for me to see. Then we put it back.
And that was it.
Maybe it wasn't. Maybe it has no connection with me wanting to be a mermaid. Maybe I didn't really remember this. Maybe afterwards I didn't think about the world underwater where Other Things live. It was a Secret world. I wanted to see it. At least I think I did.
Regardless of how it happened, my parents fostered a great love of the water in me. Eventually it became an insatiable curiosity, and the ocean became particularly special. My parents fostered the love and my grandfather fed the curiosity. I wanted to learn as much as I could. I still do.
Pretending I was two at the Beginning, several beach vacations, four years of marine science summer camp, several scuba certifications, employment at the previously mentioned camp, college courses and twenty years later there is almost grown- up me. A 21.5 year old girl insatiably marveling at the natural world in general, but particularly the ocean. I'm back from Australia. I miss the people, the adventure, the bare feet, and the wilderness (marine or other), right at my doorstep. I love to teach, I love to work with children, and I love to learn. A year ago I tried to get a volunteer position at our local beach Aquarium (the name of which I won't mention for the right reasons, though its not hard to figure out for yourself) but I didn't have the time availability because of my approaching trip abroad. This year I had the time and the need (less than excited about being back at school for several reasons I will also keep to myself) to do something completely separate from school life (which in perspective is about as real as high school life) completely new for me, and completely fulfilling. I applied again and got the job as Exhibit Interpreter at the Aquarium of the West Coast (which is what I'll call it). My duties as far as I am aware currently include; wandering the aquarium grounds answering questions and providing customer service, educating the public on marine facts and stewardship, giving talks, reminding you of the two- finger touch, participating in basic feeding and care of the animals, assisting to take out whale watching boats, and basically anything I can get my fishy hands onto.
Dream come true.
I haven't started yet. That day is coming (and soon!) and I'm pretty sure it will be one of the most wonderful, frightening, exhilarating, exhausting, fun, learning experience I have ever had. I have two training sessions to go before I can start. They can't come soon enough.
Did You Know?: The Pacific Ocean is approximately 64186000 feet deep (on average), 11000 miles wide, and 8637 miles long. Think of all the wilderness...
Anyway, my point is that before we turn eighteen we as youth in general are not particularly interesting to adult audiences not usually experienced with dealing with us. They don't know how to include us in their conversations (we don't really want that anyway) and they don't know what we talk about. So starting from the minute we can articulate some kind of structured sentence we are asked the big one. The introductory QUESTION, the one that someone should have told us prepares us for the others (I can only assume "When are you getting married?," When are you having a baby?," and "When are you retiring?," all follow the ones I've been asked). The big beginning QUESTION; "What do you want to be when you grow up?"
Now that one I could answer. As soon as two year old me could put the words together in decipherable syllables I knew and would tell you. The answer was a mermaid.
I remember the first day I went fishing. I was two again. Maybe three. Little. Bowl cut. Yellow shirt. I sat in my Dad's lap by a pond in the mountains and he held the rod but it was my job to turn the thing (my fishing career really took off as you can tell by my vocabulary). We caught only one fish the whole day. Little. Like me. Silver and shiny, slick as ice. One pink stripe down its side. My dad held it in a paper towel and I shyly touched its heaving sides with one finger. It was from the water, and it was out, for me to see. Then we put it back.
And that was it.
Maybe it wasn't. Maybe it has no connection with me wanting to be a mermaid. Maybe I didn't really remember this. Maybe afterwards I didn't think about the world underwater where Other Things live. It was a Secret world. I wanted to see it. At least I think I did.
Regardless of how it happened, my parents fostered a great love of the water in me. Eventually it became an insatiable curiosity, and the ocean became particularly special. My parents fostered the love and my grandfather fed the curiosity. I wanted to learn as much as I could. I still do.
Pretending I was two at the Beginning, several beach vacations, four years of marine science summer camp, several scuba certifications, employment at the previously mentioned camp, college courses and twenty years later there is almost grown- up me. A 21.5 year old girl insatiably marveling at the natural world in general, but particularly the ocean. I'm back from Australia. I miss the people, the adventure, the bare feet, and the wilderness (marine or other), right at my doorstep. I love to teach, I love to work with children, and I love to learn. A year ago I tried to get a volunteer position at our local beach Aquarium (the name of which I won't mention for the right reasons, though its not hard to figure out for yourself) but I didn't have the time availability because of my approaching trip abroad. This year I had the time and the need (less than excited about being back at school for several reasons I will also keep to myself) to do something completely separate from school life (which in perspective is about as real as high school life) completely new for me, and completely fulfilling. I applied again and got the job as Exhibit Interpreter at the Aquarium of the West Coast (which is what I'll call it). My duties as far as I am aware currently include; wandering the aquarium grounds answering questions and providing customer service, educating the public on marine facts and stewardship, giving talks, reminding you of the two- finger touch, participating in basic feeding and care of the animals, assisting to take out whale watching boats, and basically anything I can get my fishy hands onto.
Dream come true.
I haven't started yet. That day is coming (and soon!) and I'm pretty sure it will be one of the most wonderful, frightening, exhilarating, exhausting, fun, learning experience I have ever had. I have two training sessions to go before I can start. They can't come soon enough.
Did You Know?: The Pacific Ocean is approximately 64186000 feet deep (on average), 11000 miles wide, and 8637 miles long. Think of all the wilderness...
Beginning
Hello!
This is my very second blog. It is going to document the newest addition to my life, which is something I am intent upon filling with adventures. My first blog was written about my journey abroad to study in Australia for half a year. Now I am back, and learning to live in the States again. There are several things I have had some trouble adjusting to, like homework (responsibility? what?!) and wearing shoes. However the greatest impression Australia made on me is something I have no intention of adjusting. No its not drinking wine out of a box. I learned that my life will only be as exciting as I make it, and that adventures are everywhere. You have to find them or make them. So I came back, and I did, and that's what this blog is about. Thank you for reading.
This is my very second blog. It is going to document the newest addition to my life, which is something I am intent upon filling with adventures. My first blog was written about my journey abroad to study in Australia for half a year. Now I am back, and learning to live in the States again. There are several things I have had some trouble adjusting to, like homework (responsibility? what?!) and wearing shoes. However the greatest impression Australia made on me is something I have no intention of adjusting. No its not drinking wine out of a box. I learned that my life will only be as exciting as I make it, and that adventures are everywhere. You have to find them or make them. So I came back, and I did, and that's what this blog is about. Thank you for reading.
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