Finding the Mama Turtles

Every night, two or three people would walk with Roberto up and down our beach to look for nests or mama turtle tracks. Our presence also deterred the poachers. Usually there were two beach walks, one around midnight and another around 4 or 6 in the morning, depending on the tides. My second beach walk, we saw a mama turtle.

Roberto went up close to check her out, and said that she needed time. So, we kept walking down the beach to check the far side, and then made our way back to her. Roberto went to check on her again and said it was time. Time for what I didn't know, but I was excited!

We slowly walked up to her. She had dug out a nest using her huge arms and legs, and had begun to lay eggs. Roberto handed me two gloves and said, "go ahead." I looked at him puzzled and he motioned for me to remove the eggs from underneath her while she was laying them. He explained that she was in a trance and wouldn't notice our presence. So I slowly brought my hand closer to a small hole, just a bit larger than my hand. Even slower, I started removing the eggs and placing them in a plastic bag. The eggs were soft, wet and warm. As I got used to terrified feeling that the turtle would wake up and be furious at me, I began to remove the eggs a bit faster.

Roberto asked me to stand back for a moment while he tagged her. She didn't even flinch while the metal created a small ring around her right arm. With much less fear, I continued to dig out the eggs until she finished.

There were still about 2o eggs left to get when she started covering her nest, so we had to wait for the mama to cover up her nest with her enormous body and pat it down. Then, she slowly made her way back into the ocean without even a glimpse in our direction. We dug up the nest and put the remaining eggs into the bag. There were just over 100 eggs when we were finished.

In awe of the birthing of 100 turtle eggs, we walked to another place on the beach to dig up a new nest for the eggs. Since it wasn't busy season, we didn't need to put the new eggs in the hatchery. We just needed to rebury them elsewhere so the poachers and predators couldn't just follow the mama's scent right to the nest.

We dug a hole, imitating the mama about as deep as the distance from the tips of your fingers to your elbow, and emptied the bag into the hole. We covered up the hole, using the flat bottom of our forearms, still imitating the mama turtle, and patted it down hard.

Helping the Babies

So I should probably get the point of my trip. The turtles. There was a hatchery just a few steps from our house that we were in charge of monitoring 24 hours per day. When the nests got too hot during the day, we would water them. The reason behind that was never explained to me, since in the wild, the nests were not watered.

During busy season there are so many nests, that the volunteers dig them out and rebury them in this hatchery. Each is surrounded by chicken wire that goes a few inches down into the sand, then covered by these blue or grey tops. This keeps crabs, birds, raccoons and other predators out of the nests. Turtle eggs are not only a delicacy for animals, but also the Ticos. We had to protect the eggs from poachers as well.

Everyone had at least one other person on turtle duty with them, and every couple or trio had four hours per day that they were responsible for the babies. The shifts were divided so that everyone had two hours during the day and two hours during the night. So if you had from 12-2 in the afternoon, you also had midnight to 2AM to check the hatchery. Most of the babies hatched at night.

When the babies did hatch, we would put wet sand into a bucket, pat it down and put the hatchlings inside the bucket. Then we would take the babies back to the same section on the beach that their mama laid their eggs so that the experience would be as natural as possible. (Also, the females come back to the beach they were hatched to lay their own eggs.) The babies were places 100 meters from where the water met the sand. Then, they would slowly make their way to the water. During the night, we couldn't use flashlights to watch this process because the way the turtles know to go into the water is by following the light of the moon reflected off the water. So, our flashlights had a red light filter on them, so it would distract them.

The two times I got to release the babies took about 45 minutes for them to make their way from the sand into the water.

Settling into My New Home

I settled into my room which I shared with four other people. I took the only available bunk, apparently, the reason my particular bunk was available was because it was broken. There was one board that was higher than the rest. The woman on the bunk below me, Rhonda, warned me about the boards on my bed. They had a tendency to fall through in the middle of night and hit her in the face causing the person on top to fall on the person on the bottom. All I thought about my first night was "don't fall, don't fall, don't fall."


Waking up in a new place was a welcome change. I didn't recognize a single voice I heard just outside my room, but they all sounded happy. I guess that's the thing about volunteers, they are all really happy to be where they are.

I joined the new faces at the big table which seems to be where everything important happened, food and meetings. We were informed that the leader of our group, Roy, would be leaving and his return date was unknown. Most of us were pretty surprised, but Roy didn't seem to be concerned about leaving 24 volunteers under the care of Roberto who seemed like the least friendly of everyone. He was a Tico (Costa Rican) who understood English, but hated speaking it because of his accent. He liked to pick-up phrases and swear words from the other volunteers so he would randomly spit out a phrase in English or German. He of course, grew on me, and became one of my favorite people to be around.

Amy and Nick, the veteran couple from Boston, fell into the leadership role quickly. They had been there for over a month by the time I got there. Amy was a first grade teacher back in "real life," so she enjoyed writing the daily chores on the whiteboard. Even more than writing on the board, she loved to clean it or to have it clean. That board must have been 5 or 6 years old, weathering rain and sun, but Amy had it cleaner than the day it was purchased, I'm sure. Nick was a dog trainer which surprisingly came in handy. We had at least one dog, Violetta, around us at all times, and she listened to Nick. Amy and Nick held meetings every morning where we decided what to do during the day.

Just after breakfast every day, we would brainstorm and try to figure out what needed to be done. We did everything from pumping two different kinds of water every day (drinking and non-drinking) to "trimming the trees off the path," which translated to "take this machete and hack away" to sweeping the dirt off the rocks around the table and cleaning the pavement we had around kitchen area. Other days where we got to use paint, build a hang out area and clean up the beach. Two of the volunteers from The Netherlands, Mari and Bart, built a chair out of drift wood.

Every day we had different work, but our schedule never changed. Breakfast, meeting, manual labor, siesta (napping, reading, writing, swimming, tanning), lunch, more work, siesta or shower, dinner, hang out, and of course, someone was always on turtle duty. Some of us took surf lessons with Yerald throughout the day. He was the only one who could get us out of manual labor. He would say that he couldn't control the waves, and when they were good, we had to go.

Voyage to Buena Vista

When I woke up the next morning, things felt much better. There were four more additions to the hostel. They were from New York. Yes! More English! (My Spanish was still a little rusty.)

They had just been at another ASVO project about an hour south of where my project was. They informed me that my project was five to six hours away by public transit, and that I would be traveling alone. This was new information to me. I was also informed that I should arrive before 4 PM and during low tide because the river that separated the town from the beach project was ruled by a few alligators that considered you a buffet if you entered their river after 4 during high tide.

My new friends and I found a pizza place around the block from our hostel. They insisted on non-Costa Rican food. I was told I would thank them for it later, and I do. They told me all about the project they had just finished, and how the travel to their project was difficult but not impossible. Lucky for them, they all traveled together. Not so lucky for me, I would be traveling alone. Lenny confirmed that fact for me later that night.

Lenny called me into his office behind the hostel where I payed for almost everything. I had misplaced a fifty dollar bill at some point and was now short money. Thankfully, Lenny let me pay for the hostel at the end of my project since I would be staying one more night after my two weeks in Buena Vista (the location of the turtle project).

Lenny informed me that I would be traveling by cab at 5:00AM to the bus station. My bus was scheduled to leave to Nasara at 5:30AM, and I was supposed to change buses at Nicoya. Then I was to take another bus from Nicoya to Samara that left at 10:00AM. This bus would take about an hour and a half. Then I was supposed to find a cab to drive me to Playa de Buena Vista.

Along the way, I had a ton of help. I thankfully met a British guy in the train station at 5:00 AM who knew Spanish fluently and the area very well. He had given up his life in England to join some of his other English friends along the coast of Costa Rica (about an hour from where I was headed). His friends started a surfing school that had been doing very well.

I had to leave the comfort of my fellow English-speaker to change buses after 5 hours. There was a huge market with tons of people sitting, waiting for buses in 90 degree heat. A girl who spoke a bit of English and Spanish slow enough for me to understand helped me get to the bus to Samara since she was going their too.

When we reached Samara, I got off the bus into an even hotter heat. I wrestled my bags out from underneath the bus and secured my life size backpack on my bag and clipped it around my waist. I slide my other backpack onto my front like a pregnancy suit. My purse and pillow-filled Nordstrom bag with a weighed down my right arm. As I walked down the broken asphalt and sand-filled street I heard English. I walked in the direction of a skinny, white, slightly hunched man with mangled facial hair covering his sunburnt face wearing a huge smile. I told him that I was looking for Buena Vista, and he pointed toward the blue water a short walk from where I was and said "walk that way, there are cabs down there. The official cabs are small, red cars, but there are pirate taxis as well. Don't worry, I know all of those guys, they are all good guys. Just walk that way and you will see them." I thanked him and kept walking until I heard someone yell "Cab?!" I turned around to find a man of similar height to me walking toward me with hands outstreched. I started walking toward him feeling exhausted and hot, probably looking a complete mess.

He put me into the cab and arranged my bags. I put my purse at my feet and started to buckle my seatbelt. He looked at me sideways and made a motion toward the belt. "Ah," he started to say, "you don't need that. It's not dangerous, a short drive." I smiled and obliged. I pulled out the directions Lenny had given me as I had done all day, terrified of making a mistake about names, directions or money. The cab driver looked at the paper I was concentrating on, and said, "ASVO, I know where that is. Not too far." Then he started to make small talk in Spanish, which I began to understood. He talked about all of the gringas that came to visit Costa Rica and how much they liked coming to Samara to dance with them. I laughed to myself when he asked if I understood.

After 15 minutes of driving, we pulled up to a very shallow river with the bluest ocean I had ever seen as the backdrop. He told me to walk through the river, reassuring me that it was low tide, and walk about 800 meters down to the right. I, of course, had no idea how far 800 meters was, but I paid the man, thanked him and crossed the river.

I walked until a guy, a few years younger than me, ran up to me, and asked in broken English if I was looking for ASVO and introduced himself as Roberto. I said I was, and he said okay, took my small backpack and started walking up to a small house on stilts. He looked back at me and said, "No English, okay?" I said okay, and followed him up to 20 people sitting down to lunch. They were apparently expecting me since they all seemed to know my name already.

Traveling Alone-Day One

Well, I am back from Costa Rica and finally ready to write about it.

My first night in Costa Rica was terrifying, overwhelming and lonely. This was the first trip I have ever made by myself outside of the United States. After going through two rounds of customs and being cleared to head outside toward the bustle of the streets of San Jose, Costa Rica, I was "greeted" by dozens of taxi drivers calling me pretty lady and trying to get me into their cabs. There were even more people with signs with names of them. I told myself to remain calm and read every sign carefully so that I was sure that none of them were my name. Finally, I found one with my name on it. A man introduced himself as Lenny with perfect English. He walked me to his car and said that we were waiting for his son and the receptionist. His son, a four-year old boy, got into the seat behind me and speaking Spanish very quickly asked who I was. While getting into his seat, he reached both hands around my headrest and touched my face with his small fingers. I looked at him, and he smiled at me. Lenny apologized and smiled. Welcome to Costa Rica.

We arrived in the hostel run by ASVO (the company I went down there to work for). I was shown to my room by the receptionist from the car who didn't speak a word of English. I was in the Tortugeuro Room, and I had it completely to myself (pictured below). What a blessing! I settled into my room and started to cry. I was so overwhelmed and thought seriously about getting back on the plane and heading home.

The next day things got better.

Twenty Something Bloggers

Money

The biggest issue with traveling and volunteering is the cost. The cost of the program with no money coming (unless you have a lot of vacation time saved up) while having to pay rent and all the other bills at home can be very overwhelming. I recently moved home because I was so set on volunteering abroad, if only for a short time, that I had to sacrafice my rent money.
Finding a balance between doing what you want to do abroad and staying within your budget can be very difficult.
While researching, try changing your search from "volunteer abroad projects" to "low cost volunteer abroad" or "cheap work abroad" will really help. I actually found a few that will give you free room and board plus meals just for the work. Keep in mind though, that these jobs are not as popular. The jobs where you get to interact with animals and learn about culture are a bit more expensive.
If you are interested in teaching English, you can find those projects everywhere. Some will pay you and the others are very cheap. There are a lot of programs that will TEFL or TESOL certify you. They are essentially the same thing and they stand for Teaching English as a Foreign Language and Teachers of English to Speakers of Other Languages, respectively. They also have four week courses abroad where you can get certified while indulging in a country of your choice. Again, those are more expensive than getting certified online or in a classroom near you.
So, don't let cost be the reason you don't look into volunteering abroad.