Petite Anse Hotel St. Patrick

I decided to take advantage of my paid vacation and spend two weeks in Trinidad and Tobago. My good friend Kevin Fortune, who I met in college, is from Trinidad and was a phenomenal tour guide. I stayed away from computers, cell phones and any reading materials related to the economy and/or the environment. <br><br> <br>

... did have a few to document on our last night, including a batch of hatchlings that burst through their sandy chamber on the beach in front of us. We watched them scrambling on top of each other, bubbling out into the humid night air, and we lit them up with dim red lights to be sure that no one accidentally trampled them. Nature Seeker Don (who incidentally has a pet squirrel that he keeps in his left pants pocket--and yes, I actually mean a squirrel) came over to me with two of ...

... bottom of the kayaks. Then I made out the shapes of three heads, floating above the water line next to the upended kayaks. At first it made me laugh and I yelled at Ronald, "They all capsized!" Of course I assumed that they were all fine, since, for godsakes, who would go ocean kayaking without knowing how to swim....right? And they were all wearing life vests. No worries! But it became quickly apparent, even at a distance, that Peter, Lee and Richard could not get ...

... 14 years and who's nicknamed "Trinidad Jesus." I asked Francis how much of a problem poaching still was on Matura Beach. Francis responded, "There is no poaching."<br><br>That's the strange thing about this place. Francis wasn't lying to me, because he really believed these words he said. But the evidence spoke different words to me. Every night while recording turtles, we came across the carcasses of dead turtles. All of these animals displayed injuries that, in my limited ...

... another girl's egg chamber. Other turtles were digging so deep that their egg chambers were filling up with water and rendered useless. One turtle scared the hell out of me. In a scene right out of Lord of the Flies, we were busy recording another turtle's activities, when I heard suspicious rustling under a cluster of palm fronds that were dripping down into the sand beyond me. I felt like I was being watched; was it a poacher hiding out? Was I Piggy and ...

... scoops out a mound of sand, and flips it forward where it flies over her head. In our rush and time of discombobulation, I decided to gather some data during the digging. I grabbed the electronic scanner and kneeled down in front of the girl, where I began to slowly wave the scanner over her shoulders and head to detect a potential microchip. As it was dark on the beach, I couldn't seen the giant mound of sand that she had flipped from the egg chamber, hurtling through the air ...

... were the headless bodies of little leatherback hatchlings. Scattered here and there on the sandbar, bursts of black in the sand, some missing flippers, all missing heads, all with their insides sucked out. It was a little creepy and other-worldly. I had a bizarre image of flip-flop wearing, beer swilling, pyromaniac vultures stomping across the sandbar with hatchlings in their beaks, sucking out their guts....mwah ha ha ha ha!!!!!!!!!! Sometimes ...

... with HIV/AIDS), and now these kids are teenagers, and the house is faced with a suprising challenge - how to deal with teenagers and 20-year olds! That's intense! What a blessing. The four us us (myself, Rae-Ann, Lindsay and Dana) will volunteer probably twice a week to help with school work when they all arrive back at the house around 3:30pm. Then free-time until 5:30. But yea, that'll be insane. We've been instructed to tell the children up ...

I find it VERY hard to believe that the last couple of days was the buzz and craze of EASTER WEEKEND! There were no giant sized easter eggs for me to pollish off in an afternoon of piggish behaviior, there was no hunting besides the usual search through sparrows newly deveoped interior for the pencils, sealants, and other indespencible items that are for ever missing in ...

... lifeguard spectator section." "Go, Justin! Woo-woo!" "Justin works a 3-2 count out of Gerardo, who's throwing flames. A beauty of a pitch that "The Babe" ought to name as his son sailed just over the bottom of the strike zone. "Sienta-se, Gringo!" And The Youths are down to their last out. "Tension battles humidity for air control, as Caracas gets a base hit. Once again, the count draws full to "The Gringo," who desperately wants a walk because "The Babe ...