Swimming with the Flightless

Clattering in a rickety pickup truck through the dark, sandy streets of Puerto Villamil I struggled to keep my eyes open. It was four in the morning in the Galapagos Islands, and I had woken up just minutes before. As my eyelids sunk lower and lower, the truck motored its way towards the port, occasionally…

An Isabelaño Day

Sitting here on a hammock outside of my classroom it’s amazing how normal this feels – the flutter of wings as a yellow warbler builds its nest beside me, the faint sound of ocean waves from across the street and the occasional babble of Spanish. I could’ve been living here on Isabela for months rather…