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Work in the Butterfly Garden

Stephanie Fong, Zachary Fazio, Landis Masnor, and Renee Meschi are Shimer students participating in the Shimer Summer Internship Program.  They regularly post updates about their internship experience. 

 This post is from Renee Meschi, who is interning with Montezuma Gardens Bed and Breakfast and Mariposario. The following video details the work done in the butterfly garden, and because of music licensing issues, you may need to watch it directly in YouTube.

 

Paradise Lost

Stephanie Fong, Zachary Fazio, Landis Masnor, and Renee Meschi are Shimer students participating in the Shimer Summer Internship Program.  They regularly post updates about their internship experience. 

 This post is from Renee Meschi who is interning at the Montezuma Gardens Bed & Breakfast and Butterfly Garden in Costa Rica.  The following post relates to her studies in lepidopterology and entomology in the gardens. 

(Please note: you may need to watch this video in YouTube because of music licensing issues)

 

This really goes to show that nature can be harsh; it is so difficult to watch butterflies emerge from their chrysalises after months of preparation, only to die from something as simple as wing malformation.

It feels unfair to me to think that these butterflies will never get to experience flight, which is the pinnacle of their existence.

Maybe I was projecting, but I thought I could imagine what they felt; like when I am sitting in one position for a very long time, and it hurts to unfold my limbs, or the pain I feel in my neck after I sleep without a pillow.

Maybe it is like getting up early in the morning, and the bed is still warm. On the soles of my bare feet, the tile feels frozen. I still have that chill from the drop of body temperature that happens during sleep.

"Just a few more minutes," I think, settling back underneath the covers.

And so, after a couple of drowsy flutters, their wings slowly contract back into the shape of a used ball of Kleenex.

"Just a few more minutes..."

The butterflies only have a small window of time, however, before their wings harden and stay frozen like that forever, thus depriving them of the chance to ever fly!

I know this...but do they?

The answer is they know it on a level deeper than I ever could.

I spent hours trying to coax their wings open, only to come to the conclusion that it is their metamorphosis, not mine; there is only so much I can do. I can't pump the hemolymph through their wings; they have to.

For this reason, working in the butterfly garden is meditative and metaphorical.

I will post again with some happier stories, once some new butterflies emerge!

About Chemen Lavi Miyo (Paths to Better Lives)

 
The above video is Steve Werlin's Shimer lecture on CLM.  It explains, in more detail, what this post attempts to. 

Stephanie Fong, Zachary Fazio, Landis Masnor, and Renee Meschi are Shimer students participating in the Shimer Summer Internship Program.  They are forced to regularly post updates about their internship experiences.   This post is from Landis Masnor who is interning with CLM, Fonkoze in Haiti.

 A brief post to explain exactly what CLM does.  Their intentions are to show that it is possible to eradicate poverty in Central Haiti.  And since they’ve begun, about 5 years ago, they’ve held a 96% success rate.  That means that of out of every 50 women who go through the program only one doesn’t graduate.  Their method is very succesful.

Lamartin, a case manager, and a woman signing her name for the first time.

The Selection Process

When CLM moves into a new region they begin by holding a large, open neighborhood meeting.  At this meeting two CLM workers explain that they’re doing research, but say nothing about the program.  After the attendees sketch the neighborhood area they mark the locations of the houses and get the names of the people who live there.  Once this is done, the CLM workers lead the attendees in what is called Participatory Wealth Ranking.  Exhaustive questions are asked about who is poorest among “These two? Which of these families is worse off?”  CLM uses this information to select roughly 50 women in the area that live at the bottom of the bottom.  Targeting these women, the ultra ultra poor is CLM’s goal.  Fonkoze, the larger organization CLM belongs to, is doing great things for poor women in Haiti but the women CLM is after can’t be reached by Fonkoze.  A loan from Fonkoze is only good if you can make money from it and pay it back.  These women need more than a zero interest loan to get out of poverty.

CLM members gather outside a group meeting 
-“Get out of poverty” –I’m use to avoiding that phrase, mostly as a lean away from any flighty idealism and also because I can hear some idiot speaking about “getting on your feet” like it’s the poor person’s mistake, like they could do it but chose not to, and like it’s the right thing to do, the American life.  But I have no problem using that phrase here.  This idealism has practicality; people do get out of poverty.  As far as the complicated issue of whether or not these women are merely moving from one-meal-a-day-suffering to one of the many capitalist flavors of oppression, it really doesn’t fit here  This is mostly because the women are happy that their kids have stopped dying, they don't mind being entrepreneurs.  The preservation of life simplifies that matter somewhat.  Besides, the market place here is nothing like the United States.  I have to hold my breath to not be a consumer in the US.  Here women trade goats and mangoes in local markets with other women like themselves.--
 

18 Months

The program the CLM members go through is an 18 month process of weekly visits by a case manager.  At these meetings case managers speak to their members about various issues of health and safety.  The 10 topics which are cycled through for the entire year-and-a-half  concern immediate and foundational ideas that could possibly mean life or death.  These talks are about things like Cholera, Vitamin A, drinking clean water, and using a latrine.  The value of most of these talks would be lost if CLM didn’t explain what foods contain vitamin A, if CLM didn’t give them filters so they could collect river water, if CLM didn’t give them money to build a latrine.

In addition to these gifts CLM builds the members a new house and gives the members their choice of assets; goats, pigs, chickens, or small commerce.  The members pick two of these activities to make money from.  Early in the program members attend a week long training that teaches them how to take care of their assets.  Although women who choose small commerce as one their assets can begin to make money right away, weaving baskets or growing corn, the women who choose animals must wait before their assets begin producing income.  Take the goat, the most popular asset, assuming the goat gets pregnant quickly it will still take 5 months before she produces her offspring.  Because of this, CLM provides a cash stipend of 250 gouds (about $5) every week for the first six months.  This money is mostly used to feed their children, however if a member is doing well with her assets and securing food for her family she might buy another asset, a cow or a turkey, or invest further in their current business.   Lamartin oversees the construction of a member's new house
A CLM member's husband's funeral

This six month period really separates CLM from Fonkoze and other micro financing institutions.  Many of our members became poor after a medical emergency or the death of a financial supporter.  Accordingly, CLM’s goal in the eighteen months is to help the women reach a point of financial security that they could take a hit like that without it crippling their standard of living.  But when CLM meets them they’re in a situation where even small bumps can have grave consequences.  So CLM gives them so much in hopes that these women can start breaking even.  Case manager, Alancia (left) speaks meets with one of her members

During the process case managers give the members advice on business problems, help take care of their assets, keep an eye on their health, and make sure their kids are going to school.  Case managers look out for their members.  Steve Werlin recently wrote on his blog about a CLM member who was beaten by her husband.  Her case manager, Lamartin, the CLM director, and Steve rode out on motorcycles to the house in the mountains and threatened to lock the man up if he ever did it again.  The CLM director, Gauthier tells me, “He was scared!  We don’t let people treat our members like that.”  Case managers are responsible for the financial and physical well-being of their members but they often play an important emotional role in members’ lives too.  More on that in a later post.

Graduation

    A graduate speaks about CLM

At the end of the 18 months the members are evaluated for graduation.  Qualifications for graduation include food security, two sources of income, an active savings account, a certain value of assets… On graduation day the women are given diplomas, some speak about their experience and how their lives have changed, and lots of food is served.  A Fonkoze Ti Kredi (Little Credit) representative is also present in an effort to continue cultivating the women’s financial stability. 

After graduation the CLM case manager begins the selection process again in another area.  “You eliminate extreme poverty in one area, then you leave and go to the next one,” Gauthier says.  

 

Hello!

Good day (or evening) readers! Cassie Sherman lately requested that I contribute something to the Shimer blog, so here is my introductory post. My name is Leo Carton Mollica, and I shall be a second-year student at Shimer College come this autumn. I am interested primarily in philosophy, my favourite philosophers being St. Thomas Aquinas and Aristotle (any list longer than that would be arbitrary). Hobbies include calligraphy, occassional attempts at writing, and the reading of sundry philosophical texts.

I have never been particularly good at relating "personal narratives," and I shall not attempt to remedy that defect in this blog post. In lieu of such, here are a few memories that come to mind whenever I'm asked what drew me to Shimer:

0. I am, to begin with, a native of Chicago, and for the first two years following my graduation from middle school I attended a Jesuit high school in the city.  I enjoyed those first two years very much and did fairly well academically.

1. In my junior year, I was forced to study from home for a semester. Not needing to move to and from school, I found myself with considerably more leisure, which I largely spent reading books I otherwise would not have had time for.

2. Some time during this semester, frustrated with the required readings for my religion class, I wrote a truly foolish letter to our religious studies department complaining about the dearth of primary sources in the junior curriculum.

3. Either that year or the year before, I attended a mock radio-play at Shimer. I remember looking enviously at the library during my visit.

4. After having taken a tour of Shimer College as a prospective early entrant, I sent the aforementioned letter in the mail once more, this time as a piece of representative writing for my application to Shimer.

5. I met some time later with Cassie for my official admission interview. For the first time in several months, I had the occassion to discuss, intelligently and in delightful detail, the books I had been reading and hear articulate sympathy for wishing more primary sources to be used in my classes.  

6. I have rarely found like occassions lacking since my entering Shimer the following autumn.

I have, overall, loved what I have experienced of Shimer. The classes present a challenge to be attentive to the text and form, articulate, process, and reply to arguments quickly and intelligently in a way I had never been faced with before. Not every school, moreover, boasts admission officers happy to talk about Milton and St. Anselm, nor physics professors eager to discuss Aquinas' epistemology. I'm looking forward to the next three years. Very much.

Being Blan: Racial Stereotypes, Learning to Love Uncomfortably, and Becoming Human

Stephanie Fong, Zachary Fazio, Landis Masnor, and Renee Meschi are Shimer students participating in the Shimer Summer Internship Program.  They regularly post updates about their internship experience. 

 This post is from Landis Masnor who is interning with CLM, a microfinancing organization aimed at eradicating extreme poverity in Haiti. 

Blan is a term Haitians use for all white people.  To my knowledge this also includes Hispanics and foreigners of all kinds.  It is pronounced blah with a nasal ending.  I am told the term is not prejorative and for the most part I have found this to be true.  Being blan in Sodo, means that as I walk down the street crowds of children call out to me, “Blan! Blan!”  Their comments rise from excitement, not from an explicative interest. 

Most of the children are glad to see me, some are afraid.  I usually wave and smile when they call.  Sometimes I act as excited as they are and yell, “Ki Kote?!” which means “Where?!”  The spectacle of being blan can be a bit overwhelming.  I always, always, get double takes.  I would like to take jogs in the mornings but I think that I cause enough commotion by merely walking through the streets.  Blan is somewhat of a pre name.  People often ask Lamartin, “Who is your Blan?”  Sometimes when I greet someone in passing they reply, “Bonjou, Blan.”  My name is Landis, but I also go by Blan.

Being blan also means that marriage proposals come much more frequently than in the states.  

I’m not sure exactly what the stereotype for blans is but it certainly involves wealth.  Blans are known to have a peculiar talent for raising the market price on all goods.  I’m so good at it, I have my Haitian friends buy my soap and snacks for me.  Some children have learned how to say “You give me dolla?” and do so often while holding out their hand.  Some children yell through their fences, “M grongou,” which means “I’m hungry.”  Barrai, my Irish housemate and fellow intern, yells back in Creole “I’m hungry too.” 

The other day Barrai, Julia, the 3^rd intern, and I went to the waterfall for which Sodo is famous.  About a mile from our destination some children started tagging along.  They became our “guides” much to our refusal.  For the next mile and the entire time at the waterfall we explained that we didn’t bring any money, we didn’t need a guide, but thanks.  They continued to lead the way and ask for “dollas.”   I could understand it though, I wasn’t angry.  Being the outcast is something valuable for a white American to experience here.   But sometimes it feels like bullying.

When a young man waves me over to talk with him sometimes I get very nervous.  I know he wants money but I also know that I’m not carrying any, I never do.  In broad daylight I become so afraid of being mugged by the kid that I can’t control my body language.  My arms fold up tightly around my chest, I turn at a slant, look down.  The fear of him reaching in my pockets and taking out my phone terrifies me.  And the other pocket, “Oh God.  What if he takes my chapstick?”  I want to rush away from these situations I feel so panicked, “Sorry, I’m late,”  “Sorry, No Creole.”

Last Sunday as Lamartin and I are leaving for our 4 day journey we realize our motorcycle tire is low.  Lamartin tells me to wait by the side of the road, he’s going to run home and air it up.  So I’m standing on the side of the road in the outskirts of the town of Sodo dressed in full motorcycle gear and a raincoat.  My presence in the area sucks out whatever few children live nearby.  “Blan! Blan!”  Different people pass by on their way to and from Sodo, they all say hi.  One woman comes out of her home and heads straight for me.  I mentally prepare my Creole anticipating she’ll ask me what if I’m lost.  But I can’t understand what she’s trying to say until I hear “Kob.”  She’s asking for money. 

I don’t know why I was so angry when an adult asked me for money.  I guess I expected adults to know better than to expect every blan to be handing out wads of cash.  But then I realized that blans have treated her this way before.  It’s also indicative of America’s longstanding relationship with Haiti.  I can’t blame her for following what she’s been told.  She sees me as a resource, just as countries have seen Haiti as a resource for centuries.

This makes me appreciate Freire’s warning against false generosity and Dorothy Day’s condemning of charity.  To help another human being, to do for, or to throw money at a problem bring immediate physical good but cost extended emotional and philosophical issues.  To see a person as a person, as a You, not an It, as Buber phrases a matter, is vital to building a relationship of mutuality and dignifying humanity.  In the same way Frederick Douglass says, and I’m paraphrasing, “No one can put a chain around someone’s ankle without finding the other end around their own neck.”  I think the same reciprocal relationship occurs with Freire’s false generosity- helping relationship.  Obviously help manifests as emergency and/or medical aid sometimes, this is necessary.  The help relationship that I’m speaking about is more clearly seen in the woman’s reaction to my physical appearance.  She recognizes me as someone who gives her money.  And that’s important because she’s probably having trouble feeding her 5+ kids.  She doesn’t care if I stay in Haiti forever, she does not see me as a permanent fixture in her life, she doesn’t ask me my name.  She is more concerned with eating.  The role I’m allowed, expected to play, is one of a giver.  And I’m allowed to say that because she isn’t asking other Haitians for money.

Nonetheless, I want to be a giver.  Today we went to a CLM graduation and I started helping prepare plates for the recent graduates.  I loved filling up plates full of rice and giving them to people.  I loved meeting their outstretched hands with a plate.  I don’t think expectation is bad either.  I’m reminded of the lame man sitting by the pearly gate who asks for change.  Acts says that Peter saw his expectation and this is what led to his healing.  Perhaps this story in Acts is a good example of how the used/used, giver/receiver relationship can be different.  Peter does not give him money to eat for today.  He gives the man the ability to make money every day. 

I don’t know exactly how this translates to my daily encounters in Haiti but I’m convinced that I should see being blan differently.  Until today I’ve almost regarded these encounters, the requests for money, as harassment (which of course it sometimes is).  I think it’s important for me to look forward to giving what I do have to offer.  There are a lot of children who always try to grab my hands when I walk by their houses.  I’m a bit obsessive about being touched and about germs too.  I usually resist.  I need to begin holding their hand like they want me to.  Jesus is so cool because he wasn’t really preaching to the poor and destitute, he was eating with them, listening to them, touching them.  And I’m not Jesus, but I need to touch the poor and broken.  Because I need to be touched by them, and because I’m broken too. 

On a less airy note, I need a mind of a snake along with this new heart of a dove.  Last week $30 was stolen from my unlocked room inside the CLM home.  This means that one of my housemates sees me as a resource.  Still I think the story with Peter is a good one to bring up.  I’m glad that I’m working with an organization that helps people get on their feet rather than giving them a hand out.  This type of interaction, I think, also allows the both parties to become more human and less a resource.  More on those special qualities of CLM in the next post. 

 

Mango in My Teeth

Stephanie Fong, Zachary Fazio, Landis Masnor, and Renee Meschi are Shimer students participating in the Shimer Summer Internship Program.  They regularly post updates about their internship experience. 

 This post is from Landis Masnor who is interning with CLM, a microfinancing organization aimed at eradicating extreme poverity in Haiti. 

I find myself looking for the ‘real’ Haiti, the rural culture, the folk songs and country folk all while blocking out the pop culture, American, or otherwise 1^st world influences.  I also wish that I’d read an essay in the Soc 3 text Postcolonialisms titled “What is Creole-ness” which I believe is about exactly that. 

Blocking these things out becomes difficult when, say, a case manager I work with plays awful meaningless pop music on his cellphone all the time.  Difficult becomes annoying when he does this while I try to sleep.  When we go into the mountains, five men sleep in one stone room sharing mats and blankets.  Everything is quite resonate in such close quarters.  And it appears he only has 3 songs on his phone. 

One of them, I can tell, is by Eminem and it seems new.  Another goes, “Shorty is like a record stuck in my head, nah nah nah nah, nah nah nah nah, nah nah nah nah, nah nah nah nah.”  It’s ironic, I know.  And the final song is in Spanish.  So Tuesday night I don’t get a lot of sleep.  Partly because of Radyo (a personal nickname I find somewhat satisfying) and because we’ve rigged and actual radio to work inside the stone room.  Around 3 AM Lamartin decides that he would like to take advantage of the new radio.  I think it helps him sleep.  Not surprisingly, it has a different effect on me. 

Sufficiently woken by static and abrupt volume changes, I go outside, bug spray and Creole study book in hand, intending to pray then study when the sun comes out.  This is not something unusual for me, although I rarely wake up this early to do so.  Unfortunately Radyo is hot on my trail and explains that he doesn’t want me to be outside alone.  I’m about 10 feet away from the room in rural, mountainous Haiti at 3 AM- I’m alright.  His concern is entirely misplaced and not appreciated.  But I can’t shake him.  I explain that I want some private time, that I want to pray.  In arguing with Radyo my tongue rubs against my permanent retainer.  I’ve got mango stuck in it from the day before.  I’m dreaming about floss, was dreaming about floss.

About this time I hear singing, but it’s not the same music coming from the radio in the room.  It’s coming from across the ravine about 400 yards away.  I ask my insistent companion in stilted Creole if the music is coming from another radio and I point across the ravine.  He tells me its people singing.  He listens a moment more and plainly explains, “A baby died.” 

I’m no longer concerned about the mango.  This is pretty big for me.  But I want to hear the song.  I have a desire to experience the music of mourning.  I’ve finally struck at this raw and deep  Haitian well of feeling.  I want- I need to feel this.  But Radyo starts asking me questions about myself.  I pause for a moment and decide that my reaction was somewhat consumeristic and that I should be more flexible with my time and presence in this country.

And what does it matter if I don’t feel sad that the baby died, I know it shouldn’t have died- that’s what’s important.  I start to value Radyo—Bonisa is his actual name.  I can make an effort to ask him questions, to become his friend.  I should ask him about his family.  Oh, he’s married.  He likes PortoPrense.  This is going well enough.  For a moment we stop talking, I clearly hear the mourning song.  The sun begins to rise.  And Bonisa begins playing the Eminem song. 

In the valley one can hear the crackle of muffled Haitian talk radio, a group of mourners singing, and Eminem.  For a moment I can also hear a fatalistic whisper from Social Sciences 4.  It says, “You cannot escape the discourse.”  Only in death can I leave the crowded, noisy conversation, even for a moment.  There is no way to reach outside the handsy mix of influences.  Then I hear a voice from Humanities 4, it’s Kierkegaard, and he’s praying too.    

 

Butterfly Garden Virtual Tour

Stephanie Fong, Zachary Fazio, Landis Masnor, and Renee Meschi are Shimer students participating in the Shimer Summer Internship Program.  They regularly post updates about their internship experience. 

  

This post is from Renee Meschi, who is interning with Montezuma Gardens Bed and Breakfast and Butterfly Garden in Costa Rica.  

 

 

Mariposario means “butterfly conservatory” in Spanish, and it is the Mariposario for which Montezuma Gardens Bed and Breakfast is most well-known. In fact, everyone in town refers to the B & B as “el mariposario,” and since landmarks are used in lieu of addresses in Costa Rica, simply saying that you are going to the mariposario to a taxi driver will suffice.

 

Learning about nature and the ecosystems present in the areas we visit is a vital part of ecotourism. Seeing the simultaneous fragility and strength respresented in the life cycle of the butterfly helps tourists connect more deeply to the environment around them. Join me on a virtual tour of the mariposario at Montezuma Gardens!

 

First stop is the laboratory, where the eggs are kept and life for the butterflies begins.

Butterflies are host plant specific, and different species prefer to lay eggs on different kinds of trees. In the mariposario, many different kinds of host plants are grown.  Every day, workers inspect the leaves of trees known to be favored by butterflies to see if any eggs have been laid. Eggs are tiny and fragile, and need to be handled with the utmost care. When caterpillars hatch from the eggs, they are also fragile, and tiny! The ones I saw measured around an 8th of an inch.

The caterpillars are kept in boxes, and are divided depending on their stage of development. Garden workers must transfer older caterpillars from one box to the next so that their pheromones don’t prematurely trigger growth from other caterpillars who aren’t ready. Here is Ty, one of the garden workers, gently transferring a caterpillar with a paintbrush:

When a butterfly forms a chrysalis, a garden worker will put it behind a fine mesh screen in a protected box in the garden. When the butterfly emerges, it is set free to mingle with other butterflies, and enjoy the easy life of the mariposario. Here is footage of some Costa Rican Blue Morphos flying around the chrysalis box:

 

A garden worker’s first duty in the mornings is to keep the butterflies protected from predators. That means taking down the myriad spiderwebs that appear every morning. This is Johan; he is from Sweden, and he has been working here for about a month. With him is a hooked cane he uses to sweep the spiderwebs away.

Fresh fruit and melon rinds left over from the breakfasts made at the inn are left out for the fruit-feeding butterflies, and nectar-feeding butterflies enjoy the flora of the garden:

Here is some footage of the butterflies enjoying the middle of the Mariposario, which boasts some beautiful plants and a mosaic fountain:

 
The main butterfly propagated in the mariposario is the Blue Morpho. It’s truly magnificent, and its wings are iridescent in the sunlight:

11.6.9 M Premye Vwoyaj Non Mon, A Quick Blog While The Internet Lasts

Imagine being on a Stairmaster while playing charades, for 4 hours.  This is a rough equivalent of my first day hiking. 

I recently went on a four day trip with a case manager named Lamartin.  Lamartin is responsible for visiting his members once every week.  All of these members, nearly 50, live in the mountainous region called Boukan-Kare.  At these visits he talks with members about their business, their assets CLM has provided, sanitation, food, the progress of their new house, and other topics.  Four days might seem excessive for the 40-odd members we reach Sun-Wed.  But when the members are scattered amidst Haitian mountains, and when so many of the members live at the highest point on their respective mountain, four days hardly cuts it. 

While reading Tracy Kidder’s book Mountains Beyond Mountains I have come to appreciate the Haitian proverb from which the book takes its name.  “Deye Mon Geyen Mon”- Beyond mountains, there are more mountains- meaning Haiti is a complex land and country.  Lamartin and I would begin ascending a hill and I would estimate the trip to the top would take 15 minutes.  When I’d gotten to the point I saw earlier, more of the mountain appeared that I did not see before.  This repeated, somewhat bitterly, as my clothes filled with sweat and my legs ached. 

The time I spent hiking is a lot to summarize.  It was beautiful, it was difficult.  The journey to our house in the mountains took about four hours.  By the end of the second hour I was no longer interested in taking pictures or looking anywhere but 3 feet in front of me on the 60 degree incline.  By the end of the third hour I was thinking about Matthew 8 when the disciples at sea crying out to Jesus during a storm.  I couldn’t remember whether they said, “Lord, we are perishing” or “Lord, we are expiring” and I was having a hard time deciding which word best suited my circumstance.  By the end of the journey I had drunk 4.5 liters of water. 

To add to all of this, that is, the most intense hike I’ve ever been on, I’m trying to learn Kreyol by pestering Lamartin with questions the entire trip.  Steve had planned it this way, knowing that Lamartin didn’t speak any English.  Four days is a perfect amount of time.  As the days pass, and the hikes continue, I tend to have less mental energy to wrestle out the meaning of a word or phrase with Lamartin, he has less patience with my nonunderstanding, I begin to speak less, and he begins to use vocabulary he knows I can understand.  I also hadn’t realized the tendency to think of someone as less intelligent when they can’t speak a language well, as could read on Lamartin’s face when I said for the countless time, “M pa konpronn” – I don’t understand. 

Lamartin also discussed the weekly educational topic with the members.  It didn’t take long for me to realize that this week’s topic was health.  I can make out words like ‘kaka,’ ‘cholera,’ among others.  I usually know Lamartin is speaking about the distance between defecating areas and eating areas when the audience begins to giggle.  And while it is funny to talk about, it’s quite important.  Things like washing your hands, filtering your water, these practices help keep people healthy. 

I’m excited to go on the next hike; hopefully I will understand more of what is said.  

Communal Living and Working

Ecotourism is a relatively new concept, and because of this, there is no definition of the word that is accepted universally. Ecotourism’s goal is to allow tourists to travel and experience nature, leaving little or no ecological impact. Education about one’s surroundings is almost always a part of the experience, and in this way ecotourists develop a deeper respect for the natural wonders they visit, and are thus more likely to take the initiative in keeping their trip sustainable, as well as know the most effective ways in which to do this.

In many ways, Costa Rica is the perfect place for ecotourism. With its many waterfalls, beaches, rainforests, volcanoes and mountains, it is ideal for outdoor adventuring, and due to the extremely diverse biology, learning opportunities abound. The word “ecotourism” itself was coined here, and Costa Rica pledged to be the first carbon-neutral country by 2015.

 

 

An increasingly popular way to travel Costa Rica and Central America in general is through volunteerism and work/stay programs. Montezuma Gardens Bed & Breakfast piloted their work/stay program in 2007, opening positions for two participants who were to work in the butterfly garden in exchange for their room and 2 meals per day. Due to the success of the work/stay program, owners Ryan and Josh Bickle decided to build a guest house on their property to accommodate more workers. There are now 6 participants living and working together, including myself.

 

This is the living area of the guest house in which the workers stay:

And here is the bedroom that four of us share (two are staying in a tent in the laboratory of the butterfly garden):

As you can see, we live in tight quarters.

         It has become an objective of my internship to study the group dynamics of our situation, and to implement systems and strategies to keep things running smoothly. To make matters more complicated, all of us are transient; this means the systems must be able to stay in place even as workers come and go. 

In many ways, I look to Shimer College as an inspiration where small groups are concerned, and because of this I have been using Shimer as a model for our work/stay program here in Montezuma. So far, I have implemented a cross between Assembly and Community Tuesdays. Basically, every Tuesday we have a chance over our communal lunch to discuss changes in the schedule, ideas for making our work more efficient, and over all check in with everyone and see whether or not the systems are effective. Since we are only 6 people. our votes are informal (there is no head count), but we are consensus based.

            Overall, things are developing organically; it is simply our job to record the shapes that form to benefit future participants, and to use systems as guides to a more efficient, liveable situation.

            The workers’ main objective in staying at Montezuma Gardens is to travel sustainably; this means that our work is only in exchange for lodging and food, and that we have free time open to them to explore all that Montezuma has to offer. A typical work day starts at 8am after breakfast, and goes until noon, when we have a community lunch. We work to make the B&B itself more sustainable by building chicken coops, planting vegetables in the garden, and taking care of butterflies. This offsets any kind of impact we might have had on the environment to get here, and helps us be able to stay here longer and for less money than we otherwise would have been able.

Shimerian in Florida - Value of a Trip

     Many people talk about how Shimer has changed their way of looking at the world, or at books, or how they have conversations with people. It's not just Shimer though. Being in Chicago has changed my way of thinking and how I choose to involve myself in the world.
     The part of Florida I grew up in is comparable to the lifestyle in the suburbs of Chicago. There aren't any tall buildings and there are parking lots everywhere. People commute to work half an hour each way and never seem to live very close to their offices. The difference here is that there's really not a city that all these people are driving to or away from. Sure, there's Fort Lauderdale, which I live in the Greater Area of, and there's Miami and Boca Raton, but it's not the same as Chicago. There isn't the feeling of a “Big City.” Florida sprawls out in every direction, and even in the crowded streets of Miami there's room to breath.
     Perhaps it is because of this that I never took advantage of anything Florida had to offer. I've always referred to it as a tourist trap or the winter home for snow birds. Living in Chicago changed this perspective. When I'm up at school I make a conscious effort to go out and see what there is to see. Every trip becomes an adventure. Different playhouses, different parks and museums, different places to eat and street art to see. I feel the need to absorb as much of the culture as I can.
     Now my life here imitates that. I've realized that this state has so much to offer. I go to the museums and historical sites, I visit the Everglades more regularly and drive to the “Big Cities” to watch shows or eat at hidden restaurants. Chicago has made me appreciate Florida more, culture more.
     I've heard that colleges should be able to stand on their own, independent of their surroundings when it comes to deciding on where to go.
     Shimer does that. It has had many different campuses over the years and people still flock to it. However, I do think the environment should be weighed in as a deciding factor. College is four years long and regardless of how much work there is to do, no one spends all four years hidden away in their dorm room. Chicago has changed my life for the better and it is another wonderful thing about going to Shimer.