A Brief History of Humankind [Product Review]

Yesterday, I completed "A Brief History of Humankind" a course taught by Dr. Yuval Noah Harari, from the Hebrew University, and presented on the Coursera platform.  I like this method of learning, known as MOOC, and loved the course.

Dr.  Harari's presentation was informative, often entertaining, and above all, thought-provoking.  To condense all of human history into seventeen lectures, requires both a broad vision, and a personal point of view.  Dr. Harari has both.  In a narrative similar in style to Jared Diamond, he explored the development of Homo Sapiens from the age of the great apes, through three revolutions (Cognitive, Agricultural, and Scientific), till today.  Towards the end of the series Dr. Harari treated us to a somewhat frightening vision of the future.

I liked the Coursera platform.  Unlike the Obamacare web site, there were almost no technical glitches.  Each lecture was broken down to digestible, thirty minute segments, and each few lectures were followed by a quiz.  The quizzes as well as the final exam reassured me that I have grasped the material.  BTW, both the quizzes and the final exam could be attempted many times.

I am also taking "Introduction to Philosophy", an MIT class, presented on EdX, another MOOC platform,   This course is more technical and much more interactive.  The lectures are broken down to five-minute segments, each followed by multiple choice questions.  Participation in the online forum is highly encouraged, and added much to my depth of understanding.

It may be a while before you can get a college degree online, but as of now, MOOCs seem to be a perfect tool for expanding the horizons of retirees living in Oaxaca.






Suez Memories

On the morning of 24 October 1973, as the final act of the Yom Kippur war, Israeli forces entered the city of Suez, the Southern terminus of the Suez Canal.  Unexpectedly, the Israelis met strong enemy resistance.  After suffering heavy casualties, our small unit of paratroopers took shelter in a police building in the center of the city.  We were surrounded and outnumbered, with no way out.  All day, we fought off the Egyptian soldiers.  At night, we carried our wounded, and walked out of the city, unopposed.  Shortly before daybreak, we crossed over to our side of the line.

This December, forty years after the war, our unit will meet and, for the first time, talk about the events of that day.   In preparation for the reunion, the organizers asked us to provide some personal material.  Below, is my contribution.
       

It is a dark night, and I am walking in the center of a wide and empty street.    Behind me, the occasional clanging of weapons disturbs the eerie silence of the city.  I can see the rest of the men advancing in the protective shadows of the two-storied buildings.  Despite the danger, walking feels good.  Yet I worry about the late hour.  We must be out of the city before daybreak. I pick up the pace, trusting that the wounded, as well as the men carrying the critically injured, can muster the extra effort.

About one hundred paces ahead of me, there is an object on the road.  Keep walking.

Fifty paces ahead.  It looks like a body.  Wounded? Ours or theirs?  A sleeping guard?  Keep walking.

Twenty paces.  It stirred.  Definitely a live person.  An ambush?  No time to investigate, we need to advance.  My role is deathly clear:  I provide the early warning.  If shooting starts, the others will have time to react.  Keep walking.

Ten paces.  The man ahead woke up, and is slowly getting to his feet.  I hold my uzi at the ready.  He is wearing khaki, but without any insignia or stripes.  I don't see a weapon. What is he doing here?  If it is an ambush, they would be shooting by now.  If I shoot first, the noise will attract the attention of many Egyptian soldiers.  We can't fight our way out.  Stealth is better.

Five Paces.  He is young.  Very young.  Too young to be a soldier?  He looks at me without comprehension, as if I am an apparition.  Is he sleepy? drunk?  crazy?  Then, he realizes that he is not facing a ghost, but an armed Israeli soldier.  I have never seen such terror in anyone's eyes.  My finger squeezes the trigger.  He stands frozen in place.  Soldier or not,  he may report our position to the Egyptian forces.  He is so young.  I ease off the trigger.  After an instant, he bolts, and disappears into the darkness.

Not long afterward, we reached the water canal, and the safety of our forces.

I am content.  One more being survived Suez.




Culture salads

I believe my fondness for salad has already been established.

Today, we listened to a recorded talk by Rabbi Alan Lew.  Rabbi Lew, who passed away a few years ago, blended Zen meditation training with his Jewish faith.  The talk pivoted around the need for "leave-taking" as the way to discover yourself.  He demonstrated this requirement in
all of the world's great religions.  He compared elements of the greatest "leaving", the Exodus, with the process of meditation.  The mix was tossed to perfection with a wit/humor dressing, and garnished with entertaining personal anecdotes.

       Link to the recording: Here

As it happened, lunch today was hummus, with a side of kimchi.  Both dishes were home-made by this Korean/Israeli couple.

Tonight, in front of Oaxaca's cathedral we will dance the Danzon, which originated in Europe, modified in Cuba, and imported to Mexico in the 19th century.  On the plaza, we will meet Alberto, a surgeon, who on Saturday nights, together with his band, plays a great homage the Beatles in the local beer garden.

Viva la ensalada.

P.S.
    Thanks to Doron, for introducing me to Rabbi Lew.

Why did the nomad smile?

Nomads, contrary to conventional  belief, are creatures of habit.  When they find a good grazing ground, they stick to it.  In the Bay Area. we were happy to repeatedly indulge our craving for greens at "Sweet Tomatoes".  However, sometimes an adventurous spirit is necessary.

Searching for food and shelter along the main street of Navojoa (a small town in Sinaloa), we knew that we had to be alert and flexible.  A green sign that read "Quick Zalads" caught our attention. A long counter, decorated with colorful and fresh-looking vegetables, dominated the small restaurant.  We paid for a "Large", and were amazed as the cashier brandished a stainless-steel bowl, the size of a kitchen sink. A server obtained a whole lettuce, and shredded it into the bowl.  The server and us then walked on opposite sides of the counter.  We, across the glass panels,  pointing at the different vegetables.  She, adding our choices to the mix.  At the end of the journey, she swiftly dressed, and tossed the full bowl.
"I can pack whatever you don't finish"  she offered.  Probably, after comparing our body size to the that of the meal.

We sat across the industrial-grade container and took the first bite.  I recognized the smile that spread across Adi's face.  It spells 'SATISFACTION.'  We consumed the entire portion without difficulty.  I think someone should open a franchise in the Bay Area.

Stained

Predawn in the mountains.  I strolled up the dark trail, scratching my arms while savouring the last sweet remnants of sleep.  This was the first day of a Vipassana retreat.  I have been here several times, but this would be my first chance to occupy one of the newly completed, private meditation cells,

I found my cell along the hushed corridor, and entered a high-ceiling room which was barely wider than the door.    I sat on my custom-made cushion, flipped the light switch (conveniently located by my elbow), and after enjoying the total silence and darkness, closed my eyes and began to work.

After a while, I felt, on my foot, a tingling sensation.  Last night, we were instructed to focus on the breath, and to ignore bodily sensation.  I tried to comply,  but the sensation turned into an itching sensation.  Being an "Old Student" I was taught what to do.  I  could hear my teacher's deep melodious voice:  "Just observe as the sensation arises... passes away... Aniche [Law of impermanence]."  However, the sensation did not pass away, but intensified into a pain sensation.  At this point, I realized that this morning could also be my first chance to experience the emergence of a deep-rooted Sankhara [Habitual reaction].  According to our teacher, if I kept "perfect equanimity",  the Sankhara will dissipate, and I will become more wholesome.  However, when a hot flame touched my foot, I lost my equanimity.  In one quick swoop, I uncrossed my legs, opened my eyes, and turned-on the light.

My left foot was indeed red and swollen. Then, my peripheral vision caught some motion.  An insect, smaller than an ant, was crawling slowly on my right leg.  Its movement seemed to be hindered by the large shiny-black sphere which comprised the hind part of his body.  In pure instinct, my hand flew towards the target, and caught the vermin between thumb and forefinger. Then, I squeezed.  In the quiet room, the ensuing "POP" rang like a rifle shot.  All that was left of the poor creature was a red, comet-shaped, stain on my pants.

The pain quickly subsided, but my agitation lasted longer, even as I returned to sit.  Was it rage?  Revulsion?  Or maybe regret, for violating the first moral precept to "Abstain from killing any being."

P.S.
The next day, I recouped some of my lost merits by rescuing a drowning ant out of the urinal.  My battle with the bed-bugs lasted throughout the course, but without incurring additional casualties.

P.P.S
Rereading the story, I realized that it has a hidden moral, which would apply even to bugs.  "Don't be greedy."





Blue-and-White in Santo Domingo

Walking back from a live screening of the Met Opera, I heard music coming from the next block.  Loud music is not unusual in Oaxaca, but as I rounded the corner, I was stopped in my tracks by a sea of Israeli flags. Then, I took in the men, women, and children, that filled the street, waving the flags while singing in harmony.  At the end of the alley, on a stage in front of Santo Domingo Church, a youthful group motivated the enthusiastic crowd with Christian Rock.  The surreal situation soon began to make sense.  This Christian congregation was celebrating Israel's Independence Day.  I lingered for a while, clapped my hands in rhythm, then continued to a delicious Oaxacan dinner.

This is not the oddest Christian Congregation in Oaxaca.  The Messianic Jews adhere to all the rules of the Torah as strictly as any Orthodox Jew.  Some of them even speak Hebrew.

Amour, directed by Michael Haneke


Amour (2012)The movie "Amour" was recently presented as part of the Oaxaca International Film Festival.  In the movie, Anne and George are aging gracefully together.  We can observe the quiet love and respect they share.  Suddenly, Anne suffers a stroke.  Her condition continuously deteriorates until she can not take care of herself, nor communicate with her family.  George tends to all of his invalid wife's needs.  He does so with love and tenderness.  Only rarely does he display resentment towards this hard and thankless job.  Anne cannot express herself, yet we can share her suffering.  Although she has some brief quasi-lucid moments, at other times it is clear that she would rather end her life.  Eventually, George complies by smothering her under a pillow.   The story is sad, yet it is told in a factual and non-emotional manner.  I was impressed by the way the couple, and eventually George alone, face their situation with calm acceptance, without resorting to self pity, and without soliciting the pity of others.  The acting is excellent, and Haneke, in his usual dark style, displays meticulous mastery of the movie-making art.


The movie prompted me to review my attitudes towards life.  I realized that I am not afraid of death, nor do I crave a long life.  I exercise daily and eat well in order to stay active far into old age, hoping that when the inevitable decline arrives, it will be short and steep.  If that declining path is lined with extreme discomfort,  I believe I can make a calm choice whether to follow it to its natural end, or not.  Most important, I think that Dignity is a higher value than Life.  Dignity, to me, is being aware, being able to communicate this awareness, and having some control over my environment.  I should take steps now, that would help my loved ones, if these criteria are not met, to make the same hard decision as George.

"Antifragile" by Nassim Nicholas Taleb



"If you have more than one reason to do something," says Taleb "just don't do it."
This is one of the many exasperatingly true edicts I found in "Antifragile", a book that changed the way I view the world.  Taleb is a modern day prophet.  He points out the errors of our ways, loudly rallies against the evil-doers  (Economists, bankers, and politicians), and warns us to return to the "righteous" path (Antifragile). Prophets are often derided until their predictions come true.  Taleb  has earned his prophet credentials by predicting the banking meltdown, and profiting nicely from it.  His book is approachable, sprinkled with personal stories and entertaining parables (Math equations are confined to the appendix).  I have only one reason for my attempt to condense it.

Taleb's observations:

1.  Social systems and natural systems are similar.  Both domains are complex, non-linear, and composed of  little-understood inter-dependencies.  Any attempts to model them is bound to be simplistic and inaccurate.
2.  Such systems are affected by external events- "stressors".
     2.1 The stressors are random in frequency and magnitude.
     2.2 Low magnitude stressors occur frequently.  Stressors of high magnitude occur very rarely.
     2.3 It is impossible to predict the timing or even the probability of these rare events.  (A very small error in estimating the shape of the distribution curve will cause a big change in the prediction)
     2.4  However, history has been largely shaped by those large-cataclysmic rare events.  Taleb names them "Black Swans."
3.  With enough time and variability,  anything fragile will break.  However, nature, our body, and economic systems survive due to their ability to learn and improve from variability.  They are "Antifragile".  Quoting Nietzsche, "Whatever does not kill me, makes me stronger"

Too much human intervention disrupts the natural tendency to self-heal.  We are becoming more fragile and more susceptible to Black Swans.

4.  We don't like uncertainty.  Catering to this tendency, economist try, unsuccessfully  to predict the future. Hearing these prediction, (even knowing they are wrong), we make risky decisions, resulting in catastrophes.
5.  We don't like variability.  We appoint people (like Greenspan) to reduce it.  As a result, instead of experiencing many small slowdowns, from which the system can recover and improve, we get large meltdowns.
6.  Our society promotes a new class of people such as Bankers and politicians, who have great power, yet take no risk.  We, the public, carry the risk and bear the losses.
7.  We let physicians, and the big pharmas, over-medicate us, exposing us to the rare but real danger of unintentional harm..

Taleb suggests that the way to handle variability and mitigate the problems above, is to become more Antifragile.  One of his definitions for the term is as follows.
"Anything that has more upside than downside from random events is Antifragile."  The reverse is "Fragile."  Something that is not affected by variability is "Robust"

Below is some of his advice on how to survive, and even thrive from variability (my order).

8.  Don't try to compute risk.   "It is far easier to figure out if something is fragile than to predict the occurrence of an event that may harm it."  Once fragility is detected, work to reduce it.
9.  Top-down is fragile.  Bottom-up  thrives under stress.
    9.1 City-states are better and more effective than modern Nation-states.
10.  Big is fragile.  Create disincentives for companies to grow to "too big to fail" status.
11.  New discoveries are made by engineers/tinkerers, not in bureaucratically-funded academia.  Develop an environment that tolerates (even honors) failure (i.e. Silicon Valley).
12.  Do less.  Better still, procrastinate.  Avoid interference with things we do not understand.  Let time take care of it.
13.  Look for opportunities for exercising optionality.  Optionality provides limited downside and open-ended upside.
14.  Limit medical treatments to situations where the benefits are large and clear.
13.  Adopt a "Barbell"  strategy.  A strategy that employs a combination of extremes, while avoiding the middle.
       13.1  Combine aggressiveness and paranoia.  Play it safe in some areas (robust to negative Black Swans) and take many small risks in others (open to positive Black Swans.)
       13.2  Put 90% of your funds in (inflation proof) cash, and the other 10% in extremely risky securities.
       13.3  Exercise hard, than take long rest periods.
       13.4  Eat a large steak, then abstain from meat for a few days.
       13.5  Marry an accountant, and have an affair with a rock star.

Enjoy the book.

and the winner is ...

Our three-month tour of Central America is complete.  We drove through eleven borders, visited five countries, and enjoyed every moment except the border crossings.  We thought it would be fun to list what we consider the highlights of the trip.




 

Tikal, Guatemala
    Climbing impressive mayan pyramids
Coffee tour, Juayua, El Salvador

    Learning to appreciate and brew fine coffee
Copan Honduras
    Interpreting Mayan hieroglyphic
Masaya Volcano, Nicaragua
    Suffocating while staring down a glowing crater
Ojo de Agua, Ometepe, Nicaragua
    Swimming laps in a flowing crystal-clear spring
Ecotreat Lodge, Cerro Punta, Panama
    Looking for questzal in mystic Park Amistad
Whale sharks, off Coiba Island, Panama
    Diving with huge fish
Carnaval, Las Tablas, Panama
    Sharing energy with rivers of people
    Here we met the couple who wrote this a blog about it.  Click here
La Marea, Darien Province, Panama
    Making friends in the "Heart of Darkness"


    
We also selected our favorites in a few categories.  And the winners are:

Border crossing:  Nicaragua
        Choosing in this category is like choosing your favorite tooth extraction.
    Roads:  Nicaragua
        A combination of good road conditions and clear signs
     Small town:  Suchitoto, El Salvador
         Colorful, pretty, and pleasant.
     Local Food:  Gallo pinto
          Rice with black beans.  Available in different variations anywhere south of El Salvador.
    Fresh vegetable salad:  Bar baro, Leon, Nicaragua
        We craved for it, and were usually disappointed, except here.
    Local people:  El Salvador
        Smart, friendly and helpful.  Even the cops.

On our return, we confirmed that the
    Best Central Plaza (in all of North and Central America):  Oaxaca, Mexico.

To see a photo album of our trip, press Here.

The DariƩn Dare

The mention of DariĆ©n brings fear into travelers heart.  Lonely Planet, the apostle of independent travel, forbids travel into the DariĆ©n Gap and recommends taking organized tours into the rest of the province.  I tried to comply, but neither friends nor family could join me, and no tours were available on my schedule.  I was on my own.  My chosen destination was La Marea (Tide), a small Embera village, which due to the difficulty of getting there, is off the usual tour itineraries.

In Panama city I gathered the essential supplies for jungle travel.  Hammock, mosquito net, and water purification tablets.  However, even the National Hospital did not carry anti-malaria medicine.  I considered cancelling, but eventually decided to trust my repellent, and hope that the anopheles mosquito knows that it is active only at night.

Driving on the Pan-American Highway, the crossover into DariĆ©n Province is immediately evident.  The road quality deteriorates, and police speed traps are replaced by fortified road blocks manned by soldiers in full combat gear.  Adding to the sinister touch, in each of the checkpoints our car was searched and our passport numbers recorded.  The land leg of the journey ends at an isolated dock, where we left poor Nemo on his own and boarded a boat shuttle to La Palma.  The scenic mangroves on shore, and the company of dolphins on the crossing, erased my worries about Nemo.  La Palma, the provincial capital, is a dilapidated one-street town which is distinguished only by the mind-numbing loud music blaring from every establishment.
Here, I would leave poor Adi alone, until my return from the village.

The officer in charge of the army garrison told me that  La Marea is in the "Red Zone", and I need a permit from HQ in Panama City to go there.  I did not argue.  This would not be my first unauthorized border crossing.  I understood that from now on, I will have to be more discreet about my destination.  The same boatman that ferried us to La Palma, was willing to take me to the village. The passage up Rio Marea is possible only at high tide, and so very early next morning, he landed his boat besides our hotel (discreetly away from the official dock).  I felt like the Martin Sheen character in 'Apocalypse Now', as I waved to Adi, and sped away.  At the start, the river was deep and wide.  We motored at full speed around the bends, startling the many birds along the shore, but as we moved upriver, progress became more difficult.  The channel narrowed, and fallen trees floated in the water forcing us to slow to a crawl.  The river was also getting shallower.
'Are we too late?  Did we miss the high tide?'
Eventually we reached the village, which consisted of about a dozen huts.  The village chief, whose permission I needed in order to stay here, summoned the "Tourism Coordinator".  The "anthropologist" in me was dismayed.  However, as Alberta arrived, clad in nothing but a short skirt, my hope rose again.  I tried to keep my eyes on her face as we discussed the terms of my visit ($5 entry, $5 per night, and $3 per meal), and released the boatman who was anxious to get back to town.  I was elated.  I reached my destination and I am the only outsider in the village.

My hut, like all the rest, was composed of a wooden platform elevated on stilts, covered by a thatched roof, and without any walls.  The floor served as living, sleeping and cooking space, while chicken and pigs roamed the ground below.  All of Alberta's family lived in the adjacent huts, and I was introduced to the women and children.  The men were working in the forest.   I soon realized that except for Alberta and her mother, the other women wore western-style tops.  I overcame my disappointment, and  left with my guide on a jungle hike.  We walked a narrow path, crossing several streams, and climbing over fallen trees, until we reached a tall tree which Nino claimed was home to a Harpy Eagle.  This large bird is the holly grail of birdwatchers in this region.  Unfortunately, it was not home.  We returned to the village just in time for lunch which was cooked by Alberta's attractive daughter in law.  Lunch consisted of rabbit stew and copious quantities of rice.  The delicious rabbit was caught in the forest by her husband.  'Belly full, heart content' is a Nicaraguan saying which perfectly applied at the moment.  My heart was delighted further when I took a cool dip in the river.  Kids where playing in the shallows, mothers were washing laundry, and I found a deep stretch to practice my TI swim style.  After the swim, I took a nap in the hammock, from which I was awakened by Alberta's daughter, who asked me to photograph her children.  I was happy to oblige, taking many photos and displaying then to the kids and mother.  She then asked if I would take her photo too. Upon my reply, she ran out, and soon she and her younger sister were waiting for me below, giggling.  Their shiny black hair neatly combed, lipstick on, and long necklaces adorning their bare breasts, they were ready for a photo shoot.  To see the village photos, including the girls, click here.  After dark, I coaxed Nino to take me on a night walk, and at nine pm, the village and I went to sleep.

I could have stayed several days in this delightful friendly place, but the thought of Adi suffering in La Palma allowed me only one night.  In the early morning, after a breakfast of smoked rabbit and lemongrass tea, I joined a family who were heading to town in their (motorized) dugout canoe.  It was slower and more pleasant than the ride upriver.

Epilogue
So far, I am not experiencing malaria symptoms, nor any digestive problems from drinking the untreated village water.  My only complaint is the itchy, red, oozing volcanoes that cover my legs.  I think those are flea bites from sleeping on the hut's foam mattress.      


    

Waltzing with Whale Sharks

“Coiba diving is amazing.  Boca is a party town”
That was the opinion of a fellow traveler in Cerro Punta, and that's all it took to rotate our heading from the Caribbean, to the Pacific.

The Island of Coiba and its surroundings is a national park, famous for large marine animals.  At this time of year, whale sharks are the star attraction.  They are the largest fish, reaching a length of 15 meters.  Being a meditating diver, I arrived at the hamlet of Santa Catalina without any expectations, or at least that’s what I told myself.
“They come and go,” said the girl at the dive shop “they follow the plankton, and for the last few days, they have not been sighted.”
Since I was still suffering from a nasal congestion, I decided to rest a day before diving.
‘Maybe by then they will come back’ I thought.
Santa Catalina is also one of Panama’s best surfing breaks, and I spent the day in the company of bored surfers, whose rest was imposed by the lack of waves.  The absence of swells seemed to overlap with the absence of the whale sharks, and I formed a neat nautical theory connecting the two.  As if to confirm my theory the dive-boats returned without a sighting.

Towards the end of our first dive, two in our group sighted a whale shark, but the low visibility prevented me from seeing it.
“It was an interesting dive anyway” I told myself
The second dive location featured many white-tipped sharks, but not the stars.  Before the third dive, a couple of people felt tired and stayed on the boat.
“This is a known feeding spot,” said the dive master, “just sit back and look”
He was right.  There was nothing to do.  The water was unpleasantly cold, and the cold current brings with it plankton and low visibility.  The underwater scenery was dull, and the overcast sky made it dark and gloomy.
'What a waste!' I thought while hugging myself, and after a pang of guilt, I relaxed into my mantra 'No expectations.'
And then suddenly, a blurry shape materialized out of the darkness.  It was huge and it came closer.  One at a time they swam up to the surface, lingered a bit displaying their spots, and then disappeared in the murky depths.  They swam slowly, ignoring our presence, and I grew bolder, approaching one within 2 meters. Judging from the photos, the biggest shark was at least four times my size.
‘They only eat plankton, but a side swap could hurt.’
Just as suddenly, they left.  Back on the boat, we did not have to speak.  Our smiles said everything.

Serendipity


Serendipity is one of the attractions of nomadic travel.   In this case, I found an enchanted forest.

Boquete, rejected us.  This famous town in Panama’s Highlands was celebrating the “Flower and Coffee Fair”, and all the beds were taken.  I was relieved.  A place where all hotel owners are white and all beers are expensive, maybe fine for expats, but is no place for me.  Instead, we headed to Volcan, which is on the other side of the Baru volcano.  It had the look and feel of a gold-rush California settlement, and was clearly my kind of town.  The following day, we continued to Cerro Punta, which is higher on the same road.  This village has a distinct European flavor.  Its clean streets, steep-angled roofs, and decorative flower gardens are reminders of the Swiss group that settled here a hundred years ago.  Men on horses share the road with Toyota Hilux trucks and with indigenous women dressed in colorful embroidered dresses.  The villagers grow vegetables on the steep flanks of the volcano.  However, agriculture went high tech, and it was not too surprising to learn that Israelis were the consultants behind the plastic greenhouses and the renowned strawberries.  In the village, we stumbled on the office of Ecotreat, which brews a good Cappuccino (that was the initial draw), and rents cabins inside Amistad National Park.  The cabins were built long ago, and were grandfathered into the protected area. 

It took half an hour driving up a tough 4X4 road to reach the site.  At an altitude of 2200 meters, the cabins are surrounded by forest, and within sight and sound of the headwaters of Chiriqui Viejo River.  As I stepped into the forest, I entered a magical kingdom.  The trees are huge, and the ground level is covered by dense tropical vegetation.  I realized that I found the prototypical cloud forest which I was seeking in El Salvador (Parque Impossible), and Nicaragua (Reserva Miraflor).  The atmosphere is cool, humid, full of animal voices, but devoid of any man-made sounds.  The scene is eerily reminiscent of the movie Avatar, and as I walked, I felt the savage within me getting ready for the hunt.  The trail was not easy.  When not muddy, it was steep and slippery, but we endured, driven by the quest to find the Quetzal, a small bird with a long colorful tail.  Looking for birds, first you hear them, and then you spot them.  Adi was my hearing aid as she pointed at various birds; pretty, colorful, but no quetzal.  Night approached, and our rain jackets proved useful as the cold rain demonstrated why this is called a Cloud Forest.  Nacho, the only caretaker on the premises, lit the wood-burning furnace, which easily heated the cabin.  At sunrise, when I ventured out to look for the early bird, the thermometer read 5 degC,

Pardon the commercial, but our time in the forest cabin (ecotreat.com) was the highlights of our trip so far.  Nacho claimed that later in the season, the quetzals can be seen from the cabin deck, and we booked another stay for our way back after the Carnaval.  Maybe this time we will be lucky.
  Click for a quetzal photo