Jeff Smith

A Little More Florida in Winter

2011-02-19T13:19:00.000-08:00

It's great living in a place where you can herp during the winter. Here are a few of my recent finds while taking a couple casual outings to see what I could turn up.
I thought this little frog might be a newly metamorphosed Cuban treefrog, but I think that's wrong. Its nose looks too pointed. Could this be a Puerto Rican coqui? I'm really not sure. I found him clinging to some low-lying, moist vegetation, but not near water. I don't know if Puerto Rican coquis range as far north as Palm Beach Gardens.
A gopher tortoise burrow in Juno Beach. The day I happened to see 5 gopher tortoises in one day, I didn't have my camera with me. There were some big ones, too! I'll have to go back.
Here's a Cuban treefrog. Plenty of these around.
I found this Mediterranean gecko in my backyard. My suburban backyard has revealed several species, actually.
This cornsnake was coiled up under a stepping stone next to my back patio.
Here's a shot of the backyard. Is that a board laying down by the fence?
Oh! Well, yes it is! Let's flip it...
An Eastern glass lizard was living in my backyard. I later found a second one under the same board.
A nice full tail, but he was ready to drop it while wriggling and twisting in my hands.
Good-looking glass lizard.
While herping in a wooded area near Jupiter, I flipped a couple humongous grubs under a rotting log.
Are you checking out my butt while I roll over logs? Sicko...
Habitat shot of a shallow marshy area.
Southern cricket frogs were enjoying the afternoon. Leopard frogs were around, too, but weren't as cooperative with letting me catch them.
A DOR garter snake. You gotta be quicker across the road.
....And that goes for you, too. Busy roads are no place for a hog.
A basking alligator in the center of the photo. He was probably between 4-5 feet. I went after him, but he slipped into that deeper waterhole behind him, and I got scared walking around in there.
Spring peepers were another inhabitant of the marshlands.
You don't want to end up like the garter snake and hog, do you? You're lucky it was me driving.
A pretty softshell turtle.

Holy Land Visit

2009-08-19T09:59:00.000-07:00

After being in Jordan all summer studying Arabic, our study abroad group left in mid-August and headed to Israel (or Palestine, if you prefer) to travel and tour for 8 or 9 days. I was here back in 2000 with my family, and it's been a great experience to re-visit many of the sites I visited then, as well as see some new ones.
The Separation Wall divides Israel from the West Bank and is the canvas on which many choose to express their feelings and politics. The Dome of the Rock is no longer open inside for tourists, but I was lucky enough to have been able to go inside back in 2000, the same year that it closed for non-Muslims.
The Garden of Gethsemane. Some of the larger olive trees in the garden date back to the time of Christ.
The Garden Tomb. There a couple places where Christ supposedly died and was buried. The other major one is the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, but I prefer this location much more. It doesn't contain the pomp and ostentation of the ancient cathedral, but rather a simplicity and reverence. Whether it's actually the place described doesn't really matter a whole lot.
The Mount of the Beattitudes with the Sea of Galilee in the background.
Saturday on a boat in the Sea of Galilee with some of my colleaques.
Standing at the border with Syria in the Golan Heights. I remember being at this exact location when I was 15 and hearing from my tour guide about how the Israelis have the technology in their communication towers to hear what we're saying. I doubt it, but maybe.

Israel is a beautiful country; and whether the religious places described are indeed the sites of what they purport to be is unknown, but just being in the Holy Land and being able to devote several days to thinking about the life and ministry of the Savior has been a needed break and renewal.

For You, Mom

2009-08-02T12:58:00.000-07:00

Mom, I know I never took my senior pictures in high school, so I decided to freshen up, get dressed, and get a portrait made for you today.
But then I was afraid you might think that my appearance was a little unkempt. Loving you more than my beautiful locks, I thought it best to trim up (but only just a bit), dress a little classier, and give it a second go.
Again, I wasn't completely satisfied, so this was the look I eventually settled on. You're welcome to any of the portraits, and I hope you'll consider this restitution.Love, Your Son,
Jeff

Men and Rivers

2009-07-29T06:13:00.000-07:00

Once an old traveler traveled a trail,
Musing upon minute detail,
But halted his hike when his eye caught the gleam
Of a sunbeam revealing a resident stream.
The beholder beheld the stream held in line,
Cutting and carving the sharp incline.
"Oh," said the spectator, "Isn't this great!"
"It's rapid and rampant, but won't deviate."
"Though steepness and obstacles hedge up the way,"
"The water flows straight and will straightaway stay."

He headed uphill until at the top,
When the water again caused him to stop.
The observing observer saw in his view
The trickling tributary here was askew.
More easy and lazy the streamlet now swerved,
Creating a curious course that was curved.
"But why, thought the thoughtful, lone bystander,"
"Should the water be winding and prone to meander?"
For far back below he saw in his vision
The section of stream that poured with precision;
Yet, here on the forest floor that's flat
Is where the cold current can't stay where it's at.

Then something clicked in the clever man's mind,
As he realized that rivers are the same as mankind.
For of men and rivers, both tend to shift;
Where the path of ease puts you, it's easy to drift.
But the path to perfection has harder things given,
And without them no man could straightly be driven.

- written by me on my mission (2004)

Chatting with Locals

2009-06-13T10:43:00.000-07:00

The other day I went hiking with some friends from my study abroad here in Jordan to the nearby town of Ajloun. Much of the time, when we have a free day, we like to explore the surrounding cities and countryside. Jordan is beautiful, especially in the Northwest. I enjoy getting out for a hike (and, naturally, some herping) and others enjoy coming along for the scenery and exercise.
Locals are often curious about who we are and why we're in their town, so it gives us some good opportunities to practice our Arabic and mingle with the townspeople. As we were hiking in the Ajloun Forest Preserve, I began talking with a man who knew a lot about animals. It turned out that he was something like a zoologist that worked often in the preserve. I took the opportunity to mention my love for reptiles, and the conversation went from there. It was refreshing to speak with someone who knew the difference between a chameleon and a gecko, instead of using the same word for both. He may have been equally impressed to speak with an American kid who not only knew what reptile species lived in his country, but could throw out the names of them in either Arabic or their Latin scientific names.

More often than not, though, things don't go that smooth...

Today, my peers and I spent the day at the Dead Sea and visited the location held by tradition as the place of Christ's baptism in the Jordan River.
Not being a huge fan of large tour groups or dense huddles in the heat to listen to a memorized script in broken English, I walked away a few paces and sat down in the shade next to a gardener. As is my habit at times, I began asking him questions about the local fauna. His name was Abu Muhammad, and he was intrigued about my interest in Arabic and animals. I don't know the names of all the animals (though I'm improving), so there's always a lot of charade-like movements and hand gestures to figure out the animal he's talking about; or, he describes what it's similar to. I asked Abu Muhammad if there were chameleons by the Jordan River. He said only a few, but he said that vipers were common at times.

Then, he got animated telling me about the wild boars that run wild through the tamarisk and acacia trees. Honestly, most of my interest lies in knowing about the reptiles, but I proceeded and asked if hedgehogs were common out there, too. He nodded that they were, and he also sometimes sees this other animal. I didn't recognize the Arabic name. He said it was this big (his hands were about a foot or more apart), and it's really fast (again, a quick hand motion). "Is it a type of lizard?" He said no, and that it was kind of like the hedgehog, but long and fast. The only thing I could think of was a mongoose, and when he said it was like a hedgehog I'm guessing he meant that it was a mammal.

By then, my group was moving on. He asked me if I had a phone, so I took out my cell phone and recorded his name and number. I can't see myself taking a two-hour bus down to the Dead Sea to sip date juice and shoot pool with this nice gardener, but he had been really friendly and I was happy to talk with him.
My group walked further down to get a view of Israel off in the distance. I shook hands with Abu Muhammad and jogged off to join up with the others. A few minutes later, we began the return walk back to the bus. I looked ahead and saw my new gardener friend waving for me to come over. He had a piece of blue cloth in his hands that he was excitedly peering into. "Nice, I've already got the grounds crew working in my benefit to collect species!" I thought. He smiled as he unwrapped the cloth, revealing two small, frightened turtledoves. I know he was just being nice and wanting to give me a gift, but what was I supposed to do with two birds that were not quite big enough to fly? I asked where he got them. The tree (of course). Where's the mother? Oh, she flew away, he said matter-of-factly. I sighed, but thanked the man. Maybe if I did call him in the future and came to hang out, he'd give me a partridge that he extracted from a pear tree. (Ok, lame joke, sorry).
I asked my colleagues if they wanted two small birds, but they were as confused as I was as to why I had them and what I was supposed to do with them. I ended up setting them down in a shady area where an employee would find them. I did feel bad but didn't know what else to do. Trying to believe that the birds would be just fine, I climbed back into the air-conditioned bus to sanitize my hands and look up "mongoose" in my dictionary.

A Little More Egypt

2009-05-10T05:40:00.000-07:00

I found this dead mongoose right outside our hotel. I actually spotted it and identified it from the bus window while pulling up.
My friend Josh and I at the Temple of Karnak in Luxor. I think I made him a little uncomfortable.
The four roommates (from left: Josh, Jon C., me, Jon S.) on a bridge in Cairo at night.
Walking through the markets and streets. (Me on the right)

Egypt

2009-05-08T10:35:00.000-07:00

It's been a few days now since I've arrived in Amman, Jordan. The morning after my last final (April 23), I left Provo for the airport. A large group of students and I traveled together as part of a study abroad through BYU. We'd spend the next ten or so days in Cairo, Egypt, before continuing on to the final destination of Amman where we'd study Arabic until mid-August. (This blog now will be designated to non-herping experiences. If you'd like to know of the incredible herping endeavors of both Devin Bergquist and me, you're welcome to view them at: theherpers.blogspot.com) . All my photos will show me wearing white t-shirts since that's all I brought, so I apologize in advance for the lack of variety in my apparel.

In retrospect, Egypt is a blur of pyramids, papyrus, pharaohs, and field trips. In our free time, my friends Jon, Jon, Josh, and I would wander the streets soaking up the culture and trying out our Egyptian. The word "baqsheesh" (tip...as in giving money for service) soon came to mean "just give me some money because I know you're a rich American", and I quickly grew weary of vendors, cab drivers, and basically anyone who seemed overly friendly or desiring to help. It seems like everything comes with a price in Egypt, but since the culture around Cairo revolves greatly around tourism, I became accustomed to being asked for it and should have expected it. The culture is different, and all places have their pros and cons. Egypt has great, cheap food, many great people, and an amazing history. Exploring and tasting and bargaining and admiring were all part of the Egypt experience.

After flying in to Cairo and taking it easy the first evening, we awoke early the next morning and drove to Saqqara where the step pyramids and ancient temple sites are. I can't go into much detail about each day, but will give a quick runthrough. Maybe in the future I'll take a single experience or two and go into more detail. In addition to Saqqara, we spent another day in Giza with the largest, most famous pyramids. Some students rode camels, but I just decided to watch (and herp a bit) since I did it with my family when we were in Egypt years back. We stayed in Luxor for a couple days, sailed on the Nile, visited the Temple of Luxor and the Temple of Karnak, saw the Valley of the Kings, explored the Temple of Hatshepsut, soaked in the Egyptian sun by the pool of the resort, walked the streets at night in search of cheap shawarmas, and just had a ton of fun.

We returned back up north to Cairo to tour its Islamic elements. Our director showed us mosque after mosque and taught us all about the architectures' trefoil crenellation, minarets, and Quranic script decor. I walked through the Azhar Gardens with a few friends and meandered through some markets. Later, we packed up the bus and headed for Sinai.

The Sinai Peninsula was fascinating to me...barren like nothing I was used to, and I find it amazing that the Israelites wandered here for 40 years! I liked watching the few bedouins from our the bus window and wondered what their lives were like. We stayed at a small town near Mount Sinai and that day made the hike to the top. Saint Katherine's Monastery is at the base and houses the burning bush. It's really a trooper to have been able to survive this whole time. People would put prayers in the rock crevices around it, much like at the Wailing Wall in Jersusalem. I tried to read one, but couldn't find one in English. The peninsular travels also comprised of snorkeling the Red Sea at Nuweiba and taking a boat up to Aqaba. From Aqaba, the bus took us the rest of the way up to Amman. Future posts will talk more about life as a student learning Arabic here, but that in a nutshell is my Egypt trip (the herping excluded, of course).

Herping on New Year's

2009-01-01T18:54:00.000-08:00

I love the winters in southern California. After being in Provo and walking to school in snow and freezing wind, taking a trip to California in late December has been a nice change. The temperature has been in the low 70s, so Devin and I took advantage of the beautiful weather to get in some "winter" herping. The few short days exploring the boulder-strewn hillsides of Moreno Valley would prove to be just as successful as any warm spring or summer day.

Originally, my goal was to find one of two lizards that has continually eluded me: either the granite night lizard or the California legless lizard. It seems as though these tricky reptiles have once again given me the slip. Although I'll have to await a future day to find them, I did manage to get some great finds in to boost my spirits and fill my herping cantine until spring and summer roll around.

One morning Devin and I drove to the Lake Perris area and around Moreno Valley to hike the foothills and explore the granite crevices for granite night lizards. No such luck this time. Our efforts, however, would yield other herps like side-blotched lizards, western fence lizards, granite spiny lizards, western skinks, California slender salamanders, and Pacific treefrogs. In addition, we'd see centipedes, millipedes, a small tarantula, and a scorpion. Our best find of the day was a lyre snake found under a slab of granite rock. I had never found a lyre snake before, so seeing this secretive, mildly venemous night dweller was a herp I was proud to check off the list.

California slender salamander
Western skinkSide-blotched lizard

Lyre snake

The next day, Devin and I returned to the hills to release the lyre snake and do some additional herping. Lo and behold, not long after the release we spotted a large red-diamond rattlesnake curled beneath a bush against a large boulder. The snake was about 30 inches or more, but about 5 feet from the first snake, we found another red-diamond that was even larger.

Our adrenaline was pumping after finding two large rattlesnakes, so we kept working our way around the side of the hill, trying to stay on the sunny slopes. The sun was dipping low in the sky and our shadows were getting long. We'd only herp for a few more minutes before heading back. I jumped onto a boulder, looked down off the back side, and stretched out below me on the ground was a beautiful rosy boa.

I'd say it turned out to be a pretty decent herp trip, considering the fact that we weren't out but a couple hours each day. I was able to check herps off my holiday wish list that I had not seen before, get some good photos, and rejuvinate my herping spirit that will have to remain in hibernation once I return to the wintry wonderland of central Utah.

Holiday Cardiffering

2009-01-01T12:15:00.000-08:00

For those who don't know, the verb "to cardiff" was coined by Devin Bergquist and me to mean the exploration of tide pools. It comes from "Cardiff by the Sea", a beach location in southern California. Rather than say "explore tide pools" every time, why not simplify it with "cardiff"?...so we did. Now herping, spelunking, and cardiffering can be on one's list of favorite hobbies.

At any rate, Devin and Diana Bergquist, his younger brother Chad, and I managed to get some cardiffering done this holiday break. With the tide at its lowest point in late afternoon, the four of us set out to see if we could locate marine critters trapped in the tide pools.

With blue jeans rolled to the shins, we would tiptoe from rock to rock while peering into the clear, still water for signs of life. Occasionally, a larger wave would spill over sending us several paces back to shore to avoid soaking our shoes and socks. Eager for some interesting finds, we'd hop back and begin overturning rocks, moving aside kelp, and sifting our hands through the sandy bottoms of the pools.

It didn't take too long before we began finding critters!

Our list of critters includes the following: a shore crab (first picture), brittlestars (2nd and 5th pics--the two pics possibly represent different species), a small, unusual looking fish (3rd), and a kelp crab (4th). Also caught, but unphotographed include: a couple large purple sea slugs, a small black-and-yellow sea slug, several snails, hermit crabs, another fish specie, small shrimp, and what seemed to be a baby lobster.

Not long afterwards, we would celebrate the capture of a critter we had especially wanted to see--a twin-spotted octopus. Before the day was through, we would end up finding several. No other tourists found any, but their cardiffering was less than thorough. Devin and I gained a reputation among those at the tide pools as the two to follow if you wanted to see some interesting marine life. The first octopus was small, its body no larger than my thumb. Others, however, would be a good handful of goo and gripping tentacles.

We didn't know how the octopi would react to being held, but they just seemed to want to get away. They didn't bite, altough a large one did ink me before the day was over. It turned out to be a fun, successful, educational day at the beach!

Thankful for these past 10 years...and the 10+ years before

2008-11-09T15:12:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving is approaching. I want to take a few minutes to follow the examples of my mom and Allison to write some thoughts about these last 10 years, as Allison suggested, perhaps as a means of therapy; but also to express my gratitude. Ten years is a long time. I have not accumulated too many decades in life, so they are rather difficult to comprehend. My driver's license photo still shows an eager 15-year-old ready to get behind the wheel. I smile each time I pull it out. Hard to believe that's nearly ten years. There were ten years in Saudi Arabia (I moved out when I was ten), and it was ten years ago that my dad died. A slice of time in Montana, almost fictional in retrospect, lies sandwiched in between to complete my life history.

My dad's passing wasn't easy for anyone in the family. We don't mention it often. For me, there is rarely a context where I feel it appropriate to bring up in depth. However, I believe we think about it regularly. Naturally, the memories return when there's a holiday or a special event, like a wedding. Sometimes, though, I just resurrect old memories when lying in bed at night unable to sleep. It's true that it has been hard at times. The first Thanksgiving and Christmas without him were somber and awkward. Playing baseball in high school, I no longer had the post-game feedback and encouragement. Hunting seasons came and went without any deer jerky in the fridge. Other men became surrogates as I progressed in the priesthood and left for a mission. I believe trials bring growth, and I can't complain about life. Mine has been way too good. There is far too much to be grateful for.

I think first I have to express gratitude for my mom. If you don't understand the challenges of single parenting, you can read her blog. She spells it out in detail. All us kids seem to have turned out to be sane, functional members of society. I know raising us wasn't always easy, what with my pet rattlesnakes, hitchhiking across state lines, lack of cooperation during the single parent dating phase, and even going so far as to keep the day for senior pictures a secret so as to avoid them entirely. We all had to learn to adapt, and my mom had to learn to do all the things that were typically done by my dad. Life isn't always perfect, fun, or easy, but I give credit to my mom for the great job she has done over the years...thanks, mom!

Obviously, I am thankful, too, for the years with my dad. He was always involved in my life, and I think he did just about as good a job parenting as can be expected. Not only was he my coach for several seasons of baseball and soccer, but he was always a good example to me off the field. Still a new member of the Church when Allison was born, he was bishop of our ward shortly before his death. I remember one day riding home from a baseball game. I was still wearing my cleats, and it was just him and me in the car. Up ahead on the shoulder was a girl standing next to a big, blue cooler and a sign, "Fresh hucks!" My dad and I both recognized the girl selling huckleberries. She was Molly from my class at school. My dad had done enough volunteering and chaperoning of school activities to know her by now. She was poor, socially awkward, and the unfortunate punchline of many a joke and jab from classmates. "You want some hucks?" he asked with a smile. Uhh...oh gosh! Kind of, yeah, but maybe not that bad. Besides, someone could see. We pulled over. They were $5 a bag. We bought two, but paid with a $20. As she reached into her fanny pack for a ten my dad told her to keep the change. He then offered a kind word, and we drove away. A small act, but it's something I've remembered. I never doubted his testimony. In fact, he bore it in church the fast Sunday (I believe) before he passed away. I suspect he knew his life was wrapping up, although he never verbalized it that way. There was something of a calm before the storm, as the saying goes. He had even reached his goal of getting back down to his college weight.

I am thankful I was there in his final moments. That's sort of a weird thing to be thankful for, I know. It's been a hard thing for me to live with sometimes. In an unusual way, it has strengthened my testimony in Christ more than anything in life thus far. It's a very personal experience, but I know I needed to be there. I think my dad needed somebody there with him, as well.

Even in life's tragedies, there is so much to be grateful for. I have lived a life I feel I don't deserve. When I was 19, people would ask me where I wanted to serve my mission. "Whereever the Lord wants." "Oh, come on, where?" "Hmm...well, I would love to go to Australia, but I really want to learn a foreign language." When my call came to serve in Sydney, Cantonese speaking, I almost started laughing. I got my wish. Coming home, I got accepted to BYU, and I have since been able to do something I love in school, which is study languages. Last fall, I had the opportunity to study in a Chinese university, and next summer I will have the opportunity to study Arabic in a Jordanian university. I have no idea what life holds. I have no solid plans for the future, but I'm grateful for all that's happened in life to put me where I am today. Trying to look ahead to the next ten years is dizzying. There will certainly be trials, but there must also be gratitude.

A Brief Peek

2008-07-23T21:49:00.000-07:00

An outlaw on the streets of Hohhot, Inner Mongolia

Getting friendly with some vines

Happy to have blue skies and sunshine at last!

Pit stop to get my flat repaired.

Chillin' with Ronald and some friends at his local hub.

Sunset of Yunyang, Chongqing

Starting to get an idea for the first day of school.

Benediction

2008-07-22T19:37:00.000-07:00

Sometimes when I write I'm inspired by a place, or a person, or even a few words, and I have to hurry and jot everything down before the inspiration leaves me. Once passed, the words are gone. They settle in the same place forgotten dreams go; at first so vivid, but later only a vague fondness. I don't know where the place is, but it would be a jackpot for creativity, if discovered. I may have been on the path to finding that place until a mother holding her child walked in front of me, hocked up some phlegm, and launched it onto an unfortunate bush. The look on my face may have appeared to say, "That was the nastiest, most uncivilized behavior I've seen in at least the last hour and a half." But actually, I was thinking, "We have different cultures and folkways, you and I. Let's learn from each other!" And with her passing, so went my concentration.

Inspiration or no inspiration, I leave Dongguan in a matter of hours, not knowing if I will ever return. My time in China is quickly reaching its end, and so it's natural for me to reflect. The stories are many, and they're not all fruit stands and boat rides. Many can be shared, some will be retained, and a few, I'm sure, will lie buried between a dream and a fallen word.

I recall the places:
I've snorkeled the tropical waters of the South, and I've explored the vast grasslands of the North. I've ridden the mighty rivers and traversed the dusty roads. "Home" was more of an idea than a place; but if such a place existed, it was Xitou. At nights, one could find me playing center for the local basketball team or nibbling sunflower seeds while watching a movie on the public big screen. During the day, I'd walk around the shops or make my way down an unknown alley. The best places to go are often the places where no one expects you to be--and no one expected me to be in Xitou.

I recall the people:
He was an old man, and he was poor. Both were easily visible on his face. I shouldn't have been where I was. The train ticket in my hand allowed me the luxury of a hard seat for the 22-hour ride. I had meant to buy a sleeper ticket, which would give me more room and a bed. The mistake I had made irritated me more than the loud smokers across the aisle. Then I looked over and saw the man. He didn't have the luxury I did. He didn't have a lot of things I did. I watched him squatting in the crowded aisle beside my seat, since his ticket didn't even allow him a seat for the duration of the journey. His thin body was dark and sinewy from constant labor. His fingernails were filthy and his shoes were coming apart. He looked at me and spoke, anunciating the most standard Chinese that he could muster. I strained to understand, and managed to answer his questions about my home and family. Then he said, "Do you like China?" I replied, "I love China." I could see then that his smile was big, even bigger than my "mistake."

I recall the culture:
The red, plastic stools surrounded the wooden table, and the grandmother gave the call that dinner was ready. Yan Yan sat across from me, her legs not yet able to rest on the ground. She made a face at me, and I stuck my tongue out at her. Her pig tails shook when she giggled, and she made the same face back at me. The mother caught her in the act and turned in my direction. I shrugged and looked shocked. My friend, Zhen, sat next to me. She pointed to a dish and asked if I knew what it was. The bowl was full of contorted, fleshy strips. I admitted that I didn't know. "Pig ears." My mind began playing footage of my old dog stretched out on our front lawn, gnawing insatiously on disgusting pig ears. Yan Yan selected one from the bowl and brought it to her mouth. I wanted to reach over the table and backhand it out of the clutches of her wooden chopsticks, with a blood-curdling "Noooo!" I withheld and let culture persist. The more I thought, the more relative culture seemed. I was now envisioning one of them backhanding a grilled cheese sandwich or a pixie stick out of my hands. The vision ended just in time to hear their toddler mumble for a mushroom and some flounder.

When I reflect, sometimes I laugh and sometimes I just quietly. I replay the mistakes and the successes, the conversations and car rides. Together, they form the experience...my experience. I often wonder what comes next. I want to believe that I'm ready, but I seldom am. Maybe all I really know is that I'm young, I'm alive, and I'm living on prayers.

A Boat, a River, and Some Time to Think

2008-07-07T01:47:00.000-07:00

The metal railing cooled my hands

while the eastern breeze massaged my face. It was the hum of the boat's motor and the voices of exhausted Chinese travelers that told me where I was. It was the bobbing noodle cup that told me when.

"So, this is the Yangtze?" I casually asked the young man to my left.

"Yes, the Yangtze. The weather is good today."

I agreed. "Hubei is beautiful."

An army of regal peaks and precipices stood at attention, saluting the majesty of the sparkling river below. It moved slowly under the setting sun, like an old man reminiscing about youth and greatness. At this hour, the hills dressed in gold. The advances of Man left them pockmarked on the lower slopes, but they stood with honor. I looked closer to see the pines mingling with broad-leafs, sharing thoughts of former times. Their stories are ageless and their language, pure. I leaned onto the railing and tried to listen.

My imagination stalled the motor and muted the voices. Where the noodle cup used to be, a large fish jumped, trying its luck at an insect bouncing playfully on the water's surface. The mountains looked full and alive. On the opposite side of the river, wrestless monkeys gossiped about the neighboring clan, only silenced by the howl of a wolf or the crackling of underbrush. Two wary deer tiptoed to the water's edge for a few quick sips, knowing all too well that a tiger could be lurking nearby. The waves kept hitting the shore like two good friends slapping five. Dusk was approaching, and the swallows were flying fast to observe curfew. They stopped on their way to offer a song to the forest and a melody for the trees. The wind picked up. In the last moments of visibility, I watched the air move through the treetops. The pines and broad-leafs were dancing, unashamed and understood.

The moment passed, and I was again standing in the golden glow of sunset. A lone shoe looked grossly out of place in the water. The waves on the shore sounded more like coughing now, and I was brought back to the incessant metallic chugging and cacophony of voices. Daylight was dimming, but on a distant hillside by a small home stood a mother in a long black dress, running her hands through her young son's hair and pointing at our boat with the other. The boy waved enthusiastically. No one on the boat reacted. Maybe they were preoccupied and couldn't see. After hesitating, I grinned and waved back.

"Do you know them?" The young man was still at my side.

"No." I didn't know them, and they didn't know me. A kind face and a friendly gesture would make a fine story to tell the next time an eastern breeze descends on the hillside. The pines and broad-leafs are probably less concerned about the changing of participants in their stories than they are about the changing of their frequency. I couldn't linger; but in passing, this was my song. Unlike the swallows, the melody was hidden. The trees nodded and waved with each new gust. An old-looking tree stood alone in a pensive posture. Where have the tigers gone, do you know? Its weathered branch stretched out and stretched far to point the way, but the directions were obscure. The frail limb struggled to hold still in the wind. Maybe it, too, didn't really know.

The boat rounded a bend, continuing on its course. "Yelu!" The young man grabbed my shoulder and pointed to a clearing, his eyes wide with delight. Could there really be wild deer like he was claiming? I hadn't yet seen any in China. I followed his finger and saw three animals in the distance. Their legs were a little short, I thought, and their movements were like those of grazing goats. The lighting was poor and the clearing was far. Masking any doubt, my eyes matched his in excitement, "Ah, Yelu!"

Passionfruit

2008-06-17T21:12:00.000-07:00

"Wang, what's the name of this fruit?"

"Sanzhu."

"Sanzhu," I repeated. "Do you happen to know what it is in English?"

"I think it might be...passionfruit; although, I'm not sure."

"This is passionfruit?" I asked rhetorically, examiming the plum-sized, purple-ish fruit.

I bought one and broke it open. The exterior is not a plum-like skin. It's woodier and feels like tearing thick, wet cardboard. I'm not sure what I expected, but I was surprised to see a white interior that segments apart like a tangerine. I put a piece in my mouth. The fruit was moist and sweet, and I was feeling the passion. The flavor was familiar, but I struggled to recall why.

"Maybe a little like raspberries," I said to myself quietly and without confidence. I wasn't satisfied with that answer, but I put another segment into my mouth and savored the juices. "Why do we not eat these in the states?" I questioned. We eat apples, and pears, and bananas. They're fine fruits, to be sure, but where are the passionfruits? Canteloupe and honeydew do not taste near as good as their frequency of consumption would suggest, I decide as I contemplate the issue further.

To make matters worse, we disguise some of the best fruits with horrible-sounding names. How many young children trudge up to their mother, tug on her sleeve, and request a pomegranite? The taste is divine, but the name sounds like the answer to a question I got wrong on my geology test. No, instead the child asks for a peach, and then cringes at the texture of velvet in his mouth and fuzz sticking to his tongue and lips.

I've seen a fruit in China that I think we can learn a lesson from--dragonfruit. What the dragonfruit lacks in taste, it makes up for in appearance. If you haven't seen one, picture an artichoke during breeding season. The exterior is crimson and decorative. A soft, white substance lies beneath with small, black seeds diffused randomly throughout. As far as taste is concerned, the closest comparison is a watered-down kiwi. It's nearly tasteless, only slightly sweet. However, with a fancy shell and a name like "dragonfruit", I'm convinced teenagers in arcades would trade their hard-earned game tickets in for these while the pogs and temporary tattoos sat collecting dust.

I plop the last white wedge into my mouth and ask the lady behind the register for half a dozen more. "Sanzhu." I say the name once more in an effort to commit this new-found delicacy to memory. I really hope this is passionfruit, I continue in my mind, because if its name ends up being something like "pomegranite" I'll be buying mangos next time...and maybe a dragonfruit.

A Final Day in Dongguan...Until I Return

2008-06-15T04:07:00.000-07:00

It was raining hard, but I smiled as I passed people on my bike. My right hand grasped the handlebar in front of me, while the left clung firmly to an umbrella that was whipped around by the wind. The bike was small and my legs were too long to make the ride fast or efficient. I traded nods and grins with strangers at a fruit stand. Waving was out of the question. I rarely wear sunglasses but I wore them then. I wondered if people realized that they were to keep moisture out of my eyes and not really a fashion display. My thoughts changed from sunglasses to my stay in Dongguan and how I'd be leaving for Nanjing the following day.

Finally, I lifted my eyes and found myself close enough now to read the characters on the overpass up ahead--Xitou. I'd be home soon. The rain stopped suddenly as I rode under a covered area. A rat stuck its head out from underneath an empty bag of chips, looked down, then looked back up and focused its gaze on me again to verify what it had just seen. That was about the same reaction I got from the man in the mechanics shop on the corner. I rode closer, so the rodent hurdled a couple bricks and dove into a hole. I tried imagining what the mechanic would have done had I approached the shop door.

My friend works as an engineer in Baisha, and I had just finished eating lunch with him and touring the factory where the fuses he designs are manufactured and tested. The assembly line fascinated me. Employees worked in harmony with the rhythm of the machines. I stepped forward with my hands on my hips and my countenance feigning authority and experience. A young-looking female tapped her uniformed co-worker on the shoulder and indicated in my direction. I lifted a fuse up to my face and rolled it around in my hand, only putting it back down after giving my nod of approval. Could my poker face convince them I was someone important? "What is this white kid in basketball shorts doing here?" I read their thoughts, and that's the closest translation. All things seem to be made in China and I wanted to witness it. Afterall, I thought as I rounded the corner and turned down a narrow alley, this is my last day in Dongguan for a while, so I might as well make it interesting. My brakes screeched as I slowed to stop. I wiped the water off my face with an already wet shirt and pushed the rusty kickstand down with my foot. Tomorrow I'd be in Nanjing.

On a Bench in China

2008-05-24T21:54:00.000-07:00

Steam filled my nostrils as I leaned over my bowl of snake and turtle soup. I wasn't thinking about the slightly fishy taste of the dark turtle meat. My eyes were focused ahead on the small television set, as a news reporter gave an update of the clean-up process in Sichuan. A large earthquake had hit. I knew the location. Six months before, I had spent time hiking and playing basketball with the locals of that same town. The children I had seen then were crowding the sidelines and cheering for the "American team." The atmosphere was much different now.

Nobody expected the Sichuan earthquake. Life has tragedies, inconveniences, and detours. Although often hard to bear, that's part of what makes life interesting. We grieve, we cope, and we grow. I guess we shouldn't expect our expectations to always hold true. I realized that as I sat in the passenger seat of an 18-wheeler carrying hundreds of pounds of frozen TV dinners to Victorville, California. I should've been on a much anticipated flight to Hong Kong. My road took an unexpected detour, and I found myself on one of life's "scenic routes." I just enjoyed the ride and knew I'd eventually get to my destination--China.

I'm sitting on a bench in downtown Dongguan, China, as I write this. For some reason, a white guy sitting on a bench with a pad of paper and a pen is about the most interesting thing in the world. I don't think I'd get more stares if I was casually sitting here in the nude...well, maybe. But all in all, I'm loving it here. I came alone, neither knowing the way nor anyone along the way. What I did know was my destination and my capabilities (oh, and enough Chinese). In the little over two weeks that I've been here I've become part of a family, made many friends, helped collect donations for a volunteer organization, joined a basketball team, worsipped with local Christians, traveled to several other cities, and improved my Chinese, or so they tell me.

Tomorrow, I leave for four days to an island called Hainan. It's farther south in latitude than Hanoi, Vietnam, and is considered the Hawaii of China. The island is huge, about the size of Taiwan, and it attracts tourists from all over the world. I have no idea what lies ahead of me, but I'll be sure to keep a pad of paper and a pen close by in case I stop to take a break on a bench by the beach.

Just Pics of the Gilas

2008-05-06T05:30:00.000-07:00

I guess I had taken my post to its capacity because it didn't allow me to add any more pictures. Therefore, here a couple shots of the gila monsters we caught.

In Hot Pursuit

2008-05-05T19:22:00.000-07:00

For months, Devin Bergquist and I had been planning our annual herp trip. Last year had held some disappointments, it's true, but we vowed that wouldn't be the case this year. The goal was lofty and the stakes were high. The prize -- a gila monster! We wanted to track down the large, elusive, venomous lizard that makes the deserts of the American Southwest its home. So many have tried. A few have succeeded, but most have failed. Could we do it? Of course we could do it, what kind of a question is that? Any doubters certainly are ignorant of the dedication and capability of two herpers, especially Devin and me. Plus, Luke Burns would come along as comic relief and part-time videographer. A potent trio indeed!

We had the perfect crew, the necessary tools, and the dream. With a tank full of gas and a car full of music, we set out to whet our appetites around the deserts of Vegas -- not our destination, but a fine place to begin and get warmed up. The trip began well. Within a few short hours, we had captured a desert iguana (left), a western whiptail, a side-blotched lizard, a chuckwalla (right), a desert collared lizard (center), and a good-sized coachwhip.

Vegas was a morale-building day trip, but all these reptiles were expected. What we really wanted was something without a guarantee. We wanted something that spent 90% of its life underground, something that was endangered, and something that could not be found by the mere flipping of rocks or the hitting of bushes with sticks. To find the gila monster's pristine habitat, and to put our research to the test, we left Vegas and drove to Arizona. Our first stop would be the Phoenix area. Now, we would focus less on diurnal herping and focus more on the creatures of the night. Road cruising, as it is called, yielded surprises like a sidewinder (at left), a Mojave rattlesnake (larger snake, at right), and banded geckos. Gila monsters, however, would not be a likely catch at night, especially in the end of April when it's still cool at night.

We left Phoenix and drove southeast. Tucson sat in the distance, and we were thirsty for more success. If we were going to find that big black-and-pink gift from the gods, then the Sonora Desert around Tucson, Arizona, was not a bad place to go.

The next couple days would try our patience and our dedication. It's true that we caught more species, but we didn't come for a smorgasbord of critters. We came for a reason. Our searching would check herps off from our list such as canyon treefrogs, lesser earless lizards, regal horned lizards (below), night snakes, patch-nosed snakes, and many more. Although nice, they weren't what we came for.
Morale was lower than ever after a particularly depressing day. Pessimism became our camp's cholera. We made a plan to go to a place the next day that seemed promising. The habitat was great, the weather was ideal, and desperation drove us to greater persistence.

At first, it was just the same old stuff we had caught before. We walked farther in the heat. A narrow wash seemed suitable. It hadn't quite reached the heat of the day when I yelled out, "Devin, rattlesnake!" Ok, so it wasn't a gila monster, but a worthy find still. This one happened to be a very large tiger rattlesnake (below) tucked away in a crevice. Luck was with us, and this showed that herps were out and about. Further up the wash we would find a stretched out gopher snake. This is looking good, I thought. We pressed on.

Then, from out of nowhere, Devin stutters, "G-gila monster!" No way! I look to where he's pointing and see a large, black-and-pink lizard poised below a ledge in all its majesty. A hole nearby caught my attention. It made a move, as if it wanted to retreat below ground. Without thinking I sprinted over, afraid to grab it right away for fear of a painful, venomous bite. It hissed to display aggression, but I tentatively grabbed it by the tail and pulled it away from the hole and into the open.

We had it! It was unbelievable. The adrenaline flowed and the filming began. We could not believe our luck. Our dream had come true, and the herp trip was a success! We sowed the seed of desire -- the sweat, the splinters, and the hours of research preparation at a computer before the trip -- and now we could enjoy the harvest. We decided to keep it for a day for photographs and to retain the sweet feeling as long as possible.

The following day was our last. We headed back to the same area to let go of our beloved gila monster. As we walked down a parallel wash, I did a double take as a saw another gila monster crawling in front of us in the wash. This one was smaller than the first, but no less stunning. Devin and I looked at each other with a look of disbelief. One gila monster was brilliant, but finding a second was almost ridiculous! The gods of herpetology had applauded our efforts, and this second find was an encore. We agreed that this trip would be a difficult one to top in the future.