New York Concrete Jungle

Note: This blog post is obviously not about South America... but I went to New York on the same trip! So there's a few posts lined up about NYC.

There are some interesting social hierarchy dynamics in New York. It is a city which accentuates capitalism's class division and highlights the wealth inequality problems of the USA. It is, after all, the peak of capitalism's empire.  It's the modern version of Ancient Rome or Athens. It's the top of the rock. An extended metaphor seemed necessary:

The concrete jungle at its finest hour.

The pumas and jaguars rule the concrete jungle, rarely seen on the forest floor during the hours of daylight. Instead they hide out in the canopies - comfortably observing. In the early hours of the morning and evening they speed through the shaded trees, virtually unseen.

The anteaters spend most of their day in the canopy. They pray  on the ants, the commoners, and exploit their nests for all they're worth. Their hunger never subsides.

The ants navigate the forest floor during the daylight hours. They work until they die, either from fatigue or eventual consumption by the anteaters. At sundown, they scurry to their homes which are nestled in the canopies below where the puma rests. They live in the middle sized, poorly constructed trees, which are often breaking and crumbling. Many are subtly exploited by the anteater, even when they are in their nests.

The bird worries little about these dynamics, migrating to the rainforest at the best time of year. It observes, but rarely interacts with the puma, anteater or ants. It parks itself in the most lush part of the rainforest, among the puma in the highest, most central canopy. The bird, however, cannot afford to stay in such a well sought after area for long. Soon it will migrate home where it will spend the rest of the year. At home, the bird struggles for food in the local park, dreaming of the luxuries that their migration to the rainforest provides.

Occasionally, you will spot a pig in the rainforest. Confined to the forest floor, the pig longs to be among the canopy. The pig stinks, as pigs tend to do. It is avoided by the ants, the anteaters, pumas and jaguars. It bothers the migrating birds with its relentless cries for help. The foreign birds, unlike the local animals, are not used to hearing these horrid cries. While the ant, anteater, puma and jaguar have learned to ignore the pig and avoid its gaze, the touring birds still startle easily at the sight and sound of a pig.

The pig is reliant on the scraps of others. Unable to reach the canopy's fruits, it relies on the sympathy of the bird, who occasionally drops food for the poor pig.

The Horse Track - Tayrona

The horse track - we had been told - was by far the speediest method of arriving at Cabo de San Juan, the cape located at the northern peak of Colombia's most famous national park: Tayrona.

Unfortunately, on the way there we had mistakenly taken the 2.5 hour hike. While the long route was scenic and stunning, we arrived with the sun in a glowing twilight and millions of mosquitoes screaming in our ears.This is a tale, however, of the much more pleasant horse track trail we took after spending the night in a steaming hot tent.

Cabo de San Juan and the jungle behind

The 'proper' path back to the entrance of the national park was marked decisively by a trail of horse manure, which led the way at the many forks and turns in the road. Measuring about one meter wide with walls of dirt surrounding on either side, the track had to by taken in single file. The hike was through a miraculous jungle, seething with life due to the friendly nature of humans in the area. This was in stark contrast to the previous jungle (The Amazon - see this post) which I had been in, where fearful animals were shy and frightened by the often present hunter humans. The cicadas sang, the mosquitoes buzzed and the air was sodden. Due to the small size of my group the wildlife spotting was close to as good as it had been in the Amazon. There were vultures and bush pigs, but most impressively there was a rare species of monkey, only sighted in that part of Colombia, directly above our heads. These monkeys did not see us as a threat. They played with us. They dropped bark from huge trees and engaged us in long staring matches. Their calls were fierce and piercing. Their energy was fearsome, as they launched from tree to trunk to branch.

We moved on with difficulty, as the sun was once again coming down. The end of the path was near and after only one hour. The horse track - so it went - was definitely the fastest method of arriving at Cabo de San Juan