Dlesha, Arabian Sea

A friend of mine, in a comment, is asking me what are the sand cones on the beach. Actually, it was not a scientist who explained me the reason of their existence, but a dear person who knows a lot about animals. In the Northern and Southern coasts of Socotra (Arabian Sea and Indian Ocean), you will find a lot of crabs, of all sizes. The cones are made out of the sand they dig out while they prepare the winding access to their "house". Taller the cone, bigger the crab. Sometimes you even have a whole "town" of cones. These wise animals also foresee emergency exits, for ventilation and to escape from possible predatories waiting at the main entrance. We have so much to learn from crabs, don't we?

An Empirical Paradise

About a month ago, I met a group of Italian scientists coming from the University of Pavia to watch Socotri lizards. As Pavia is the same small town where I studied myself, we had good reasons to chat for a while at dinner time, in the cleanest restaurant this island offers. I am obviously not a scientist, but I had a great pleasure in listening to their interests and studies.

One of them stayed a bit longer, a zoologist from Milan. She is a very easy going woman, obviously used to field activities, an interesting person to chat with and, of course, a good source of knowledge about animals! For instance, she was the one who helped me getting rid of a small rat I had in the kitchen, or noticed that most probably mother cat Soma is pregnant again!

The greatest gift she could give me before she left (sob…) was to introduce me to the new bunch of Italian scientists, who arrived about a week ago. Some of them are again from the University of Pavia; others from the University of Rome. Some will leave in few days; others will stay for a couple of months!

A wide range of scientific branches are represented by these eight experts: hydrogeology, botanic, zoology and biology. Far from being boring and pompous laboratory rats, these people are very lively, enthusiastic about their work and tireless hunters of specimens and samples (or trophies?) to bring back to their own Departments.

The group does not stick together all day long, for the simple reasons that these hunters look for different “preys”, but they gather in the evening to exchange the daily anecdotes: not only they feel the need of an evening debriefing; it rather looks like they want to have a good time, but in a productive way! Such sessions usually happen during dinners, in which I have never been left behind. Between tasteful fish, but raw and oil-sweating chips, I even found my own place and task: my input is to update them on the present political situation of Italy, which is going through a big crisis, of which the possible outcomes are obviously uncertain (nothing worrying about it, it’s “business as usual”…). Still, it is important for us not to lose contact with our own reality.

A political scientist may soon be bored of Socotra if she/he is not feeling great empathy towards the magnificent beauties of the island. But a real scientist feels like in heaven. It is a mere matter of perception capacities. You have already seen some pictures of endemic flora: those trees look sufficiently crazy to non-experts; just imagine how a botanist would feel like under their shade! By the way, some weeks ago I met another Italian botanist who, being now retired, has built a house for himself and his wife close to the beautiful beach of Dlesha (I shall post a picture soon): his personal garden includes every single endemic plant specimen of Socotra.

The best I can do in my spare time is to get lost in the amazing nature of Socotra. Now I am given the chance to enjoy the nature with the eyes and words of a scientist, who is also a teacher and luckily possesses the sufficient pedagogic skills and human qualities as to make me enjoy things I would be unable to see by myself. This is what happened last weekend.

I went with a very experienced and fascinating hydro-geologist and his young pupil to take samples of water from the source, the river, the sea-level or even from the sea itself. They explained to me in very easy words what they were studying, to what result they wanted to get, why their instruments were giving determined data. Now I know why that mountain has that colour or shape, or why there are such kinds of stones on the seashore. I could even feel like I was actively participating to the scientific expedition. It made me recall the stage of my life in which I wanted to be a geologist. We even had the time to rest on an immense sandy beach and swim in turquoise water. Most importantly, they even offered me amazing ideas to work on, and maybe put them into practice in the near future.

I am most grateful to the zoologist who introduced me to this incredible source of knowledge and intelligent free time spending. I hope she has realized by now the big door she opened to me. Maybe the twelve-metre-long dead whale we examined on a beach did not smell good, but anyway she invited me to enter a fascinating world of knowledge, and leave behind the gloomy loneliness I was being dragged in.

The Bottle Tree

(Adenium Obesum)

"Someone Still Love You"

In these glorious times of IT tremendous development, I would like to publically praise a dear and wonderful companion that faithfully followed me in my latest missions: my radio.

Few years ago, while I was complaining about the difficulties of being in the middle of nowhere, without TV and fast or reliable internet connections, rapidly running out of literature (excess luggage is not always fully refundable), my patient interlocutor most wisely advised: “Get yourself a radio!”. So this is what I did: I took the most expensive world band receiver I could see on the shelf and got home, happy as a kid in his new shoes, and started enjoying the best investment I have ever made.

Actually, I must admit that I had never been a keen radio listener before… I remember my father standing up for hours against a corner of the bedroom, holding his receiver in very uncomfortable positions. It was the only way he could follow the Italian football league from abroad. Rather, my generation was more TV-based and the radio lost a lot of its importance (“Video Killed the Radio Star”), except maybe in the car…

Since I got addicted to information and press, and started spending time in unadvisable countries, it is obvious that this highly neglected media has gained a new, considerable importance in my everyday life: in the mourning when I wake up, while I have my siesta, during my lonely lunch or dinner, and before I smoothly drop in my night-time dreams.

My radio is a fantastic traveller: very user-friendly sized, easy to feed (DC or batteries you can find everywhere) and very performing in its duties. Of course, you cannot blame it for the quality of the signal or programs, but you can bet that it does its best to make sure I can hear the stations I am interested in.

My radio also adapts very well to the environment. When I am home, we spend together memorable times in FM, supporting our Barça, or having intensive cultural sessions on the specialised Catalan public station. When we find ourselves in difficult or remote places, we practically always manage to catch at least the main AM international broadcasts in English, French or Spanish (respectively BBC World Service, RFI or REE).

Gray, in a nice black handcrafted leather case, my radio is actually a beautiful piece of Japanese technological design, but is not vain or selfish. It does not show off useless lights or buttons, or demand my full and constant attention: its company is perfectly compatible with other activities, like writing trivial articles about…receivers!

No, I am not crazy or depressed. Not yet. Actually, I must thank you for this, dear radio. For your being around, for keeping me in touch with intelligible languages and familiar cultures, for being sincere and always reporting the info you get, good or bad news. Yes, I know, we would both like to hear more of the first…Let us just hope that in our next duty…station, we would also catch good music, the one we are missing here in Socotra.

Qalansiyah, Arabian Sea