It's amazing how torn I am right now. I've gone from full-on production and stress and rainforest wonderment to a state of leaving. Everything here is now viewed through the eyes of one who is seeing it for the last time. Reminiscing and misty moments seem to come at me from around every corner. Today I packed my suitcase and got the whole personal side of my stay here in order and ready for departure. There is still much packing to do for work, but the fact that packing is now the number one issue leaves no doubt that BCI is about to slip from experience to memory.

On one hand I'm really hating leaving this island. I hate leaving the production and broadcast and whirlwind of learning that is taking place here. I'll forever miss the long, alcohol-fueled conversations I've had with intensely brilliant, passionate and -- at times -- daffy scientists. I'll probably never again know what it's like to work on a computer that constantly has ants crawling over it, to dash down trails in pursuit of army ants, to hold an ocelot in my arms, to pour sweat with no hope of evaporation, to be called el agouti affectionately every evening by Panamanian guys, to shoot up in the air to the canopy, and so on and so forth. I'm already picturing the moment tomorrow evening when I pull away from the dock and watch STRI shrink in the distance, framed by the boat's wake, and finally slip around the corner into the dark green night. I may or may not tear up, but I'm certainly going to get a hefty lump of sadness and regret.

And yet on the other hand, I'm desperately ready to go home. Perhaps it's just the fact that departure nears and the spectre of leaving is real now, but I'm absolutely ready. I find myself thinking, "Get me the hell off this damn island right now." I want my bed, I want a tuna sub, I want to wear a coat and drink IPA, I want to get back to work at JASON, newly reinvigorated and finish work on the Louisiana Wetlands curriculum and start work on the JASON Panama program for next year. I also want to see my friends and family who have become but small blips on the email screen, occasionally checking in and giving me kudos and making me feel distant and wanted. Most of all I just want to get back to Erin again and return to the life with her that just feels right.

So as these competing forces pull at me, I don't complain. Honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way. I feel strangely blessed and lucky that I'm in a position to have the desire to leave and stay at the same time. Most people only experience one or the other at a time. ie: Get Me the Hell Out of This God-Forsaken Place, or: I Was Born Here and I'll Die Here. Now I'm not saying I've caught the travel bug. I still don't fancy myself the type of person who can throw some sandals and a copy of Lonely Planet in their backpack and set out for Zambia or Malaysia or Poland without a plan or purpose and find myself. I respect that kind of person but that's not me. However I have discovered that what I have just done is exactly what I love doing: going some place wild and new and doing amazing things there to get the message out to others (both the Big Broadcast and the Little Blog), and leaving the planning and perfectionist organization up to the professionals who have that as their job.

And will I return? Who knows. Panama is still a mystery to me. I didn't see Panama City except for a skyline, I didn't go blitzing around the tourist sites or travel to exotic locales. In fact, save for the trip out to the Embera village, I probably never left an area of rainforest larger than 2 miles by 2 miles. Think about that. I've been gone 20 days and I haven't left an area the size of North Cambridge (that was not a dig at Shawn). Yet every day something jaw-dropping happens, either on a human-interaction level or on a flora-fauna level. It's not so much how much ground you cover, but what covers that ground.

If I ever get my way, I will return to BCI one day. You can have your Panama, I could care less about the country, I'm sure it's nice. But this place right here, this little tiny island is where it's all at. Yes I did go crazy here and would probably do something downright certifiable if I stayed here as long as the real scientists, but who can argue with an experience of this caliber? I fully intend to make an attempt to come back, either as part of my JASON duties or perhaps I can find some way to stop through on my own accord. Hell, if I could bring Erin along, I'd probably live here.

And so I enter the real insanity of packing up and leaving now. I may post tomorrow but certainly not with any significant length or profundity. Consider this the true end of the Panama Syndrome and consider me grateful that you all have checked in and enjoyed it from time to time. Far more people read it than I expected and I thank you all for dealing with me.

So until you hear from me again, I slip off into the rainforest night, and try not to slip on a toad.