Although over the course of my month volunteering on Cousin, I witnessed this evolutionary process over and over endless times, my astonishment never wore off. I still remember widening my eyes behind my sunglasses as though that would let me take in more. When I arrived on Cousin during the first week of December, there were 400 something nests and when I left, there were over 630 nests. But those are just numbers – the intimate experience of actually witnessing in real time the historical creatures performing their evolutionarily programmed purpose in life was priceless and will live in my memories forever.

One day as I was sitting on Anse Vacoa during my patrol, absorbing the salty air and listening to the soothing sound of the ocean waves, a skink wandered into my sphere of awareness, lazily swinging his body before coming to a complete halt at the base of my feet and slouching on my heel. He seemed to calmly consider the landscape, completely at ease in his habitat. I wondered how and if people could ever get that comfortable with themselves. Some people talk about “finding themselves” in their travels, but I thought perhaps you had to get lost first? When you are continually exposed to more than one culture as is often the case in travel and especially the case on Cousin Island, where a group of strangers from all around the world and various cultures are suddenly put into one house to live together in and share, sooner or later the anthropological question arises: How much of who I am is defined by the world around me, and how much is something more innate? Is it ten to one? Fifty-fifty? I think my experience on Cousin living with volunteers from around the world as well as working and interacting with the Seychellois wardens acted as a purifying fire, charring away all the dross and leaving some essential self of mine. In my opinion, this is the best type of travel as it facilitates the peeling away of layers of yourself to reveal your inner essence.