Memory Making at Monterey Bay Aquarium

-continued from "Santa Cruz Scares Me."

Monterey Bay is a paradise for marine flora and fauna.

The next day, we descended from our mountain retreat and traveled south to the Monterey Bay Aquarium.  From previous experience, I knew this would be another wallet-gouging all-day event.  But it had been almost seven years since I brought my little boy here as a five-year old and I was pretty sure he didn’t remember much.  So, I shelled out the $55 entrance fee and focused on the airline miles I was earning with my credit card and the meaningful experience I hoped would soon be forthcoming.

 

Touching is understanding.

Even these fish tanks need cleaning.

If you have never been to the Monterey Bay Aquarium, I have one important bit of advise.  Get there as soon as it opens and plan to stay ALL DAY.  This is not only so you will get your money’s worth, but it’s also the only way to see everything without rushing through it. 

 

Wandering through the Aquarium's multiple themes inspires curiosity (take your time).

The kids enjoyed Sea Otter feeding time.

The exhibits at the aquarium had clearly evolved since the last time I’d visited.  They are clearly on the cutting edge of technology when it comes to engaging visitors in learning.  I’m an unforgiving critic when it comes to scientific interpretation, and I was honestly impressed by the variety and ingenuity of Monterey’s marine exhibits.  Long, curving, darkened halls were illuminated by various sized windows into habitat tanks and by moving digital images on the walls.  Some of the most interactive displays allowed visitor’s to influence the digital projections with dials, buttons, hydraulic-like pumps, and even their fingers.  Want to know what kind of plankton was floating by on the wall?  Touch it and it expanded to 5x its size with accompanying factoids.  Touch it again and it shrank back to its original size and floated on.  Other interactive exhibits let you draw a sea creature and watch it swim across the wall, or adjust a seahorse's camouflage to protect it from a roving predator.  

I think the next great innovation in interpretation needs to address visitors urges to take pictures.  It seemed that every person between the ages of 7 and 97-years old wielded a picture-taking devise with which they tried to capture the beauty of the exhibits (including myself, obviously).  Flashes from cameras were already a problem, indicated by the presence of signs directing visitors to not use them on certain exhibits.  Crowding was also a problem.  The desire to create a permanent keepsake of yourself, or a loved one, standing in front of a Giant Pacific Octopus or a Thresher Shark is simply ingrained in the modern human psyche.  Whether it was a cell phone, a point n' shoot, or a long-lensed SLR camera, each photographer seemed compelled (driven almost) to point their device at every swimming thing.  For many, the experience of the exhibits existed only through the viewfinder of their camera.  Once a satisfactory photo had been captured, they wandered off in search of the next subject.  This was a testament to the quality of the exhibits, but I wondered if it was also a hindrance to making deeper connections on a being-to-being level.  What's more, most digital cameras are not suited to taking decent pictures in such low light conditions.  I guarantee that most of the images captured that day were blurry, grainy, or otherwise poor renderings of the awe-inspiring sights their creators hoped to save.  I tried to step back and remember this by taking my time looking at each exhibit with just my eyes.  I absorbed each room and its theme, and then tried to make eye-contact (if they had eyes) with the inhabitants of the exhibit.  I searched for a more real experience.  I memorized as much as could in my own brain cells and then asked myself what that experience meant to me.  That is the ultimate goal of science interpretation: to engage participants in knowledge to the point of influencing their actions.

 

There are window's galore that allow glimpses into another watery world.

Find out what it's like to be in the center of a sardine ball.

The Weedy Sea Dragon is bedecked with amazing camouflage.

In my observation, the live creatures at the aquarium totally trumped technology when it came to fascination.  Inspired themes did their part to enhance the displays, but it was ultimately the natural state of those wondrous marine animals that really captured people’s attention.  My favorite was the bizarre, but totally beautiful, Weedy Sea Dragon.  It’s hard to imagine any human mind conjuring something so perfectly adapted to its environment, yet so otherworldly.  Unfortunately, another one of our most anticipated sights was missing from the exhibits.  Seven years ago, my son and I saw a Sunfish (Mola mola) for the first time and its alien looks burned indelibly into our memories.  We learned that these huge prehistoric-looking animals have to be specially trained for feeding, but they sometimes don't take to it.  In that case, the fish has to be released back into the wild before they get too big to move.  They can weigh over 1,000 lbs in the wilds of Monterey Bay and measure ten feet across; they reach up to fourteen feet and 5,000 lbs in other locations!  From tiny hatchling to humongous adult, they increase their size 60 million times over.  The aquarium had housed several Sunfish during the year, but had to release them all due to problems training them to be fed.

Photo of Sunfish is courtesy of Monterey Bay Aquarium website.

Despite the omission of the Sunfish, the irresistible enchantment of the aquarium enthralled our kids at every turn, to the point that we had to make a decision.  Did we let them linger as long as they want, but probably miss out on seeing the whole facility?  Or, did we keep them moving and ensure that they saw everything there was to see?  We opted for the latter.

 

Jelly's, like, are totally awesome, man!  Far out.

Sea-Nettles cause an irresistible urge to take a photo.

Egg-yolk jelly.

Except for a brief foray out of the aquarium to refuel our bodies with shrimp and chips at Bubba Gump’s, we spent the entire day inside the aquarium.  We finally dragged ourselves out the door as the overhead speakers announced “five minutes to closing.”  At my son’s request, we boarded the free downtown trolley and rode it the four blocks up Cannery Row to our parking garage.  

Ride the free trolley through Cannery Row in Monterey. 

That night, as the kids snuggled into their beds, with bellies full of delicious reconstituted freeze-dried blueberry cheesecake, I guessed that their dreams were swimming with all manner of glowing marine memories: Seahorse daddies, polka-dot jellies, underwater flying Manta Rays, playful Sea Otters, or a rainbow of tentacled marine invertebrates.  I cherished the motherly satisfaction of that hopeful thought, and deemed it priceless.

Turtle Bay Exploration Park

Yesterday, we met with my husband’s parents at Turtle Bay Exploration Park.  I thought it would be a good place to visit with each other while being entertained by the park’s exhibits and outdoor gardens.  The only requirement was that we start early in the morning to beat the heat, which was expected to reach about 109*.

Mosaic artwork in the children's area at the McConnell Arboretum and Gardens.

We met at the McConnell Arboretum and Gardens on the North side of the Sacramento River, which featured unique gardens planted with regional species from similar climates around the world.  We wandered through plant landscapes native to Chile, Africa, the Mediterranean, Australia, and California.  The gardens also had a wonderful art installation about water usage that provided both information and a cool reprieve from the heat. Surprisingly, I even saw people running on the park trails, despite the stifling early morning air.  After the gardens, we crossed the famous Sundial Bridge over the Sacramento River to explore the rest of the grounds and the Turtle Bay Museum.

Water is a welcome sight in a hot dry landscape.

It's easy being green here.

Spotting the Sundial Bridge as we exit the gardens.

The Sacramento River.

The famous Sundial Bridge only marks the time accurately near the Solstice.

We chose to visit the butterfly house and parrot playhouse while the temperature was still bearable, and then retreat into the museum.  Both places were interesting and well staffed, though we struggled a bit to find the butterflies tucked behind a playground and an antique train display.  The butterflies were my favorite.  I reveled in their silent, graceful floating and fantastical colors.  The visual guides made identification easy.  My son liked the Buckeye best, with its vivid varied colors and distinct “eye” pattern on the upper wings.  A bright orange Julia butterfly took a liking to my mother-in-law’s red hat and we had to get assistance to remove it.  The young naturalist informed us that allowing the butterfly to touch our hands would deposit our oils on its feet, which would interfere with its ability to taste its food.  So, she ushered the butterfly onto a wooden stick and freed my mother-in-law from her statue-like pose.

The white-looking patches on this butterfly are actually sparkling silver.

If only all butterflies were as helpful with identification as this Julia.

Watching a Buckeye lick minerals from the dirt.

The Buckeye was my son's favorite.

This Julia made a beautiful decoration on my Mother-in-law's hat!

The parrot playhouse certainly struck more of a chord with my son, who looked like a young Ace Ventura with vibrant Lorikeets stacked 3 deep on each arm, vying for position near the cup of bird “juice” he held in his hand.  Their noisy whistling, squawking, and chirping filled the air, as did their flapping wings.  It was a bit like walking into a day care for winged monkeys at snack time. One peculiar Lorikeet ignored the nectar and spent a full 5 minutes licking around the nape of my mother-in-law’s neck, presumably for the salt.  Regardless of the reason, it was entertaining to watch.

 

Anyone remember Ace Ventura?

Lorikeets aren't a bashful bird species.

Just as the temperature was getting uncomfortable outside and our feet were beginning to ache, we migrated into the coolness of the museum to see the LEGO exhibit.  My son is a LEGO junky since toddler-hood, so he took a strong interest in this exhibit.  I think he got some creative ideas from the sculptural application of the building blocks and the subtle nuances of perspective.  What he liked most was how the artist incorporated his LEGO creations into huge photographs of interesting scenes.  His favorite was a life-sized red dress installation with several individual blocks suspended from the ceiling behind it, as if bits of the dress were blowing away.  It was featured in the accompanying photo by a woman who wore the dress in the rain outside a retro movie theatre.  Both of us couldn’t help but look under the dress to see how the woman could fit inside of it, only to realize that it was placed into the image with computer software.

 

I can see the wheels turning in my LEGO boy's head...

Having explored the park as much as our sweaty feet could handle, we made our way back to the parking lot where Izak spotted a medium-sized snake curled up quietly in the median next to the car. 

“I think it’s a rattlesnake,” he said.

“Oh, no. I don’t think so.  It’s too small” his grandpa replied.

Rattlesnake or not?

When his grandma and I caught up to them, we also took a look and told him it probably wasn’t a rattlesnake.  I bent down to within inches of it to take some pictures, all the while Izak pointed out the shape of the head, it’s pointy nostrils, and patterned colors that resembled a rattlesnake picture he’d seen on a display in the park.  As we were huddled around the snake talking, a park employee drove up and asked if we’d seen a snake and what kind.  I didn’t know, so I showed him my pictures.

“Yep, that’s a rattlesnake.  You might want to step back from it,” he said very calmly.

I’ll let you imagine the thoughts that went through my head then, because I’m sure you’ve guessed them all.  Foolish? Yes.  Surprised? Yes. Lucky? Most definitely, yes.  Impressed with my son? Yep.  The employee phoned in the sighting, took a picture of the snake, and documented where it was on the property.  He informed us that when they find a venomous snake near a public place they keep track of where it is found and then relocate it somewhere safer.  I thanked my lucky stars that the young rattler hadn’t felt threatened enough to bite me when I took its close-up portrait and made apologies to my son for not listening to him.  I’ll never live this one down.