Blank expressions were exchanged, perhaps a sigh or two released. The choice to arrive well after the sun had set over the smooth purple sea, suddenly seemed like a terrible idea. The hosts had warned us but we had insisted we would be ok since I (Linnea) had been there before and we felt confident in our capability to negotiate “rustic” accomodations. 

The rental vehicle skidded to a final halt on the treacherous muddy slope. Distance to final destination: at this stage yet unknown. Degree of safety leaving the car poised awkwardly on a tiny bump made from volcanic rock and mud: also unknown. But one thing was certain. There was a lot of heavy equipment, two people’s worth of personal gear for 5 months in varying climates, a weeks worth of groceries and water, a guitar and a drum – all going up that slippery slope reaching persistently towards the sparkling skies above.

I complemented myself on bringing a Nordic viking wizard (Peter), as an assistant for this project. 20 minutes later the long and arduous journey – which had taken us over the glaciers of Iceland and Greenland, across the North American continent, with a pit stop at a taqueria in Mission District, San Fransisco, and far out to a tiny Island in the Pacific Ocean – had finally come to an end. Yet, this was only the prequel to the real journey, our project: Stomata 2020.

We had arrived to what seemed like paradise. A very noisy paradise in fact. A cacophony of Kokee frogs, crickets and serenading cicadas pierced through the darkness, assuring us that we were certainly not as alone in the forest as we may have thought we would be.