Corwin in Cusco
By Maryalice Yakutchik
Cusco, Peru — Chin in his hands, Jeff Corwin is sitting slouched on an empty baggage carousel in the Cusco airport while his crew scurries about.
Jeff handles vipers, thank-you-very-much. Not luggage. His production assistant, Todd Brown, is the official bag-man.
Jeff's got the far easier lot, I think.
"What are we missing?" Todd asks himself as he assesses the prodigious amount of gear that travels with The Jeff Corwin Experience. Padlocked camera cases are stacked in rows all around Corwin, fencing him in. Backpacks and duffels teeter on dollies.
"There should be 20 in all; 13 of equipment," Todd says. "We've got audio, that's good. And tapes, yeah. And my dirty clothes and boots are in that one. But we're missing probably the most expensive thing — have no fear! — a lens that's worth about 25 grand."
It doesn't bode well that the carousel has halted and the gate has been locked down. But soon a siren blares and the gate reopens and the carousel lurches to a start and a long black Tuffpack appears: the lens.
For the second time in a half hour, Jeff wants to know what time it is. He's been up since 5 a.m. It's now close to 10. He's flown from Lima, at sea-level, to Cusco, at almost 4,000 meters. Perhaps the "soroche" (altitude sickness) is affecting him?
"You need to have some coca tea," advises Kim Chaix, producer and all-around point-person of the four-man film crew. "It's good to help your metabolism transition to this high altitude. How are you feeling?"
Jeff says "fine," then changes his mind.
"Tired."
Steaming cups of coca tea, as well as hot showers, oxygen masks, and the recorded chanting of monks (piped throughout the tranquil lobby and courtyards) await Corwin and his crew at the Hotel Monasterio — the nicest place in Cusco, Kim assures.
Corwin surveys his temporary confinement-by-luggage and gives in to a yawn. It's a familiar drill and a necessary evil, no matter that he consolidates his personal stuff into just two small carry-ons during the 10 and half months a year that he spends on the road.
Aero Continente wouldn't let him carry on his carry-on, however.
The flight from Lima, though just an hour long, was interminable: late, hot, crowded and loud. Every time the poor guy started to snooze — just as his mouth went ever so slightly ajar — the fussy toddler seated directly in front of him would let out a scream. And the beefy guy in the row behind would hoist himself up by grabbing the stained upholstery supporting Corwin's head. And the flight attendant would obligingly offer an evil Tang-like liquid.
Auuuggghhhhhhh! Another glamorous day unfolds in the life of a traveling television star.
Corwin knows all too well that no one wants to hear him whine about gallivanting off to exotic locales to track tigers at sunset and get chased through the bush by charging elephants.
"It does wear you down, but I do like it," he says pragmatically. "I get a decent pay check to do what most people dream of."
Or do they?
How would you classify rappelling down a 300-foot cliff in order to milk a 6-foot-long viper of its hemotoxic venom: dream — or nightmare?
It was all in day's work last week, for Corwin. But his workday didn't end with having secured the venom. Next, he subjected himself to a bloodletting so that his loyal fans could get good'n' grossed-out when they watch the effects (in an upcoming episode) of the venom on Corwin's platelets.
"Instantly — within 30 seconds — one micro-drop of the venom turned my blood to a solid, " Corwin says. "It was like cheese. Bloody cheese."
The crew no sooner wrapped up filming venomous snakes in Mexico than they flew straight away here, to Peru, without so much as a siesta. Today, they all have their work cut out for them because tomorrow, the real filming begins.
Todd is heading out with Gary Venenga, the sound man. They're off to the main square of Cusco in hopes of catching good light and shooting some "beauty" footage of this ancient Inca stronghold. Kim, along with Mauricio Velez-Dominguez, the director of photography (aka camera man), are heading to the Cusco zoo to check in on the spectacled bear that's scheduled to be "rescued" tomorrow from its miserable pen. They want to make sure all the proper authorizations have been signed so that the animal can be transported on Tuesday by train to Machu Picchu.
Evidently, it's a big, heavy bear (more than 500 pounds) and the cage that's been constructed for its transport is even bigger and heavier. Somehow — everybody involved just keeps shrugging their shoulders and raising their eyebrows when they talk about it — the bear needs to be moved from its zoo pen into the transport cage. And then the transport cage needs to get to the train station.
"It will be a humungous effort," Mauricio tells Jeff.
Kim asks Jeff how much he can bench press. Jeff, an avid runner while on the road, complains that he's not been to a gym in a long time, and guesses he can handle two-hundred-and-some pounds.
"Alright well, that's half a bear," Kim retorts. "Tomorrow you're going to be doing heavy lifting. Get some rest!"
