Are there islands like in life of pi

Pi arrives at this conclusion when, pulling back the layers of what he thinks is a piece of fruit, he finds a human tooth.

He decides that he must leave the island and will take Richard Parker with him. Without the boat, Richard Parker would have no safe place during the night hours and surely would be consumed by the island.

The island appears to be a perfect place—a utopia—but its ideal appearance masks a dark side that makes it a dystopia. Note also that the island at first seems like a biblical Eden, without any vermin, disease, or unhappiness. The Christ metaphor is very apparent in this chapter.

When Pi first arrives at the island, he climbs from the lifeboat into water but discovers that he does not sink as he walks but rather is buoyed by the plants and roots just below the surface. As he peels the leaves away layer by layer, he discovers that in the center of each ball is a single human tooth. A complete human set. He simply leaves the tree. Pi discovers that the island is carnivorous.

He discovers that by night, the algae leaches a deadly acid that kills the fish in the pools where they are dissolved and ingested by the plants.

The meerkats thus take to the trees at night, trees that too are carnivorous, but slowly, slow enough not to ingest something still living, only the dead. Pi realizes that the teeth represent some fellow castaway who found the same rest on the island.

This passage in one way or another revisits all of the novels major themes. In many ways, Pi is like a zoo animal in his time on the island: all of his basic needs are met and he therefore finds contentment and security and ultimately falls into complacency. Much earlier in the novel, Pi said that with the fulfillment of basic needs, a wild animal in captivity will behave like a contented landowner. Though he also says that humans are more discerning than animals, more complex.

What is clear is that Pi sees that this Island of rest will kill his spirit. Though Pi prays at sea, he slowly becomes more animalistic as his situation becomes more dire. He marks and defends his territory; he eats every meal with a vigor that suggest it could be his last; he is insecure, nervous, anxious, all of the tell tale signs of an animal in an unsuitable environment. It is human to search for spiritual fulfillment, but only after physical needs are met.

Loktak Lake in India, covered by yards-thick mats of drifting vegetation called phumdi, contains Keibul Lamjao National Park. Though the deer are doing OK for the moment, the habitat that sustains them is threatened by the manipulation of water levels to run a nearby hydroelectric plant.

Some floating islands are human-made. For centuries the Uros tribe of Peru has been constructing islas flotantes on Lake Titicaca, reputedly to escape subjugation by the Inca and other tribes. Made from bundles of totora reeds grown in and around the lake, the islands literally support hundreds of families of fishermen. In eccentric genius Geoffrey Pyke and Lord Mountbatten of Great Britain proposed what became known as Project Habakkuk: a plan to construct an immense floating island to transport fighters, long-range bombers, and artillery for use against Axis forces.

No mere raft, the Habakkuk would have been 2, feet long and feet wide, with nearly 20 times the displacement of the modern aircraft carrier Nimitz. Design specs called for the megavessel to be built of pykrete, a mixture of 14 percent wood pulp or sawdust and 86 percent ice, making it theoretically unsinkable due to its size and inherent buoyancy.

Crazy as it sounds, the scheme might have worked — pykrete is cheap and strong and melts slowly. Pyke and Mountbatten got permission to build a 1,ton prototype chilled by an on-board one-horsepower motor and successfully floated it on Patricia Lake, Alberta. By then, however, the Allies were doing well enough with conventional weapons that the project went no further.

Since at least an urban legend has circulated about a giant reef in the South Pacific, supposedly nearly 60 feet thick, made up of millions of discarded condoms.

The condom reef is bunk, but a circular current called the North Pacific Subtropical Gyre, located between the west coast of the U.