Share Your Experience

From all of us here at Come To Galápagos, we’d like to thank you for touring with us. We appreciate your business during these challenging times. Your safety and satisfaction is of utmost importance to us.

We hope you had a terrific adventure with us and invite you to share your thoughts about your trip. Please complete the short survey below when you have a few minutes to spare.

In this ever-changing environment, we hope you and your family stay safe, and we’ll be here when you’re ready for your next adventure.

Sincerely,

Rick and Christina Schleicher

AIRE is the speaker that links sound and nature. While relaxing, working, or during a warm conversation, AIRE brings the organic sound and atmosphere that each moment requires. This eco-friendly speaker, portable and wireless, provides a rich bass depth, and a pristine treble sound that gives clarity to the sound spectrum.

What makes AIRE different?

The production of ecological speakers AIRE is a collective project of environmental recovery. The property in which AIRE is created has an area of 15 hectares, and is located in the Rioverde canton, province of Esmeraldas, Ecuador. The property is 1 kilometer away from the small fishing village of Paufí, where 60% of the population is Afro-Ecuadorian.

The project includes the recovery of native wood species (such as mahogany, cedar, moral, and guachapelí) combined with a sense of respect for the native forest surrounded by valleys, and the production of commercial species such as teak and laurel. Since its inception in 2000, the recovery project has planted around 10,000 trees of different species.

Only wood is used in the creation of the environmentally friendly AIRE speakers. This wood has no commercial use and does not come from felling trees, but rather it’s discarded, waste, or from the trees that die in the farm. Through a creative process, new life is given to this fine wood, recovering it to create the AIRE speakers.

Each speaker is one of a kind, made from the different types of wood, and it’s not mass-produced but unique in each part. Master carpenters carve each piece, respecting the nature of the wood. The AIRE speakers are part of a series of art pieces, painted by hand by local artists from Ecuador.

AIRE is made locally as part of a global view, combining the organic and simple with new mobile devices, bridging nature and people, and created with respect in the spirit of sustainable coexistence.

What makes AIRE different?

AIRE is made locally as part of a global view, combining the organic and simple with new mobile devices, bridging nature and people, and created with respect in the spirit of sustainable coexistence.

What makes AIRE different?

AIRE is made locally as part of a global view, combining the organic and simple with new mobile devices, bridging nature and people, and created with respect in the spirit of sustainable coexistence.

Get in touch to find out more about AIRE!

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I bought my father a record player for his 60th birthday. It’s a gray, retro-style Crosley standing on long black legs, like a whooping crane, looking out over our kitchen in Atlanta. I also included three starter records I knew he would love — “Crosby, Stills & Nash,” “Let It Be” and “Hotel California” — because they contain the signature songs he sang at karaoke my whole life. My father, the crooner, is always the life of the party, the class clown. My mother calls him a yes man, which she thinks means someone who says “yes” anytime he’s asked to hang out, which my father does. He loves fun, and as someone who also loves fun, I wanted him to have a record player for whenever his friends come over to play cards. Sometimes I can hear it in my dreams: John Lennon and Paul McCartney harmonizing over the clinking glasses of soju with lime juice from a plastic green bottle. Since that birthday a few years ago, we put the record player on whenever we’re in the kitchen, which is often, especially during the holidays. I might be baking cookies or preparing Christmas dinner — always a big glazed ham — or making cottage-cheese pancakes in the morning. When my mother is sitting at the kitchen island with her coffee before the rest of us wake up, it’s Joan Baez. When my brother Kevin is whipping up a cocktail before dinner, it’s Frank Sinatra or Ella Fitzgerald. When I’m baking a loaf of milk bread at midnight, alone, it’s Johnny Cash or Elvis — a little bit of country, a little bit of rock. It’s my father’s Crosley, but we all benefit from it. I am not a religious person, but I revere Christmastime as a secular season centered on food and family — two of my favorite things. As with any family tradition, there are rules. My father expects a ham every year. Last Christmas, I was so busy and burned out from the pandemic that I never got around to making one. So this year, I want to be sure I come home with an excellent ham recipe, though I shouldn’t call this my recipe. When it comes to matters of cured pork, I’ve picked up things along the way from various cooks. But the recipe that has inspired me the most is Nigella Lawson’s. Her ham in cola is a treasure of a dish that calls for boiling a gammon in two liters of Coca-Cola, with an onion chucked in for mellow savoriness. The caramel-tinged ham is then lacquered with molasses, dark like licorice and dusted with spicy English mustard powder and crunchy demerara sugar. I bought my father a record player for his 60th birthday. It’s a gray, retro-style Crosley standing on long black legs, like a whooping crane, looking out over our kitchen in Atlanta. I also included three starter records I knew he would love — “Crosby, Stills & Nash,” “Let It Be” and “Hotel California” — because they contain the signature songs he sang at karaoke my whole life. My father, the crooner, is always the life of the party, the class clown. My mother calls him a yes man, which she thinks means someone who says “yes” anytime he’s asked to hang out, which my father does. He loves fun, and as someone who also loves fun, I wanted him to have a record player for whenever his friends come over to play cards. Sometimes I can hear it in my dreams: John Lennon and Paul McCartney harmonizing over the clinking glasses of soju with lime juice from a plastic green bottle. Since that birthday a few years ago, we put the record player on whenever we’re in the kitchen, which is often, especially during the holidays. I might be baking cookies or preparing Christmas dinner — always a big glazed ham — or making cottage-cheese pancakes in the morning. When my mother is sitting at the kitchen island with her coffee before the rest of us wake up, it’s Joan Baez. When my brother Kevin is whipping up a cocktail before dinner, it’s Frank Sinatra or Ella Fitzgerald. When I’m baking a loaf of milk bread at midnight, alone, it’s Johnny Cash or Elvis — a little bit of country, a little bit of rock. It’s my father’s Crosley, but we all benefit from it. I am not a religious person, but I revere Christmastime as a secular season centered on food and family — two of my favorite things. As with any family tradition, there are rules. My father expects a ham every year. Last Christmas, I was so busy and burned out from the pandemic that I never got around to making one. So this year, I want to be sure I come home with an excellent ham recipe, though I shouldn’t call this my recipe. When it comes to matters of cured pork, I’ve picked up things along the way from various cooks. But the recipe that has inspired me the most is Nigella Lawson’s. Her ham in cola is a treasure of a dish that calls for boiling a gammon in two liters of Coca-Cola, with an onion chucked in for mellow savoriness. The caramel-tinged ham is then lacquered with molasses, dark like licorice and dusted with spicy English mustard powder and crunchy demerara sugar. I bought my father a record player for his 60th birthday. It’s a gray, retro-style Crosley standing on long black legs, like a whooping crane, looking out over our kitchen in Atlanta. I also included three starter records I knew he would love — “Crosby, Stills & Nash,” “Let It Be” and “Hotel California” — because they contain the signature songs he sang at karaoke my whole life. My father, the crooner, is always the life of the party, the class clown. My mother calls him a yes man, which she thinks means someone who says “yes” anytime he’s asked to hang out, which my father does. He loves fun, and as someone who also loves fun, I wanted him to have a record player for whenever his friends come over to play cards. Sometimes I can hear it in my dreams: John Lennon and Paul McCartney harmonizing over the clinking glasses of soju with lime juice from a plastic green bottle. Since that birthday a few years ago, we put the record player on whenever we’re in the kitchen, which is often, especially during the holidays. I might be baking cookies or preparing Christmas dinner — always a big glazed ham — or making cottage-cheese pancakes in the morning. When my mother is sitting at the kitchen island with her coffee before the rest of us wake up, it’s Joan Baez. When my brother Kevin is whipping up a cocktail before dinner, it’s Frank Sinatra or Ella Fitzgerald. When I’m baking a loaf of milk bread at midnight, alone, it’s Johnny Cash or Elvis — a little bit of country, a little bit of rock. It’s my father’s Crosley, but we all benefit from it. I am not a religious person, but I revere Christmastime as a secular season centered on food and family — two of my favorite things. As with any family tradition, there are rules. My father expects a ham every year. Last Christmas, I was so busy and burned out from the pandemic that I never got around to making one. So this year, I want to be sure I come home with an excellent ham recipe, though I shouldn’t call this my recipe. When it comes to matters of cured pork, I’ve picked up things along the way from various cooks. But the recipe that has inspired me the most is Nigella Lawson’s. Her ham in cola is a treasure of a dish that calls for boiling a gammon in two liters of Coca-Cola, with an onion chucked in for mellow savoriness. The caramel-tinged ham is then lacquered with molasses, dark like licorice and dusted with spicy English mustard powder and crunchy demerara sugar. I bought my father a record player for his 60th birthday. It’s a gray, retro-style Crosley standing on long black legs, like a whooping crane, looking out over our kitchen in Atlanta. I also included three starter records I knew he would love — “Crosby, Stills & Nash,” “Let It Be” and “Hotel California” — because they contain the signature songs he sang at karaoke my whole life. My father, the crooner, is always the life of the party, the class clown. My mother calls him a yes man, which she thinks means someone who says “yes” anytime he’s asked to hang out, which my father does. He loves fun, and as someone who also loves fun, I wanted him to have a record player for whenever his friends come over to play cards. Sometimes I can hear it in my dreams: John Lennon and Paul McCartney harmonizing over the clinking glasses of soju with lime juice from a plastic green bottle. Since that birthday a few years ago, we put the record player on whenever we’re in the kitchen, which is often, especially during the holidays. I might be baking cookies or preparing Christmas dinner — always a big glazed ham — or making cottage-cheese pancakes in the morning. When my mother is sitting at the kitchen island with her coffee before the rest of us wake up, it’s Joan Baez. When my brother Kevin is whipping up a cocktail before dinner, it’s Frank Sinatra or Ella Fitzgerald. When I’m baking a loaf of milk bread at midnight, alone, it’s Johnny Cash or Elvis — a little bit of country, a little bit of rock. It’s my father’s Crosley, but we all benefit from it. I am not a religious person, but I revere Christmastime as a secular season centered on food and family — two of my favorite things. As with any family tradition, there are rules. My father expects a ham every year. Last Christmas, I was so busy and burned out from the pandemic that I never got around to making one. So this year, I want to be sure I come home with an excellent ham recipe, though I shouldn’t call this my recipe. When it comes to matters of cured pork, I’ve picked up things along the way from various cooks. But the recipe that has inspired me the most is Nigella Lawson’s. Her ham in cola is a treasure of a dish that calls for boiling a gammon in two liters of Coca-Cola, with an onion chucked in for mellow savoriness. The caramel-tinged ham is then lacquered with molasses, dark like licorice and dusted with spicy English mustard powder and crunchy demerara sugar.

Share Your Experience

From all of us here at Come To Galápagos, we’d like to thank you for touring with us. We appreciate your business during these challenging times. Your safety and satisfaction is of utmost importance to us.

We hope you had a terrific adventure with us and invite you to share your thoughts about your trip. Please complete the short survey below when you have a few minutes to spare.

In this ever-changing environment, we hope you and your family stay safe, and we’ll be here when you’re ready for your next adventure.

Sincerely,

Rick and Christina Schleicher

AIRE Speaker

What makes AIRE different?

What makes AIRE different?

What makes AIRE different?

Get in touch to find out more about AIRE!

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