At the Jo-burg airport right now. For those of you who aren't up on your international crime rankings, Jo Burg is right up there with Detriot (just kidding blake). They maintain that there are worse off countries, but they just keep better statistics than the rest. Hmmmm.
So there was no signs of crime in our short stay in an upscale suburb, but a funny thing happened at the airport. A guy came to our taxi van and started unloading bags and and he looked very official with a bright yellow vest and such...next thing you know the police are giving him the business, asking for ID, exchanging words, and then carting him off. Disaster avoided! Nice work Jo-Burg P.D. You prevented bags upon bags of African crafts from being pilfered.
Our next adventure came upon check-in. Between the 6 of us, we look like Boer Trekers from the SA days of old. All we needed were some ox-drawn carts bringing us up to the check in counter. We were advised that we exceeded the baggage quantity limit, but we were still underweight, so with the help of one of our wheelchair handlers we just shrink wrapped a couple of bags together to create one big bag, and we passed through no questions asked. It was pretty ridiculous. Same stuff, same weight. The only difference was that we wrapped it all together in a rather odd looking blob that one of us will undoubtedly be embarrased to pick up off the luggage carousel back home.
We will be boarding shortly, and the Great Trek Part Deux begins.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Dining on Tripe in Soweto
Wrapping up our brief stay in Jo-burg today. Almost ready to make the day long trek back.
Yesterday I took advantage of our free day and took a tour of town that included...
* a visit to constitution hall - the former prison who claims nelson mandela and mahatma gahndi as two of its former guests. So it was like a pilgrimage for me, since I admire both. this former prison now houses their supreme court, which upholds their relatively new constitution. i love how they decided to put the court on pint for defending rights in a building where rights were so commonly violated in SA's complicated history.
* a visit to the apartheid mueseum, which featured some amazng film and video. And an entire wall dedicated to resistance movement posters that I stared at for at least 2 hours.
* A visit to Soweto, the township where much of the resistance struggles were centered. I ate lunch at a cafe that resided in between the former residences fo two former nobel peace prize winners - ArchBishop Tutu and Mandela. I had a beer, and some Tripe (if you don't know what tripe is, don't ask - I had my Hep shots so I was feeling bullet proof) and enjoyed the scene. So far no stomach ailments (fingers crossed).
* lastly - I went to the scene of the '76 soweto riots, and quite accidently met one of the protesters that was featured in a well known photogragh of the infamous event. After meeting her, my tourguide pointed to an enlarged version of the photo and said "The girl on the left is her" Any of you who have scene the photgragh (the one of hector peitersen being carried from the scene) will remember it. At the time, it was in every international newspaper.
All in all, a very good day for a history geek like me.
And though the tripe was a bit exotic, the rest of our meals over the past week have been 5-star quality. the last safari lodge we visited has a gourmet reputation, and we determined that they fed us up to 8 times a day. And since I went up for seconds frequently, that counts for 10. So basically, I was not unlike the 2 ton rhinocerous that feeds for 18+ hours a day. I just hope the airline doesn't charge me a ticket for each ass cheek on the way back. But consider these menu items, and you'd be right there with me...
- Grilled Ostrich Steak served with a Port Wine Jus
- Little lemon pudding with passion fruit slices, almonds, biscuits and brandy snaps
- roasted pair and walnut salad w/ blue cheese dressing
- grilled rack of lamb served with a red wine and mint jus
- Pan fried salmon fillet served with avocado salsa and fresh lemon
I could go on here, but its making me hungry. Bottom line is that we dined well on our visit, so for those of you who I told "what we eat depends since we only eat what we kill" or "do you remember the dinner scene from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom" - I was just kidding.
Yesterday I took advantage of our free day and took a tour of town that included...
* a visit to constitution hall - the former prison who claims nelson mandela and mahatma gahndi as two of its former guests. So it was like a pilgrimage for me, since I admire both. this former prison now houses their supreme court, which upholds their relatively new constitution. i love how they decided to put the court on pint for defending rights in a building where rights were so commonly violated in SA's complicated history.
* a visit to the apartheid mueseum, which featured some amazng film and video. And an entire wall dedicated to resistance movement posters that I stared at for at least 2 hours.
* A visit to Soweto, the township where much of the resistance struggles were centered. I ate lunch at a cafe that resided in between the former residences fo two former nobel peace prize winners - ArchBishop Tutu and Mandela. I had a beer, and some Tripe (if you don't know what tripe is, don't ask - I had my Hep shots so I was feeling bullet proof) and enjoyed the scene. So far no stomach ailments (fingers crossed).
* lastly - I went to the scene of the '76 soweto riots, and quite accidently met one of the protesters that was featured in a well known photogragh of the infamous event. After meeting her, my tourguide pointed to an enlarged version of the photo and said "The girl on the left is her" Any of you who have scene the photgragh (the one of hector peitersen being carried from the scene) will remember it. At the time, it was in every international newspaper.
All in all, a very good day for a history geek like me.
And though the tripe was a bit exotic, the rest of our meals over the past week have been 5-star quality. the last safari lodge we visited has a gourmet reputation, and we determined that they fed us up to 8 times a day. And since I went up for seconds frequently, that counts for 10. So basically, I was not unlike the 2 ton rhinocerous that feeds for 18+ hours a day. I just hope the airline doesn't charge me a ticket for each ass cheek on the way back. But consider these menu items, and you'd be right there with me...
- Grilled Ostrich Steak served with a Port Wine Jus
- Little lemon pudding with passion fruit slices, almonds, biscuits and brandy snaps
- roasted pair and walnut salad w/ blue cheese dressing
- grilled rack of lamb served with a red wine and mint jus
- Pan fried salmon fillet served with avocado salsa and fresh lemon
I could go on here, but its making me hungry. Bottom line is that we dined well on our visit, so for those of you who I told "what we eat depends since we only eat what we kill" or "do you remember the dinner scene from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom" - I was just kidding.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
A Chorus of Oooo's and Ahhhh's
Back from the Bush! Sorry to be out of touch. The internet access in the bush is so spotty these days.
We are back from the 3rd and final safari excursion and now giving Grandma and Bea a chance to rest here in Johannesburg before we make the long trek back. Grandma and Bea were amazing once again. I hope I have their spirit when I reach 85 and 88. Amazing. Between the two of them, they sat out only a handful of game drives over the course of the trip. Unreal. 5:30 am wakeup calls to be on a bouncy truck for two 3+ hour games drives each day...and they thrived!
And it's easy to understand what energized them when you consider some of the sightings we've had. Here are a few quick highlights.
From Phinda Forrest
* 6 Cheetah munching on a dyker (a small antelope). They were each taking their turn, when two lifted their redened faces from the kill - they heard the growl of a leopard nearby. The leopard has a physical edge on the cheetah, so they forfeited the rest of the kill and walked away into the brush - all 6 - in single file. The leopard somehow alluded us that night. We would hear it, then turn towards it...and then we'd her it behind us. We'd back up and move to the left and it would sound off to our right. It simply didn't want to pose for pics, not many leopards do. They're solitary and hunt at night, so they are very difficult to find. They are the rarest (and in my opinion greatest) of sightings.
* A momma elephant that squared off with our Land Rover and gave us a little mock charge while her young crossed the road behind her. It sat there staring at us, and when the rest of the elephants had crossed she casually walked into the bush along with them, knocking down tree branches as they went. "They're not delicate creatures," said Tree.
* An epic scene at a watering hole during one of our evening drives. 10 or so hippos sounding off to our right. Geese honking and duck quacking overhead. A male lion with a HUGE head was purring to our left. Directly in front, a lioness tended to 3 cubs, one of which got to close to a croc on the bank. The Lioness gave the croc a staredown, but that was that. That croc retreated a few steps - no harm done.
From Ngala, near Krueger national park...
* Two leopard sightings in daylight. Amazing. The first was feeding on a grey dyker. We have picks and video of the cat going to town like matty and me at the all you can eat pizza buffett. The second leopard sighting featured mom and cub, and the cub was about the coolest animal ever. looked like kitty cat, only it would bite your hand off. They took turns taking bites from a buffalo that had fallen sick and weak and then died the previous evening. At one point the cub stood on top of the fallen buffalo like it was a conquering hero despite the fact that it was a small fraction of the buff's size.
* A breeding herd of elephant - 35 to 40 in all - walking accross a plane and then crossing a dried out riverbank in single file. i haven't seen an elephant walk like that since my fraternity pledging days. We met up with them at a watering hole, as all animals circled the hole and slurped down water. Also saw a breeding herd of buffal whose numbers were well over 100. We drove to see the 4-5 that we saw from the road, and quickly realized that we were surrounded by them. We were safe, though I'll admit some concern when something we did in the truck spooked one, which caused him to stammer off. This prompted a few others to stammer off, but a stampede was avoided. I was ready to take off my fleece and play matador, but thankfully that humiliating means of dying was averted.
* A baby elephant gave us a mock charge - a few clumsy steps - a kick of dust - waving of the trunk. It was clearly a maneuver learned from his mother, but it was more endearing than intimidating. Since the charge was ineffective, it retreated a few steps and then tried again. Our truck still didn't budge, so the young elephant hung its head and strolled back into the brush to a chorus of adoring "Ahhhhhh"'s from tree, carol, bea and grandma who wanted to run up to it and pinch its cute little cheeks.
And last, but definately not least...from this mornings drive, our last of the trip...
We were taking photo's of 4 cheetah that were lounging like your every day house cats. They were rolling and scratching and licking and I was drawing comparisons between these harmless cats and Garfield. They got spooked by the territorial call of a lion, and began walking away. We started driving to see the Lion, when we saw one of the Cheetah make a break behind us. The other three followed. The opportunistic hunters had found a young dyker that was grazing solo. The cheetahs were behind us and to my right, we could barely see their sprint through the bush. Next thing you know, we see them chasing behind us to the left. All 6 of us were looking in all directions, we could hear the struggle but couldn't see where it came from. Then the noise intensified to my right, and maybe 20 yards away the dyker emerged from the brush with the cheetahs in hot pursuit. The lead cheetah clawed the dyker and disrupted its balance. Once grounded, it let out a wail as the other three cheetah systematically restrained the dykers legs, neck, and snout. Their was not much of a struggle, the cheetahs were efficient. We watched them as they took turns eating - munching dyker for breakfast - one of the three always on the lookout for the lions that had spooked them earlier. They took turns eating in a surprising display of civility.
While I was repeatedly uttering the phrase "HOLY LIVING SHIT!", Bea was diverting her eyes. I checked on her moments later at our bush stop and she she confided that it was harsh to see - "but its OK. its life". It was unbelievable to everyone. The transformation from beautiful cats to hunters was instantaneous. Amazing. Grandma was wide eyed "OH WOW!" was her comment.
Now that we're at a hotel with internet service, I should be able to get some pics up shortly. Stay tuned for pics and highlights and stories from the game drives.
We are back from the 3rd and final safari excursion and now giving Grandma and Bea a chance to rest here in Johannesburg before we make the long trek back. Grandma and Bea were amazing once again. I hope I have their spirit when I reach 85 and 88. Amazing. Between the two of them, they sat out only a handful of game drives over the course of the trip. Unreal. 5:30 am wakeup calls to be on a bouncy truck for two 3+ hour games drives each day...and they thrived!
And it's easy to understand what energized them when you consider some of the sightings we've had. Here are a few quick highlights.
From Phinda Forrest
* 6 Cheetah munching on a dyker (a small antelope). They were each taking their turn, when two lifted their redened faces from the kill - they heard the growl of a leopard nearby. The leopard has a physical edge on the cheetah, so they forfeited the rest of the kill and walked away into the brush - all 6 - in single file. The leopard somehow alluded us that night. We would hear it, then turn towards it...and then we'd her it behind us. We'd back up and move to the left and it would sound off to our right. It simply didn't want to pose for pics, not many leopards do. They're solitary and hunt at night, so they are very difficult to find. They are the rarest (and in my opinion greatest) of sightings.
* A momma elephant that squared off with our Land Rover and gave us a little mock charge while her young crossed the road behind her. It sat there staring at us, and when the rest of the elephants had crossed she casually walked into the bush along with them, knocking down tree branches as they went. "They're not delicate creatures," said Tree.
* An epic scene at a watering hole during one of our evening drives. 10 or so hippos sounding off to our right. Geese honking and duck quacking overhead. A male lion with a HUGE head was purring to our left. Directly in front, a lioness tended to 3 cubs, one of which got to close to a croc on the bank. The Lioness gave the croc a staredown, but that was that. That croc retreated a few steps - no harm done.
From Ngala, near Krueger national park...
* Two leopard sightings in daylight. Amazing. The first was feeding on a grey dyker. We have picks and video of the cat going to town like matty and me at the all you can eat pizza buffett. The second leopard sighting featured mom and cub, and the cub was about the coolest animal ever. looked like kitty cat, only it would bite your hand off. They took turns taking bites from a buffalo that had fallen sick and weak and then died the previous evening. At one point the cub stood on top of the fallen buffalo like it was a conquering hero despite the fact that it was a small fraction of the buff's size.
* A breeding herd of elephant - 35 to 40 in all - walking accross a plane and then crossing a dried out riverbank in single file. i haven't seen an elephant walk like that since my fraternity pledging days. We met up with them at a watering hole, as all animals circled the hole and slurped down water. Also saw a breeding herd of buffal whose numbers were well over 100. We drove to see the 4-5 that we saw from the road, and quickly realized that we were surrounded by them. We were safe, though I'll admit some concern when something we did in the truck spooked one, which caused him to stammer off. This prompted a few others to stammer off, but a stampede was avoided. I was ready to take off my fleece and play matador, but thankfully that humiliating means of dying was averted.
* A baby elephant gave us a mock charge - a few clumsy steps - a kick of dust - waving of the trunk. It was clearly a maneuver learned from his mother, but it was more endearing than intimidating. Since the charge was ineffective, it retreated a few steps and then tried again. Our truck still didn't budge, so the young elephant hung its head and strolled back into the brush to a chorus of adoring "Ahhhhhh"'s from tree, carol, bea and grandma who wanted to run up to it and pinch its cute little cheeks.
And last, but definately not least...from this mornings drive, our last of the trip...
We were taking photo's of 4 cheetah that were lounging like your every day house cats. They were rolling and scratching and licking and I was drawing comparisons between these harmless cats and Garfield. They got spooked by the territorial call of a lion, and began walking away. We started driving to see the Lion, when we saw one of the Cheetah make a break behind us. The other three followed. The opportunistic hunters had found a young dyker that was grazing solo. The cheetahs were behind us and to my right, we could barely see their sprint through the bush. Next thing you know, we see them chasing behind us to the left. All 6 of us were looking in all directions, we could hear the struggle but couldn't see where it came from. Then the noise intensified to my right, and maybe 20 yards away the dyker emerged from the brush with the cheetahs in hot pursuit. The lead cheetah clawed the dyker and disrupted its balance. Once grounded, it let out a wail as the other three cheetah systematically restrained the dykers legs, neck, and snout. Their was not much of a struggle, the cheetahs were efficient. We watched them as they took turns eating - munching dyker for breakfast - one of the three always on the lookout for the lions that had spooked them earlier. They took turns eating in a surprising display of civility.
While I was repeatedly uttering the phrase "HOLY LIVING SHIT!", Bea was diverting her eyes. I checked on her moments later at our bush stop and she she confided that it was harsh to see - "but its OK. its life". It was unbelievable to everyone. The transformation from beautiful cats to hunters was instantaneous. Amazing. Grandma was wide eyed "OH WOW!" was her comment.
Now that we're at a hotel with internet service, I should be able to get some pics up shortly. Stay tuned for pics and highlights and stories from the game drives.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Bea Copeland: That Girl Is Posion
It's true, Bea earned the nickname "USHEEVU", which is Zulu for "Poisonous". Why? Her taste for Coco and Amarula Cream at 9:30 in the morning at our coffee stop in the middle of the bush. Is that a lion roaring in the distance? Bea doesn't mind! She's got some booze to cool her nerves! Breakfast is served? How about topping off that orange juice with a little champagne? That's how Bea kicks it at Phinda Forrest, and our guide had a tremendous amount of fun with her. He always asked bea if she walked a little "poison" with her cocoa or soft drink, his word for alcohol. He even offered to take her back to her room in a wheel barrow if she had too much to drink at dinner, to which Bea responded "I would expect a gold guilded carriage, thank you very much."
Other nicknames and highlights from our stay in KwaZulu Natal...
Grandma..."GANEELE GOGO"...or "One Tough Grandma"...The long travel days have caused some aches and pains. We've consulted doctors and nurses, who gave her the green light to play with pain, and play she did. She wills herself to the vehicle, walked lengthy stretches over sandy and uneven terrain. She carries a cane, but doesn't always use it - sometimes it doesn't hit the ground. Its a sign of excitement that we only see during the christmas shopping season. She is comfortable inside the vehicle and enjoys taking in the wildlife one animal at a time. While the rest of us are snapping pics and rolling video to preserve the moment for eternity, Grandma takes it all in moment by moment. So while I watch the wild life through the lense of a camera, she takes it in fully and gloriously. And that seems to make the pain subside.
Tree..."ENTIBAN ABUNFU"...or "Red HEaded Warthog"...Only I could get away with calling my wife this and still have her think its cute and endearing! This nickname comes from the red-tinged warthogs that tree said were "so ugly, they are cute". I am happy to say that tree bears no physical resemblance to the hogs, other than the color of her hair.
(and with that, I may have pushed my luck. Expect another dispatch from the doghouse shortly...)
Other nicknames and highlights from our stay in KwaZulu Natal...
Grandma..."GANEELE GOGO"...or "One Tough Grandma"...The long travel days have caused some aches and pains. We've consulted doctors and nurses, who gave her the green light to play with pain, and play she did. She wills herself to the vehicle, walked lengthy stretches over sandy and uneven terrain. She carries a cane, but doesn't always use it - sometimes it doesn't hit the ground. Its a sign of excitement that we only see during the christmas shopping season. She is comfortable inside the vehicle and enjoys taking in the wildlife one animal at a time. While the rest of us are snapping pics and rolling video to preserve the moment for eternity, Grandma takes it all in moment by moment. So while I watch the wild life through the lense of a camera, she takes it in fully and gloriously. And that seems to make the pain subside.
Tree..."ENTIBAN ABUNFU"...or "Red HEaded Warthog"...Only I could get away with calling my wife this and still have her think its cute and endearing! This nickname comes from the red-tinged warthogs that tree said were "so ugly, they are cute". I am happy to say that tree bears no physical resemblance to the hogs, other than the color of her hair.
(and with that, I may have pushed my luck. Expect another dispatch from the doghouse shortly...)
The 1st Most Contagious Affliction in the Bush
The stomach virus that affected Tony and Carol was contagious, but not nearly as contagious as what has become known as Giggilous Maximus...or The Giggle Fit.
The root cause of the giggle fit is typically a coca-cola or glass of wine. A cup of hot coco also does the trick, and the effects of the giggle fit seem to be heightened when the coco is combined with some the african equivalent of bailey's cream (called amarula cream, which is made from the fruit of the native amarula tree).
The giggle fit most frequently manifests itself in carol first, typically following the combination of sugar and alcohol. It is always initiated with a light hearted exchange, such as this one from yesterday's drive:
Carol: "I think I'm going to call that giraffe 'Cuddly'"
Bea: "How cute. Is that because you want to cuddle it?"
Carol: "No, its because of the way it chews its cud."
This prompts a giggle from bea, which is met in kind with a chuckle from Carol. The chuckle is then matched by a chortle from Tony. By this point, grandma has picked up on the good times, and though she wasn't able to hear the joke, the site of three people laughing is more than enouh reason to laugh herself. The site of grandma laughing is extremely contagious, because no one enjoys a laugh more and it compels others to join in. By this point Tree gets a little snicker in, and before you know it I am in the midst of a full-on belly laugh. Our guides of African dissent had an immunity to the giggle fit, but that is fading fast. Our guide at Phida would elevate the affliction with his high pitched "hehehe" cackle while our tracker Toks let out a baritone "hahaha". The laughs would subside for a moment...and then a reoccurence would hit us like an aftershock as soon as someone repeated the line that kicked the fit off in the first place. I could initiate a giggle fit right now simply by wispering the hyper senstive word of "cud" right now. I dare not due it, for fear that the affliction would catch on to the rest of the camp.
The root cause of the giggle fit is typically a coca-cola or glass of wine. A cup of hot coco also does the trick, and the effects of the giggle fit seem to be heightened when the coco is combined with some the african equivalent of bailey's cream (called amarula cream, which is made from the fruit of the native amarula tree).
The giggle fit most frequently manifests itself in carol first, typically following the combination of sugar and alcohol. It is always initiated with a light hearted exchange, such as this one from yesterday's drive:
Carol: "I think I'm going to call that giraffe 'Cuddly'"
Bea: "How cute. Is that because you want to cuddle it?"
Carol: "No, its because of the way it chews its cud."
This prompts a giggle from bea, which is met in kind with a chuckle from Carol. The chuckle is then matched by a chortle from Tony. By this point, grandma has picked up on the good times, and though she wasn't able to hear the joke, the site of three people laughing is more than enouh reason to laugh herself. The site of grandma laughing is extremely contagious, because no one enjoys a laugh more and it compels others to join in. By this point Tree gets a little snicker in, and before you know it I am in the midst of a full-on belly laugh. Our guides of African dissent had an immunity to the giggle fit, but that is fading fast. Our guide at Phida would elevate the affliction with his high pitched "hehehe" cackle while our tracker Toks let out a baritone "hahaha". The laughs would subside for a moment...and then a reoccurence would hit us like an aftershock as soon as someone repeated the line that kicked the fit off in the first place. I could initiate a giggle fit right now simply by wispering the hyper senstive word of "cud" right now. I dare not due it, for fear that the affliction would catch on to the rest of the camp.
Love in the time of Dysentery
A quick update on how Tony and Carol earned the Zulu nickname "MAFAVUKA"...
On our last night in Zim, Tony left dinner early with some stomach problems. By the time we had reached the room Tony was feeling faint and in the process of plunging head first into the wall as he exited the rest room. We peeled him off the floor and got him to bed. After losing about 5 pounds of water weight during the night after an impressive display of projectile vomitting, Tony felt better but weakened. He insisted that he get on the plane with us to South Africa, so we put him in a wheelchair along with Grandma and Bea and wheeled him onto the plane. He may not have been pleased about the wheelchair, but let me assure you, John Wayne has nothing on Tony when it comes to toughness. He was feeling better after 24 hours and eating like his old self within 36.
Shortly after arriving in Phinda forrest for the second leg of our Safari, Carol got the affliction. Despite the intense level of gastro-intestinal distress, she still managed to fold her sick bags neatly and sealed them with a smiley face sticker and ribbon before the cleaning crew stopped by to pick it up. OK, that may not be true, but you know Carol would have done that if she had stickers, glitter, and ribbon at her disposal. No way a little stomach virus is going to get Carol down!
After 24 hours, she was weakened but back in action. We took her into town where we took a tour that featured a visit to a "Sangoma", which is a traditional healer in the Zulu culture. We went into her hut, she got some insence blazing, and she began channelling some ancestors through a series of dance steps and drum beats - imagine james brown at the appollo, only in a smokey hut with a much more forgiving crowd. So the healer/medicine woman/priestess/pharmacist/psychic did her thing, and Carol said "You know what? I Feel better!" And she did. She was laughing and yuckin' it up with the rest of us by the end of the night. The affliction had passed! We celebrated with a thanksgiving feast featuring dry toast and Sprite.
And this is how Tony and Carol earned the Zulu nickname "MAFAVUKA", or in English..."BACK FROM THE DEAD". Proof once again that the couple that "sprays" together, stays together.
On our last night in Zim, Tony left dinner early with some stomach problems. By the time we had reached the room Tony was feeling faint and in the process of plunging head first into the wall as he exited the rest room. We peeled him off the floor and got him to bed. After losing about 5 pounds of water weight during the night after an impressive display of projectile vomitting, Tony felt better but weakened. He insisted that he get on the plane with us to South Africa, so we put him in a wheelchair along with Grandma and Bea and wheeled him onto the plane. He may not have been pleased about the wheelchair, but let me assure you, John Wayne has nothing on Tony when it comes to toughness. He was feeling better after 24 hours and eating like his old self within 36.
Shortly after arriving in Phinda forrest for the second leg of our Safari, Carol got the affliction. Despite the intense level of gastro-intestinal distress, she still managed to fold her sick bags neatly and sealed them with a smiley face sticker and ribbon before the cleaning crew stopped by to pick it up. OK, that may not be true, but you know Carol would have done that if she had stickers, glitter, and ribbon at her disposal. No way a little stomach virus is going to get Carol down!
After 24 hours, she was weakened but back in action. We took her into town where we took a tour that featured a visit to a "Sangoma", which is a traditional healer in the Zulu culture. We went into her hut, she got some insence blazing, and she began channelling some ancestors through a series of dance steps and drum beats - imagine james brown at the appollo, only in a smokey hut with a much more forgiving crowd. So the healer/medicine woman/priestess/pharmacist/psychic did her thing, and Carol said "You know what? I Feel better!" And she did. She was laughing and yuckin' it up with the rest of us by the end of the night. The affliction had passed! We celebrated with a thanksgiving feast featuring dry toast and Sprite.
And this is how Tony and Carol earned the Zulu nickname "MAFAVUKA", or in English..."BACK FROM THE DEAD". Proof once again that the couple that "sprays" together, stays together.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Making it Rain in Zimbabwe
A very very very quick recap of our trip to Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe. The falls are beautiful. Although my writing talent may be good for a laugh here and there, it falls well short of being able to capture what we saw so I won't even try. At one point the mist from the falls feels likje a full-on down pour. In others places peaceful and serene. In some places powerful and violent. I will attempt to get some pics so that you can see the endless falls and countless rainbows in a scene so spectatularly beautiful that i told be that the next time we visit I'll bet St Peter is our guide.
As for Zim, you have probably gotten an impression of the country's political situation from my previous posts. Its ugly. An aging and increasingly dillusional dictator has shaken the outside world's confidence in the country, which plunged it into economic turmoil. I got a feel for the hyper inflationary economy first hand when I exchanged a single US dollar for ten billion four hundred and ninety four million and several thousand more Zimbabwean dollars. No joke. Tony and I went to a grocery store, and the shelves were practically empty...and this in a nation with fertile soil that once made it known as Africa's breadbasket. A box of serial costs $60 billion Zim dollars.
So yeah, I am a billionaire in Zimbabwe, but its not a laughing matter really. The currency is essentially worthless, so they can't import anything. All trading is done in foreign currencies or on the black market. Zimbabweans go accross the borders of neighboring countries to resell or trade back home, which has ratched up the deman & costs in those countries as a result. Think your gas prices are bad? Try $18 USD per liter in Zambia, which is blamed on the Zim situation. As you might expect, xenophobic violence is an unfortunate consequence of the situation. Its like the movie Gangs of New York, only real...and just as violent.
The desperation of the Zim situation hit home when we went to mass last Sunday. Along with members of the Catholic Women's Group, who wore shirts reading "Better Fields, Better Homes, Better Lives", we sang the classic hymm "The Lord Hears The Cry of the Poor"", which takes on an entirely new meaning and feeling in this setting.
So how do we handle all of this desperation? Time to go back to the 5 star hotel for some serious pampering!
The Victoria Falls Hotel is a colonial British masterpiece with first class service and amenities o'plenty. We attended high tea daily. What better way to wash the away the painful image of poverty than with some tea and crumpets?
After visiting the market, Tree exploited the economic situation to her advantage and scored some beautiful hand carved crucifixes at a discount price. That tree drives a hard bargain! She would have made my fellow MBA classmates proud!
Meanwhile, I got some stone carvings in exchange for a pair of socks. Absolutely true. Just peeled my socks off and handed them over like currency. Think about that. A sweaty pair of gym socks has more value in the market than the local currency. Why? The artist named Everton who made the trade explained that he had been wearing the same pair since the economic woes picked up and importing new clothes became difficult. Armed with this knowledge, I traded my squeaky brown dress shoes for a wood carving and a few Wisconsin Badger T-Shirts for a stone soap tray. This exploitation thing ain't so hard after all!
I felt a bit bad about doing that, but that feeling quickly subsided after I joined Grandma and Bea at the Hotel's beauty salon. Yep, grandma and Bea were all done up in curlers and the big helmet like hair dryers while I was right there with them getting a trim and a shave. Its the best haircut east of Brookfield, WI. Tree also felt bad about driving the hard bargain on the crucifixes of all things, but those thoughts were gone by the time of her pedicure.
(If you are picking up on the tension by this point, good for you because I am laying it on pretty thick!)
We all at one point or another struggled with the tension - the disparity between our lives and the people we offered our socks and pocket change to. Better that we immerse ourselves in that tension and feel the discomfort even if only temporarily rather than to ignore it alltogether.
I talked with Dulesi, our tour guide, about the tension and the limits of charity, and how pumping my tax rebate check into the Zim economy helps only so much (probably not what the house and Senate had in mind, oops). Delusi simply asked that we remember the people here - Everton the sock trader - the girls in the Women's group at church - the porters and waitresses and haridressers. If I can manage to remember those people, perhaps I'll also remember to reconcile my own interests with theirs when it comes time to make a business decision, an investment decision, cast a vote, volunteer, etc.
(Dulesi means peacemaker by the way.)
More updates to follow...
As for Zim, you have probably gotten an impression of the country's political situation from my previous posts. Its ugly. An aging and increasingly dillusional dictator has shaken the outside world's confidence in the country, which plunged it into economic turmoil. I got a feel for the hyper inflationary economy first hand when I exchanged a single US dollar for ten billion four hundred and ninety four million and several thousand more Zimbabwean dollars. No joke. Tony and I went to a grocery store, and the shelves were practically empty...and this in a nation with fertile soil that once made it known as Africa's breadbasket. A box of serial costs $60 billion Zim dollars.
So yeah, I am a billionaire in Zimbabwe, but its not a laughing matter really. The currency is essentially worthless, so they can't import anything. All trading is done in foreign currencies or on the black market. Zimbabweans go accross the borders of neighboring countries to resell or trade back home, which has ratched up the deman & costs in those countries as a result. Think your gas prices are bad? Try $18 USD per liter in Zambia, which is blamed on the Zim situation. As you might expect, xenophobic violence is an unfortunate consequence of the situation. Its like the movie Gangs of New York, only real...and just as violent.
The desperation of the Zim situation hit home when we went to mass last Sunday. Along with members of the Catholic Women's Group, who wore shirts reading "Better Fields, Better Homes, Better Lives", we sang the classic hymm "The Lord Hears The Cry of the Poor"", which takes on an entirely new meaning and feeling in this setting.
So how do we handle all of this desperation? Time to go back to the 5 star hotel for some serious pampering!
The Victoria Falls Hotel is a colonial British masterpiece with first class service and amenities o'plenty. We attended high tea daily. What better way to wash the away the painful image of poverty than with some tea and crumpets?
After visiting the market, Tree exploited the economic situation to her advantage and scored some beautiful hand carved crucifixes at a discount price. That tree drives a hard bargain! She would have made my fellow MBA classmates proud!
Meanwhile, I got some stone carvings in exchange for a pair of socks. Absolutely true. Just peeled my socks off and handed them over like currency. Think about that. A sweaty pair of gym socks has more value in the market than the local currency. Why? The artist named Everton who made the trade explained that he had been wearing the same pair since the economic woes picked up and importing new clothes became difficult. Armed with this knowledge, I traded my squeaky brown dress shoes for a wood carving and a few Wisconsin Badger T-Shirts for a stone soap tray. This exploitation thing ain't so hard after all!
I felt a bit bad about doing that, but that feeling quickly subsided after I joined Grandma and Bea at the Hotel's beauty salon. Yep, grandma and Bea were all done up in curlers and the big helmet like hair dryers while I was right there with them getting a trim and a shave. Its the best haircut east of Brookfield, WI. Tree also felt bad about driving the hard bargain on the crucifixes of all things, but those thoughts were gone by the time of her pedicure.
(If you are picking up on the tension by this point, good for you because I am laying it on pretty thick!)
We all at one point or another struggled with the tension - the disparity between our lives and the people we offered our socks and pocket change to. Better that we immerse ourselves in that tension and feel the discomfort even if only temporarily rather than to ignore it alltogether.
I talked with Dulesi, our tour guide, about the tension and the limits of charity, and how pumping my tax rebate check into the Zim economy helps only so much (probably not what the house and Senate had in mind, oops). Delusi simply asked that we remember the people here - Everton the sock trader - the girls in the Women's group at church - the porters and waitresses and haridressers. If I can manage to remember those people, perhaps I'll also remember to reconcile my own interests with theirs when it comes time to make a business decision, an investment decision, cast a vote, volunteer, etc.
(Dulesi means peacemaker by the way.)
More updates to follow...
A Palm Greaser's Guide to Africa
Your Mission if you choose to accept it: Get two senior citizens accross the borders of three african countries in a single day without losing a single bag or suffering a single nervous breakdown.
That's what we did when we left Dar Es Salaam for Victoria Falls. We went from Tanzania to South Africa to Zimbabwe through a series of connecting flights. Tony was the brains behind the operation. He deftly navigated the airport, which was made easier by well placed dollar bills in the hands of porters and wheel chair handlers. Tony knew that the only living creatures in the world that are universally loved as much as grandmas are perhaps kittens. So Grandma and Bea would put the sweet stuff on the airport help while Tony made sure they knew there was something else in it for them. As a result - no bags lost, no heart attacks, no hold ups in customs or security. Not a single jar of cold cream or can of hairspray was comandeered. We breezed through the airports fairly quickly, and even got a free upgrade to first class on our 2 hour flight from Zimbabwe to Johannesburg. So by my estimation, Grandma and Bea's cuteness is worth several hundred if not thousands of dollars. Amidst all the hustle, Tony confided in Theresa and I saying "Ï Love this!" So did the porters and handlers, since they occasionally got the triple dip, when Tree and I tipped on the back end after Tony had already tipped on the front end.
If Tony was the brains behind the operation, I was the braun. At one point I had a backpack on my back and one accross each shoulder. Also had two bags in my hands and a camera bag around my neck for a total of 6 bags. to make the sight even more ridiculous, my pants were sagging because I didn't have enough time to get my belt on after a security check, so i just jammed it in my pocket and showed off my new leopard print boxers to my fellow travellers.
Tree and Carol were the spirit behind the operation. since their hands were relatively free, they could make sure grandma and bea were cared for and stayed with the group. there was a brief moment in Arusha where grandma was almost rolled onto a cargo plane headed for Samalia, but Tree and Carol prevented such mishaps.
So to those of you wondering how and the heck we are getting from point A to point B with several stops in between, the answer is threefold:
(1) Travel with a grandma, (2) be cute, and (3) have someone jamming a $5-spot into the hands of your help to grease the tracks.
That's what we did when we left Dar Es Salaam for Victoria Falls. We went from Tanzania to South Africa to Zimbabwe through a series of connecting flights. Tony was the brains behind the operation. He deftly navigated the airport, which was made easier by well placed dollar bills in the hands of porters and wheel chair handlers. Tony knew that the only living creatures in the world that are universally loved as much as grandmas are perhaps kittens. So Grandma and Bea would put the sweet stuff on the airport help while Tony made sure they knew there was something else in it for them. As a result - no bags lost, no heart attacks, no hold ups in customs or security. Not a single jar of cold cream or can of hairspray was comandeered. We breezed through the airports fairly quickly, and even got a free upgrade to first class on our 2 hour flight from Zimbabwe to Johannesburg. So by my estimation, Grandma and Bea's cuteness is worth several hundred if not thousands of dollars. Amidst all the hustle, Tony confided in Theresa and I saying "Ï Love this!" So did the porters and handlers, since they occasionally got the triple dip, when Tree and I tipped on the back end after Tony had already tipped on the front end.
If Tony was the brains behind the operation, I was the braun. At one point I had a backpack on my back and one accross each shoulder. Also had two bags in my hands and a camera bag around my neck for a total of 6 bags. to make the sight even more ridiculous, my pants were sagging because I didn't have enough time to get my belt on after a security check, so i just jammed it in my pocket and showed off my new leopard print boxers to my fellow travellers.
Tree and Carol were the spirit behind the operation. since their hands were relatively free, they could make sure grandma and bea were cared for and stayed with the group. there was a brief moment in Arusha where grandma was almost rolled onto a cargo plane headed for Samalia, but Tree and Carol prevented such mishaps.
So to those of you wondering how and the heck we are getting from point A to point B with several stops in between, the answer is threefold:
(1) Travel with a grandma, (2) be cute, and (3) have someone jamming a $5-spot into the hands of your help to grease the tracks.
GoGo Girls of the Zulu Nation
This Independence Day edition of the Daily Dispatch comes from Phinda forest in the Kwa Zulu Natal province of South Africa. Turns out the Zulu word for Grandma is "GoGo", and you can imagine the fun we are having calling Grandma and Bea GoGo Girls. We've saw a baby rhino with mother this morning, and a baby giraffe trying to keep up with mom and dad. I had a cocktail with breakfast at 9:30 and Bea said "Ï am glad to see you're boozing it up. I may join you!" And she did. Does it still count as peer pressure if I am 33 and she is 85?
Only a few minutes on the computer left, so as promised...the Swahili nicknames bestowed upon us while staying in the Seregenti.
Carol...MWIBA TAKONI...in English..."Thorn in the Backside"...While taking a pit stop in the bush,Carol learned the hard way that it is necessary to check for thorns first. Tony played the role of surgeon and Carol is once again sitting upright and pain free.
Tony, our able leader...MUNGU MFALME WA MBUNGO...In English..."Lord of the Tse-Tse Flies"...The most fearsome predator in the Serengeti has no fear of humans and its bloodlust is insatiable. It is too quick to be photographed and you become aware of its preseence only after its bitten you. The name of this beast? The Tse Tse Fly (aka the Teetsy). We were constantly under bombardment from these fearsome pests. Thankfully, only 2 of the 6 breeds carry disease. I didn't ask if the flys in our area were either of the 2, because I didn't want to know the answer.
Bea...MALIKA WA SIMBA...in English...The Lion Queen...As mentioned before, Bea is a lover of animals - a modern day St. Francis. When we saw two cheetahs hunting a baby wildebeest, Bea started praying for the young animal and sure enough it was spared. Boy was I pissed. I wanted to see some blood, but there goes Bea again with her direct line to St. Francis.
Grandma...MAMA CUBWA...In English...Big Mamma...We asked for "mother of all mothers", since she's the elder statesman of the Three generations present on this trip, but Big Mamma translated better (and quite frankly, its a bit funnier especially if you know grandma).
Myself...PAPALAZI...In English...He Who Talks Out Ass...kidding of course. It translates to "Scribe"" or "Writer". It sounds a bit like paparazzi, which is appropriate given the way I have been tracking and snapping shots of animals as if they were celebs.
It goes without saying that Grandma and Bea take the Serengeti Spirit award. The Elements - rough accomodations - difficult terrain - long travel days - they were no match for these two. Theresa finishes a close second for her acts of love for her grandma, which included jumping into the ol'sunshower for some scrub-a-dub time with grandma in the bush. From Tree's standpoint, it was just returning some of the favors grandma did for her when grandma took care of her as a little girl.
Stay tuned for more updates, including a Zimbabwe recap.
Only a few minutes on the computer left, so as promised...the Swahili nicknames bestowed upon us while staying in the Seregenti.
Carol...MWIBA TAKONI...in English..."Thorn in the Backside"...While taking a pit stop in the bush,Carol learned the hard way that it is necessary to check for thorns first. Tony played the role of surgeon and Carol is once again sitting upright and pain free.
Tony, our able leader...MUNGU MFALME WA MBUNGO...In English..."Lord of the Tse-Tse Flies"...The most fearsome predator in the Serengeti has no fear of humans and its bloodlust is insatiable. It is too quick to be photographed and you become aware of its preseence only after its bitten you. The name of this beast? The Tse Tse Fly (aka the Teetsy). We were constantly under bombardment from these fearsome pests. Thankfully, only 2 of the 6 breeds carry disease. I didn't ask if the flys in our area were either of the 2, because I didn't want to know the answer.
Bea...MALIKA WA SIMBA...in English...The Lion Queen...As mentioned before, Bea is a lover of animals - a modern day St. Francis. When we saw two cheetahs hunting a baby wildebeest, Bea started praying for the young animal and sure enough it was spared. Boy was I pissed. I wanted to see some blood, but there goes Bea again with her direct line to St. Francis.
Grandma...MAMA CUBWA...In English...Big Mamma...We asked for "mother of all mothers", since she's the elder statesman of the Three generations present on this trip, but Big Mamma translated better (and quite frankly, its a bit funnier especially if you know grandma).
Myself...PAPALAZI...In English...He Who Talks Out Ass...kidding of course. It translates to "Scribe"" or "Writer". It sounds a bit like paparazzi, which is appropriate given the way I have been tracking and snapping shots of animals as if they were celebs.
It goes without saying that Grandma and Bea take the Serengeti Spirit award. The Elements - rough accomodations - difficult terrain - long travel days - they were no match for these two. Theresa finishes a close second for her acts of love for her grandma, which included jumping into the ol'sunshower for some scrub-a-dub time with grandma in the bush. From Tree's standpoint, it was just returning some of the favors grandma did for her when grandma took care of her as a little girl.
Stay tuned for more updates, including a Zimbabwe recap.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
A Plush Terry Cloth Death Trap
Some Serengeti dispatches to catch up on including Tree’s induction to the Rodent Killaz Posse…
As some of you may know, I earned my way into the Whitefish Bay Chapter of the Fraternal Order of Rodent Killaz last winter by taking out a squirrel using only a kitchen knife, a broom handle, some duct tape, and my cunning. My makeshift bayonet is the stuff of legend in North Milwaukee, and rest assured, we’ve had no intruders since. After this right of passage I can now associate as equals with the likes Eric the Woodchuck Chucker and Franco the Squirrelinator. Tree was always on the outside looking in; however, she has now gained full-fledged membership to this exclusive social set and all the membership benefits thereof. Allow me to share with you the harrowing tale, but let me forewarn you - this recollection is not for the faint of heart or spirit. Not since the Brady Bunch vacation to Hawaii has there been such a bone-chilling tale of horror combined with alternating feats of cowardice and courage.
The legend began on our next to last night in the Serengeti as Theresa was helping her grandma wash up for bed in their tent. As Tree pulled the towel from the towel rack, she felt as thought something were clinging to it. As she shook out the towel, a turantula about the size of Tree’s hand landed on the floor in front of them. Grandma spotted the hairy beast first, and exclaimed “OH! OH! OH!” Theresa responded in kind with a shriek audible only to select members of the wild kingdom with super sonic hearing. As grandma exclaimed “KILL IT! KILL IT! KILL IT!” Theresa composed herself as she realized that her alternatives were limited to (a) killing it herself, because grandma and Bea sure as hell weren’t going to do it, or (b) waiting it out and hoping that the tenacious monster died of natural causes. Option (a) was really the only choice, but keep in mind that Tree usually calls on me to take care of common house spiders roughly 1/100,000th the size of this one.
Tree stared that turantula right in the eyes, all ten of them, and then took the towel and cast it over the 8 legged intruder like a net. It tried in vain to free itself, but it could not escape the plush Terry Cloth deathtrap made from the finest Egyptian cotton. She then heaved herself upon the gyrating mound of terror striking with the heal first. The force of 125 lbs of philosophical fury came down on that audacious arachnoid like the wrath of God. The sound of its crunching and oozing were drowned out by Theresa’s primal warrior cry. Dizzy from the rush of adreneline, she retreated to catch her breath.
Bea came in from the front of the tent to inspect the damage. Those of you who know Bea know that she is a modern day St. Francis. She’s a lover of all of God’s creation, including mythological-like beasts such as this one, which seemed intent on consuming grandma whole. Bea explained that the turantula is not poisonous, does not bite, and does not cause harm to humans. “Bah!” Theresa said. “It was going to bite my head off.” Bea tended to the deceased with a proper burial. She wrapped the corpse of Satan’s spawn in some lilac scented facial tissue and lowered it to the bottom of the trash can where it rested in peace, but I wouldn’t doubt it of the mummified mammal came back to haunt generations of campers for years to come. Tree expressed privately to me that had it been up to her, she would have taken the remains and cast it back into the hellfire from which it was forged.
And this is how Theresa was bestowed the nickname Munaji Wa BuiBui…or as they say in the Queen’s language…”KILLER OF TURANTULAS”
More nicknames and the Serengeti Spirit awards in the dispatches to follow.
As some of you may know, I earned my way into the Whitefish Bay Chapter of the Fraternal Order of Rodent Killaz last winter by taking out a squirrel using only a kitchen knife, a broom handle, some duct tape, and my cunning. My makeshift bayonet is the stuff of legend in North Milwaukee, and rest assured, we’ve had no intruders since. After this right of passage I can now associate as equals with the likes Eric the Woodchuck Chucker and Franco the Squirrelinator. Tree was always on the outside looking in; however, she has now gained full-fledged membership to this exclusive social set and all the membership benefits thereof. Allow me to share with you the harrowing tale, but let me forewarn you - this recollection is not for the faint of heart or spirit. Not since the Brady Bunch vacation to Hawaii has there been such a bone-chilling tale of horror combined with alternating feats of cowardice and courage.
The legend began on our next to last night in the Serengeti as Theresa was helping her grandma wash up for bed in their tent. As Tree pulled the towel from the towel rack, she felt as thought something were clinging to it. As she shook out the towel, a turantula about the size of Tree’s hand landed on the floor in front of them. Grandma spotted the hairy beast first, and exclaimed “OH! OH! OH!” Theresa responded in kind with a shriek audible only to select members of the wild kingdom with super sonic hearing. As grandma exclaimed “KILL IT! KILL IT! KILL IT!” Theresa composed herself as she realized that her alternatives were limited to (a) killing it herself, because grandma and Bea sure as hell weren’t going to do it, or (b) waiting it out and hoping that the tenacious monster died of natural causes. Option (a) was really the only choice, but keep in mind that Tree usually calls on me to take care of common house spiders roughly 1/100,000th the size of this one.
Tree stared that turantula right in the eyes, all ten of them, and then took the towel and cast it over the 8 legged intruder like a net. It tried in vain to free itself, but it could not escape the plush Terry Cloth deathtrap made from the finest Egyptian cotton. She then heaved herself upon the gyrating mound of terror striking with the heal first. The force of 125 lbs of philosophical fury came down on that audacious arachnoid like the wrath of God. The sound of its crunching and oozing were drowned out by Theresa’s primal warrior cry. Dizzy from the rush of adreneline, she retreated to catch her breath.
Bea came in from the front of the tent to inspect the damage. Those of you who know Bea know that she is a modern day St. Francis. She’s a lover of all of God’s creation, including mythological-like beasts such as this one, which seemed intent on consuming grandma whole. Bea explained that the turantula is not poisonous, does not bite, and does not cause harm to humans. “Bah!” Theresa said. “It was going to bite my head off.” Bea tended to the deceased with a proper burial. She wrapped the corpse of Satan’s spawn in some lilac scented facial tissue and lowered it to the bottom of the trash can where it rested in peace, but I wouldn’t doubt it of the mummified mammal came back to haunt generations of campers for years to come. Tree expressed privately to me that had it been up to her, she would have taken the remains and cast it back into the hellfire from which it was forged.
And this is how Theresa was bestowed the nickname Munaji Wa BuiBui…or as they say in the Queen’s language…”KILLER OF TURANTULAS”
More nicknames and the Serengeti Spirit awards in the dispatches to follow.
Pros & Cons of Touring a Country on the Brink of Collapse
All, sorry to be out of touch over the last few days while in Zimbabwe. As you may have heard about in the news, they had a run-off "election" right before we came. It wasn't much of an election really, since a vote for the opposition party earning you a beating if not a trip to jail or worse. Telephone connections to the US were shut off, and the internet service was down. Journalists were jailed, and despite the fact that this blog has no journalistic integrity what-so-ever, I didn't want to take any chances. Most of the mayhem was far far far from us --- and Thankfully the state controlled media kept all of the blood, guts, riots, and looting sufficiently suppressed so as not to ruin our good time.
If there is something good to be said about the nasty political situation here, its that there's some great vacation deals to be had! Sure people are suffering as the local economy spirals endlessly downward, but consider the bright side. When we asked for some connected rooms at the century old Victory Falls Hotel (and when they feared we might go elsewhere to find such rooms) they graciously offered us the presidential suite. In fact, this suite was the same suite that hosted Hillary and Chelsea Clinton on their visit to the falls several years ago.
Pop, insert joke in poor taste here:
(1) "Did you disinfect or fumagate it?"
(2) "Was the outhouse unavailable?"
(3) "Could you hear the echo of her shrill voice?"
More on Victoria Falls and our Zimbabwe experience in a bit. For the time being, I have about a weeks worth of nonsense on the brain related to our Serengeti trip which needs to be purged from my brain. Bear with me as I play catch up.
RT
If there is something good to be said about the nasty political situation here, its that there's some great vacation deals to be had! Sure people are suffering as the local economy spirals endlessly downward, but consider the bright side. When we asked for some connected rooms at the century old Victory Falls Hotel (and when they feared we might go elsewhere to find such rooms) they graciously offered us the presidential suite. In fact, this suite was the same suite that hosted Hillary and Chelsea Clinton on their visit to the falls several years ago.
Pop, insert joke in poor taste here:
(1) "Did you disinfect or fumagate it?"
(2) "Was the outhouse unavailable?"
(3) "Could you hear the echo of her shrill voice?"
More on Victoria Falls and our Zimbabwe experience in a bit. For the time being, I have about a weeks worth of nonsense on the brain related to our Serengeti trip which needs to be purged from my brain. Bear with me as I play catch up.
RT
Friday, June 27, 2008
The Killer B's of the Serengeti
Back in Dar Es Salaam after 4 great nights on the Seregeti plains. A quick recap of our test of stamina, which the Elders passed gloriously.
Travelling to our destination was an adventure in itself. We woke up at 5am to get to a local regional ariport instead of Dar's international airport. It was chaotic. Mr. Weynand saw our bags being loaded on a plain going elsewhere while some random airport employees were wheeling Grandma and Bea like they were a couple of wheelchair basketball all-stars. Somehow, someway, we got there. It took a 3 hour flight on a little 12 seater airplane to a regional airport in Arusha. This was followed by an hour delay, and then another hour flight aboard an 8 seater to a small air strip in a place I couldn't possibly find on a map. Rand McNally himself couldn't find this place. After another brief delay, we made one last flight to a small dirt airstrip. If the last airport was in the middle of nowhere, than this one was just a few miles to the west of nowhere. A suburb of the Middle of Nowhere if you will. On the approach, we saw some enormously plump hippos sun bathing by a watering hole and a string of wildebeests making the great migration that looked like an auntline from 10,000 feet. A small herd of elephants was the capper. This little taste of the wildlife helped grandma and Bea shake off the travel fatigue and reminded them of why they had come so far. Our pilot, a seasoned bush flier, alleviated the bordom of his routine route by dive bombing the dirt runway with a low pass to chase of the gazelle that were loitering it. With the runway clear, he took us in for a bumpy landing as Wildebeest seemed to play "chicken" amongst themselves - trying to cross the runway just before getting caught in the propeller blade. Welcome to the bush grandma!
Our guide, Muhamed, greeted us on the strip and fixed us some drinks. I had the Kilamanjaro lager. We loaded into our Land Cruiser. We did a game drive on the way back to the lodge, and saw some small game. Bea was estatic while Grandma was wide-eyed. Grandma was quickly dubbed "BiBi", prounounced Bee-Bee, which is Swahili for Grandma. Together, we joking called Bea and BiBi, the two long time friends from Falls City, TX, the "Killer B's". Its a ridiculous nickname for two of the gentlest souls you'll ever meet.
An hour or so later we arrived at our lodge. As I mentioned to some of you, the first leg of our trip was through a lodge called "Serengeti under Canvas" - the lodge itself was a tent. We were shown to our rooms, which were also tents. They were nice spacious tents to be sure - luxurious tents if there is such a thing - but they were tents nonetheless and had tent drawbacks. Like rocky uneven floors, a challenge for an uncoordinated bohemoth like me, so you can imagine the challenge for Grandma and Bea. The tents had some toilets that used a make shift septic system, but there was no running water otherwise. No A/C and no fans obviously.
I will admit, we were all worried about the situation. With respect to grandma and Bea, I never feared the animals. Having been on safari once before, I knew they posed no threat as long as we were smart. As for sickness, we were vaccinated for everything, so those worries were addressed. We had enough insect repellent that I'll be pissing deet for weeks. My worries were about exhaustion first, and the uneven terrain second. We took some creative steps to address our concerns, such as re-grading the ground underneath Grandma and Bea's bathroom and having Tree stay in their tent in case of late night emergencies. We also took turns sitting out the afternoon game drives to accompany Grandma and/or Bea for games of cards. To be honest, there was no shortage of volunteers as we were all a bit cashed.
These measures worked out well, and the risks Bibi and Bea assumed were rewarded with some amazing experiences, such as:
*A battle royal among a handful of hippos jockeying for position in a watering hole.
*Two crocs fighting for a fallen wildebeest - a fight that featured a classic Discovery Channel style Chomp 'n Roll by one of the crocs.
*Two cheetahs making an unsuccessful sprint for a baby wildebeest that just made it back to the heard in the nick of time.
*A male lion that rose on its paws and roared a warning at Theresa after she rose suddenly from her seat.
* We walked across the Gremeti River on a rope bridge to take pics of the crocs below.
* We drank gin and tonics in the middle of the plains while watching the sun set over the flattop acacia trees in the distance.
* The sound of wildebeests and hyennas within yards of our tents each night.
* a group of 15 or so giraffes walking single file accross a dusk sky backdrop.
* Eating breakfast on the plain with herds of zebra migrating past us on each side.
* Sipping beers recounting the days events while hanging by the campfire.
* Hanging out for an evening watching a lioness tend to her three cubs, about as rare of a scene as you will see in the bush given how overprotective female lions can be.
So yes, Grandma and Aunt Bea were roughing it. And the payoff was the sort of scenery that few will ever experience. They made it despite the exhaustive travel, bumpy game rides, and the midday heat that was stiffling even by their San Antonio standards. As they say back in their home town of Falls City, TX, these two old birds are tougher than green onions.
And it doesn't let up just yet. We wake up early tomorrow to fly to Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe. Yes, the same Zimbabwe that had its highly contested (and very violent) run-off election today. So we'll be arriving right about the time a state of emergency is declared. Guess thats why the travel agent gave us such a great deal? Thankfully, we'll be far removed from the capital where much of the destruction, terror, and mayhem will be going down. We'll regroup there and get some rest before taking our second safari in South Africa.
Stay tuned for some pics from the Serengeti, as well as some Spirit Awards. Also, I owe everyone an explanation why Theresa is now known among the locals as "Munajiwa BuiBui", or in English "The Killer of Turantulas". No joke. Stay tuned for an update, hopefully tomorrow once we arrive in Zim.
Travelling to our destination was an adventure in itself. We woke up at 5am to get to a local regional ariport instead of Dar's international airport. It was chaotic. Mr. Weynand saw our bags being loaded on a plain going elsewhere while some random airport employees were wheeling Grandma and Bea like they were a couple of wheelchair basketball all-stars. Somehow, someway, we got there. It took a 3 hour flight on a little 12 seater airplane to a regional airport in Arusha. This was followed by an hour delay, and then another hour flight aboard an 8 seater to a small air strip in a place I couldn't possibly find on a map. Rand McNally himself couldn't find this place. After another brief delay, we made one last flight to a small dirt airstrip. If the last airport was in the middle of nowhere, than this one was just a few miles to the west of nowhere. A suburb of the Middle of Nowhere if you will. On the approach, we saw some enormously plump hippos sun bathing by a watering hole and a string of wildebeests making the great migration that looked like an auntline from 10,000 feet. A small herd of elephants was the capper. This little taste of the wildlife helped grandma and Bea shake off the travel fatigue and reminded them of why they had come so far. Our pilot, a seasoned bush flier, alleviated the bordom of his routine route by dive bombing the dirt runway with a low pass to chase of the gazelle that were loitering it. With the runway clear, he took us in for a bumpy landing as Wildebeest seemed to play "chicken" amongst themselves - trying to cross the runway just before getting caught in the propeller blade. Welcome to the bush grandma!
Our guide, Muhamed, greeted us on the strip and fixed us some drinks. I had the Kilamanjaro lager. We loaded into our Land Cruiser. We did a game drive on the way back to the lodge, and saw some small game. Bea was estatic while Grandma was wide-eyed. Grandma was quickly dubbed "BiBi", prounounced Bee-Bee, which is Swahili for Grandma. Together, we joking called Bea and BiBi, the two long time friends from Falls City, TX, the "Killer B's". Its a ridiculous nickname for two of the gentlest souls you'll ever meet.
An hour or so later we arrived at our lodge. As I mentioned to some of you, the first leg of our trip was through a lodge called "Serengeti under Canvas" - the lodge itself was a tent. We were shown to our rooms, which were also tents. They were nice spacious tents to be sure - luxurious tents if there is such a thing - but they were tents nonetheless and had tent drawbacks. Like rocky uneven floors, a challenge for an uncoordinated bohemoth like me, so you can imagine the challenge for Grandma and Bea. The tents had some toilets that used a make shift septic system, but there was no running water otherwise. No A/C and no fans obviously.
I will admit, we were all worried about the situation. With respect to grandma and Bea, I never feared the animals. Having been on safari once before, I knew they posed no threat as long as we were smart. As for sickness, we were vaccinated for everything, so those worries were addressed. We had enough insect repellent that I'll be pissing deet for weeks. My worries were about exhaustion first, and the uneven terrain second. We took some creative steps to address our concerns, such as re-grading the ground underneath Grandma and Bea's bathroom and having Tree stay in their tent in case of late night emergencies. We also took turns sitting out the afternoon game drives to accompany Grandma and/or Bea for games of cards. To be honest, there was no shortage of volunteers as we were all a bit cashed.
These measures worked out well, and the risks Bibi and Bea assumed were rewarded with some amazing experiences, such as:
*A battle royal among a handful of hippos jockeying for position in a watering hole.
*Two crocs fighting for a fallen wildebeest - a fight that featured a classic Discovery Channel style Chomp 'n Roll by one of the crocs.
*Two cheetahs making an unsuccessful sprint for a baby wildebeest that just made it back to the heard in the nick of time.
*A male lion that rose on its paws and roared a warning at Theresa after she rose suddenly from her seat.
* We walked across the Gremeti River on a rope bridge to take pics of the crocs below.
* We drank gin and tonics in the middle of the plains while watching the sun set over the flattop acacia trees in the distance.
* The sound of wildebeests and hyennas within yards of our tents each night.
* a group of 15 or so giraffes walking single file accross a dusk sky backdrop.
* Eating breakfast on the plain with herds of zebra migrating past us on each side.
* Sipping beers recounting the days events while hanging by the campfire.
* Hanging out for an evening watching a lioness tend to her three cubs, about as rare of a scene as you will see in the bush given how overprotective female lions can be.
So yes, Grandma and Aunt Bea were roughing it. And the payoff was the sort of scenery that few will ever experience. They made it despite the exhaustive travel, bumpy game rides, and the midday heat that was stiffling even by their San Antonio standards. As they say back in their home town of Falls City, TX, these two old birds are tougher than green onions.
And it doesn't let up just yet. We wake up early tomorrow to fly to Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe. Yes, the same Zimbabwe that had its highly contested (and very violent) run-off election today. So we'll be arriving right about the time a state of emergency is declared. Guess thats why the travel agent gave us such a great deal? Thankfully, we'll be far removed from the capital where much of the destruction, terror, and mayhem will be going down. We'll regroup there and get some rest before taking our second safari in South Africa.
Stay tuned for some pics from the Serengeti, as well as some Spirit Awards. Also, I owe everyone an explanation why Theresa is now known among the locals as "Munajiwa BuiBui", or in English "The Killer of Turantulas". No joke. Stay tuned for an update, hopefully tomorrow once we arrive in Zim.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
God's Grace as Lion Repellent
As a general rule, I like to make sure I am in good graces with God before I seek out lions and other deadly animals while on safari. Its just plain good sense. Tony and I walked over to St Joe's Cathedral yesterday to pan for a mass outing - to check out the scene - and I think we both thought this was a mass that Grandma and Bea would be wise to skip. They have enough spiritual capital in the bank for an eternity and a half. Playing the traveler's dispensation card seemed simple and smart considering the humid temps, lack of A/C, uneven floors, and multiple stone steps. Wooden kneelers had me thinking about calling this one in.
Apparently Grandma and Bea abide by the same general rule as I do and they insisted on going. At ages 88 and 86, they take piety pretty seriously. Its ingrained. So the gang of 6 taxi'd over to the cathedral and went to mass said in Swahili. True, we didn't understand a word of it but the cadence and ryhthm of the mass is the same in Swahili as it is in any language and we simply soaked it in. We were the only white people in the church, but that was OK because that made us very popular at peace time. Semi-celebrity status in fact.
Everyone agreed that despite not speaking the language the mass was one of the most profoundly spiritual experiences of each of our lives. It was aesthetically unparalleled. Start with a beautiful church and a beautiful sunny day streaming through stained glass. Then add in some excitement for your senses with some incense. Add a 40 person choir decked out in shiny yellow robes and belting out tunes, and you have unmatched sensory and spiritual stimulation. The choir was amazing. If paul simon is looking for some backup singers to his follow up to the Graceland album, we have found them. Their beauty of their voices were matched by their coordinated bobbing and weaving, hand waving and fluttering, stepping in place, and of course snapping and clapping. Rows one and three would lean to the right while waving a hand while the rows two and four would do the opposite.
I have no soul whatsoever, but I was feeling it. Carol, Theresa, and Bea were actually brought to tears. So how is it that this was the most spiritually fulfilling mass of any of our lives despite the fact that we didn't catch a single word? I think Bea said it best. "God was there. We are different, but we were all there for the same reason and God was there." Predictably, Carol cried again when she heard Bea say that! (And I'll be damned if this passage hasn't gotten the tear ducts of Kim Charles working right now!)
So Tree and I decide to walk back to the hotel and we're met by more street people than we had schillings for. Many of them were amputees, and its anybody's guess as to whether they were political refugees who lost their limbs from land mines or if the losses were due to polio or something else. Its fitting that we left that church with such a high and were immediately countered by harsh reality (on the way back to our 5 star hotel no less). The collection baskets we stuffed full and the donations we made to our friend Sister Yuda's charity helped to soothe our conscience but the experience as a whole reminded the two of us that charitable giving might satisfy immediate needs but its a bottomless pit unless accompanied by some advocacy work. My personal hope is that the experience is profound enough to jump start my on-again off-again spirituality. (But in the short term I'd be happy with a shiny halo and beaming heavenly grace to ward off the lions!)
This will be the last dispatch until Friday or so. We head to the Serengetti in the morning, and I doubt that there is any internet where we are going. We'll update you upon our return. Have an excellent week.
Eat, Drink, Sleep, and Repeat
Seems like our brief stay in Dar Es Salaam has refreshed everybody. The itinerary here was intentionally light. No commitments and no worries. Just a chance for grandma and Bea to work out he aches and kinks for the trip while Tony, Carol, Tree, and I fatten up for the lions.
Turns out our hotel is really top notch. Its the same one that the George Bush stayed at when visiting Tanzania a few months ago. So we have started the last two days very early (easy to do when you are wide awake at 4am) and then feast on a breakfast buffet that is (a) gourmet, and(b) mind blowing. Start with made to order omlets. Fresh passion fruit and mango. They'll do a waffle for you. They have an entire table of pastries. And the best coffee ever.
So naturally, the first thing you do after a breakfast like that is go right back to bed. That's some kind of vacation when your first nap is before 9am.
By noon we taking a light lunch. Maybe splitting a few sandwiches between us. Who needs food when Tree is ordering champagne and I've made it a personal mission to sample every local beer? My favorite brand is called "Tusker", which was named for the elephant that killed one of the brewery founders. No joke. After a few adult beverages, its time to rest up again but not before we look ahead to dinner, the last round of the cycle.
Yesterday Tony put me on point for dinner arrangements. It was the least I could do. After all, he did arrange every detail of this transcontinental venture. This was a simple task. Get input, find a place, arrange for a ride. Simple.
Seemed like everyone was jonesing for some comforty and carb-o-licious Italian food. Seems like this craving just seized everybody in the group at about the time we passed over US boundry waters. It was an insatiable craving. We had enough smoked salmon to last three lifetimes on the trip over. Nothing against fish. We just felt like loading up. Pizza was essential. So I find an Italian restaurant at a nearby hotel called L'Ovieto. I make reservations for 6:30pm and we are ready to roll.
When we arrive, Theresa checked us in.
Tree: "Tobin party of 6"
Host: "I'm sorry...no Tobin"
Tree: "Is it under Richard?"
Host: "I have a Richie, partie of 4?"
Tree: "Hmm, no."
Host: "Richmond, party of 6?"
Tree: "Yep, that must be it." (figuring there was a Rich to Swahili translation mixup)
We sit down and order drinks. Tree was the first to notice something odd.
"This place doesn't look like the picture you (Rich) showed us in the magazine."
A few minutes later Tree piped up again...
"Is it odd that they have fishing nets as part of their decor?"
Then Tree finally said it. "I think we're in the wrong restaurant."
They don't give Phds away to dummies folks. She was right. Turns out we went to the wrong L'Ovieto restaurant. The italian restaurant by the same name was actually right down the hall in the same hotel. We accidently found ourselves in the seafood restaurant and slipped in quite accidently. Since our drinks were ordered we decided to ride it out and we had one of the best seafood meals ever despite the fact that no one was in the mood for it. You basically picked out your fish and they'd cook it in front of you. It was great, and since we're on a coastline it certainly made more sense than a Tanzanian Italian restaurant. Thankfully the family played along with my gaffe and didn't bust my chops to badly.
They did however bust my chops over one of my better Swahili mishaps.
Me: "Kuna Choh" (Where is the tiolet)
Hostess: "Huh?"
Me: "Kuna Choo??" (The uncertainty in my voice clearly evident)
Hostess: "huh?"
Me: "Restroom? Toilet?"
Hostess: "To your right."
Perhaps out of curiosity, but more likely out of awkward embarrassment, I asked her how to say "Where is the toilet?" in Swahili. She looked at me and said straight faced "John".
Awesome.
Have Camera - Will Travel
Some quick picks for those of you who need photographic evidence of our arrival in Tanzania and overall well being. (1) Tree e-mailing from our hotel room.
(2) Tony & our friend Sr. Yuda
(3) Bea & Grandma on the jet set
(4) Grandma and Tree sharing laughs before dinner and drinks.
(5) Me admiring the Serengetti (a Serengetti brand Lager that is). More picks and updates later.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Operation Aqua-Net
Mom, HAPPY BIRTHDAY. Or as they say in Tanzania "HAPPY BIRTHDAY"
Yeah, English is well spoken here, which is somewhat disappointing since I was cramming Swahili from my phrasebook on the flight here. Pops, you will be happy to know that at age 33 I am finally getting street-smart. I have memorized a few commonly used phrases that should help me too navigate this foreign land. These common phrases include...
"Habari" (hello)
"Asanti" (Thank you)
"Unasema Kiingereza?" (Do you speak English?)
"Kuna Choo?" (Where is the toilet? I am about to have an accident.)
"Ita gari la hospitali!" (Quick, Call an Ambulance!)
"Saidia tafadhali! Nilliibiwa!" (Please help me! I have been robbed!)
I think these phrases will be very useful.
(Mom, now that I have officilly worried pops, it would be a good time to check his pulse.)
Tony, Carol, Tree, Grandma and Bea are about to get some aroma therapy and foot massages at the spa. While they do that, I will give you all a brief report on Amsterdam, as seen from a one hour layover at the airport. All in all, very disappointing, but then again...it was one hour at the airport so yeah, that's not a good basis for opinion. Reagrdless, here it is...AMSTERDAM BY THE NUMBERS.
0 - Number of reefer bars seen at the Amsterdam airport.
0 - Number of "Royales with Cheese" eaten by self at the Amerstam airport.
0 - Number of windmills sited or pairs of wooden shoes tried on.
0 - Number of dykes I stuck my finger in.
0 - Number of cans of Aqua Net hairspray purchased to replace the ones Grandma had confiscated in Dallas.
.000001 Percent chance we will find a can of AquaNet here in Tanzania.
All in all, Amersterdam gets an "I" for incomplete. So I guess I will have to come back sometime.
Gotta run. Stay tune for another dispatch shortly.
(and MUGS, Happy B-Day to you too!)
GOOD MORNING DAR-ES-SALAAAAAAAAM!
Today's dispatch from room 524 at the Kempinski hotel in Dar Es Salaam. It's about 8:30 am here, and Tree and I are sipping on coffee looking out at the ships and cranes keeping the harbor busy. We asked a hotel attendant about the days temperature, he said he didn't know it but assured us it would be "very cold". Tree said "Can you define cold? Because we're from Wisconsin and... (Our blood is thick - viscous as hell in fact)..." He then assured us that the weather will be "Very hot". If he had told me the temp in degrees centigrade, I am sure it would have translated roughly the same way anyhow.
So yes, we arrived safely after an epic two day journey. Put yourself in the shoes of Grandma (age 88) or Bea (her best friend from Falls City, TX, still spry at age 86) as I run through the recap...
Day 1: San Antonio to Dallas (1 hr)
(They stayed in Dallas for a day)
Day 3:
Dallas to Detroit (2hrs)
(a half hour layover and a sprint through the airport)
Detroit to Amsterdam (about 8 hours, but a lot of time on the runway)
(an hour layover - and another airport dash)
Amsterdam to Kilinmanjaro Tanzania (about 10 hours - and we went from one day to another somewhere on this flight - i think - the days are blurred at this point.)
Day 4:
We arrived at Kilinmanjaro at 9pm or so in whatever time zone it is that they (we) are in. Then sat on the runway for an hour before taking the last leg of our trip - an hour flight to Dar Es Salaam.
And Grandma and Bea survived this epic travel day with the grace you'd expect from two classy southern ladies. Grandma is a bit achy as you can imagine, but she'll have two days in a first class hotel to rejuvenate. Tony is taking her to the spa today for some pampering, which should help to shake off the jetlag. Bea too. I think these two ladies are as tough as they are sweet. An unique combo indeed.
In all, nothing went smoothly per se, but everything worked out. There were some delays and some confusion as you might expect. Amazingly, Bea was selected for additional security screening in Amsterdam, but they were easier on her than the Dallas TSA officials were on grandma. Airline service was hit or miss, but that's the expectation nowadays. In fact, the only significant travel mishaps seemed to involve me as I have established myself as the high maintenance traveller of the group.
To start, in Detroit, I noticed Bea's wheelchair was making some funny noises, like something was stuck in the spokes. One of the wheels was off line just a bit and dragging. We tried to fix and adjust, but we had to keep pace with he group and couldn't stop for long. We were drawing some stares as a result of the noise, so I decided to look out for some better options. As luck would have it, I found an abandoned wheelchair and quickly did a switch. Bea jumped from one wheelchair to the other and we quickly caught up with the group. It occurred to me after the fact that I found the "abandoned" wheelchair outside a rest room, and that it probably wasn't really abandoned, or if it was, it was abandoned only temporarily as the occupant was occupying a seat of the flushing variety while we were pulling our daring switcheroo. So yeah, I essentially stole a wheelchair from a disabled person. You snooze, you lose. This is how we roll (wheelchair pun not intended).
On the flight to Amsterdam, I drugged myself to sleep using the potent sleeping pill Ambien in order to bring my sleep schedule in line with our calendar. The idea was to reduce the effects of jetlag, which seemed essential especially given the late nights I had leading up to the trip. When we landed, I was still in an Ambien induced funk. After leaving the plain, I realized I left my boarding pass and baggage claim info on the plane. YIKES. While Tony and Theresa arranged for some assistance for Grandma and Bea to get to the next gate, I walked back onto the plane. I somehow sweet talked some local airline attendants to let me do it - an accomplishment indeed - sweet talking across language barriers is not easy, but I think my panicked expression actually frightened the woman. She was hesitant perhaps due to security concerns, but my English panic talk worked like some sort of Jedi mind trick ("You have nothing to worry about - I do not conern you!") The passes and claim tickets were on my seat. Apparently they slipped out of my pocket while passed out cold.
Those claim tickets turned out to be pretty important because my bag was a no show at the airport last night in Dar Es Salaam. We were due for some complications, so naturally it was me that it involved. Better me than Grandma and Bea. I am the least fashionable of the group, so wearing the same clothes for a few more days has little impact. I also wear considerably less makeup than they do. And my BO smells like roses, so no harm done there.
My bag was located in Amsterdam, and it will be delivered to the hotel tonight...hopefully. Feel free to place bets amongst yourselves on the likelihood of that happening. If worse comes to worse, I may have to go to the local marketplace to get some clothes. Maybe an oversized shirt with red, black, and green zig zag stripes and pants to match? I saw some guy at the airport wearing that, and I regret not getting the name of his tailor. (I suspect I have some people rooting against me getting my luggage now.)
Gotta ice my wrists from this lengthy dispatch. I have a few other updates to post shortly, so stay tuned.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Terror Threat Narrowly Averted!
Today's dispatch from terminal 2 - chicago O'Hare. A late night of chasing down loose ends is not stopping me from enjoying a Heineken to celebrate the end of my book learnin' days. Just as I toasted with Theresa ("A Toast - No More Reading - Ever"), Theresa gets a ring from the rest of our travel party at DFW. "We have a situation"
Let the hijinx begin!
Turns out 88 year old grandma was pulled aside for additional security screening. Apparently TSA thought that her lovely south texas lady persona was just a cover. Who knows what she was concealing under her fashionable Alfred Dunner attire. A search of her carry on revealed the threat. A mysterious gelatenous concoction disguised as Clinique Cold Creme! The Horror!
When it was all said and done, all of her make-up was confiscated. Sure, the skies are safe. But how is a sweet Texas lady like Grandma going to get her face on for the people of Dar Es Salam Tanzania? We are putting an emergency plan together. We have a short layover in Amsterdam. We plan to divide and concur that airport in search for high quality lotions and creams. Grandma will not be denied!
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