What makes a great shower? Large shower heads spraying warm water all over your body? The spa in which it is located? Lovely soaps and warm fragrant towels? Perhaps, but other things can take precedence. I thought nothing could beat my two best showers but Africa proved me wrong. My African shower may be the best shower of my life.
Incredible Shower #1 - Maine 1975
Gary and I (four months pregnant with Stephanie) were visiting our friend in Maine whose cabin was quite rustic. Bob had running water in his house but no toilet - there was a "one-holer" in a shed out back - and no shower. Instead there was an outside faucet with a hose attached. This cold water was what I used for this particular shower. I know, how can this create a great shower? Well, it all depends on the circumstances.
Bob liked to clam in the low-tide ocean mud across the road from his cabin and his descriptions of the process (and our desire for the end product) made us decide to join him one afternoon. We carefully bandaged our fingers (so the clam shells wouldn't scrape the skin off) and donned boots. Here was my first challenge - the boots he loaned me were several sizes too big and the mud was particularly thick and sticky. After each step I had to stop to pull my boot up out of the mud, accompanied by a loud SQUELCH. Sometimes I didn't time it right - my foot came out of the boot and I ended up stepping into the mud. Gary and Bob, in boots that fit, moved quickly out into the deeper mud flats, but my muddy progression was much slower. I never got far from the shore. What followed was not pretty.
I tried, I really did, but I just could not get the hang of leaning down, sticking my curled fingers into a hole in the mud (avoiding the bigger holds that could hide eels - oh, dear Lord, spare me!), slipping them around the clam IF I found one and then yanking it up out of the super-sucking mud. I was inevitably unsuccessful - either no clam or I couldn't get it out of the #$%^& mud. What I did get was absolutely filthy hands from my continued attempts. My feet were the first things to get covered in mud from inadvertently stepping out of the boots but other body parts were soon to follow. At first I tried wiping my mud-covered hands on my legs - my feet were already disgusting, why not add a bit more? - but when they got completely covered, I moved on to my shorts. As I kept attempting to pull clams, I continued to deal with muddy hands. When my shorts were covered, I wiped the mud on my bare arms and then moved onto my shirt. When every bit of me below my neck was covered with mud I now had few choices left. Next to go was my face - yes, I wiped mud on my cheeks - and then, finally, all that was left was my hair - and, incredibly, I wiped my hands on that too. When I finally recognizd that this was one of the stupidest things I had EVER done, that I looked like the Mud People I had seen in National Geographic, I decided that no clams were worth this.
I took the boots off (what purpose did they really serve at this point?) and squelched my way back to Bob's house, tearing clothes off as I walked. I am usually a modest person, but not at this point. I didn't care who saw me or how odd I looked, I just wanted to GET THAT MUD OFF. I squelched into the yard, grabbed the hose, turned the cold water on and stood there, naked, in front of all who might drive by. As each body part re-emerged I greeted it with joy, "Hello, arm; hello fingers." It was glorious, standing there in the sun as my body reappeared. I know I have never been as dirty as I was that afternoon - dirty, sticky, with the added odor of the low tide. But that garden hose did the trick. I was human again.
By the way, Bob and Gary came home with lots of clams. My contribution? Four. However, my four were delicious (and the others shared). Not worth the mud, mind you, but delicious.
Incredible Shower #2 - July 2012
This really refers to the first shower I take every year when I get home from camping at Yosemite. The dust at the Housekeeping Camping units is not to be believed. It works its way into every nook and cranny of both the campsite and one's body. The daily shower or swim in the river helps momentarily but it all comes back way too soon. It is everywhere. My feet get particularly black. This year, as I drove back to my cousin's house (we had a few days to finish packing for Africa) I could feel the grime all over me, could see it under my fingernails, and wondered about how I smelt. But this time I was not showering with cold water from a garden hose, as I had in Maine, but lovely hot water in Pattie's upstairs shower. Glorious. Wonderful. HEAVENLY. It seems almost impossible that such a filthy body can be restored to it's pre-camping condition in just 15 minutes. Each year, when I step out of that first shower, I realize that life, as I knew it, can resume.
Incredible Shower #3 - Hwange Camp, Zimbabwe, Aug 2012.
This shower did not include removing filth from my body. It was not a spa setting. The shower head was almost primitive. The water temperature was not ideal - it was a solar system that vacillated among hot, tepid and cold - and used its own discretion to decide which. Seemingly not ideal conditions so what made it special? Ambience.
To begin with, it was outdoors (there was an indoor one as well but, once I took a shower outside, there was no going back). It was discreetly placed next to the small patio off one side of our cabin. Its wood steps wound around a termite mound - yep, a termite mound - and the whole thing was tucked under a tree.
I know this photo is hard to "read" - the thatch on the right is the edge of the roof over the small patio off the back of our cabin. You can see the top two wood steps going up to the shower. The termite mound is the gray "hill" that wraps around the tree trunk. The shower is the green wall, you can't see the shower head - it was in the corner where the green walls met.
Okay, what is interesting about this primitive shower other than the complete oddity of showering next to a termite mound? It was the view from the shower that was extraordinary.
Elephants and zebras greeted me whenever I used the outdoor shower. Sometimes they were 50 yards away, other times, much closer. One afternoon, when Pattie got ready to take her shower, she opened and then quickly shut the door - elephants were right next to our little patio. One of them used his trunk to suck up the water in the little bird bath on the patio - about 5 feet from where she stood in the doorway. Close!
But when they were at 50 - 100 yards it was amazing to scrub away while watching them, especially near sunset. I don't think you can beat the big, fat, orange African sun setting on a savanna filled with elephants and zebras. Truly a remarkable, wondrous shower and one, I suspect, will not be topped in my lifetime.
By the way, the zebras suggested that I get back on Weight Watchers; the elephants disagreed. They said, "Take a break, enjoy Africa." I listened to the elephants.
Incredible Shower #1 - Maine 1975
Gary and I (four months pregnant with Stephanie) were visiting our friend in Maine whose cabin was quite rustic. Bob had running water in his house but no toilet - there was a "one-holer" in a shed out back - and no shower. Instead there was an outside faucet with a hose attached. This cold water was what I used for this particular shower. I know, how can this create a great shower? Well, it all depends on the circumstances.
Bob liked to clam in the low-tide ocean mud across the road from his cabin and his descriptions of the process (and our desire for the end product) made us decide to join him one afternoon. We carefully bandaged our fingers (so the clam shells wouldn't scrape the skin off) and donned boots. Here was my first challenge - the boots he loaned me were several sizes too big and the mud was particularly thick and sticky. After each step I had to stop to pull my boot up out of the mud, accompanied by a loud SQUELCH. Sometimes I didn't time it right - my foot came out of the boot and I ended up stepping into the mud. Gary and Bob, in boots that fit, moved quickly out into the deeper mud flats, but my muddy progression was much slower. I never got far from the shore. What followed was not pretty.
I tried, I really did, but I just could not get the hang of leaning down, sticking my curled fingers into a hole in the mud (avoiding the bigger holds that could hide eels - oh, dear Lord, spare me!), slipping them around the clam IF I found one and then yanking it up out of the super-sucking mud. I was inevitably unsuccessful - either no clam or I couldn't get it out of the #$%^& mud. What I did get was absolutely filthy hands from my continued attempts. My feet were the first things to get covered in mud from inadvertently stepping out of the boots but other body parts were soon to follow. At first I tried wiping my mud-covered hands on my legs - my feet were already disgusting, why not add a bit more? - but when they got completely covered, I moved on to my shorts. As I kept attempting to pull clams, I continued to deal with muddy hands. When my shorts were covered, I wiped the mud on my bare arms and then moved onto my shirt. When every bit of me below my neck was covered with mud I now had few choices left. Next to go was my face - yes, I wiped mud on my cheeks - and then, finally, all that was left was my hair - and, incredibly, I wiped my hands on that too. When I finally recognizd that this was one of the stupidest things I had EVER done, that I looked like the Mud People I had seen in National Geographic, I decided that no clams were worth this.
I took the boots off (what purpose did they really serve at this point?) and squelched my way back to Bob's house, tearing clothes off as I walked. I am usually a modest person, but not at this point. I didn't care who saw me or how odd I looked, I just wanted to GET THAT MUD OFF. I squelched into the yard, grabbed the hose, turned the cold water on and stood there, naked, in front of all who might drive by. As each body part re-emerged I greeted it with joy, "Hello, arm; hello fingers." It was glorious, standing there in the sun as my body reappeared. I know I have never been as dirty as I was that afternoon - dirty, sticky, with the added odor of the low tide. But that garden hose did the trick. I was human again.
By the way, Bob and Gary came home with lots of clams. My contribution? Four. However, my four were delicious (and the others shared). Not worth the mud, mind you, but delicious.
Incredible Shower #2 - July 2012
This really refers to the first shower I take every year when I get home from camping at Yosemite. The dust at the Housekeeping Camping units is not to be believed. It works its way into every nook and cranny of both the campsite and one's body. The daily shower or swim in the river helps momentarily but it all comes back way too soon. It is everywhere. My feet get particularly black. This year, as I drove back to my cousin's house (we had a few days to finish packing for Africa) I could feel the grime all over me, could see it under my fingernails, and wondered about how I smelt. But this time I was not showering with cold water from a garden hose, as I had in Maine, but lovely hot water in Pattie's upstairs shower. Glorious. Wonderful. HEAVENLY. It seems almost impossible that such a filthy body can be restored to it's pre-camping condition in just 15 minutes. Each year, when I step out of that first shower, I realize that life, as I knew it, can resume.
Incredible Shower #3 - Hwange Camp, Zimbabwe, Aug 2012.
This shower did not include removing filth from my body. It was not a spa setting. The shower head was almost primitive. The water temperature was not ideal - it was a solar system that vacillated among hot, tepid and cold - and used its own discretion to decide which. Seemingly not ideal conditions so what made it special? Ambience.
To begin with, it was outdoors (there was an indoor one as well but, once I took a shower outside, there was no going back). It was discreetly placed next to the small patio off one side of our cabin. Its wood steps wound around a termite mound - yep, a termite mound - and the whole thing was tucked under a tree.
This is the front side of our tent cabin - the shower was on the opposite side.
Here is the shower.
I know this photo is hard to "read" - the thatch on the right is the edge of the roof over the small patio off the back of our cabin. You can see the top two wood steps going up to the shower. The termite mound is the gray "hill" that wraps around the tree trunk. The shower is the green wall, you can't see the shower head - it was in the corner where the green walls met.
Okay, what is interesting about this primitive shower other than the complete oddity of showering next to a termite mound? It was the view from the shower that was extraordinary.
Anna's photo (of course!)
Elephants and zebras greeted me whenever I used the outdoor shower. Sometimes they were 50 yards away, other times, much closer. One afternoon, when Pattie got ready to take her shower, she opened and then quickly shut the door - elephants were right next to our little patio. One of them used his trunk to suck up the water in the little bird bath on the patio - about 5 feet from where she stood in the doorway. Close!
But when they were at 50 - 100 yards it was amazing to scrub away while watching them, especially near sunset. I don't think you can beat the big, fat, orange African sun setting on a savanna filled with elephants and zebras. Truly a remarkable, wondrous shower and one, I suspect, will not be topped in my lifetime.
By the way, the zebras suggested that I get back on Weight Watchers; the elephants disagreed. They said, "Take a break, enjoy Africa." I listened to the elephants.
Always defer to the opinions of elephants!
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