Summer's End

It was an amazing summer but I have discovered that I missed something wonderful while I was away from Portland - get ready, you may not believe this - fabulous weather. Yes, reread that sentence - I am actually using the words fabulous, weather and Portland in the same sentence, something I never thought would happen. Apparently (unknown to me given that I moved here late last September) Portland has beautiful summers. The overcast gray skies have given way to bright, clear, dry, sunny weather. According to natives this miracle begins right after July 4 and continues through September, maybe into early October if we are lucky. I left in mid June so missed a lot of it but oh I am enjoying it since my return. Yep, I am stating for all the world to see - at this moment Portland has fabulous weather. Who knew?

I realize that I have not had good summer weather since my childhood. I grew up in Redwood City, CA. Its slogan, "Climate Best by Government Test," is accurate - it has great weather. I, unfortunately, didn't appreciate it; took it for granted. After we married, Gary and I moved to Connecticut, a beautiful state, absolutely charming, with gorgeous Autumns, but oh do you pay for it in summertime. It is HOT, sticky-hot, breathlessly-hot. You wear the humidity and - here is the true horror - it can stay sticky-hot all night long.

Then I moved back to California, to Pacific Grove (their motto - "Butterfly Town USA" - monarch butterflies winter there), where Monterey Bay meets the Pacific Ocean. It has unusual weather - no extreme heat or cold. It is in the 60s much of the year but that can make for some odd summer weather. Sometimes it is perfection - 75 degrees with a very slight ocean breeze - but it is often overcast and foggy and it can last for days. I don't joke when I say that I used my fireplace as often in summer as in winter and evenings are ALWAYS chilly from the ocean breeze.

I had become so used to the horror of New England and the oddity of Pacific Grove weathers that I forgot how truly lovely summer heat can be. I would describe heat here in Portland (get ready - "The City that Works" - and, for the most part, it does) as soft and, thankfully, quite dry. No humidity, not a drop of it. No glare because of all the trees. It is absolutely lovely during the day and, thank you all the gods above, it cools down at night. I guess I also love it because I know gray skies are not far away but, until then, I intend to enjoy every minute of this beautiful weather.

It is wonderful to be back with Wesley. He turned 3 at the end of August and, as always, I am fascinated with his growth (and how much I missed while I was gone). He is becoming lanky; the few remaining bits of baby fat are quickly disappearing and, I must admit, I miss those plump elbows and knees! But I love watching him run and jump in his brand new shoes (just in time for the new pre-school year) and demonstrate his developing physical skills. Today he showed me how he could walk along a path of raised bricks in his front yard. You all remember the stance: arms held out to provide balance, eyes cast down to monitor feet, tongue caught in teeth - all while looking up to wave me away,"I don't need help, Grandma, I don't!"

And language development - it continues to fascinate me. He likes words. When he hears a new one he will ask me what it means but, more often than not, figures out its meaning from the context of the sentence. He quickly adds new words or phrases to his vocabulary. "It's a mystery, Grandma" is used to describe anything he doesn't understand. "No, Grandma, it's not a jack, it's a stabilizer," when we look at drawings of trucks in his books. What I most enjoy, however, is that he is starting to use his Spanish (he goes to a bilingual day care) and he rolls his r's! You know - perrrrrrrrrro.

When he was first learning to talk he mixed the two languages together ("We have to wash our manos", "Bye, Grandma, hasta la vista", "More uvas, please"). Later, he kept them completely separate (he would sing the ABCs in Spanish after he sang them in English, would say all the colors in Spanish OR English). Now he likes to throw in a bit of Spanish for fun. I'll ask him if he can say something in Spanish and, if he can, he happily shares it. What is obvious to me is that he now understands that he is learning two different languages at the same time. He knows two words for the same thing - water and aqua, uvas and grapes and so on. What a gift his parents have given him. I think about how I struggled when learning French and Italian - and have terrible accents to boot. This is the way to do it. Learn while you are young.

What are the latest games we play? Right now he is really into trains, trucks, and airplanes. When we get home from preschool we set up a little airport area on the living room floor and then add roads and train tracks and a tin box to serve as a repair facility. I am in charge of the repairs. He sends me cars (or planes or helicopters or train cars) that supposedly need repair, I "fix" them and then he takes them back into play. He uses his wood car carrier to move the vehicles back and forth. He "flies" the planes to Hawaii or Colorado or Texas - all different destinations around the room. I told him I flew in a helicopter in Africa so I am often the person in his helicopter as he flies it over to the chair seat.

Thankfully he also still loves to sit with me and read a good book. I absolutely love all the new 3-year old behaviors but also know that I need a good snuggle fix at least once a day and the book reading provides it. So, I am quite content while playing air traffic controller and enjoying every second of the weather here in Portland.  Again, who knew????

Ah, Africa

I have been home for almost a month - it's time to get back to life in Portland. I must admit, however, that my mind still strays to Africa. So, here it is, final thoughts about my trip.

Our Guides and Staff:

James 

I realize I never mentioned James in earlier entries and that isn't right. He was the Overseas Adventure Travel guide who stayed with us the entire time we were on safari. We met new guides and staff at each of the four safari camps but James was a constant and what a constant he was. He is a true gentleman with all this connotes. He is kind, knowledgable, honest, thoughtful and honorable. He is from Zimbabwe and taught us much about life in a nation that is governed by a long-term dictator. Well, he had to be careful - he shared his thoughts while we were still in Zambia. As he said, "In Zimbabwe, you never know who may be listening."

He is proud of the beauty and traditional culture of his homeland. This enthusiasm was palpable when we stayed at our camp in Zimbabwe and our two days at Victoria Falls. He grinned when we got wet from the mist while looking at the falls (as he helped us put jackets and ponchos on over our clothes). He shared stories of his family that illustrated traditional Zimbabwean culture. He worked with us to make our visit at the Zimbabwean school and village as meaningful as possible.

Godfrey

If I had to pick a favorite guide from the four camps, Godfrey is my choice, hands down. He enthusiastically taught us about life on the savanna - the animals, their behaviors, what their tracks teach and so on. For example, here he is illustrating uses of elephant dung. Who knew that, if you are on the savanna and have run out of water, you can squeeze fresh elephant dung (believe me, it is EVERYWHERE) and drink the brown liquid that oozes out? Yes, bless those herbivore elephants - no bacteria from digested meat - so it is safe. And, in case you are interested, if the brown liquid has a slightly sweet taste, it is from a female elephant. 

I did not test either theory.

The other way you can use elephant dung is to distract tsetse flies. All you have to do is put a chunk of the dung in a container, light it, and voila, no flies. Our vans had containers attached to their fenders for this purpose and we used them two afternoons when flies were present. No smell by the way (was it from female elephants?).

I wonder if it would work on mosquitoes here at home? If one lived near a zoo . . . .

These guides taught us local history, flora and fauna. The pod in the above photo was heavy - do not stand under these tree unless wearing head gear!

The first and last jobs of our guides at each camp was  to pick us up and return us to the landing strip where we would fly to the next camp. Here Godfrey is getting ready to send us off. Note the security color of his vest. He is dressed for his job of greeting the plane and chasing animals off the landing strip before our plane lands or takes off - another possible career path for me with my own yellow jacket!

In addition to guides, the staff at each camp worked hard to make our stay enjoyable. They cooked our meals, tucked that lovely hot water bottle in our beds at night, served us drinks in the evening, met us with damp washcloths when we returned from animal viewing drives and entertained us. They were all wonderful.

The Land:
What can I say? It surpassed all expectations. I thought I knew what the savanna would look like but nothing prepared me for the reality. The grasslands, water holes, scrub forests, termite mounds, rivers, channels of the Okavanga Delta - all amazing.

Elephants gather at a water hole in the early morning - it was cold.

  

In the heat of the afternoon even the elephants take a break. 

Yes, they are resting, not dead!

The incredible termite mounds.

Sunset on the Chobe River in Botswana

Just after sunset in Zimbabwe

Early evening on the Lufupa River in Zambia

The Animals:

Baboons

I haven't shared much about baboons other than that you don't want to get their dung on the soles of your shoes - the smell will NOT come out - but they were the animals who first taught me to stop, listen and carefully look at the land in front of me. What I discovered is that, when you look carefully, there are far more animals in a vista than initially thought. 

Here is what happened. My tent cabin at Chobe (our first safari camp) was perched on a hill that sloped down to the river, with scrub forest between our tent and the river. On my first afternoon at camp I sat on the stairs leading down to the path to the main lodge. When I spotted a baboon, I called to my cousin to come join me. As we watched we realized that there were actually lots of baboons cavorting in front of us - you just had to take the time to see them. Their color so closely matched the colors of the scrub forest that they weren't initially visible but, once we carefully looked, we saw mothers with babies, silly adolescents playing with each other and some posturing by adult males. Ah, the benefits of taking time to slow down and watch what is around you.

Baboons discussing life on the savanna.

Giraffes

There is something about giraffes. How can one animal look both so outrageously odd and, at the same time, graceful? I never ceased to catch my breath when we suddenly came upon giraffes. They are gangly when the move, their ears are funny, their whole shape is awkward and yet, there is just something so appealing about giraffes.

Lions

They ARE majestic as they roam the savanna. I think my heart stopped each time 
we closed in on these regal animals. So sleek, so gorgeous, so deadly. 

Wart hogs

They made me laugh - but I was also appreciative of those tusks when I stepped out of my tent cabin at the Lufupa River in Zambia one afternoon and saw four of them approaching my front steps. They were, perhaps, 3 feet away. I ran inside, slammed the door - and then peeked out the window to watch them as they passed by on their way to the river.


The Elephants

I love elephants. I love the wisdom in their eyes. I treasure the times when elephants strolled right past our van and made eye contact. They greatly please me. 

But oh, the damage they do. This is just one tree after elephants have passed by. Multiply it throughout the scrub forest and you can get an idea of the extent of the damage.

The Birds:

I must admit I have never paid much attention to birds but the birds of the savanna made me sit up and take note. Gorgeous. Exquisite - all shapes, sizes and calls.


The People of Africa:
Simply amazing - their resilience, their pride in their traditions and their beautiful children.

Dancing!
We all danced.  How can you not when gathered around a camp fire in the dark of night, looking up at the stars and the moon while drums beat and the staff sing?  You can't stay in your seats, you just have to get up and join in.

This is how we were met when we arrived in camp - it set the tone.

They danced.

We danced. We all danced.

Okay, so now my absolute favorites:

Favorite Animal - The elephants? No. The lions? Nope. The zebras? No. The leopards? Gorgeous, but no. The giraffes? Hmmmmm, no. Get ready . . .  Guinea Hens!

They absolutely cracked me up. I loved watching them flutter around, scurrying this way and that. When we would come upon groups of animals our eyes would first go to the elephants or the impalas or whatever but almost inevitably, if you looked around, you also saw a flock of guinea hens cavorting, playing follow the leader. Their colors were amazing - brown through deep blue, some with checkered feathers, others mottled, some with bright beaks.  What they had in common is that they were all charming. When you visit me in Portland you will see guinea hen trinkets tucked here and there in my house. When I see them, I smile.

Favorite Tree?  The Baobab

What magnificent trees. They seem almost other-worldly with incredibly thick trunks and branches that stretch out like arms. In summer, their leaves soften the view but it was winter. We got to see the see the basic structure of the trees without their leaves - and it was glorious. 

Again, we can compare photos - mine and Anna's.  This is mine of the Chobe River - if I had just moved the camera a bit to the left you would see the whole baobob tree.

These are Anna's photos from Kroger Park - a pre-trip that Pattie and I did not take. 

I love the top photo of the van driving between two baobao trees. 

The baobab tree in the bottom photo is over 1000 years old. 

By the way, how do you pronounce it? One version is "bough-bob", another "bay-o-bob" - take your pick.

Favorite Single Memory

This is hard - there were so many wonderful things that happened, but if I have to pick one, here it is.

One evening Pattie and I walked back to our tent cabin in Zambia, on the Lufupa River. It was dark so staff members accompanied us. We said goodnight to them and then slipped into our cabin and started to get ready for bed. We discovered that the staff, by mistake, had not put up the coverings over the screen windows on one side of our tent. This meant more cold air would come in during the night than if they had been covered. What a wonderful mistake it ended up to be. Once we turned off the lights we realized that, right outside, about 25 yards away, stood 8 hippos, who had come up from the river and were now munching savanna grasses in front of our tent. We quickly pushed the table aside and moved the two wicker chairs in front of the screen. We sat and watched in the dark, quietly, for perhaps an hour. The almost-full moon shone down and we could see the Southern Cross in the distant sky. We later went to sleep hearing their snorts and roars and munches.  

Thank you, Africa. 

Much thanks to my wonderful traveling companions

Onwards to Turkey next year.

And, finally, thanks to my wonderful cousin, Pattie (in the dark coat next to me). We have traveled together in Egypt, England, France, Alaska and Hawaii (and lots of other short trips in between) and will join the group in Turkey next year. Although almost 20 years younger than me (she was 5 at my wedding!) we have become best of friends and there is no better travel companion. She kept me going, was always ready for any adventure, and didn't even groan when I kept uttering Meryl Streep's opening line from Out of Africa ("I had a farm in Africa"). I tried to say it with the Danish accent Meryl adopted - let's see - "I haad a fahrm in Afreecah." It was not pretty, not even close to Meryl, but Pattie not only endured it but found it amusing. I would say it whenever Africa overcame me - which was often. It got so she would look around, suspect what was coming, and say, "It's okay, go ahead," and off I went. Now that's a true friend.

Almost all of the photos (all the good ones) from this entry are from Anna.  Thank you, friend! 

Visiting the Last Place on Earth

I never thought I would visit South Africa - it held zero interest. In fact, it had negative appeal. I grew up in an era of international condemnation of South Africa - their athletes weren't allowed in the Olympics, our cultural stars wouldn't perform at their venues, visitors from the country were suspect - I mean, why would anyone choose to live in a country that supported apartheid, the forced separation of races? A country where the tiny white minority controlled the huge black majority? I remember one South African that I met in college saying, with great frustration in her voice, "You simply don't understand. You don't live there." It's true, I couldn't understand.

I first learned about apartheid as a high school sophomore. The required text in English Class was Cry the Beloved Country and we were all appalled by what we learned about conditions in South Africa. Of course, the following year, in U.S. History, I learned about our own Jim Crow laws and, in my lifetime, watched the Civil Rights Movement unfold - how quickly one can judge others while not recognizing what goes on throughout one's own land?

But travel to South Africa? Why, when there are so many other more interesting places to visit on planet Earth? But then the opportunity to visit Cape Town arose as a post-trip extension of my safari. I vacillated. It wasn't an expensive addition. When would I ever be back in that part of the world? Apartheid had long since ended and it might be interesting to see what that looks like. And so on. But if I am completely honest, I must admit that my final decision was based on my past as a geography teacher. I wanted to stand at Cape Hope and see Table Mountain. I didn't imagine that much else would interest me.

How wrong I was. I found Cape Town fascinating. It is beautiful - perched at the bottom of the continent, with its stunning backdrop of Table Mountain. It is in transition - it has had to deal with many challenges related to the scars of apartheid. What I appreciated was that these problems were not hidden away. We were able to speak freely with Cape Towners about apartheid's after-effects and I am grateful that Overseas Adventure Travel planned such a wide range of experiences for us. I learned much from each. I also know I have much more to learn - I only have the most basic overview from my 5-day visit to this beautiful city.

First impressions:

The City Itself - Think San Francisco (the hills, the surrounding water, Fisherman's Wharf, the sparkling light - when SF is sunny, the neighborhoods), glitzy Southern California (the expensive condo areas at Cape Town's best beach neighborhoods), and Slum Dog Millionaire (the slums surrounding the heart of the city, called "Townships"). Such a mixture.

Photos - of course from Anna. I had given up taking photos at this point.

Such a fun Cape Town neighborhood to stroll.

The harbor area

Beautiful parks - oh, I don't think I shared that besides the screamingly bright, 

neon yellow jacket I wore, I borrowed my sister's bright purple day pack - the 

combination was simply gorgeous. At least on safari it was tossed at my feet 

in the Land Rovers so it couldn't upset the animals!

The interior of Bishop Desmond Tutu's church - a bit of English architecture

 in the middle of Cape Town.

And Table Mountain as backdrop to it all.

The People - I was surprised that, in every conversation I had with Cape Towners, they used the language of apartheid when speaking of race. People were white, colored (mixture of races), Indian (from India) or black. Even though these divisions no longer officially exist, they are still used when talking about issues in Cape Town. For example, Overseas Adventures arranged for us to have dinner with a colored family at their home. It was a fascinating experience. Carol and Lionel moved into their home during the apartheid era when it was a new neighborhood developed for coloreds. You had to be colored to qualify. Here is where it all gets tricky. To me, Lionel looked black and Carol looked Indian but, whenever their families were put through the classification process, they were both identified as colored, the second highest category of races, and colored they remained. It brought them some benefits during the apartheid era.

Dinner with Carol and Lionel, Lionel sits at the head of the table, 

Carol is in the back, to Lionel's left.

They were warm and welcoming and dinner was delicious. We met their children and talked about their lives pre and post apartheid. They are worried about their economic future (Lionel's job is not terribly secure) and they have some concerns about their son - he is college age. Sound familiar, eh? What they regretted most from the apartheid years was what they called the lies they were told about blacks. Because apartheid greatly limited interactions with blacks, there had not been opportunities to change these views. Today there are no restrictions on where you live or work so there should be more interaction however, when we asked if blacks could move into their immediate neighborhood, they said they could but only one or two black families have moved in since the fall of Apartheid in 1994. What was interesting was their comment that being colored has been problematic. During apartheid they weren't white enough to get the privileges that whites had and now they aren't black enough for the perceived privilges of the post-apartheid world.

Our tour leader for this portion of the trip was Gregg, a white man, early 40s I would guess, with a British (as opposed to Afrikans/Dutch) background; his family has lived in South Africa for several generations. He lives in a suburb of Cape Town that was developed for white families and remains mostly white. He has a tricky job. He loves his country, is proud of it, and wants to share the mix of Cape Town history and culture but is often dealing with visitors, like myself, who arrive with viewpoints based on a history of condemnation of the apartheid policy. He stated that he believes apartheid was wrong and that white citizens who hold a grudge about the ways things have changed need to get on with life; move with the time. But he also firmly believes in what Nelson Mendela (and official government policy) says - there should be no discrimination against anyone - whites as well as blacks. He spoke about the feelings expressed by many against Oprah Winfrey's school in South Africa. "Why is it only for girls? And mainly black girls? Shouldn't both boys and girls of all races be educated to be the leaders of tomorrow? That is what South Africa needs." He then added, "I know she can do anything with her money, it's her's, she earned it, but it's not following the new policies of South Africa." Oprah has been vocal about her reasons for creating the school. Here was another viewpoint.

And then there was the rather eye-opening experience of touring one of the black townships - the most famous one, Langa. It is where the black people of District 6 were forced to move when their interracial neighborhood was razed in the 1970s so it could be rebuilt as a white neighborhood. If you saw the Sci Fi movie, District 9, it was loosely based on this experience. Langa was hard to witness. It was such a slum - houses built of crates, outdoor facilities, apartment houses composed of floors with single rooms per family with small shared common spaces. I remember thinking about one of my mother's favorite sayings, "Bloom where you are planted" and wondered how hard I might find it to bloom if planted there. To be fair to Langa, there were parts that, relatively speaking, were nice. Not many, mind you, but there were some.

Our guide lived in Langa and planned to stay there. I wondered why. Thankfully he shared, without my asking. He has a decent job. He could, perhaps, afford to move out but he stays because his family is in Langa. It is his personal history. He hopes that government promises to improve housing will happen but, thus far, not much has been done. There has been much corruption and little to show for the money spent.

Here we are in the District 6 Museum - I am walking on a map of the area 
prior to the razing. 

First impressions of Langa

Common area on apartment house floor shared by 6 families

Young resident in the common area.

As we drove away on a slightly elevated road, you could look back and see how huge Langa was and that it was surrounded by other Townships, each equally large and horrifying. What a challenge for the government. I don't know how long residents will be content with waiting for basic improvements. We got a taste of this impatience on our way to the airport on they day we left Africa - people from a Township were demonstrating their frustration. They stopped traffic by burning piles of tires on the highway.

Other Experiences:

There was one particularly fascinating experience at Lunga that I want to include. Our guide took us to a local medicine men. His "office" was tiny - maybe 6 x 12 feet (a packing container). We all crowded in to sit on two benches, our knees almost touching, while he described what he did. He dealt with all types of issues, both medical and personal. He used ointments, herbs and elixirs.

Look carefully at the surroundings in his "office" and his outfit. My yellow jacket makes 

me recognizable and I am hoping it was my proximity that made me the recipient of a 

special head tapping with his multi-haired wand. Just as we were leaving, he looked 

at me closely, tapped my head and said "Good Luck." I was the only one he blessed. 

What does he know? Should I be nervous? Or, perhaps, all is well 

because of his wish of luck. I am keeping that thought.

The fall of apartheid is honored throughout Cape Town. A popular tour is the boat trip to Robben Island, off the coast of the city. Think Alcatraz. It has been a prison and a leper colony for centuries but is best known for housing the political prisoners of apartheid, most famously, Nelson Mandela.

It's hard to show its small size - but here are two views of his cell.

The guides were former political prisoners - interesting insights.

An unexpected sight in Cape Town - Germany sent Nelson Mendela a piece of 

the Berlin Wall as a celebration of his achievement of political office. 

And let's not forget the geography. Oh, it was beautiful.

A drive outside of Cape Town - the scenery was magnificent.

Yes, here it is - Cape Hope. The geography and history teacher in me was thrilled. 

I can't remember how many times I taught about the voyages of Diaz 

and de Gama around this cape and now I was here!

We toured the wine country outside of Cape Town and even we somewhat jaded wine folks who live near the Napa Valley were impressed by the wines and the wineries.  Much fun.

And, finally, we were able to add another species to our list of animals seen on safari:

Penguins!

I truly loved my time in Cape Town. The people are lovely, the town is gorgeous, the surrounding land is inviting - they have much going for them. I wish them well as they continue to deal with the ramifications of apartheid.


An afterword - I just saw a wonderful movie, Searching for Sugar Man. It's a documentary that describes the search for a man from Detroit, Sixto Rodriquez, who thought his music career was long over. In the late 60s, critics thought he would be bigger than Dylan, the next big thing, but he never caught on. His contract with the music industry ended with his second album in 1971. He resumed low paying work in Detroit construction.

Well, he thought he never caught on. Unbeknownst to him and the rest of the world, he became "bigger than Elvis" in South Africa, where his music was taken up by the anti-apartheid movement. I won't tell you the rest but to see him finally arrive in South Africa for a concert in 1998 is amazing - the reaction of the South Africans (who thought he was long since dead) and how it affects Rodriquez and his family. How could this amount of fame be unknown by the performer? And for so many years? Of course, the Economics teacher in me wondered about the trail of money. Where did it go? 

Amazing film that will leave you a bit speechless.  He has planned an upcoming concert tour.