Nebraska

When I told friends and co-workers that I was visiting Nebraska, they all shook there heads and wondered why. Apparently it didn't sounds exotic enough, didn't quite fit in with my other excursions to places like Mozambique or Mexico City. But I had a good reason to visit and I had a great time.
Michael grew up in a small Nebraska town, went to the university in Lincoln and still has family out there. It seemed to me he had been putting the visit off for some time, always saying the weather would be better in April, or there would be more to see in September. But the planets aligned and now we would be visiting for Halloween.
The trip didn't start off too well because we we're planning to fly to Omaha via Denver (no non-stop flights from anywhere in California to anywhere in Nebraska) when an early snow storm plowed into the Mile-High City. So we switched to transiting through Las Vegas, which didn't fare much better because we missed the first connection to Omaha and the second one was three hours later and still passed through Denver. But by this time, the airport was fully operational and the flights were pretty wide open. So now I ended up leaving a sunny and warm Los Angeles, transiting, a dry and cold Las Vegas, then a snowy and wintry Denver, only to arrive in a foggy and damp Omaha. It was after 9 and we still had a little over an hour's drive to Michael's sister's house in Lincoln.
We left Omaha and were quickly on quiet and dark Interstate 80 headed west past rolling farms and pastureland. There really wasn't anything to see because the fog was thick in certain stretches and then it was just plain dark elsewhere. Otherwise it was uneventful and we rolled into Lincoln just before 11pm. Michael's mother, Jo, was there as well delivering a new dog to his sister and her family. Jo had a light dinner waiting for us, which was quickly devoured after hugs and greetings.
After a shaky start to the trip, things really took off. We met up with several of Michael's college friends, had a great lunch, toured the magnificent state capitol ("third finest," some might say) building, and sipped fresh coffee. After my road trip from Chicago to Seattle one Summer, I was rudely aware of the fact that good coffee can be very hard to come by in the United States if you aren't near an ocean. Then the temperature began to climb and everyone became excited about 6o degree days in October. We had dinner at a wonderful Greek restaurant with ample vegetarian and vegan options. With everyone drinking wine, eating full meals and sharing desserts, the total was less than half what a similar meal would have cost in California. And I was treated to a stunning Nebraska sunset with orange and pink hues that shifted as clouds drifted by. The scene seemed to wrap around me and encompass nearly the entire sky.
The next day, we drove around Lincoln, staring at beautiful old brick homes that cost a hundred thousand dollars and were in tony parts of the city. But even more of a treat for me were the beautiful fall leaves that seemed to shine and sparkle to me. Bright yellows and shimmering oranges were glistening on long tree branches, or they were scattered in a perfect arrangement on the grass and sidewalks. It was really my first time seeing fall foliage in all its glory and I wasn't disappointed one bit. Normally this time of year would mean: warm days and cold nights, or dry Santa Ana winds parching the California landscape. But here is was the last brilliant display of color before the bleak and white winter cast a long shadow over the entire state.
On Halloween, we didn't have any plans but were invited to a party. It was Vickie, one of Michael's friends from college, her husband and their neighbor. All three were dressed up for the occasion and we were not. So we drove off into the dark Nebraska night to look for this party that ended up being way on the outskirts of town. The house was new and big and nice. It was decorated much like a party might be on that show "The Office," as Michael noticed. And like a party on TV, there was hardly anyone there and it was quiet with bad lighting. It was also one of those parties where you just want to take a peek and see if it might be fun, but it wasn't. So rather than turn around and walk out, I headed for the kitchen where all the alcohol was. Everyone was keeping to themselves, or was sequestered into small groups chatting and ignoring everyone else. When someone asked what my costume was, I said that I was a Concerned Parent. Michael just told everyone that he was from L.A. "Is that your costume?" people would ask. After a long hour or two, we headed back to Lincoln and swung by a club where everyone was dressed up and waiting outside to get in. Vickie was dressed in her pajamas with a cup of coffee and called herself a Blogger, while her husband wore a plaid shirt and carried around an ax. The neighbor put together a convincing Wolverine outfit from X-Men, complete with sharp metal protrusions from his hand. Whereas, I was still the Concerned Parent, and the humor was lost on everyone but me. It was busy at the club and everyone was dancing and laughing and running about. It reminded me of a club anywhere with no destination in particular. With no one from our group in the mood to dance, we headed out and went to bed shortly after one.
Sunday we left after breakfast to drive to Norfolk and see Michael's father and his family. We quickly left the city on a warm afternoon, the highway getting narrower and the cornfields growing larger and beginning to encompass the horizon. It was more hilly than I expected and the highways not as flat as I'd been told. "That's what western Nebraska look like," all the locals had said. We drove through towns like Prague and Dodge, with scarcely more than 300 people living in these tiny towns. It was Sunday and everything was closed, but I imagined that a Thursday didn't look anymore inviting. Lincoln seemed like a metropolis at this point.
Driving into Stanton, where Michael grew up, the town was closer to a thousand people but it was still small and quaint. There were large yards wrapping around old homes with no fences or walls. Trees near here had less leaves than down in Lincoln, which was only about three hours away. We had a nice lunch at the only open restaurant in downtown, where the owner new Michael's mother and had great things to say about her. They were closing as they had just finished serving brunch, but in true Midwest fashion, they didn't turn us away, rather they rustled up more food and invited us to stay for awhile. The whole time they wanted to chat and make us feel welcome, which they did to a great extent.
Michael's great aunt is 94 and lives alone in Stanton. She was relaxing in the afternoon with her glass of white zinfandel and invited us in for a drink. After her husband passed away, she started to travel. She went on cruises and safaris and generally tried to see the world and stay active. She asked us about our trip, about what was happening with the whole "gay marriage" thing in the country and how everyone was doing. I had met her once before when she was visiting Los Angeles to see her grandson (Michael's cousin). We had taken her to the Disney Concert Hall to see the Los Angeles Philharmonic and afterwards she was excited to hang out at a swanky downtown bar with all the young kids. Not having any relatives at her age still around, it was great to spend time with Aunt Lois.
From there it was a short drive to Norfolk, where we met Michael's father and then went out to dinner with his whole family. His father has two sons from his second marriage, each son is married and has one baby. It was great to meet everyone. They were all from Nebraska or thereabouts and hadn't really been to the West Coast at all. The idea of never seeing the Pacific Ocean or California, the desert, the Golden Gate Bridge, the Redwood trees, or the Sierra Nevadas is always intriguing to me. I never take for granted the beauty and diversity of living out west and I always think its important for everyone to see. Everyone said they would like to come visit California and later when we went back to the house to hang out and chat, the wives were inquisitive about life out in Los Angeles. I suppose it does seem somewhat alluring and intriguing when you haven't been there. These days everyone seem to love it or hate it and there is very little gray area on the matter. When they asked me about my thoughts on Nebraska, I talked about how quiet and beautiful everything was. The roads were never crowded, everything was pretty close, nothing seemed to cost as much and everyone was friendly. (I didn't talk about how white everyone was.) Almost more than that, I am fascinated by the homes in the Midwest. I'm amazed how everyone has a basement and how most are almost another house! They are huge. You enter someone's house and its nice and everything seems comfortable. Then you go to the basement and its basically a clone of the upstairs, but a little more relaxed, a little more homey and less formal. And that's good because you then get a sense of the person. Plus, you need somewhere to run when the tornado is headed your way. Everyone in the family has to collect something, and the basement is often the display forum for all the treasures you have amassed. I don't want a basement.
Next day we drove back to Lincoln and stopped in Wayne along the way. Its a small college town with about 5000 people and we figured they would have a decent coffee or espresso cafe; they didn't. The only other option was McDonalds, which ended up being a mistake. Odd, because I seem to remember getting their coffee in a pinch another time I was on the road and it held up better. Otherwise the drive back was scenic and pleasant.
The last day we stopped by Vickie's office before we left Lincoln. She works for a non-profit organization that gives out grants for art-related issues. Anyway, the building was designed by the Chinese architect I.M. Pei, whom I really like. Strange to see that he had a building in Lincoln, but it fit into the compact downtown area quite well and was elegantly muted with large glass panels providing nice views. There is also a three story open atrium on the ground floor which is airy and allows trees to grow inside. I expect its especially comfortable on blustery winter days when its bright blue and below freezing, or when the wind won't stop blowing snow all over creating some condition called a "white out" which I have never experienced. It sounds like a Midwest thing.
Back on the interstate headed to Omaha, we had lunch and walked around the revitalized downtown. Then we stopped at a cafe and had one last cup before heading to the airport. Flying out of Omaha on Southwest, we recognized the flight attendant and she recognized us. We had met a few years ago during a wine tasting weekend in Sonoma. She was quick to drop off several alcohol minis in our laps to make the flight go faster. It worked!

Los Angeles River

Sometimes I get so excited about leaving town that I forget to explore Los Angeles. And I used to explore all the time, riding buses and rails, visiting landmarks and perusing museums. This past weekend, I finally got off my butt to ride my bike along the LA River. Yes, its true, there is a river in Los Angeles, and its true that it has a bike path that stretches all the way to the Pacific Ocean. And in true LA style, its disjointed and only beautiful in only a few select locations.
Seeing as how I live so close to downtown, I was hoping I could ride down to the river's concrete banks and glide all the way down to the blue sea. There is a stretch near Glendale that is being slowly restored with trees and muddy banks. The concrete has been removed and the good people at Friends of the Los Angeles River (FOLAR)are working hard to allow the little blue ribbon of a stream that we call a river to revert to a more natural state. Then there is a gap all around downtown that is seems to only be reserved for a) construction, b) movie filming, or c) homeless people. So I had to catch an entrance to the bike path in the forgotten city of Vernon. This was too far to ride from my place, so I hopped on the Blue Line light rail from downtown and hopped off on sketchy Slauson Boulevard. It was all potholes and signs in Spanish as I rode my bike down the Boulevard east towards the river. After about 15 minutes, I was at the Vernon Riverfront Park, which looked like it just had a makeover and was now hosting three lonely people, plus myself. There were no signs telling me off access to the river, but I soon found it and was then on my way headed south to Long Beach.
The bike path is smooth and well maintained with mile markers and signs. At all the entrances and exits to the fenced off path, I didn't see many landmarks, nor much to let you know how to get to the river. You just sort of need to know where to find it, which, again, is a very Los Angeles trademark rule: you just have to know how to get there. The first mile marker worried me because it was 36 miles. As I rode along, I realized that was for folks headed from the rivers head water, way back in Chatsworth. I had about 13 miles to get to the river's mouth. I was already sort of tired at this point and I had only just found the bike path. It was bright and hot and the cool ocean breeze was working against me as a headwind. I noticed that most people were riding inland and the closer to the ocean I got, the more bikers I passed.
The river itself had water and was flowing at all points. There were birds nearly everywhere. Small egrets and seagulls scattered about. Stretches of long green algae flowing all around. A handful of bushes and shrubs lined areas of the concrete riverbed. Then there were the tipped over shopping carts, abandoned appliances, discarded clothes and occasional trash strewn all over. It wasn't all pretty, in fact there were very few areas were it was a nice and peaceful setting. Mostly, it was bare and sterile looking, much like an empty freeway. The concrete lining seemed to be a conductor to move all the water as quickly and efficiently as possible. There was no personality to the river, there was no excitement, no gentleness, and there was definitely very little natural feeling to it. The homes that lines the river were nearly equal to the riverbed, with a tall berm separating the two. And then the homes had their back turned to the river, shunning it and ignoring it. The river indeed, looked sad and forsaken in many stretches.
I passed factories, horse stables, new parks with drought-resistant, native plants, and many freeway underpasses. I also passed a handful of homeless and/or drunk people, as well as two tents were people were clearly living. I was listening to music with my headphones, but I don't think anyone tried to talk to me or engage in any sort of conversation. I passed one family, with two kids, biking along somewhere near the 91 freeway.
After about 7 or 8 miles on the bike path, I was nearing exhaustion. It was the headwind, the heat and the lack of motivation on my part to finish this adventure that made me turn off somewhere in Long Beach. It was near Wardlow Ave and still more than five miles from the end of the path. I was ready to hop back on the Blue Line and ride to the end. I could relax in the cooled rail car and then I'd be a heck of a lot closer to MVPs. I was now on a mission to visit my favorite burger stand in Long Beach. (Yes they do have veggie burgers.) From the Blue Line stop on 5th, it was about 10 minutes to MVPs where I ordered my lunch and then collapsed into a chair. It was cooler in Long Beach and it was kinda just how I remembered it when I lived there and went to college. I sat after my lunch and relaxed.
Then I rode down to Bluff Park where you can overlook the harbor, downtown Long Beach, the port and all the boats and ships coming and going. Not a cloud in the sky, but a nice steady ocean breeze whipped through the air. It was great to sit on a bench and take in the sights and sounds. I wasn't sad that I abandoned the river and I didn't regret not making it to the end of the line. That could all wait for another day, one with cooler temperatures and more clouds. I rode down to the bike path that snaked along the white sand beach from Belmont Shore to downtown Long Beach where I hopped on the Blue Line to head back to downtown Los Angeles.
It was a random and exhausting day, but I had fun. The river seems to be a somewhat morbid fascination. I feel like it needs more attention. OK, it definitely needs more attention, its in a sorry state. I still have the romantic idea of biking all the way to the ocean.

Going-To-The-Sun Road

The next day dad and I each found the coffee stand seperately and found each other in the lobby, relaxing for awhile. We had breakfast at a great local place with all sorts of omelettes and signature huckleberry french toast. We both had omelettes with great homemade bread. After that we were planning a cruise around St Mary Lake with a guided hike, but arrived too late for the 10am departure. We bought tickets for the 2pm departure and decided to venture further north in the park to the Many Glacier area. Its much more secluded and hidden feeling with narrow valleys and low hanging clouds obscuring the snowy peaks. It has another small village area with lodges and campgrounds. I went into the general store and got something out of the way...since the lodge where we were staying was observing the no alcohol policy, I knew the park was not on the Blackfeet Indian Reservation and the general store here had beer and wine for sale. I bought a six-pack of Moose Drool Ale for later in the evening. Dad called that a good idea, thinking ahead. We then walked around the old historic lobby of Many Glacier Lodge, which is smaller than Glacier Park Lodge (where we were staying) but had a more picturesque setting along Swiftcurrent Lake. The lobby was full of old photos and was busy with families coming and going. From there, we set out on the 2.5 mile trail around the lake. It was windy in places but it didn't rain at all. The trail was flat and not crowded, it had several great vantage points with views of the hotel and the trademark jagged peaks. Although there were gorgeous flowers and tall green trees, we didn't encounter any animals.
After the loop trail around the lake we didn't have much time to get back to St Mary Lake. I suggested we could grab some sandwiches from the nearby store and eat on the boat. Leaving the Many Glacier area, we passed a large meadow sloping down to Lake Sherburne with great views of more snowy peaks and glaciers off in the distance. There was a group of people also taking photos when I noticed a ranger on the other side of the road. I looked at her and then followed her gaze back to the meadow. About 600 feet away was a grazing grizzly bear. He was much more interested in the grass and berries than the swarming crowd. He was far enough away that everyone would have time to flee if he began charging, which also meant he was too far away for me to get a good photo. I could see lines of tourists with tripods and 16 inch lenses zooming to get a perfect shot. The ranger wouldn't take her eyes off the bear and when he began grazing his way toward the crowd, she said he was getting too close and would need to scare him off. She rang the sirens on her park ranger truck and shouted but it all fell on deaf ears and the bear simply wandered back and forth, this way and that. Dad and I had never seen a grizzly bear, so while it was very exhilirating, it was slightly scary. It was getting closer to our boat's departure time so we hopped back in the car and headed to the dock.
I thought for sure the boat would be packed full but there were only about seven of us onboard until a large Mennonite family arrived with one son and at least eight daughters. Now the boat was half full and our captain introduced herself and went over basic safety, describing the wooden hull of the Little Chief, which was built back in the 30s. Although there were plenty of life vests, a passenger wisely pointed out that if the boat went down we would have about 10 minutes or so before hypothermia set in. Not to worry since there had been no sinkings in the park's 99 year history. The journey was a quick 45 minutes and the captain told us lots of old stories about the park, how it formed and the different stages of its recent history with the arrival of tourists. We were dropped off at a little wooden dock where we had decided to hike the mile over to St Mary Falls. Up and away from the shore we walked through fields and clusters of small red berries. The sky was a brilliant blue now and the temperature was rising; I was now in a t-shirt and carrying my jacket. We didn't pass many people on this trail but it was still clearly popular. The Falls were two seperate drops in a shaded and rocky area. We sat down with the dozen or so other people, relaxed and ate apples. It was a great sight with wide swaths of fresh water tumbling through the rocky ravine. We crossed the wooden bridge back to the trail. We could continue to Virginia Falls, but we only had two hours total before the next boat, so we had to head back. Headed back were more crowds, but it was still quiet and peaceful on the trail. About half way back to the little wooden dock, we came across a beautiful deer. He was just up the trail from us and stared quietly and blankly at us. The buck had amazing antlers with some velvet still visible, I had never seen velvet on the antlers before and quickly snapped several photos. I could see his nose sniffing our way and wondered if it was the apple cores and clifbars in my backpack. A large group arrived from the other direction and loudly saw the deer and began gathering round, so we continued past them and followed the trail back to the boat. We had a different captain headed back and only six passengers, so he did very little narration but encouraged lots of questions. He had stories about his recent hikes and talked about all the blackened trees, describing the massive fire that swept through the valley three Summers ago.
Headed back to the lodge we stopped at the ranger station to look around and so I could get a stamp in my National Parks passport book, which also my first stamp in the Rocky Mountains area. We ended up on the balcony with the beers we had found at the general store and gazed out at the setting sun behind the east side of the mountains. Shining blue faded away in the distance with yellow rays and orange glows stretching up into the sky. We had another good dinner at the lodge's restaurant and then I wrote some postcards and walked around the grounds again. The official sunset was around 930, but at 1030 there was still a dreamy haze surrounding me.
Our last day we had breakfast at the same roadside cafe and I decided I had better try the huckleberry french toast. It was mostly deep-fried goodness, but full of fluff and cream and short on the huckleberries. The waitress had said the berries were not in season yet and they were using huckleberries from nearby Idaho. We didn't have as much time today and so we headed directly back on to the Going-To-The-Sun Road, headed west. The road was really the highlight of the park, or one of many highlights of the park. It was built back when the Model T would have been tooling around the park, so it is narrow in parts and has very little in the way of guardrails, which means they aren't any. There are short brick walls about three feet high in certain sections, which affords amazing views, but also forced me (as a driver) to not take my eyes off the road in many sections. Going up the east side is much tamer and climbs quickly with few twists and turns. Near the top of the road at the Continental Divide, there is a quick switchback, with cool temperatures and more mountain goats roaming about. Headed down the west side of the mountains was much more hair-raising and I found myself shifting to the lowest gear possible to save the brakes and go no faster than 15 MPH. We passed a snow field that was melting quickly underneath and closed in on the Weeping Wall. Its dark grey rocks that appear stacked atop one another with water seeping, leaking, pouring and weeping out of the wall. Its quite a sight and dad had to roll up the windows as we passed by. You could hear the water dripping out and hitting the ground. Its another one of the many highlights along the road. Further down, you have expansive vistas of the giant glacially carved valleys covered in green with waterfalls punctuated the breath-taking scenery. We stopped several times to get and look around or take photos. This last day was the warmest and it felt great to feel the air heat up as we descended from the 6000 foot summit of the road to the valley floor below. The trees grew taller and the road stretched out straighter below us. We didn't have time to stop for anymore hikes, but we did visit the ranger station near Lake McDonald and were invited on a hike by a young friendly ranger. She wasn't having much luck recruiting hikers to go with her, although there were campers all over. Another ranger asked us what we wanted to see, what he could help us with and why we were leaving so early. Everyone had been so friendly and helpful at the park, no matter what their work capacity. We had just enough time to stop by the lake and drink the last of the beers, gazing out to the placid lake waters and scanning the tree-filled horizon for any last minute wild animals.
Before long we were back at the airport as the heat of the day wore on. Dad and I talked about the great things we had seen and how we could easily imagine coming back for another, longer visit. There was an entire culture at Glacier National Park of families that had been visiting for generations, or campers from all over the US taking in the majesty of this faraway place. It really was magical and brought me to the conclusion that National Parks are places that are so beautiful and amazing that they aren't any place that someone could dream up. The parks I have been to are more than awe-inspiring and really are national treasures.

Glacier National Park

I had been looking to visit another National Park, go to another state and spend some time with my dad. My uncle once told me that Glacier National Park was his favorite place to visit. I didn't know much about it, but was getting anxious to strike out and pay the old Park a visit. After doing some quick research, I invited my dad out for a quick three day trip. He booked a couple nights in Glacier Park Lodge, which was built way back in the early 1900s to impress the East Coast elite when they arrived at the park's edge and stepped off the train into the Montana wilderness. I booked the rental car and the flights and we hopped on a flight headed north early one morning. We were landing in Kalispell, Montana just after noon. Green fields and tall mountains surrounded the descending plane. We were soon on the road and entering the park within 30 minutes of leaving the airport. National Parks are a bargain price to visit anyway, but since my dad is over 62, he gets the lifetime pass for only $10.
It was a cool and cloudy afternoon and we were soon on the Going-To-The-Sun highway which winds through the park, up over the continental divide and is often described as one of the best highways in the world. We passed Lake McDonald, with its shimmering blue waters and gorgeous lakeshore surrounded by tall aspens and wildflowers. We stopped at the lodge for lunch and were quickly seated next to an open window with a view of a small gurgling creek with a fireplace nearby. Surprisingly the food was good and not very expensive, dad had a salad and I had a hummus and olive sandwich with dried tomatoes. Our server was from Germany and was very pleasant. Her name was Yvette and she asked what we were doing. Dad asked her for any recommendations and she suggested a two hour hike to Avalanche Lake. So after lunch, we drove further down the highway and quickly found ourselves on the trail. It was cool and dark. Clouds still obscured the sun and it rained off and on throughout the hike. It was up and down with not much elevation gain overall and most of the time we followed a great swift moving creek. The water was a brilliant dazzling blue that you see from glacial runoff and despite its alluring color, it was bone-chillingly cold. We didn't see much in the way of wildlife on the hike to the lake other than hyperactive squirrels and gobs of tourists. But everyone was friendly and often exchanged greetings. I was taking photos of everything. There were fallen trees, small meadows, ferns and moss all over. We even came across rangers and volunteers with shovels, chainsaws and oversized backpacks; they were repairing the trail in certain sections, they told us. Further down, you could see the results of their hard work which added to the clean path of the trail and reinforced its beauty. After an hour or so we were at the Lake and it sure was a sight to see. It was a calm pool with fallen logs resting just below the surface that stretched about a mile in every direction. But the most arresting scenery was across to the other side where four waterfalls trickled down the mountainside. Banks of snow rested on the tops of the mountain that I could see while other areas were hidden behind lounging clouds. A large U was formed by the mountains and they appeared to encircle the lake and give it a secluded and intimate feeling. Along the shallow shoreline were many other hikers and those same happy squirrels. I snapped some photos and we headed back. It was late afternoon and the raindrops had begun to increase in size and frequency. The path back seemed to go much faster and about half way through we came upon a quiet deer off on the left. It was tall and didn't seem bothered by us. A small crowd gathered and we pressed on. Back at the trailhead was a small ravine carved by the swift moving water, which created a pretty, albeit small chain of waterfalls. A handsome wood bridge stretched across to form the Trail of the Cedars. It was all an elevated walkway, suitable for wheelchairs. Many of the cedars have shallow roots because there is so much precipitation and they often are knocked over by strong winds that often stir through area.
Back in the car we headed up the mountains on the windy road. Nearing the top, the temperature began to drop and we ran into a group of mountain goats. There were cars parked nearby to visit the short path to an overlook and so we pulled over. Fluffy, thick fur all over their bodies with thick, muscled legs and calves, the goats stumbled around the parked cars. A relative newborn followed its mother around the parked cars and seemed determined to mimic her veer move and couldn't be bothered with all the new fans that were surrounding mom and baby. They stood below my waist, but they had thick and sharp grey horns protruding from their heads. That didn't seem to deter folks from getting close and taking as many photos as possible and indeed I found myself getting closer than I should have, but only because they were loitering near my car door.
Then it was down the eastern side of the mountains and we had passed the divide. It was sunnier on the east side and the temperature was milder. Valleys and peaks were everywhere. Scores of waterfalls off in the distance flowing down from jagged, snowy peaks. We weren't even 15 minutes from the goats when I spotted a brown bear off on the left. He was sniffing around in the grass and walking about slowly. I immediately stopped the car and my dad and I gazed out, marvelling at how close he was and he didn't seem bothered by our presence. We weren't a concern for him and I thought that best since there was no way we would want to leave the car with a brown bear that close. I snapped some photos and moved on. Another five minutes or so down the road, we saw another brown bear near the road. This one was more golden in color and bigger, but just as disinterested in us as the other bear. Holy cow, I couldn't believe we had seen two bears so close to each other and so close to us! I had only seen one other bear, and that was last Summer in Sequoia National Park when it decided to visit our campsite and forage for food. This Park was beginning to feel like a safari of sorts. It was near 7 in the evening and because of the tall mountains behind us, a twilight glow was surrounding the area. This was what I thought in my head as to why the animals were so active at this hour.
But we still had a while to go to get to the lodge. Once we exited the park, we still had another 40 miles or so miles to drive. While everything was big and open and spectacular, the roads were smaller than I had imagined and there were more turns and hills, which precluded me from driving as fast I would have liked. So we weren't pulling into the lodge until near 8. But it was worth the wait with the lobby full of large fir tree trunks holding up the massive roof. There were three large glass panels on the top and the lobby was open and inviting. Our room had a wide wooden balcony with views of the mountains and a nearby stream. We quickly changed and headed to the hotel's restaurant for dinner. I ordered the fish and my dad had chicken. When we couldn't wait to order a beer or glass of wine, we were politely informed that the lodge was situated on the Blackfeet Indian Reservation and during the Native Days, no alcohol was permitted. It was a shock and then I looked around and saw people drinking hot tea or soda or water. (This reminded me of the time I was visiting Poland and Pope John Paul II was in town; and no alcohol was permitted then either. I had tried to convince them to serve me because I wasn't Catholic, but they just smiled and politely declined.) So we ate our yummy dinner and drank our water. They had a great bread pudding with huckleberries for dessert. After I walked around the grounds and took some photos of the area with the glow of twilight in the background. The lodge was large and imposing, but with lots of places to wander and relax. The lobby had a very large fireplace with several people gathered around it. But I was tired at this point and ready to nod off. We had a full day planned for tomorrow.

Puebla

The bus ride from Mexico City was quick and easy.  You can hop on right from the terminal and be in Puebla two hours later.  I was offered snacks and a drink and headphones for the movie while on the bus.  It was a dubbed version of "The Game Plan" with The Rock.  I watched part of it, fell asleep, looked out the window and read for awhile.  There was traffic headed back into the city and then there was traffic going into Puebla.  I arrived around 7pm and took a taxi to the hotel.  Brett and Sarai were off to her aunt's place for dinner in a nearby city.  So I was alone for dinner, and after relaxing in the hotel, I headed to the zocalo.  It was dark and there were people everywhere on this balmy night.  People were dancing and singing, there was a group of clowns/performers near the glorious cathedral with packs of onlookers wrapped around.  I glanced around for awhile, but I was really hungry and eventually stumbled upon a pizzeria.  I had read about a couple vegetarian places but wasn't sure where they were and didn't want to go searching for them after dark.  The pizzeria was about half full and it was hot inside.  There were two large openings to the busy street outside, but it was still warm inside.  I ordered spaghetti and a glass of red wine.  There was a young couple nearby who seemed to very popular as scores of passerbys walked in and greeted them. After I finished my dinner, the young man came over to me and asked if I needed anything else, in Spanish. I ordered sparkling water and tiramisu. He wore glasses, like I was wearing, had a beard, like I was wearing and like nearly all the other young guys in the restaurant. He asked where I was from and I replied, “Los Angeles,” and he told me to enjoy my stay in Puebla. I read that the city was fairly older or more commonly known as being conservative and formal, as far as places in Mexico anyway. I also seemed to think everyone there was friendly. After dinner I sat in the zocalo for awhile and watched the people pass by. Brett had sent me a text message to say that he and Sarai were staying with her family tonight but that they would come by and say hi. The stopped by the hotel around 11 and we walked back down to the zocalo for a drink. Everything was closing, so we had water and juice from a store and sat on the green benches under the overgrown trees. It was real neat for me to meet up with them in Mexico. I don't think I have ever traveled out of the country with family so this was a first and we began to share stories about all the things we had done so far. Brett had been eating lots of meat and his in-laws were always cooking and roasting something for him. Sarai was wanting my to practice my Spanish and quiz me about all the things I wanted to see and do while in Puebla. It was already late at this point, so we quickly decided to meet tomorrow morning and visit the nearby town of Cholula to see a partially buried temple. We said goodbye for the night and I was quickly asleep just after midnight.
Next day was Monday and I had a quick breakfast down in the hotel lobby. I had free internet in the hotel so I surfed and checked all my e-mail while waiting for them. They picked me up and we headed over to Cholula (yes, its the same name as the hot sauce). It was bright and warm that day and we had some stop and go traffic which quickly brought us to the temple. A nearby museum gave a brief history of the area and had some murals, tools, and art from way back when. The pyramid was reported to by the widest at its base and was built a long time ago by the Olmecs and then the Aztecs and then the Spanish came along and didn't like it. There are two stories as to how it was buried, despite its size. One theory says the locals themselves began to bury it when they saw the Spanish approaching so as to preserve it. The other theory says the Spaniards made them cover the temple with dirt and then build a Catholic church atop the pyramid. Either way, its quite a sight and now there are tunnels you can walk through that reveal parts of the pyramid that are well preserved. I hadn't toured any pyramids, so this was a nice treat. It was damp and cool inside, not exactly cold, but more comfortable than the bright and blazing sun hovering above us outside. We were in the tropics and around 7000 feet so it was quickly obvious that I forgot sunblock as my neck and arms began to redden when outside. We walked around the exposed sections of the pyramid. There were tablet of narration in Spanish, English and Nahua (one of the local dialects that is passed down from the Aztecs). The whole tour took about two hours and we were getting hungry for lunch, but first we had to climb to the top to see the cathedral and surrounding views. It didn't seem that far, but it sure felt far away from walking up the hill. Along the way were locals selling juices, water, nectarines and fried chapulines (grasshoppers I think). While I wanted to try them, none looked very fresh and so I passed on that opportunity. From the top we had great views of the surrounding parched countryside. Sarai's uncle said this was the hottest time of year and before the Summer rains arrived. It was clear by gazing at the yellow grass and brown dirt spread below us. Cholula is also known for having 365 churches, supposedly one for everyday of the year, or every saint so that the Aztecs had no choice but to convert to Catholicism and visit a church everyday. I doubted there were that many churches, but there seemed to be on every block. After visiting the quaint hilltop church we headed to the zocalo for lunch and relaxed for awhile, talking about what they had seen so far. Sarai's uncle also told us more stories about the area and filled us in on the histories. He also suggested we could visit the battle sites that are celebrated on Cinco de Mayo. Before leaving Cholulua we also visited a monastery with a large and empty plaza in front of the yellow church. There was a large solitary tree occupying the plaza with welcoming shade spread below it and just a few people relaxing under the heavy branches. Nearby, but still on the same grounds was a library and a few paintings. We were only allowed to see a few things and had to leave because everyone was heading to lunch. After that, Brett and Sarai looked around for a good deal to exchange dollars to pesos, but there weren't any good deals to be found. I sat outside and watched people go by as I clinged to the side of the building trying to stay out of the suns relentless rays. I read that all the university students from Puebla like to come to Cholula for the restaurants and bars, but nothing looked very attractive to me and quickly wrote it off as a place I wouldn't go to school. (As an ongoing fantasy, I think of studying abroad for a master's degree or maybe another bachelor's.)
Then it was onto the battle sites. Along the way we passed a great fountain of China Poblana. She's a local woman from the 1800s who was a servant to a wealthy couple and who became a symbol of beauty and sophistication for those with less money. So the fountain occupies the middle of a large roundabout and Sarai's uncle (who was driving) made an illegal left turn so that we could get a better look at the fountain. He was quickly pulled over by the police. We stayed in the car as he was questioned on the nearby sidewalk. It might sound sort of scary but I've been pulled over in other countries before, although never when I was the driver (okay there was that one time I was riding the motor scooter in Mauritius). The policeman wanted to charge a fine for the illegal left turn and take Sarai's uncle's license away. Turns out he is from another state, so that would be the collateral to ensure he appeared the following day to pay the fine. This didn't sit well with any of us, and it was a harmless move anyway. Sarai got out of the car and began to talk to the officer. Brett and I stayed put and wondered what would happen. She ended up working our magic and when she returned to the car she told us to thank the officer. We eagerly did so and when the officer left we asked what happened. Basically she spoke to the officer about how we weren't from Puebla, it was a harmless mistake and we never intended to break the law. Also, this was our only driver and we were just in Puebla for a couple days and she didn't want things to look bad for two gringos from the States. “You exploilted our skin color?” I asked. Yes, she did and I congratulated her on a good job. Its not often I get to be exploited in a good way, so this was quite amusing. And then we were on our way to the battle sites. Atop a hill with good views of Puebla, we found large monuments and walled garrisons that were the original sight of the Cinco de Mayo battle. It was a good spot with a nice breeze and great vistas to la Malinche and Popocatapetl volcanoes. Unfortunately, we were too late to visit the grounds as they had closed for the day. The Cinco de Mayo battle was a last stand by the Mexicans to block an invasion of the French, namely Napolean III, despite the fast that they had already taken Mexico City. More to the story says that the Mexicans were resigned to defeat when the locals (Aztecs and Olmecs) rallied to help the Mexicans defeat the advancing French. Please don't quote me on this history, its just what I've heard and I can't verify all of it, but it sounds like a good story anyway, right?
Back in Puebla, we walked around town and sampled some of the local candies, made from sweet potatoes and various other flavors. They were quite tasty and sound healthier since they are made from sweet potatoes. I really like how many cities organize shopping districts. For example, all the candy stores are lined up on one street, while the stationary stores are on another and then across town are other stores, like the optometrists. Brett and Sarai went shopping for clothes at a mall and as I sat outside, a young local started talking to me about Puebla and asked where I was from. He wanted to practice his English and wasn't as receptive to my broken Spanish. After that we headed to dinner in an old building that was actually brought to Puebla from France, where it was deconstructed, only to be reassembled in Puebla. It had great stained glass fixtures inside and wall to ceiling viewing windows facing the street. After dinner, Brett and Sarai decided to stay at the hotel and went to get their things at her uncle's place. I told them to hurry so we could swing by the hotel bar before it closed. We each had a drink and talked about what to do tomorrow. Brett was excited to sleep in a bed with a hard mattress, watch cable TV and generally relax for awhile.
Brett slept in late and Sarai and I had breakfast down in the lobby. It was a buffet and I ate a lot. We had decided to visit more of Puebla rather than go exploring the countryside with her uncle. He was nice enough to drive us anywhere, but I didn't like the idea of sitting in a car for three of four hours one way to see a waterfall or mountain. So went to visit a museum that had antiques from colonial days and portraits of the Mexican governors. There was a garage with two old horse-drawn carriages, too. After, we went to visit another convent, this one came with a free tour of the grounds. It was divided into the seven regions of Puebla state and was conducted entirely in Spanish. Luckily, Sarai was there to fill in the gaps and make sense of it all. On the same grounds, was a gift shop with local handmade wares which seemed nice enough but we didn't buy anything. At this point my calves were aching, my stomach was grumbling and I was becoming irritable. I convinced the other two to walk across town to La Zanahoria, the local vegetarian restaurant. It was worth it! There was a popular inner courtyard where we sat and ate lunch. I had a veggie mole dish with fake meat and veggie soup, along with a giant green squash wrapped in cheese and breaded. Everything was very tasty and I was happy to be at a restaurant where I could order anything off the menu. They also had a local store where they sold handmade fake meats (chorizo, carne asada, etc). Back at the hotel, Sarai went to get her hair done, Brett watched TV and I went swimming in the rooftop pool and lay out for awhile in the sun. After awhile, we realized Sarai wasn't back and it was getting late, so Brett phoned her. Her uncle wasn't doing well and had a fever, so she was going to stay with him for awhile and we should get dinner on our own. We walked down to the pizzeria I had had dinner my first night in Puebla but it was closed so we ended up at an Italian place facing the zocalo. It was after 10 when we returned and Sarai was coming back to the hotel, but her uncle wouldn't be able to drive us to the airport in Mexico City tomorrow. I checked online and found we could take the same bus back to the airport tomorrow afternoon. We could make arrangements tomorrow. In the meantime, the rooftop bar was still open and so we popped in for another late drink and chatted before heading to bed. When I asked if they were ready to go home, Brett said he missed his sons and Sarai was happy to see her family in Mexico but was also excite to go home and see the kids.
Last day in Mexico, I walked back to the stores of handmade crafts and azulejos (painted tiles) but didn't find anything. Since, I don't really collect any souvenirs, it was easy to pass by without finding anything striking to me. I decided I would buy some locally roasted coffee beans at a place just down the street from the hotel. As I passed the hotel, I saw a small child doubles over and when I got closer I realized he was vomiting all over the sidewalk. Then the kid ahead of him started t vomit, too. Oh boy, I thought, there is a third kid ahead of them. Sure enough, he spewed pink chunks all over the sidewalk too. I held my breath and didn't look down, although I could see their mother comforting the distressed kids. Having lost my appetite and sense of smell from that experience, I tried ordering coffee beans in Spanish and did an okay job. I didn't entirely understand everything, but I did find out the beans are roasted on site and are from trees here in Puebla. Back at the hotel I showered and packed as Brett and Sarai were ready to go. We hopped in a taxi to the bus station and were quickly on our way to Mexico City. It wasn't full and I recognized a couple people I had seen the day before at the museum. The movie was “The Namesake” dubbed in Spanish. The highways weren't chocked with cars and we arrived at the airport in just about two hours. We checked in and had lunch. At the boarding gate, we all ended up with seats in first class and relaxed on the flight home. With a strong headwind, I had plenty of time to work on some crosswords, listen to music, chat with the flight attendants and look out the window. The trip was over before I knew it and I was quickly thinking about what had happened and realized that although we hadn't done all that much together, we shared some great stories and carried on with fun conversations. I know I had a good time and I think everyone else did, too.

Mexico City 2009

Last Friday I finally convinced Michael to take a chance and go to Mexico City with me. I know several people are thinking its very dangerous there and its a bad place to go, but I've been there before and had a great, safe time. Plus, the capital is getting better and the current mayor is still doing a great job cleaning things up.
We ended up sitting in first class leaving LAX and landed in Mexico City three hours later. The flight was smooth except some bumps at the end. Even better, the customs hall was completely empty and we breezed through immigration. I had forgotten how much Mexico loves Easter and the capital virtually shuts down for over a week. The taxi ride was quick as the streets were wide open and I began to realize that many things would be closed. I booked a room at the Sheraton on Paseo la Reforma, the main boulevard running through the financial district, and overlooking the golden angel monument. This ended up being a great spot because we could walk to lots of things and it we had a great view from the 22nd floor. It was already after six in the evening when we arrived and so we headed out for a walk. It was warm and breezy on the quiet streets and it seemed the tourists were out numbering the locals 2-to-1. If you remember my ill-fated walk on a windy day in Maputo when I lost my contact, you'll be happy to know that I found this contact on the streets of Mexico City after it flew out with dust. So it was a nice change to be able to find this one and see instead of having it lost forever on some street in Southeast Africa. I had read about a good vegetarian restaurant nearby, but it was unfortunately closing when we arrived, so we ended up at another small cafe nearby. I'm getting much better at remembering my vegetables in Spanish and am comfortable asking for modified meals to ensure they are meat-free. We ended up calling it an early night. Good thing I found "Los Simpsons" on the TV right away and watched a few episodes dubbed in Spanish.
On Saturday morning we ventured out to one of the many many Starbucks around town and then over to the same vegetarian restaurant that was closing the night before. They have regular Mexican dishes without the meat or with soy-based substitutes. If it sounds boring and bland, you would be wrong because everything was really tasty. And since I love Mexican food, this was great that I could order anything and not have to worry about the cook sneaking meat into the dish. After breakfast we hoped on the Metro, which was still running every three minutes and still pretty crowded, to the center of town. We visited the large church on the zocalo and walked around the old town. Michael commented how it reminded him of Brussels with great old buildings and people walking everywhere. I wanted to see if there was anything being performed at the Palacio de Bellas Artes, like the symphony or opera, but there was nothing to see that night. We were still treated to a tour of the building which has several large murals, including a couple by Diego Rivera. One of them was a remake of what he created for the Rockefellers in New York City 80 years ago; they claimed it was too socialist and possibly communist. I don't know what they were thinking they would get from Rivera, but they hated it and had it destroyed. Luckily, he recreated it for Mexico City and its quite a sight to see. Then it was onto the area of Condesa which is a little more affluent. We had a great fixed price lunch at a sidewalk cafe which ended up filling up with hipsters before we were finished. Nearby was a great park with dogs everywhere (clean ones, running around with their masters) and kids running around and playing in fountains of water. There were tall trees all around and families strolling around. We had a cup of coffee and lounged around for awhile. One thing I noticed is that walking around Mexico City is tiring. Its a big city and its about 7000 feet in elevation. From there, we ended up walking all the way back to the hotel through the area of Roma, which usually has some great antique shops and bookstores, but everything was closed. Earlier in the day, we had stopped by a nice antique gallery with several good things to see. Of course I didn't buy anything, but it was nice to browse anyway. We went swimming on the hotel's rooftop pool and relaxed for the rest of the afternoon. From up there, we saw a huge parade pass down the boulevard. For dinner, we went back to the same vegetarian restaurant and had another good meal. There were some other places I wanted to try but seeing as how at least half the places I wanted to visit were closed, I thought it best to stay near the hotel. Walking along the boulevard (La Reforma) again at sunset, there were flowers and plants and herbs for sale in covered stalls that ran for two or three large city blocks. Also, there were police everywhere, including several on segway scooters.
Sunday morning La Reforma was closed to traffic and completely open for bicycles and joggers. It seemed despite the holiday, everyone was taking full advantage. There is also a program to offer bikes for free to people who don't have them, and there are several spots along La Reforma where you can pick one up, unfortunately the wait was at least an hour. Also, there are several stations set up wot help you fix your bike if it needs a tune-up; its all free. We walked to the main park, Chapultepec, which has grand paths and statues everywhere. There are lakes where you can rent row boats or paddle boats and it seemed everyone was out enjoying the warm holiday. Unfortunately all the museums were closed, so there wasn't much else to do and we didn't really have time to go to any other part of town. So we did some more window shopping in the nearby Zona Rosa, had some coffee and relaxed. Again, all the recommended places to buy coffee beans were closed so that was out of the question.
In the afternoon we headed to the airport because Michael had to fly home and work on Monday. I was going to catch a bus to Puebla to meet my brother Brett and sister-in-law Sarai. Conveniently, there is a bus from the airport to Puebla, or rather several buses, one leaves about every 30 minutes. I was sorry the weekend was so short but it was a real eye-opener for Michael, at least. Mexico City seems to always get a bad rap, but its getting cleaner and safer all the time. I can't so as much for the rest of Mexico and the current drug war that is going on; I don't know much about that. But Mexico City is a great big chaotic place with lots of great food and amazing museums scattered all over. I'd be happy to go back again and spend more time relaxing in its European glow. A three hour flight is much better then 11 hours to Paris, plus Paris is about five times as expensive.
So I sad good bye to Michael and wished him a free upgrade to first class as I got on my bus for the two hour ride to Puebla. I was sad he couldn't go, but glad he made it this far. And I was also excited to see my brother in another country. What a treat to combine my love of travel with the chance to share it with family.
More on that later...

Oaxaca

The bus to Oaxaca was nice, just really really long. It look a little over six hours with only one stop in some town in the middle of nowhere. The scenery was amazing, it was so beautiful. My watch/altimiter came in handy. Mexico City was always around 7000 feet. We climbed to nearly 10000 feet when on the highway out of the valley, which was quite amazing. Oaxaca is about 4800 feet and still chilly at night. The hostel is nice, but disappointing because there´s no wifi and my room sleeps four, with just me in it, it feels lonely. I was so hungry that I walked to a vegetarian restaurant right away and had dinner around five. Strolled around for awhile and found some neat places. Oaxaca is very walkable and very picturesque. I hear English all over and am feeling lonely because Mexico City was big and I never heard anyone speak English. Tons of Americans here. I am staying at Paulina Hostel, with my own room, but I guess they ran out of singles, so I got the one with four beds. It could be worse, at least its really clean and has a free breakfast. There is free internet at the hostel, too, but its always busy, so I found a place around the corner where a dollar gets you an hour. And it has skype! Good thing I brought some protein bars. Ate one yesterday on the bus ride since there weren´t any stops to get lunch. I was reading that they may cause gastrointestinal irritation, which I interpreted as gas, but came out just fine.
The breakfast here is pretty good and they have organic coffee. Yummy. I went to visit Monte Alban, some old old ruins up on the hill outside of Oaxaca. It was pretty amazing and its a UNESCO site, too, so I was happy to see it well taken care of. The French were everywhere on tour to Monte Alban. I missed the return bus, so I spent an extra hour up there, eating my apple and reading.
Last night I couldn´t find much to do until I stumbled upon a nice cafe upstairs that was showing films and serving coffee....plus pecan pie. OMG it was so good. I read a little, then watched the street parade go by and then watched The Corpse Bride. What a great idea and the cafe was so cool. Went to bed around eleven and was up too early. They don´t start breakfast until eight! Lots of stylish people at the hostel. Ate an apple and read some more.
Am going to do some more walking around and try another coffee place.
Good good food here and I tried the local dish of polano chiles with oaxacan mole and salsa, very good, but a little spicy. Most places advertise organic coffee, which is big here. I think its from Chiapas but don't know for sure. Before I leave, I do want to buy a pound of whole beans to go. Planning to fly home Thursday. Taking a bike ride tomorrow with a local guide, which should be really nice. Its very hilly here and picturesque. Lots of celebrations in anticipation of The Day of the Dead. And I don't have a costume to wear for Halloween. I think I could easily spend a month in Oaxaca.
What a long day! Now I can be a little more leisurely and enjoy my last morning in Oaxaca. I really like this new cafe I found with free wifi and lots of electrical outlets to use. Never realized how much I desperately need electricity when I travel.
I was feeling blue last night, so I booked a bike tour for this morning and then everything seemed wonderful again. I spent awhile at the Cafe last night and listened to two expat teachers go on and on about Mexico and how expensive it is in Oaxaca. Had trouble sleeping because I had that americano too late, but it came with good apple pie. And I had a great crepe with pumpkin, gouda cheese, onions and zucchini. Yummy.
The bike ride was amazing and it kicked my ass. We rode a total of 45 kilometers! Holy cow that was a lot. But it was great and I had such a good time. I ate the other protein bar, so my legs should be on their way to rubgy quality soon enough

Mexico City 2007

I made it to Mexico City just fine. Flight was good and smooth, I even had first class. Leaving LA, I had a good view of the Santiago fire and then the massive Witch fire in San Diego. Its clear and cool here, supposed to be down to the low 40s tonight.
In Mexico City, I am staying at the Hotel Catedral until the 29th, then hoping to catch a bus down to Oaxaca for another three nights. I want to be there for Halloween and maybe the Day of the Dead as well. People are already dressed up in Mexico City for the celebrations and I saw people dancing around the old town, near where I am staying. Looks like its all part of the celebrations.
Planning to be home next Thursday or Friday.
I am going to try and find "Los Simpsons" on TV; I think my favorite part about visiting Mexico is watching the Simpsons dubbed in Spanish.
Had a great day walking around and eventually stopping at three
different cafes for coffee and tea. I think I read about 80 pages of
"Geek Love" today, so I am down to the last 100 pages now. The street
with my hotel has at least 5 second-hand bookstores within a couple
blocks, so I popped into them looking for English language books. Had
a big fruit plate an american at Cafe La Habana, where Che and Fidel
used to meet! Then had karekes (sp?) tea at a Turkish place near a
great open air market with fountains and antiques and paintings. The
Diego Rivera museum is closed for renovation so that was a bust and
the art museum that is supposed to have Goyas and Van Dykes, had none
of those, but there was some things to see. I think tomorrow I'll
visit the Frida Kahlo museum and maybe the Leon Trotsky house. I saw
some bad parts of town (exampled by the person passed out on the
sidewalk) but also lots of good things. The metro is so busy and easy
to use. Trains every 2-3 minutes with at least 8 cars and always
full. Plus it only costs about 20 cents a ride. There are police all
over and I haven't seen anything bad. Wearing my brown coat all the
time. It was warm today, but then very chilly after sundown. Daylight
Savings ends tonight, so I'll only be an hour ahead of you for a week.
US and Canada switch next weekend, I guess. Should have brought a
scarf, everyone wears them and its only supposed to be 58 tomorrow.
Flipping through TV channels, I saw "The Game" and "Brazil's Next Top
Model." Its confusing because its in Portuguese with Spanish
subtitles.
Found a good vegetarian restaurant for dinner, but had to eat at 5, so
then I went out later for more coffee and desserts

33 Hours Later

So I decided to leave Maputo and head home. On Monday the weather was still the same overcast skies and warm, humid days. I went to the fancy Hotel Polana and had their breakfast brunch which was really really good. And it has a view of the entire bay and harbor. I saw the streets start to come alive after being so empty all weekend. There were lots of men and women selling produce laying out on sheets or boxes, mostly greens and tomatoes. I showered and shaved and took a cab to the airport. The flight to Joburg was an hour and was maybe a third full. They put me in the exit row and the flight attendant went over all the security needs and how I should be responsible to open the door in an emergency. I think I was also one of the few English speakers on the flight, too.
Back at the Joburg airport I had about 5 hours before catching the flight to Washington DC. I walked around and had lunch and then went to the gate. I got an aisle seat and the women in the window decided to look for another open row so she left the two seats open to me. This was good because its an hour flight from Joburg to Dakar, where you refuel and change crew, then continue on to DC for another 8 and a half hours. Then I looked at the front of the section and saw Dave Chappelle was sitting about 15 rows ahead of me. A few people recognized him, including the flight crew. We flew over Namibia and Angola, then out over the Atlantic before coming back on land over Ivory Coast, Guinea-Conakry and then into Dakar, where it was midnight, but still hot and humid. A few people got off the plane and a few got on, but not more than a dozen. I was really tired at this point and was ready to fall asleep. I think I dozed for about a half hour and then was wide awake again. I looked out the window about an hour or so into the second leg of the flight and saw lots of lightning. I've never been on a a flight that was struck by lightning, but now it seemed very close to happening. The entire sky would light up and I could see clouds all around and below the plane. I started to think about how all the Atlantic Hurricanes and Summer storms begin right there off the coast of West Africa. At one point I saw another small plane headed in the other direction and then I bright shooting star fell toward the ocean and quickly disappeared. It was quite a sight. Otherwise the flight was pretty uneventful. We landed at Washington Dulles just before 6 AM, then I cleared customs and immigration and hopped on a bus to Washington National airport and got on the Alaska nonstop flight back to LAX. I couldn't sleep much on that flight either and I kept thinking that I started at 11AM in Maputo and then arrived LAX about the same time the following day, although with the time change I had been traveling for about 33 hours. And that's one of the shortest routes back home. Even with all the flying I've done, its still amazing to imagine how big the world is and how long it can take to get where you want to go.
I did enjoy Maputo after all. Surprisingly, the city started to grow on me and I don't want to live there, but after awhile I started to notice a few things that I liked. And I would like to see more of Mozambique, but its a big country and I don't want to explore the smaller towns and beaches by myself. So I would definitely go back. But I was ready to go home and sleep in my own bed and enjoy more of time off at home, relaxing, going to the movies, sleeping in late and reading the LA Times with a fresh cup of coffee. Mozambique has a strange history with Portuguese rule, Soviet and Marxist influences and then a lengthy civil war, it reminded me of another former Portuguese colony: Angola. I'm not going to Angola though.

Maputo

I had a great time at the backpackers in Joburg talking with all the Belgians. They are young, opinionated and idealistic so the conversation was good.
Had to wake early on Saturday to get to the airport and make the flight to Maputo. I was real nervous because I had no idea what to expect in Maputo. I sat next to a nice Canadian lady who had never been there before, but she was with a non-profit group and everything was arranged for her. I, on the other hand, did not have anything arranged, including my visa or a place to stay. But you can do both of those on arrival. Its an hour flight. Waiting in the immigration queue, I started chatting with an English professor who was there on business, too. He didn't have a visa either. Although Mozambique joined the Commonwealth (they are the only member of the Commonwealth to not have been colonized by England, they just wanted to join), the English still need a visa. We told the immigration officer and she took our passports and disappeared. There were more of us who needed visas, including a woman from Lake Tahoe, three Canadian women and a delegation from Burkina Faso. We waited nearly an hour and were last to get our passports processed but we finally had everything in order and could leave. I knew where I wanted to stay, at another backpackers in town, so I looked for a taxi but they said it would be more cash than I had. But it was still reasonable and what I expected to pay, I just didn't have any local currency. Neither did the three ATMs at the airport. So I offered him what Rand I had left and he reluctantly agreed. On the taxi ride I wondered what I was getting myself into by visiting Maputo. Its big and dirty and falling apart.
The hostel had a spot in the dorm for me, which I was not keen on, but that was the only thing available and I didn't want to walk around Maputo looking for something better. I rested a little and then headed out to see the sights, of which there aren't many. Mozambique is stable now but has had a terrible history and after they delcared independence from Portugal, the Portuguese pulled out post haste and left the country with nothing. They looked to the USSR and East Germany for help. So there are grand Portuguese buildings and cafes with wide boulevards next to Marxist type apartment buildings that are very boring and generic. The streets are Avenida Vladimir Lenine, Avenida Kim Il Sung and my hostel is on Avenida Mao Tse Tung. Its very dirty and about 90% of the shops and restaurants are closed. So I wasn't too excited about Maputo. It was really windy and I had something in my eye, so I removed my contact and it blew out of my hand. I scoured the sidewalk but couldn't find it. People stared but didn't bother to help. And I don't think I could have communicated to them anywhere as their English skills are as bad as my Portuguese. Needless to say, I was very upset about this and headed back to the hostel to secure the remaining contact and put my glasses on. I didn't do much the rest of the day.
Today I walked down to a local cafe and had a nice breakfast, then walked around the city more to see if anything else was open. Not much. I went to the local market and walked around, then killed some time before the National Museum opened. Its free and has some good stuff but its really small and I was finished in 20 minutes. Then it started to rain, having been overcast and windy again all day. So I have ducked into the internet cafe and am catching up on everything. I wanted to go to one of the nearby islands, but there's no boat running on account of the weather. I wanted to visit the nearby elephant park, but its $100 per person with a four person minimum and I can't find 3 friends to come with me. so things in Maputo aren't working out as I'd hoped. Plus there is no direct way to get to Swaziland from here, so I am a little lost as to what I should do next.

Mauritius, Part Four

Well it took two days but I finally got to leave Mauritius. The flight was delayed from Thursday until Friday morning. So I watched the sunset and read some more of my book. Then I was eating dinner alone and two women invited me to join them. They're sisters from Port Elizabeth, SA and were visiting their other sister in Mauritius. They were real nice and told me all sorts of great things to see and do in SA. Then we were joined by Jones, another South African, who is also a pilot (for the same airline that stranded us in Mauritius) and he was real nice. He had great stories about flying over Sudan and crazy African weather problems. I went to bed knowing I had to be up at 4 to leave at 5 and hop on the flight at 8 to Joburg. There were croaking toads so loud I almost didn't fall asleep. Sounded like they were right outside my door. I was up early and then the airport shuttles didn't arrive until 630. It was a mess and some people got mad while others laughed. We all made it to the airport and then took off around 9. The flight was great, pretty smooth. I had a wonderful view of Reunion and then we flew right over Madagascar. So amazing!
At the airport in Joburg I missed the flight to Maputo, so I am staying at a backpackers near the airport. There's a Belgian group here too and I had dinner with them. I'm staying in the dorm with them because its about $40 cheaper than getting my own room and I have to leave at 7 tomorrow morning anyway.
So I am super happy to have made it out of Mauritius and super happy that I didn't have to pay for two nights at the fancy resort.
Hopefully my next correspondence will be from Mozambique.

Mauritius, Part Three

I was wide awake at 5 this morning and lay in bed until the sun started to brighten the room. It was still early so I worked on a crossword puzzle and didn't get very far so I just went to breakfast instead. I tried the local special, which is smoked marlin. Its okay. Not tasty like a smoked salmon. Most of the local shops were still closed at 830am, but one across the street rents scooters for $20/day and I quickly singed the form to hop on a Chinese made black scooter to peel out of town. It took about a half hour to get the capitol, Port Louis. Its a dramatic little city packed in between the bay and the looming mountains. The country put a ton of money into redoing the waterfront so its spiffy with lots of tourist and shopping diversions. Sometimes they get cruise ships calling, so there would be plenty for ship folk to do. I grabbed an americano and brownie at a swanky Italian place and wrote a bit. I walked through the local market and tried to snap some candid photos of people and the sights.
Then I was back on the highway headed south to the national park and a waterfall. I passed lots and lots of sugarcane fields. The wind was blowing and the fields swayed and undulated in the breeze. The fields sloped down the hillside until they ran to the sea. And then the deep dark blue ocean goes on and on forever until it starts to blur with the clouds. I rode and rode and stopped to take photos of the green, jagged mountain peaks and the rode up the side to the Tamarin waterfall. It was windy and cooler up there, maybe at two thousand feet. At the dirt parking lot for the waterfall, I was approached by a local on a bike and smoking a cigarette. He started to talking to me and telling me all about the Falls. He said there was a path to the top where you could look down on the Falls. The current vantage point was from across the valley. I followed him reluctantly and then down a path which looked like something I shouldn't be doing. But then two other tourists came walking up the path and I realized it was the right way. He told me more stuff and I gave him some money for helping me out. On the way back to town, I was pulled over by local police. But they assured me it was just a local and random check (like additional TSA screening?) and asked for my license and the scooter registration. They were real nice and then sent me on my way, I didn't even have to brib them! Back in Port Louis, I checked with British Airways about their flight on Wednesday to Johannesburg (my next destination) and they said it had 15 seats open, so hopefully I will be on that flight because I don't have a hotel reservation in Mauritius after Wednesday. I was very red and full of sun at this point, after having riden around for two hours on a scooter and popped into the only McDonald's on the island. And they had a veggie burger, so I ate it and got an ice cream too.
It was a great day and I think I have some good photos from the countryside and the waterfall.
That's all for now.

Mauritius, Part Two

I slept really well last night, although I was wide awake at 0530 this morning, which was just before the sunrise. It rained a little again this morning and I was so excited again. (Being from L.A. I don't get much of that.) I read a little and had coffee on the balcony overlooking the bay. I did break down and bring a melitta for brewing my own coffee, so I wouldn't have to rely on the nescafe served at the hotel. Mauritius does have one coffee plantation and is the grounds that I had were any indication of their quality, I think I'll stick with Peets. They do have a really good vanilla tea that is served with breakfast, along with great fruit. I also noticed that hardly any of the tourists speak English. Majority are French, but I hear lots of Italian, too. And a surpising number of Chinese and Russians here. Last night I was talking to the security guard at the hotel and he asked about American politics but I switched the subject. I found out that Mauritius won a bronze in boxing in Beijing, their first medal ever and the security guy said the boxer works for his same company so he was excited about that. He also said they had an American stay at the hotel but it was two years ago and he was a contractor who was living in Zimbabwe; he's probably not in Zimbabwe anymore. The official language of Mauritius is English, but everything printed and on TV is in French. Everyone speaks French, but they can switch to English quite easily.
Today I made it to the world famous botanical gardens. I know, who's heard of the Sir Seewosagur Ramgoolan Botanical Gardens? Well, its the top tourist attraction. I liked the giant lily pond and leaves, otherwise there wasn't all that much to see. It was very pretty and big, but a little overhyped. I had to take three busses to get there, mostly because of reduced Sunday service, but everyone was nice and helped me get where I was going. Getting back took much longer, and I stopped in the next big town to have lunch because I was so hungry. After that I napped, then read and went swimming and snorkelling. They bay is protected by a reef at least half a mile out, so its very calm and everyone snorkels and swims but its not crowded. The public beach is next door so that was busy, but people cleaned it up and it has public showers to rinse off after being in the salt water, so it was pretty nice.
Tomorrow I am going to the capitol, Port Louis, to see more sights and maybe head out for a bike ride. The hotel has a free kayak to borrow, so I am very happy about that.

Mauritius

My crazy plan worked and I made it. It took awhile and I had to go through
Phoenix and Houston to get to Paris, then hopped on another flight to the
faraway island of Mauritius. It was 11 hours from Paris and if you haven't
heard of it, you aren't alone, but its east of Madagascar in the Indian
Ocean and its very beautiful. There was some turbulence getting here but
nothing too bad and I had a seat next to me open on all the flights, so that
was nice.
I'm staying here for about 5 days and exploring the island and relaxing. My
little studio apartment is right on the beach and has two balconies! Its a
loft. Wish I could send pictures already, but that will have to wait until
I get back. Although I do plan to take lots of photos and share them all, I
even bought a new 1 gig card just for this. It rained a little when I
arrived, but its clear and warm and humid now. I finally get to test my
snorkel this afternoon. Mauritius is 11 hours ahead of California and so
I'm trying to stay awake until a decent time tonight. I might catch a Sega
show tonight; I hear the dance originated here.
That's all for now. Hope everyone is well.

India, Part Three

Leaving Jaipur early in the morning we took a taxi to the airport and boarded a Jet Airways flight to Udaipur. It was 40 minutes gate to gate and wasn't full. We were in the air about 25 minutes and had coffee and croissants for breakfast on the plane. Unfortunately, we hadn't heard back from the hotel where we wanted to stay in Udaipur, so we had to wing it and see if they had rooms. At this point the drivers insisted we take two cabs for the five of us. So Nicole, Sean and Bob were in an old white Ambassador Nova while Sam and I cruised along in a small Tata hatchback. Udaipur was cooler and a welcome relief from the heat in the other places. We could actually see our breath here and needed jackets and maybe a scarf. I think they said it was 9 degrees Celsius. There were also rolling hills and Sean commented it looked desolate like Cabo. I figured it would come more alive during the Monsoon Season in the Summer. We passed a giant zinc smelter plant. The city is known as the White City and is much more compact and tourist friendly. While it doesn't have any big sights to see, its walkable and full of less touts (as the Indians refer to them). The hotel ended up having three rooms for us and so we had breakfast and dreamed of massages and henna tattoes that afternoon. The hotel's restuarant is outside and sits on the lakeside with views of the White City (Udaipur) on the other side, maybe a quarter mile away. Then there's the floating island, with its fancy hotel. If you remember James Bonds' "Octopussy" then you know this hotel because it sits in the middle of the lake and was where Octopussy lived. Needless to say, its quite a site to see. The lake is calm and peaceful and the only distraction are people bathing and doing laundry in the lake about 10 minutes down the shore. The city is surrounded by rolling hills with an odd castle perched here and there. I was guessing they were lookouts to protect the city from Muslim invaders.
We set out to see the City Palace which was another highlight. The streets weren't full of beggars, touts and honking cars. There were many more cows walking around town and so we had to dodge cowpies on many occasions. Its more castle-looking than a city hall and was started by a maharajah back in the 1500s. The place was built upon by all the subsequent maharajas and now rambles along with ornate wall carvings and great vistas of the city and surrounding coutryside. The best part were the hidden courtyards where you could relax on marble benches under leafy shaded trees and barely here the noise of the city below. There were also rooms made up to look as they did way back when and carriages used during the time to transport people (think sitting in an ornate wooden seat that was carried on the shoulders of men).
We had another great lunch at a rooftop restaurant with views of the city and lake and we could see falcons flying to and fro above the lake and buildings. After we took a leisurely cruise around the lake. We got a closer view of the floating island and plenty of birds sitting on the water, which was sort of clear and full of long leafy moss growing up to the surface. We stopped at another small island, that is a mini-resort with a few villas to rent, a restaurant and bar with amazing views, courtyards and fountains. They were even presenting a free live show of Shakespeare's "Measure for Measure" out under the stars. The day quickly slipped away from us and we enjoyed every minute of the tranquility of our new favorite Indian city. I napped a bit and then watched the sunset in the outdoor restaurant at the hotel and had some local Indian wine with Sean. It was not bad either, but still overpriced. We had a great feast of a dinner and then everyone went to sleep early.
On the last day, I was awake early in Udaipur and had to bundle up to watch the sunset, again at the outdoor restaurant. It was serene sight with the sky shifting from dark, deep blues to yellow and pale blue. No clouds at all in the sky and it reminded me of the recent heat spell in January back in Los Angeles. We lounged around another breakfast and then headed into town to do some final shopping and lament that we never got the massage we wanted, the henna tattoo or the cup of "real coffee" that was advertised. But all was well anyway and I think everyone found and bought what they were looking for. We rushed back to the hotel and showered and headed to the airport. On arrival I realized I had forgotten my return tickets at the airport and wasn't sure what would happen. The taxi driver was nice enough to phone the hotel and eventually they found it and rushed it to me in another taxi. I was very grateful for that. Although another day in India wouldn't have been all that bad, especially in Udaipur.
The flight from Udaipur back to Delhi was quick and painless. Good views of the countryside and then a long and confusing bus ride from the domestic to International terminal. One thing India sure knows how to do is security. The Metro and train stations have metal detectors with lots of men and women in army fatigues holding rifles. The bombings in Mumbai were wo months ago on November 26 and they refer to it as 26/11. At the airport, only ticketed passengers are allowed in the terminal, and then it has to be within three hours of departure. Once inside, you cannot leave the terminal for any reason. I saw flights leaving for Dubai and ALmaty, Chicago and Kuwait. Our flight was at 1135 to Newark and Bob to Jakarta at midnight so we waited awhile, checked out duty free and I spied on all the people flying on Air Astana to Almaty in Kazakhstan.
The flight back was smooth again and we flew very far north, over the tip of Norway and Scandinavia, north of Iceland and over Greenland and then down over Montreal into Newark. Shortly after takeoff we had to take some turns above Pakistan but I couldn't see anything as it was dark the whole trip. We arrived so early in Newark I was sad to leave the comfy business class seat we had all been lucky enough to have on the 15 hour flight. The flight back to Orange County was not for another four hours so got on the flight to LAX, only to have it sit at the gate with a broken toilet. So the good thing about flying standby is that you can hop of the plane and take another one as long as there are open seats. So we did that and flew to the OC.

India, Part Two

On arrival at Agra, the driver we picked kept telling us we did not have enough time to see the Taj because we were running late. We did fly all the way to India just to see the Taj, so we were not going to miss it. Sam thought he drove slow and was trying to sabotage our trip so we'd have to spend the night in Agra. We didn't want to do that and we had tickets on the 6p train to Jaipur. We got to the Taj, had an amazing time and saw as much as we could in 90 minutes. We told the driver to return at 445, which of course he did not. We waited about 5 minutes and hopped in a rickshaw back to the train station. We saw lots of cows on the side of the road, makshift open-air barbershops and people burning leaves and small twigs. At the train station we were again hounded by beggars and waited paitiently for the train. I kept thinking the original taxi driver would show up because we hadn't paid him for the trip to the Taj and had agreed to pay for the return trip, guaranteeing that he would return. Oh well, it all worked out in the end.
Our train to Jaipur was the highest first class seat would could buy and it was still much less than we expected. We had a compartment to ourselves for the five of us and quickly fell asleep. It was a four hour ride and there was nothing to eat, so we snacked on more trail mix and chips. We got to Jaipur, the Pink City, after 10PM and a driver met us to take us to the hotel. It was an older one with quaint features and stiff mattresses. I fell asleep, exhausted on another day. After breakfast we headed to the old city and tried to walk, but after seeing several people urinating everywhere. we grabbed a rickshaw. In the old town everything is painted pink, which really translated to more of a peach color. Sean and Nicole haggled and bragained for scarves and other Indian wares, while Sam and I went for snacks. I bought some local Indian desserts that were not good and later passed them out to two small kids playing quietly by themselves. Sam got butterscotch ice cream that tasted like curry. We went to visit an old building that was for royalty and afforded good views of the city. It was busy with locals as it was Republic Day. While it was nice to get views of the city and surrounding landscape, the chaos of the city was also unfurled below. One Indian man asked if I would be in a picture with him. I later took my photo with a taxi driver as he had a great moustache. I have also declared India to be the Land of Many Moustaches. We also visited another monument/garden full of various and often giant compasses and astrological equipment built for one of the Maharajahs. It was nice and leisurely. For lunch we passed on a reommended restaurant because the cook didn't seem to care about his cigarette ashes dropping into the cooking pans. We had to take another richshaw and ended up at a buffet at a business restaurant. Alcohol was only sold to foreigners on account of Republic Day, so it was a good thing Sean and Sam brought their passports. After the chaos of the Pink City we all needed a beer with lunch. If you haven'd had Kingfisher, the Indian beer, its not bad and it is your standard pilsner.
We had to plan our next move to Udaipur and bought plane tickets to fly out early the next morning. Then we relaxed and napped. Sam and I had coffee (in a french press) down in the large gardenand read for awhile. The garden and courtyard of the hotel are a welcome and tranquil relief from the constant din of carhorns on the street. There was later a puppet and marionette show we enjoyed or tolerated, depending on your view. It was a father and his son, the performance was short and sweet and ranged from traditional stories to Romeo and Juliet and Michael Jackson. Nicole and I were also recruited to get up and dance with the boy while he showed us his Indian moves. We dined at a fancy place that was divided into three sections: Indian food, Mexican and Indian, and Chinese. We had pizzas and pastas for a break from naan and paneer. The local wine is not bad, but about four times the price of beer. We laughed and talked more about how crazy the day was and how Jaipur wasn't very impressive, despite it being part of the Golden Triangle and frequently visited by tourists. I was also realizing that for all the advertising India does and all the wonderful things it has to offer, its very difficult to get around as a tourist. I suppose if all is booked in advance or through a travel agency then it isn't as bad. But then again, we wouldn't be having the amazing and adventurous time that had already taken place.

India, Part One

How I ended up in India....I got invited to see the Taj Mahal by some coworkers and decided not to pass up the opportunity. Its now the end of a long third day and I am in Jaipur. I saw the Taj Mahal today and it was well worth all the pain and trouble to get there. Its clear why its one of the seven wonders of the world as you pass through the red gates and step into a huge well-manicured square of lush grass and trees. There are fountains and elegant pathways leading up to the massive structure. Its imposing and awe-inspiring and gave me goosebumps that lasted a good two or three minutes. I quickly realized it was one of those moments I would remember forever, like staring down at Cape Town from Table Mountain, gazing at the Golden Gate bridge, or passing through the tunnel that whisks you into Yosemite Valley. I hope to share some great photos later.
I'm here with three coworkers and another's friend from Jakarta who met us over in Delhi. The four of us flew to Delhi via Newark and had a great 15 hour flight as we all ended with an upgrade to business class. There were over 300 movies to choose from and a five course meal that never seemed to end. We flew over Greenland and Iceland, then Scandinavia and over to Russia, headed south over Kazahkstan, eventually going right over Kabul and the north tip of Pakistan before descending into a late night in Delhi. It was dark nearly the whole flight and there was little to see...unfortunately.
Delhi is big and dirty and noisy and an assault on your senses. Its wrapped in haze and the sunrise and sunsets seem to linger just longer than you'd expect. We visited an amazing interactive museum about Gandhi and his life. It is located at the spot where he was assassinated and you can trace his final footsteps. It was powerful and moving. We somehow made our way to Old Delhi after dark and quickly began wondering why we were there. It was chaos. It was crowded and pungent, but we pushed on. We found a great Muslim restaurant for dinner and it only capped off another good meal that we have had here in India. Delhi has an amazingly clean, cheap and efficient Metro system that we made good use of.
Today was lots of trying to organize our next moves and the train ride to Agra to see the Taj, then another 4 hour train ride to Jaipur. Its nearly midnight and there is much more to share, but I think it will have to wait until later.

The Mighty Zambezi

Where to begin when describing rafting the Zambezi River? It was all Juliet’s idea. That much must be said at least. In case I come across as a goof or fool, I can at least say that it wasn’t even my idea and I just went along for the ride. At the youth hostel in remote Livingston, Zambia, our new friend Filip, from Brazil, mentioned that he was going rafting down the mighty Zambezi River. Juliet’s eyes lit up immediately and she needed no more convincing. I was a little more skeptical, but when Juliet showed me the brochure teasing me with river boarding half the day, I was sold. First half of the day would involve rafting with a guide and second half would involve taking the rapids on a boogie board. How could I say no to this? It sounded entirely too thrilling to pass up, regardless of cost or potential injury to life and limb. So while it would take all day, it would include three meals, a chance to see one of the mightiest rivers in Central Africa and a chance to meet more tourists, like Juliet, Filip and myself. I had met Filip at the airport on arrival when he shared a shuttle to the hostel with us. My bag didn’t arrive from Johannesburg and he offered to let me borrow a pair of shorts until my bag arrived. It was quite a sinking feeling to arrive in a dusty, Central African town with no clothes but those on my back and nowhere to buy replacement clothes. We were a good two hour flight from the nearest major city, which was down south in Johannesburg. So, I had already met one interesting and generous tourist, and was now going to pay $150 to meet some more.

The day started with a slow ride in the back of a large white truck trudging down the dusty road to the Zambezi River. All around, I could see orange-red scorched Earth, barren trees and brown shrubs. The dry season was nearing its peak and the river would be rather low. Although we were assured that at any height, the river was very deep and therefore the risk of hitting rocks was minimized. Did we really believe this? Or were we just swept up in the romantic idea of paddling down such an exotic sounding river?

It was a long walk down a steep canyon to get to the water’s edge. Just downstream was an amazing view of Victoria Falls Bridge, part of the Cape to Cairo route from North Africa down to the South. Its arched truss impressively suspended high above. Filip mentioned that you could bungee jump off the bridge. While he smiled at this idea, Julie and I cringed. We liked to think of ourselves as adventurous, but next to Filip, we seemed downright squeamish.

We set the raft into the dark, murky water with our guide Melvin. Juliet and I placed our full confidence in his able hands. We were joined by South Africans Terry, Bev, Andy and Vessel. The latter two had already scaled the Zambezi and they were eager to go again. We practiced commands first: paddle right, paddle left, back paddle, everybody down! I liked everybody down because it meant crouching in the raft and holding onto the rope for dear life. Juliet liked the abandon ship command. She and I tepidly stroked the oars into the calm water.

The first couple rapids scared me until I actually saw them and realized that there was little to fear. We quickly and nearly effortlessly glided over them and continued on our merry way. It wasn’t until the fifth or sixth that caught our attention; it was called Stairway to Heaven. Almost immediately, the raft flipped and we found ourselves scrambling to find the raft and stay together. The water was cold only as an initial shock, but then it was warm and moving swiftly, carrying everything with it. Eventually, Melvin pulled me atop the overturned raft and yanked ropes from one side and fell into the river on our backs in order to pull the raft to its right side. We hopped in again, all oars still intact and nerves frazzled but still eager to plunge ahead. Juliet looked a bit nervous when we saw Bev had cut her tooth and rubbed the now jagged edge against her lip, causing it to bleed. She said it didn’t really hurt and apparently it looked worse than it really was. Andy joked that she had chipped her tooth on the Stairway to Heaven; we chuckled nervously. While the next rapid was a Class 5, we did well. The raft dropped and twisted, pulled and jerked, but we hung on for dear life and the rapid quickly gave way to more calm water. I should probably note that I had no idea what a Class 5 rapid was and it wasn’t until I e-mailed all my friends and family back home that they were in shock that I had gone rafting in such a treacherous and difficult place.

Off in the distance, we heard the rumble of helicopter blades and then saw it glide from around the end, its blades spinning wildly, while it zipped through the rocky canyon. It passed overhead and downstream toward another rafting group. Juliet and I didn’t think this was a good thing, but kept our mouths shut as we exchanged hurried glances. We knew there was an injured rafter up ahead, but didn’t learn until later that she had suffered a broken femur. I winced in pain and wondered again, Why am I rafting down the Zambezi River in a developing country? Eventually the helicopter dipped below the water line down stream. This could only mean that we were going to visit more rapids that dropped a good distance. Melvin advised the next rapid, number seven, was called Gulliver’s Travels because it was long and technical. Quite possibly the longest of the rapids we were to brave that day. Typically, Melvin instructed us what to expect with the rapid. It consisted of phrases like, stay to the right, paddle hard then back paddle, if you fall out of the raft stay to the left. There were so many instructions for this set of rapids that I quickly forgot what I was supposed to do. And so when we hit the first rapid, we found ourselves tumbling backwards in the raft and then we were all tossed overboard. Again, the water shocked me at first, but it wasn’t cold. It was loud and fast and powerful as it sucked me downstream with unrelenting strength. Immediately, I was separated from the raft and thought myself a “long swimmer.” That was what Melvin called those who fell overboard and were too far from the raft to swim to it. Turns out I wasn’t a long swimmer because the raft quickly bumped from behind. All I could do was keep my head above water. I was thankful to be wearing a life vest and helmet. And because my sandals were lost along with the rest of my luggage, I was wearing my sneakers. I pulled my feet up to my chest in a fetal position with feet pointed forward. This position allowed me to push away from rocks that came my way with increasing speed. I was tossed and turned, pushed and pulled, and then I felt the raft hit me. As fast as I could, I grabbed hold of the left side of the overturned raft. After a few hurried seconds, I found myself under the raft in the false tranquility of its air pocket. I could no longer maintain the fetal position and as my legs struggled beneath me, the river began to pull me in all directions, until I was on the right side of the raft. To my left was the rock canyon wall and I hastily pulled my legs toward my chest and positioned myself to push away from the canyon wall. I never had a chance to push against it as I found myself pushed under again. Still holding onto the raft’s ropes, I was now in front of it and side by side with Vessel. He was smiling and said hello as he held onto the ropes. There was no look of panic in his face and he somewhat eased my nerves. But we were still being tossed around like toy boats and my legs pushed against his. As I struggled to maintain my position ahead of the raft, he laughed more and told me to relax, it would be over soon. He was right and eventually we passed the rapid called Gulliver’s Travels and I had time to think of something besides my own safety. And so I wondered what had happened to Juliet. She wasn’t holding onto the raft and definitely had to be a “long swimmer.” Before I found her, Melvin found me. He was atop the raft again and pulled me up there with him. We yanked on the ropes until the raft was upright. We had again fallen back into the water and swam up its side and hoisted our bodies inside. I just wanted to relax and gather my strength and nerves. But he asked me to help steer the raft to a small beach, where everyone else could catch up to us and climb back into the raft. We weren’t quite at the half way point and I was well beyond the point of exhaustion. Juliet and I exchanged more hurried glances and wondered how we made it back to the raft with nothing more than frazzled nerves and soaked shoes. We talked about the girl with the broken femur and considered ourselves lucky.

The next rapid was small and innocent, but Juliet and I were terrified we would fall out of the raft and did little more than hold onto the ropes for dear life. We ignored Melvin when he told us to paddle and shivered from exhaustion. I remembered the light English breakfast we had eaten and dreamt of a five course lunch. I was dehydrated and scared, but I didn’t want to convey this to Juliet as she was already praying for a way to lift us off the raft and onto safe, dry land. We were baking in the sun and feeling hopelessly adrift. Bev’s mouth was still bleeding, Juliet was terrified, I was craving a big lunch and Vessel was ready for more rapids. I thought us a weakened group and wasn’t sure how much longer we had to endure this torture. I whispered to Juliet, “Did we really pay $150 to die on the Zambezi River?” She said it wasn’t like we could swim to shore and walk to the parking lot and drive home. The lifeless canyon was deep and fractured. We looked up one side and saw little more than brown, earthen dirt with boulders precariously perched overhead. To the left was Zimbabwe and to the right was Zambia. We were lost somewhere between two developing countries in Central Africa. We had no choice but to press on.

Our confidence in Melvin was shot. No other raft had flipped on that rapid and we suddenly seemed to be lost and inexperienced. Thankfully, rapid eight went well and was incident free. We ditched the raft and portaged around rapid nine because it was called a category 6. I guess this meant it was pretty bad and then I saw that it was pretty much a waterfall and there was nothing to see except churning white water. Everyone walked around. We climbed back in the raft and quickly zipped through rapid 10. At this point, we saw a small beach ahead, with a welcoming committee. Juliet and I silently rejoiced that lunch lay ahead.

I quickly gulped two cups of unflavored juice wondering if there was any water. I noticed that other rafts had jugs of water to share, while ours was noticeably absent. Juliet and I grabbed a sandwich each, along with an apple and looked for a nice place to sit. Somewhere we could contemplate mutiny without being heard. I noticed a nearby rafter applying sun block. My sun block was lost along with all my clothes. Earlier in the day, we had borrowed SPF45 from an Israeli photographer. But now he and his Hebrew bottle were missing in action. Juliet chimed in and asked the rafter if we could borrow his sun block. He said he was from Boston, as if the accent didn’t give it away, and passed the sun block our way. His short dark hair and friendly demeanor invited us to start a conversation with him. His name was Jeff and he commented on how bad our flipped raft looked. We found out we were the only raft to have flipped on Gulliver’s Travels and also the only raft to have flipped twice before lunch. My confidence in Melvin sank even lower at this point. Jeff’s raft hadn’t flipped at all, it was filled with inexperienced rafters who had never gone rafting before, but they had a good guide. Our raft was occupied by two experienced rafters and a guide. I whispered to Juliet that Melvin had to go and we would need a better guide. She said it didn’t matter anymore because we were going to river board from this point on. I had completely forgotten about the river boarding. Now I was anxious to take the rapids again, but this time I would have more control and I wouldn’t have to worry about being in a raft with an ill-equipped guide.

Like testing the water in a hot bath, I tepidly re-entered the river. This time, I was hydrated, my belly was satiated, I had regained my confidence by holding the boogie board close to my chest. Now, Juliet, Bev, Terry, Andy, Vessel and I were the lone river boarders. Our old guide Melvin was nowhere to be found and our river board guide was now Joseph, a strong, well-spoken local with years and years of experience on the Zambezi, both in rafts and on boards. After little advice, other than how to hold the board with your hands at 11 and 3, we paddled our way out into the river. We would now go before the rafters and brave the rapids without a raft. The good and bad thing about river boarding is that the rapid comes at you quickly and you have no choice but to submit to its swift and powerful current. Then again, there was no need to worry about flipping over because you would be through the rapid before you knew it. Joseph gave us brief instructions before each rapid, but it was difficult to hear him and tough to stay together because you simply went with the flow of the current. You couldn’t stop and you couldn’t get out of the way. As the first rapid approached, I tucked my head to the board and huggd it with my hands at 11 and 3. This gave you extra strength and agility to flip yourself over if you ended up with the board above you. I had ridden waves on boogie boards in the ocean every since I could remember going to the beach, so this wasn’t anything that would make me nervous. And I felt safe and ready to go for more.

One tricky aspect of this new sport was staying in the main current, or flow, of the river. You could see it if you looked for it, but otherwise I never would have noticed it without Joseph pointing it out. Rippling across the river’s surface, particularly in the calmer parts, is the main current. If you stay with it you do much less work to continue downstream. Without paying attention you can drift out of the current and find yourself drawn to the river’s edge and paddling had to get back to the current. Juliet and I found this out the hard way and I found myself paddling back to the current on more than one occasion. Rafts would pass us and we’d recognize fellow rafters from lunch as they would shout out to us: “Crocodile biscuits!” That was our nickname and although I figured I knew why we wer called that, I wasn’t quite sure whether to believe them or not. I asked Joseph when I paddled next to him between rapids and he confirmed that crocodiles to live in the Zambezi River, however they don’t get to be much more than four or five feet because prey are smaller in the quick moving rapids. I thought of this during each quiet lull between rapids, craning my neck in all directions to ensure there were no crocodiles closing in on me. And during particularly long stretches between rapids we would hop into a raft a hitch a ride downstream to the next rapid. Joseph also advised well in advance which rapids should not be undertaken on river board and so we donned paddles when joining an advancing raft.

When Joseph announced we were paddling through a class five rapid on the board I was nervous. You didn’t know what to expect and when you finally did see the rapid, there was nothing you could do avoid it. So I watched as he zoomed out of view down the swift, steep rapid. I held tight to the board and expected the worst. I don’t know how great a drop the rapid was, but it was far. It was steep, it was smooth and it was amazing. Adrenaline rushed through my body as I glided down the rapid and splashed through the water, my mouth soaked with the Zambezi. The water churned and the sound of rushing water filled my ears as I grinned endlessly. It was so much more exciting than being in the raft and I wondered why everyone wasn’t doing the same thing. The class five rapid was fast and steep and intimidating, but it was also soft and fascinating and rewarding. You just sort of fell down the rapid and swished and swirled out of the rapid. It was a quick drop and nothing like the Gulliver’s Travels rapid. When I finally saw Juliet again she was laughing and proclaiming how much better the river boarding was than being in the uncertainty of the raft. I eagerly pressed on through rapids with exotic names like The Ugly Sisters, The Washing Machine and Rapid No. 17.

I was exhausted when we came upon rapid 23 and despite all the excitement of the day, I was happy we had neared the end. We glided to the shore and gathered our things for the hike out of the canyon and up to a waiting vehicle to take us back into town. Juliet and I had nothing to gather, so we carried life vests, helmets, paddles and our soaked backs up to a waiting funicular car. It was new looking, but still not a paradigm of safety. After having survived the Zambezi, I was willing to risk the short ride up the funicular rather than scramble up the steep canyon with gear in both hands. It quickly paid off and we were at the top, again looking out at the dry, dusty plains of Central Africa. We climbed into a large truck-like vehicle with rows of metal seats. We stayed cool under a canopy and plopped our weary souls down for a much needed rest. Someone found an ice-chest full of sodas and started to pass them around. It was cold and wet and full of sugar and I drank it as fast as possible. I was still completely soaked with water that flowed across some of the driest areas of Africa, a river that stretches across several countries and forms many boundaries. My shoes were dripping with water and I took them off to see my shriveled and prune-looking feet. It was a joy to feel the dry air envelope my weary toes. The shorts Filip had let me borrow were actually the only thing that was beginning to dry and I was happy to have them (still wondering why my clothes were). I had worn a shirt all day to prevent myself from sunburn, but now it was dusk and I could rip it off and hope it would dry soon since it was the only shirt I had. Other rafters started to ask us about the river boarding and we shared stories, saying how much more fun it was than being in the raft and its unpredictable nature. I think they were jealous after seeing how much fun we had. I had brought a water-proof camera with me and had taken several photos along the way. So I snapped another of Juliet and I as the sun set and the truck lurched forward into the orange blaze of a setting sun.